Page 137 of Scarlet Vows

My head throbs from where that man, Radimir, threw me. Actually, everywhere he grabbed me hurts. I think I haven’t been out long. Maybe ten minutes? Maybe a little more or a little less. I don’t know.

I cross to the big door, but it’s locked, the kind of lock that I couldn’t pick, even if I knew how. As I push on the door, I find it’s solid. Someone my size can’t break it open.

Funny how suddenly I’m calm. Maybe it’s shock. I don’t know. Or anti shock, the other side of the primal shock I was in when that vile Radimir told me Ilya knew who really killed Max.

I curse myself.

Of course it was a lie.

No way would he send someone.

I can’t stop thinking that.

No way. No way. No way.

I got so caught up in the weirdness of falling into normalcy with Ilya that Max had been on my mind, a phantom twinge of everything.

Or maybe I would have reacted that way anyway.

It’s shocking to be told something like that.

And Radimir used that to his advantage when he shoved me into the car and locked the door.

Even if I’d been in my right mind, I don’t think I could’ve escaped. Even if I’d fought him at the mansion, I have a horrible feeling I’d still be here.

It doesn’t make me feel better at all.

I cross the room to the other side, the bare bulb above barely touching the shadowy corners. The other door isn’t locked, so I open it. I try the light, but it doesn’t work. From the smell, I know what’s in here.

A filthy toilet.

As my eyes grow accustomed to the tiny dark room, I make out a sink and a grubby toilet, stained and with no seat.

I shudder and step out, closing the door. I don’t even think I’d use that tap, if it even worked, to drink from.

My heart beats hard and fast as I go to the sofa and inspect it. Nothing nasty lurks on it, so I sit, hugging my legs to my chest.

Who took me, and who was that man? Just because the two spoke Russian doesn’t mean they work for Russians. People go all places for work, and the mafia and cartels are known to recruit from everywhere.

But I don’t think this is cartel.

Santo?

There are lots of reasons why he may be behind all this, and maybe I was wrong and Ilya was right. Because Santoknew about Max. He knew how he died. He’s smart enough to use Max as either a lure to get me to come along or at least shock me enough to make me malleable.

No excuses exist for me not fighting, for not using even a shred of my self-defense lessons at the mansion. For not rushing back inside and locking the door.

I need to get out of here.

Gingerly, I get up and go to the door, pulling off my belt as I go. I may not know how to pick a lock, but what about maybe unscrewing the hinges? Would that work? And would the little tines on the belt even fit?

The answer is, after a frustrating few minutes, no.

I want to cry, but I’m not going to let myself.

Instead, I lay my ear against the door.

Maybe I’m wrong about this being a basement. Maybe this is one of those warehouses that have windowless rooms. Plenty do, right?