I bolted from the car, wishing like hell I could disappear into the night but knowing my bladder would never allow it.
“Ostanovis!” The Russian command sounded behind me as my hair was yanked back roughly. “It is nothing to me if you piss yourself,” Osip growled cruelly as he yanked me toward the house. “You wait.”
He towed me roughly toward the dilapidated structure, which stood alone against the desert backdrop. He pushed me inside and growled something to the driver, who took my arm and towed me toward what I prayed was the bathroom.
I sighed with relief as he shoved me through another door, keeping it open as I raced to the toilet. His cold eyes watched me as I pulled my pants down and sat on the cold seat.
I looked to the ground, trying to ignore his presence as I finally found relief.
“Turn around.” I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my voice strong. Now that my body had found some relief, I was more aware of my surroundings and I was not about to wipe myself in front of him.
His response was a sinister smile. “No. I watch.”
A shiver snaked down my spine as I got the undeniable feeling that he liked to watch all sorts of things.
I looked away, wiping myself as quickly as possible and pulling my pants up with lightning speed. My cheeks burned with humiliation.
“Come.” He took my arm, yanking me back out to the small living room.
It was then I took in the state of the house, or what used to be a house. A lone lightbulb shone down from the ceiling, casting an eerie glow on the gloomy space. Wallpaper peeled from the walls, the once cheerful flowers wilted by the mildew that now curled the edges. A few folding chairs and a couch that had unrecognizable stains were the only furniture in the room.
The house hadn’t been lived in for a long time, that much was clear. A shudder shook my cold frame as I realized the dark purposes this place could be used for.
The driver unceremoniously shoved me onto the couch, and I wrinkled my nose against the smell permeating from the moist fabric.
It smelled like rot and mildew. Like death.
Just as the last time I’d seen them, Osip and his men were dressed in finely tailored suits. Their distinguished presence was an eerie contrast to the shabby surroundings.
I sat on the couch, watching them warily as they talked in Russian. The men seemed agitated, checking their watches and pacing frequently. I didn’t dare ask what happened next. I kept expecting them to demand where the diamond was, but they didn’t. Instead, it almost seemed like they were waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I fought to make myself invisible, doing anything I could to avoid drawing attention to myself. After another conversation that I couldn’t understand, Osip and the driver went outside, leaving me alone with the man who’d had his gun on Sid.
He was a huge hulk of a man with a blond buzz cut and angular features. When he locked his steel-blue eyes on me, my heart rate spiked. He prowled toward me, his predatory gaze shining in apparent delight.
“Nothing to do. So, we play.” He grinned.
“No. We do not,” I shot back, fighting the urge to panic. He outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I bolted from the couch, moving to stand behind it, my eyes narrowed on him as he grinned. “Make it fun, hm?” he teased maliciously, his accent made thicker by his excitement.
I swallowed against the bile wanting to rise in my throat. He’d left his weapon sitting on the folding chair. I focused on a single goal: to get that gun. My heart calmed as I strategized.
Those self-defense classes I’d taken were about to come in handy—or at least I prayed they were.
He stalked closer, grabbing my arm and pulling me bodily over the couch. The move was so quick, my breath left me with a loud whoosh.
His huge body pressed me deeper into the couch cushions as I fought for leverage. I wrapped my legs around his waist and managed to flip his big body to the ground. I punched him as hard as I could in the throat and vaulted off him, headed for my prize.
His labored breathing was like an oncoming cyclone as he made a grab for my ankle, pulling me back down to the ground. He dragged me across the hard surface until he was over me once again. He slapped me hard across the face before pulling my arms over my head with one hand as his other wrestled with my jeans. I tilted my head to the side and clamped my teeth down on his forearm, biting into his flesh, tasting blood.
He howled, letting go long enough for me to slip from his grasp once again. I made it the two long strides I needed, grasping the gun in resolute fingers. I turned to him, and without hesitation, fired.
The bullet hit him directly between the eyes at close range.