I ignored the thirst burning my throat. My mouth was sandpaper; the desire to drink so strong I couldn't recall a time I'd ever been so thirsty.
"She betrayed you." Petrov stood in front of me and crossed his arms.
"She wouldn't." My voice was weak, unconvincing.
Petrov laughed. "Oh, to be in love. Tell me, did she give you the sob story about her sickness? Did you feel sorry for her? That was part of the plan you know. The easiest way to infiltrate is through the heart — through pity."
I shook my head.
"You're an idiot if you think she loves you. She feels nothing — she's my flesh and blood, after all. She hates Italians. I imagine you saw that hate quite often."
I ignored the voice in my head that said he was right.
"Haven't you wondered how we were able to get into your house all those times?"
"Luck." I clenched my jaw as the fire seemed to roar against my back. I arched and let out a little cry. So. Damn. Hot.
"Ha." Petrov wagged a finger at me. "She gave us the alarm code."
My head started to hang.
"You're a smart man, Sergio. I bet you even suspected her, but, because of your love, you ignored that voice in your head, that voice of logic — reason. She's good. I'll give you that. Many a man would fall for her blonde hair and innocent act. Didn't she tell you? She was trained in the art of manipulation."
"Stop!" I roared, lunging against the rope that was chaffing my wrists. "Stop!"
"She played you…" Petrov leaned down and slapped my cheek. "…like a fiddle."
He grabbed me by the hair and slammed his head against mine. Pain sliced through my forehead. I fell forward, and another zap hit my neck.
"Admit it," he whispered, his eyes black with hatred. "She bested you, and now… you are nothing."
"You won't win." Why was I still fighting when I knew he was right? When I knew— What did I know? The images were blurring more; I saw her snapping a picture of the code with her phone. Was that real? Did that happen? Memories replayed; they all seemed right, but they didn't fit.
Her kiss had been real.
Our love was real.
"Ah, the doubt." Petrov stepped back and nodded. "That's the first to happen, and then the images… the images your brain stored up suddenly float to the surface. Take your time, Sergio. I imagine a man like you will come to the same conclusion."
"Why?" My voice was ragged from lack of spit. "Why would you go after her then? The first night?"
"A truly good predator is always able to throw off its own scent." Petrov twisted a large ring around his middle finger. "We wanted to get the layout of the house, and what better way for us to grab you? We get you to focus on Andi, keeping her safe without any regard to yourself." He let out a low chuckle. "I bet you started sleeping with your gun and knife in the nightstand instead of under your pillow. After all, the bed is for making love, not war."
Damn it, he was right.
Foolishness washed over me.
"And there it is." He clapped his large hands slowly. "Admission. She betrayed you."
She betrayed me.
The love of my life had betrayed me.
I blinked back tears as the fire roared to life behind me. "She betrayed me."
"Good." Petrov nodded. "And what are you going to do about it?"
I was silent.
He sniffed, walked away from me, and pulled open the door. "One more syringe, another twenty-four hours, and we'll get our answer."
****
She was so beautiful, like a black widow spinning her web of deceit, just waiting for me, someone so weak, so desperate for love to fall into her clutches.
She waited.
The heat was too intense between us.
I wanted to escape.
Still she waited while I dangled in her web.
And then, she struck.
The poison spread from my back to my legs — heavy, so heavy. The pain seared through my hip and up my shoulder.
So much pain.
I strained against her bite, bucking my body away from her.
She simply smiled and bit harder.
My head fell back. A buzzing hit me in the neck—
I jolted awake.
The room was spinning; my back was on fire; my face fell forward again, this time slamming against the keys of the piano.
The zap jerked my head up.
Eyelids heavy, I fought for the sleep I needed, prayed that water would pour from the ceiling as I tried to lick my dry lips.
Andi's fault.
She'd done this.
She was the reason I was here.
Rage burst inside of me. I let out a hoarse yell.
The door to the room opened. Petrov walked in, his boots slamming against the hardwood. I saw four of him, maybe six — I lost count of how many blurs were in front of me. All I knew was that he was the key to everything. The key to water.
Sleep.
God, I'd do anything for sleep — for hydration.
Petrov pulled out a chair and snapped his fingers. The door opened again.
Water.
I moaned.
"Ah, see?" Petrov took the pitcher of water and poured it into the glass that accompanied it. "See how I take care of what is mine?"