Yeah, fuck him, they knew what he didn’t want to fully admit. Sophie was his. He wanted her—and he was going to fucking go get her. And then he was going to make Androv wish he’d never touched a hair on Sophie’s head.
SOMETHING WAS VERY WRONG. Sophie knew it was. She wasn’t as drunk as before, but she still couldn’t seem to control her legs. And the world spun whenever she turned her head.
She was chilly. Her clothes felt strange. There was a coat, but beneath that, she felt almost naked. The coat rubbed her skin in places she didn’t think it should. And there was a film over her face. It was dark but diaphanous. She could see through it, but not well.
“We seem to have company,” a voice said. “You had better lose them.”
“Yes, sir.”
She was in a car, and it was going fast. Then it spun around a corner, and she flopped against the person beside her. Whoever it was pushed her roughly.
“Hold her.” The same voice as before. A familiar voice. Right in front of her.
Grigori’s voice. A chill washed over her. Grigori had found her. He was going to kill her. Had he killed Chase? Where was Chase?
“Broke your files,” she said.
“She spoke,” Grigori said. “Why the fuck can she talk?”
“You wanted her to be able to walk. Talking is also a possibility.” The woman’s voice. Angry.
“She sounds worse than drunk,” he said. “I couldn’t make out a damn thing she said.”
“Then that’s a good thing.”
“Is it? Rodriguez will want her sentient at the least. He’s flown a long way, and he’s going to want to enjoy his prize.”
“He can still enjoy her,” the woman said. “She won’t fight.”
“Files,” Sophie said. But it came out sounding like fzzzzzz.
Dammit!
“Shut her up.”
Something poked into her skin. A needle. Sophie tried to fight, but her efforts were ineffectual. The drug moved through her system, flooding her with a strange ennui. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.
“Is she going to be able to walk?”
“Yes. But if you want her to seem perfectly unimpaired, it’s not happening.”
Grigori blew out a breath. “This is going to cost me, Annika. I am not happy. I’m even less happy that you didn’t kill the man she was with like I told you to do.”
The woman sniffed. “If you hadn’t wanted to rush this, it would have been different. And I do not kill. You knew that when you sent me.”
“You and your squeamishness,” he bit out.
A hand smoothed down her arm, making her skin crawl. “She’ll still fetch a nice price. She’s quite lovely. And those breasts—dear God, they are fabulous. Rodriguez will pay handsomely for her.”
“She would have earned me more in Monte Carlo. And now I have to sell her to a fucking Mexican drug lord.”
Grigori paused and then growled something in Russian. She didn’t know what he said, but the car sped up again, whipping around corners and rocketing down straightaways. Sophie gave up trying to sit straight.
She flopped like a fish—and then the tires squealed hard and the car stopped so fast she flew forward and then back before collapsing in a heap on the floor.
Before she could even attempt to right herself—and she didn’t think she’d be able to do it anyway—rough hands grabbed her and hauled her up. Against a body. A male body judging by the size.
Something clicked and a hard metal cylinder pressed into her temple. Right about then the doors whipped open and men shouted.
Get the fuck out of there!
Hands above your head!
On your knees, motherfucker!
But the gun against her head didn’t move, which meant the man didn’t move. Outside the car, a woman cried. Annika.
The man holding Sophie shoved her toward the opening and out into the road, his arm around her neck.
“I will kill her,” he said, and a little sob formed in her throat. It was Grigori’s voice, and she knew he meant it.
“You do that and you’re dead, Androv. I promise you that.”
Chase!
“It looks like I may be dead anyway.”
“Not if you let her go.” A different man this time.
Grigori snorted. “What assurance do I have that you won’t kill me when I do?”
“You don’t have a goddamn one. Except this. You’re the CEO of Zoprava and the world thinks you’re a nice guy. If anyone dies here tonight, it won’t look good for any of us. Too much fucking paperwork for me, and I hate paperwork. So do yourself a favor and let her go.”
Grigori’s arm tightened around her neck. “This bitch is worth a lot of money.”