Gary grumbled some more, but eventually tossed me his phone.
“I’m just going to say this one more time—be careful who you involve in this. These people are dangerous.”
I sat with the cell phone in my lap, and tapped out an email to Luka, giving him the basics of what I’d seen and heard. I wasn’t expecting to hear right back, because I knew he was on tour, but within minutes, he’d replied, his message short and unambiguous: Go to the police.
I glanced over at Gary who was snoring loudly, his swollen nose amplifying the sound.
I can’t.
After a few more moments, the reply arrived.
I have €1,000. It’s yours brother—just say the word. I’ll buy your flight home right now.
I wanted to tell him to get me a ticket, but without ID, I had no chance. I turned off the phone and lay back.
But every time I shut my eyes, I saw the girl’s face. I wanted to claw that memory out of my brain, and after another hour of her haunting me, I was ready to tear out my own eyes. But eventually, sleep pulled me under into dreams that were dark and ugly, slicing at the surface of my mind, icy breaths chilling my skin.
My life hadn’t been all sunshine before, but I hadn’t been afraid of it. Everyone dies. Everyone. But today, I’d thought it was my turn. That was messing with my head. I barely knew who I was anymore. All I wanted was to feel something other than numbing fear.
Two months ago, my biggest worry was Jana breaking up our partnership. Now, a crazed mafia killer had his sights set on either fucking me or killing me.
The next morning, we carried on as if nothing had happened. Gary’s nose was a little swollen, but he didn’t mention it.
At breakfast, no one spoke to me and no one wanted to sit near me. Even Gary was unusually quiet.
Then Trixie appeared, and the muted conversation died away.
“Mr. Volkov wants to see you,” she said, snapping her fingers.
No one would look at me, although I saw Gary darting a worried glance before his eyes lowered quickly.
I didn’t even know how I felt. I didn’t know if I expected to live.
This time, Trixie led me to Volkov’s office where he sat like at king on his throne.
“Such a shame about that little misunderstanding with Sergei,” he said, inclining his head to my damaged hand. “He just can’t help himself when he sees a handsome face, although I can’t say you do much for me . . . no offense.”
“None taken,” I ground out after slightly too long a pause that made Volkov’s forehead wrinkle in a frown.
“Hmm, so there’s an end to it, no?”
If I was going to say anything, now was the time, but my tongue felt paralyzed.
“Sergei says you owe him money?”
Volkov’s voice was even, pleasant, the odor of violence hidden behind expensive cologne.
“I . . . my clothes were damaged.”
“Maybe you’d like to repay him personally?” Volkov asked.
I knew what he was suggesting, and for a moment I thought that I was going to puke, so I said nothing.
“Or perhaps I’ll pay him what you owe, and you can pay me. It’s possible to get good tips working in my nightclub.”
I frowned, confused.
“Tips . . . for dancing?”
Volkov smiled. “Go have a few drinks in the bar after the show. Let the ladies from the audience buy them for you. Entertain them, make them happy, you know?”
He paused, his yellow eyes cutting into me.
“You don’t want to be in Sergei’s debt any longer than you have to be. Or mine. But it’s your choice.”
Now I understood.
I was in Hell.
Thirty-six days later . . .
Laney
“IT’S RIDICULOUS! YOU’RE not in a fit state to go anywhere!”
Collin was furious, the tendons standing out on his thick neck, a vein throbbing in his forehead as he stood puffing like an angry bull.
“For God’s sake, Laney! Just phone them and cancel. It’s only Vegas—it’s not like it’s anything important.”
I stared at him, fury making my lips tremble. I hated looking weak when I was so damn angry.
“No, it’s not important! I know that! It’s just my life. Ordinary life.”
Collin jeered. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m not. I’m really not, but what difference would it make if I stay here? I’ll be the same wherever I go. I may as well enjoy myself. And I’ve been planning this with Vanessa and Jo for eight months. I want to go.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Collin said again, aggravated that I wouldn’t agree with him. “I can’t just take off and go to Vegas with you. I have work. I have responsibilities. It’s selfish of you to take risks with your health.”
My mouth dropped open. “Selfish? You think I’m being selfish?”
I was hurt he could think that. Didn’t he know me at all?
“Yes, I think you’re being selfish. I can’t look after you if you go there and . . .”
“I’m not asking you to look after me and I don’t need you to look after me.”
“Of course you do!” he snapped.
We glared at each other across the kitchen table.