Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
An odd unease stirs in my conscience at the thought of the watch. There’s something about the expensive gift I don’t like, but before I can ponder the thought, Oxo removes a vial and a hypodermic needle from the box.
Startled, I lean away from her when she comes closer.
“It’s just something to give you a little energy boost,” she croons. “Nothing to get worked up about.”
Not giving me time to protest, she grips my arm and jabs the needle into my muscle. A moment later, a wave of nausea hits me. Clutching my stomach, I fold double.
“Don’t worry.” She clucks. “You’ll feel better in a minute.” She presses a swab of cotton wool on the puncture mark the needle has left. “As strong as a horse. You’ll see.”
The man’s footsteps fall behind me, coming closer. I try to suppress a shudder and fail.
He stops in front of me, watching me with cold eyes and a menacing smile. “Now you’re going to take me to that bank and give me the necklace.”
I look at his hands, noticing the gloves. A picture of another pair of gloves drifts into my mind. They’re cupping my face where I’m trapped in a snow globe. The warmth of those hands seeps through the butter-soft leather, penetrating my cheeks. A scary, honest look burns in Dante’s eyes as he promises he’ll fix everything that’s wrong.
The woman steps behind me and fiddles with my hair. A sharp prick at the back of my head makes me jerk. The spot where she jabbed me burns as if my skin is on fire.
A wave of heat rushes through me, waking up every cell in my body. I’m vibrating from within, the fire inside me not only ignited by Dante’s touch but also by his intentions.
Fingers flick in front of my face. “Tatiana.”
The voice is all wrong.
I look up to find Hulk staring at me.
“It’s the drug,” Oxo says. “It must be kicking in.”
“Are you sure it’s going to work? I don’t want her to fucking faint or OD on me.”
“The dose wasn’t that high. I gave her just enough so she can walk on her own. The plan won’t work if you have to carry her into the bank, will it?”
“How long is this shit going to last?”
“She’ll crash in a few hours, so that buys you enough time.”
“What if they question her?”
“Like I said, I just gave her enough for a physical high. She’ll be lucid enough.”
“You sure about that? She’s not a junkie like you.”
“Fuck off, Yury.”
He pulls back and slaps her hard across the face. “Now the bitch knows my fucking name.”
Oxo turns her head back to him with a narrow-eyed glare, licking blood from her bottom lip. “Does it matter?”
“Fucking whore.”
“Well, since you like dipping your dick in this whore’s cunt, I guess that makes you one too.”
He raises his hand as if to backhand her again, but she lifts her chin and stands her ground. Seeming to change his mind, he curls his fingers into a fist and swings it at her face only to stop at the last minute. When she winces at the mock-charge, he laughs.
“Get this shit out of here,” he snarls. “Make sure you don’t leave a trail.”
She closes the make-up box. “I know how to wipe out my tracks.”
Hulk smiles at me. “You don’t want to go back into the trunk, do you?”
I barely contain a whimper.
“Then you’re going to do what I tell you.” He grabs my bicep and hoists me to my feet. “You’re going to walk into that bank on my arm, and you’re going to look as if it’s the only place you want to be.”
Chapter
Eight
Tatiana
* * *
When I come to my senses, I’m staggering down a sidewalk. Disorientated, I look around. I have no idea where I am or where I’m going. The sight I catch of myself in the reflection of a shop window jerks me to a standstill. My clothes are streaked with dirt. My hair is disheveled, and a trickle of blood runs down my temple. But what surprises me even more is the heavy, smudged make-up on my face, maybe because it’s so not me. It’s like looking at a stranger.
How did I get here?
What happened?
When my brain doesn’t deliver answers, panic claws a hole in my chest.
I sway on my feet, feeling sick. Shivers rack my aching body. My vision goes in and out of focus. Barely managing to keep my balance, I stumble into the nearest store.
The sales lady takes one look at me and grabs a phone that lies behind the counter.
“Please,” I say. “I need help. I need a phone.”
She unlocks the screen and hands me the phone without arguing.
“Thanks.” I grab it with both hands and dial the only number I know by heart. Or rather, the only number I remember. “Thank you so much.”