Page 82 of Hunt Me

Did Mikhail think I’d been responsible? No. But he was no fool, realizing I was hiding something. I’d yet to think of the phrase Sergio had said. I’d need to tell Mikhail something if I ever wanted to return to my life. The words were fading, but I would also never forget the strength with which Sergio had grabbedmy arm. He’d been pleading with me, a stranger. This was utter madness.

Mikhail slowed the vehicle even more until we were barely crawling, finally stopping with the engine still revving. My breath hitched, a different set of tingles rushing through me. When he rolled forward again, a sound captured my attention. A garage door opener.

I sat still, even holding my breath.

When he cut the engine altogether, I didn’t know what to expect.

“Where are we?” I asked, loathing the tremor in my voice.

Never show fear, my father had told me more than once. Well, it was obvious he’d never been kidnapped.

The fact Mikhail remained quiet and unmoving meant he had no clue what to do with me. What I’d told him was true. Eventually my father would scour the city to try to find me, especially after the message I’d left for my sister.

“We’re at my house, Bristol. Far removed from the city. You will be safe here.”

Safe. Was there any such thing around him or his family?

A sudden burst of electricity slammed into my system as he crowded closer. Very gingerly he removed the blindfold. As soon as he did, he brushed his knuckles across my face just as he’d done before.

“I’ll say this again. I won’t hurt you, Bristol, as long as you obey the rules.”

A promise made. Could I believe him? And obey him? He had to be out of his mind.

Blinking several times, I sat very still while I allowed my eyes to become accustomed to the light. The garage was huge, meant for at least four vehicles. I caught a glimpse of at least two other vehicles including a sleek black Mercedes. I also thought I noticed a motorcycle, which surprised me. Maybe I’d thought a man of his status would have a bulletproof Escalade like the mobsters in the movies.

“How long are you going to keep me prisoner?”

His sigh was heavier than before. He pulled the ignition key, fingering the metal. “For as long as it takes. This is only just beginning.”

This. I assumed he meant another nightmare, only with real guns and monsters.

He slowly turned his head toward me, his face now expressionless. “You’re going to be a good girl?”

While a question, he was expecting only one answer.

“Yes.” For now, I’d give it to him. There was no other choice.

When he climbed out, I almost locked the doors. How ridiculous of me. After he grabbed my bag, he slowly made his way around to the other side of the vehicle.

Yet I didn’t move. Maybe I couldn’t move. I’d need to tell him what I knew, but what good would it do? What I’d already learned about him was that he’d go on a vendetta of his own, hunting and killing the person responsible. Whatever he gleaned from what little I knew he’d use.

He opened the door, waiting only a few seconds before reaching inside. “We don’t need to make this any more difficult than it already is.” While he wasn’t rough in pulling me from thevehicle, his grip was firm. Enough the force pulled me into his arms. I pushed my hands against him, fighting the strong urge I had, the electricity that refused to go away.

In the ugly fluorescent light, his gaze was different than before, piercing in a way that unnerved me. Almost as if he’d become unhinged during the drive. Maybe he was going to kill me after all. I couldn’t put anything past him, which meant I’d need to find a way to escape.

Without saying another word, he nodded behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see a door. There was nothing I could do but obey him. I hated the word and the thought. I wasn’t that kind of woman, which was why he wanted to break me. I’d heard the conviction in his voice, even thought he’d had a lilt while explaining exactly what he wanted to do.

My legs were shaking, but I did what I could to keep from allowing him to see how nervous I was around him. Once inside his home, I was surprised how modern and beautiful the kitchen was. He instantly flicked on a light, tossing my duffle to the floor.

He moved around me, heading toward a cabinet. It was late, although time had no relevance in his world. My mundane life as I’d known it seemed far removed from everything around me.

“What do you drink, Bristol?”

“I’m not thirsty.” When he stopped moving altogether, I rubbed my arms. “Whatever you’re having. I’m not picky.”

His laugh was slight. “You should always ask for what you want, Bristol.”

“Fine. Then whiskey. I’ll take a weapon and a car at the same time.”