Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
It was the cleanup that was a real bitch.
Serg had already arranged for a cleaner to come to the scene. Although we would have preferred to not take on the responsibility, there were too many strings that led back to our private gambling club, the Four Monks.
While we had countless high-ranking police officers in our back pocket, it would be difficult for even them to sweep the death of an international dictator and his security detail under the carpet.
It was better for all concerned that everyone just assumed Abakar had returned to his country as planned and never made it. Being a dictator was a dangerous profession. They had a way of disappearing all the time. Under those circumstances, there wouldn’t be any questions.
And more important, nothing that implicated the Four Monks and our operation.
But a witness to the murders on Chicago soil, and worse, one who could put us at the scene, definitely complicated things.
Anton adjusted his stance as he let out a long breath. “My friends, we have a problem.”
Mac shook his head. “Well, we can’t kill her. Obviously.”
“Can’t just let her stroll out of here, knowing what she knows.”
I pulled my bulletproof vest off and handed it to Mac. After checking the magazine to my Glock, I tucked it into my waistband behind my back, before reaching for my cuff.
As I rolled up my sleeve, I stormed toward the inner office door and called over my shoulder, “Leave her to me.”
CHAPTER 3
VIVIAN
So. Much. Blood.
I would have thought spending countless Saturday afternoons on the sofa watching true crime dramas would have desensitized me to it, but nope, not even a teeny, tiny, little bit.
Oh, my God, the freaking blood!
And the stench.
The air was thick with the smell of warm copper and feces.
Bile burned the back of my throat as I slapped my hand over my mouth to cut off my scream. My head swiveled as I spun in a circle.
I needed to get the hell out of this room.
Now.
The only exit led back to that man with the powerful arms and unsettling eyes.
“Woman! Where are you?”
Dammit.
It was him.
The vault.
It was my only choice.
It wasn’t an exit, but anyone who knew about the hidden safe was now lying dead at my feet. I could hide in there until it was safe to escape.
Impulsively, I sprinted forward, only to lurch backward as my boot slipped in blood.
My body slammed against the far wall.
The only way to reach the hidden vault was over the dead men.
I couldn’t do it.
Panic rose in my chest as the walls seemed to sway and shift.
Darkness creeped around the edges of my vision as I struggled to breathe.
My fingernails dug into the painted cinderblock walls as I fought to stay conscious.
Amidst a rising, thick fog, I heard a deep growl in a guttural foreign language.
“Chert voz’mi.”
A powerful arm pulled me away from the cinder blocks and wrapped around my waist as a hand cupped the back of my head, pressing my face into a solid, warm chest.
I fisted the soft cotton T-shirt covering the wall of muscle as I inhaled the crisp, clean scent of soap and aftershave.
It was the scary man from earlier. The one with the piercing bright blue eyes and the neck tattoos.
“You silly, stupid girl.”
Squeezing my eyes closed as I focused on inhaling his strangely calming masculine scent, I muttered, “As soon as the room stops spinning, I’m going to yell at you for calling me a stupid girl.”
His chuckle sent a deep vibration through his chest. “Fair enough, krasivaya.”
The arm around my waist slipped down over my ass to behind my knees, then he swept me off my feet.
My head rolled against his shoulder as I stared up at him. “Are you going to kill me?”
CHAPTER 4
VIVIAN
The moment he placed me back on my feet, I bolted.
Straight into a towering bale of stacked cardboard boxes.
Dammit.
I flipped back to face the glowering man who was all murdered out in a black, long-sleeved thermal, black cargo pants, and black, lace-up military boots. The sinister tattoos and shoulder-length black hair accessorized the terrifying outfit nicely.
Shaking my head as I clutched my purse to my stomach, I blurted out, “I didn’t see a thing. I swear.”
His dark blue gaze moved over me, from the top of my head to the tip of my boots.
My arms tightened around my purse as I shifted it higher to cover my chest. An irrational fear that he could see through my oversized man’s shirt and lace bra took hold.
Still, he said nothing.
I scanned the cramped room. We must be just off the loading dock. There were stacks of folded cardboard boxes and reams of plastic wrap, as well as countless rolls of duct tape and box cutters tossed onto the dusty, dull metal surface of several crooked desks interspersed among the stacks.