Page 23 of Cruel Russian King

The painting hinted at a woman walking down a road, the trees on either side bleeding into one another in shades of shifting colors of oranges, reds, yellows and pinks.

While she stood in one place, I scanned the room…and froze. Two dark haired men in suits stood among the crowd, watching her. Every thirty seconds, their eyes flicked back to Ninel.

What was their plan? This place was too crowded to snatch her without causing a scene. Were they going to lure her outside instead?

Ninel wasn’t far from the curtain where employees slipped in and out. If those men pulled her behind it, no one would notice until it was too late.

Without looking away, I yanked my phone from my pocket and called Konstantin.

“Yes, sir?”

I rattled off the gallery’s address. “Do you see the two men watching Ninel?”

“Sir…you’re in the art gallery too?” His voice sounded weird.

I spoke between clenched teeth, trying not to raise my voice to draw attention to myself. Why the fuck would he ask such an obvious question?

“I am. Why?” I asked as calmly as I could.

“Sir, I’m not seeing you, Mrs. Rykov…or the men.”

Fucking hell.

“Describe the people you're seeing.”

Konstantin quickly described a few of the persons and what they were wearing. I noticed each person was in the art gallery. It means that whatever Konstantin was watching was from today.

Then it dawned on me…could it be…

“It’s a loop,” Konstantin said quickly, ending my thought. “I caught a faint glitch.”

“Track it. I think it’s that fucking ghost gang.”

There was clicking on the other end of the phone.

“Call Kolya, tell him I need back up and I have Mrs. Rykov with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Konstantin, don't disappoint me.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, sir.”

I cut the call.

My pulse spiked as the men moved closer to Ninel. Suddenly, one man exited from behind the curtain, and for a split second I thought he’d drag her out of sight. Instead, he only smiled at her, then walked towards the woman she’d spoken with earlier.

That was enough. Time to get the fuck out of there…and I had to be smart about it, so I don't get us both killed.

And for that I needed a distraction.

Chapter 8 - Ninel

I trailed my fingers along the edges of the painting I’d fallen in love with. God, if only I had the money to buy it. I sighed.

About an hour and a half ago, I was restless. I felt caged like a bird with clipped wings. And having Ruslan tail me around like some damn lost puppy? That was grinding on my nerves.

I went straight to the bathroom, dug through Artyom's medicine cabinet until I found muscle relaxers. I was hoping for laxatives, but they’d do. I crushed a few, wrapped them in toilet paper, and tucked them into my bra before heading for the kitchen.