In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(139)

And Sam. She wondered if the killer had gotten to him yet. If Sam were sedated, or even aware enough to defend himself. He would have no reason to suspect someone in a lab coat, handling his IV.

Oh, please, Sam. Stay sharp.

“Awake already, I see,” Renato said. “I gave you less than a half dose. I want you awake when we detonate the bomb.”

“Fuck you,” Sveti croaked hoarsely.

“Oh, please. A young lady of culture can do better than that. Josef, take her inside.”

Josef sauntered up between them. The distilled malevolence on his scratched, swollen face made her shudder. One of his eyes was bandaged. “I am going to make your death last a long time, cunt,” he said in Ukrainian. “And I will pay special attention to your eyes.”

She looked up at Hazlett. “Sam?”

Hazlett frowned. “Your pit bull does nothing but give me trouble. When my person stopped by, he’d already left the hospital. And in his condition! The man is deranged!”

Tears sprang to her eyes. It made her dizzy. Hope, fear, in equal measure. The more hope roared up, the more fear tried to quench it.

If Sam was on his feet and moving, he had a chance. Oh, please.

“I will find that son of a bitch,” Josef rasped. “I will do things to him that you could not even imagine.”

Unfortunately, with her background, her imagination was unusually fertile. But that was a road she didn’t want to go down.

Josef stuck his enormous hand between her legs and got a painfully tight grip on her crotch. He hoisted her over his shoulder.

Her face bumped Josef’s massive back. She twisted and strained to get a sense of her surroundings. They were at the coast. She smelled salt in the air. She caught glimpses of a house. More modern and more modest than the Villa Rosalba. She heard the dull, faraway roar of waves crashing before she was carried indoors.

Lights flicked on, assaulting her eyes. She was tossed onto the floor, smacking her skull against the tiles so hard, she almost fainted.

Josef knelt next to her. “I don’t think you’re tied tight enough, bitch,” he said. “Let’s turn you inside out. Make those pretty tits pop.”

He seized her feet and cuffed them with one of the plastic ties, ratcheting it tight. He jerked her ankles up and fastened them to the bindings at her wrists, bending her backward into a bow. She couldn’t curl up to protect herself if he kicked or stabbed her. He sat back on his heels and pulled out a knife. Held her shirt out taut, slicing the fabric. Buttons popped and rattled on the floor.

“This is just the beginning, you sneaky whore,” he whispered as he spread her shirt open. “I can’t wait to play with you.”

The tile was so cold against her bare skin. It burned, like ice.

He cupped her breast. Pinched her nipple until she cried out.

“Not now, Josef,” Renato snapped from somewhere across the room. “You’ll have all the time in the world to play later, but you have to set up this video equipment for us! Stay focused!”

Josef snorted in annoyance. One final, horrible pinch that made her writhe and flop, and he left her, shuddering with horror.

Facing away from them, she couldn’t see what they were doing. All she could do was stare out through glass doors that opened onto a veranda. Some minutes later, Renato and Hazlett strolled over to look down at her twisted, exposed body. Both were sipping brandies.

Hazlett clucked his tongue. “Josef, Josef. What have you done,” he chided. “Embarrassing the poor girl.”

“What a bad, bad boy,” Renato said.

The two men exchanged glances and sniggered.

“Nothing like a pair of lovely breasts to greet the day, hmm?” Hazlett offered.

“A chi lo dici.” Renato lifted his glass. Clink. They laughed.

Sveti had never hated them more violently than in that moment.

“It is finished,” Josef said, from the other side of the room.

“Excellent. Josef, lift Svetlana up, so we can all see the setup.”

Josef’s hard fingernails dug into her armpits. He hoisted her up, giving her a swift glimpse of the terrace before she was turned to face the rest of the room. It was large, extending out onto a rocky headland. Beyond that, nothing. The sky had lightened, from black to deep blue.

The place had the air of an abandoned vacation house, deeply chilly, with the faint hint of damp and mold. A large monitor was set up, connected to a laptop on a nearby table. It had a split screen. On one was a view of the Spanish Steps, and the Trinità dei Monti church at the top. Near it was a handsome flesh-toned building, presumably the Hassler. The other screen’s vantage point was from an angle. It zoomed in on the hotel’s elegant but understated lobby entrance on the street.

“We’ll know the minute they arrive,” Hazlett said, sounding pleased with himself. “That will be our cue.”

Sveti coughed to loosen her throat. “Where’s the camera located?”

“An apartment owned by Cherchenko,” Renato said. “Conveniently located to give us this visual. Isn’t that handy?”

“Do you see that white Telecom Italia van parked by the gate?” Hazlett asked. “That’s our bomb. Josef assures us it will take out the entire hotel and a good bit of the buildings around it. It’s wired to a phone inside the van. All I do is dial a number, and ka-boom.”