Page 27 of Captive

“Why should I give a shit? You’re only going to kill me.”

Exhaling, I twisted my hand around the steering wheel. “I’m not going to kill you, Chloe. You have nothing to do with this.”

“Then why did you capture me?”

“Because you became collateral damage the minute you backtalked the Russians in the diner.”

There were another few minutes of silence, allowing me to hear her scattered breathing. What the fuck was I doing? The assholes wouldn’t stop until they hunted me down. By then, I’d have to figure out how to keep her safe.

“What do they want with you?”

While it was much better the less Chloe knew, it was certainly fair for her to understand what we were facing. “To eliminate any possibility that I will become the Pakhan.”

“Who is trying to kill you?”

“If the information I received is correct, a powerful Bratva from another area in Russia.”

“But you don’t believe that.”

I snickered. “No, I do not. I believe my brother is trying to have me assassinated.”

“And what do you plan to do?”

There was no hesitation. I knew what had to be done. “I will make him pay for what he’s done, taking my time inflicting as much pain as possible. Then I will eliminate him.”

CHAPTER 6

Chloe

Eliminate.

Nikolai issued the word as if it was no big deal, just another day of teaching his class. I shivered, but not from the word itself, from the way he’d stated the entire sentence, with a slight husky growl that would make any girl fall to her knees. But he wasn’t talking about passion.

He was talking about murder.

In his class, I’d learned the real truth behind the Russian Mafia, the kind of stories that were glossed over in the few news articles and reports landing in the US media. He’d been brief, not entirely graphic, but if anyone read between the lines, it was easy to understand just how brutal, violent, and dangerous the people were who’d gotten involved. From former prisoners to government officials, corporate moguls and even certain Russian royalty, the activity had been widespread for decades.

I’d listened intently, curious as to why the professor had so much passion for the topic. Now I knew why. I couldn’t believe he’d been able to hide his true identity for all these years. No wonder he’d hidden his tattoos, doing everything to keep his privacy. I twisted my wrists, already feeling the burn of the rope digging into my skin.

Exhaustion had dragged the adrenaline to a barely there level, making it almost impossible to keep my eyes opened, but I was determined not to fall asleep around him. The man wasn’t just dangerous.

He was lethal.

And I was his captive.

I would never forget what had occurred in the parking lot, the ugliness the horrible man had whispered in my ears.

“I’m going to enjoy tasting that sweet American pussy of yours. Then I’m going to force my cock into your mouth. After that, I’ll fuck that tight pussy and asshole until I’ve drained my balls. Then we’re going to have some real fun.”

Then the bastard had laughed, allowing his hot, rancid breath to cascade across my face. Maybe I should be grateful my professor had killed him in cold blood. The weight of my eyelids gave me a headache. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to control my breathing. How was I going to get out of this? All I needed was to rest my eyes. Just for a little while.

When I felt the shift of the engine, the rumble more intense, I bristled, my eyes snapping open. “What’s going on?”

“Get down on the floor,” he instructed, hissing as he glared into the rearview mirror.

I twisted until I was able to see headlights of another car. From what I could tell, it was approaching quickly. “Is that one of them?”

“I don’t know. Get. Down. Now.”