Page 29 of Lord of Passion

I shrug. "It is likely."

"Zatknis' nakhuy!Shut the fuck up!" Thug #2 shouts in my ear. "You can fight with your girlfriend later."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Caroline leans over me to snap at Thug #2. Her hand lands on my thigh for balance, I don't know if she notices it. Her breast is pressed against my bicep and I groan silently. This would be an inopportune time to get an erection, thefeelof her though, is bringing back memories of being inside her in that elevator.

Thug #2 raises his hand to hit her and I bend his thumb back, breaking it and enjoying his scream. Now, every gun in the back seat is pointed at me.

"You're not going to shoot us," I snap. "Doesn't that negate the whole point of kidnapping us?"

The asshole next to me is still glaring at Caroline. He pushes up his sleeve. "Do you know what this is,suka?"

She squints at his pasty forearm. "A skin rash?"

"What? No- it's Zmey Gorynych, the symbol of-"

"Are you sure?" Caroline leans closer and now her entire breast is laid out against my goddamned arm. "It looks like a salamander. You know what those are, right? They're-"

"It's the legendary fucking dragon, you stupid bitch, and-"

"Well, maybe the tattoo artist was drunk," she says doubtfully. "I mean, you had an image of what you wanted so maybe that's what you see when-"

"No!" Thug #2's face is red, rubbery lips wet. "It's the symbol of your fucking death!"

"The dragon's going to kill me?" Caroline's frowning, "How would-"

A gun fires and in the padded interior of the SUV it's like a fucking cannon going off in the middle of the Yankee Stadium.The privacy screen is down and Thug #1 is pointing his smoking .357 at us. "I don't know who I want to kill more, you, or my own men." There's a bullet hole in Thug #2's forehead, he has almost a comical look of surprise, like he can't believe his brains are splattered against the back of the leather seat.

My ears are ringing violently, and Caroline's got her hands over her ears. She staring at what's left of Thug #2, his blood is now sprayed over his arms, covering what was certainly not an accurate representation of Zmey Gorynych, the legendary dragon of Russian mythology.

My gaze goes back to Thug #1. He may have the square, grizzled face of a bulldog, but he's the only one of these four with an IQ higher than one.

"Everybody shut. The. Fuck. Up," he says flatly.

Everyone does.

***

"My ears are vibrating like I just came out of a twelve-hour Korn concert," Caroline mumbles as we're taken out of the Komendant,which has just pulled into the parking garage of one of the more flashily-lit high rises. My gaze goes from one security camera to the next, making sure there's a nice, clear shot of my face. With any luck, one of the Celsius-guzzling Morozov techs has already located us and hacked the feed.

Whoever locates us first gets a lifetime supply of energy drinks,I promise.

"Yes, that will likely continue for the next week or so," I agree as they push us into the elevator.

"Don't make me fire my gun in this lift," Thug #1 says tiredly. "Please be quiet."

"Well, thank you for that pleasant request," Caroline smiles at him approvingly. It occurs to me that I should have encouraged more of an element of fear in her, since I'm only half certain about who pulled us out of the lobby of theHotel Tsaritsa.

Watching the numbers climb on the elevator display, I sigh and check my watch. It was a gift handed down from my father.

"It's a Patek Philippe Reference 1518," he had said, smiling at it fondly. "It was produced in 1943 and as far as I know, it's kept perfect time ever since."

"Otets,"I'd protested, "this is precious to you, I can't-"

"Of course you will," he said. "There has been one small adjustment…" He flipped the steel watch over, showing the back, with my initials engraved and a slight bump. "A tracker. Since you refuse to get one injected."

I had laughed then, reverently putting his watch on my wrist. And as I check the time now, I press the button on the back.

The doors open to a large entryway, excessive amounts of gold trim and a huge statue of a nymph with a satyr, who looks like he's jerking off on her leg.