Page 2 of Ruthless Sin
“I will ask you one more time, Yelena. Who sent him.”
“I told you.”
He grabs her wrist and twists it slow, like he has all night, until something gives and she makes a sound, small, bitten off fast, before she locks it down.
“Stop.” The word’s out before I can pull it back.
Alexei looks at me. Interested now.
“Ah. He does speak.”
He releases her wrist. Walks toward me and crouches three feet away so we’re level. His cigarette smoke reaches me before he does.
“Tell me your real name.”
“Martin Leclerc.”
“Your real name.”
“That’s my name.”
He studies me. Five seconds. Ten. His face does nothing.
I taste blood. The wound in my side is getting warmer.
Stay awake.
That’s Dante’s voice, or close enough to be his.
Behind Alexei’s shoulder, Yelena’s eyes find mine. She gives me nothing. No plea, no terror. Just that steady, terrible calm.
Alexei walks back to her.
“I don’t believe you,” he says, and pulls a knife from his belt.
He touches the blade to her collarbone. Deliberate. Patient. The cut he makes is shallow, a thin red line drawn across her skin. Not about damage yet. About time.
“Don’t.” I pull until the chair legs scrape the floor. My ribs grind. “She’s telling you the truth. I came alone. I’m a buyer. That’s it.”
“A buyer.” He presses down again, her shoulder this time. “For what, exactly?”
I don’t answer.
“Logistics,” he says. “Shipping routes. That’s what you told my men, yes.” Another cut, her forearm, same shallow patience. “But buyers don’t make side deals with thePakhan‘s daughter. Buyers don’t meet in safehouses at three in the morning.”
Yelena doesn’t make a sound, but I do — low and involuntary, the sound a man makes before he breaks.
“I approached her.”
“With what?” He cuts again. “What did you offer Dmitri’s daughter that she would betray me?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
He cuts again.
Yelena’s breathing changes. Still controlled. Barely.
