Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(6)

One name comes to my mind instantly. Bastien de Vere.

But would he . . . ?

“De Vere,” Belevich says before I can answer my own silent question.

“But he wasn’t here. How could he have done it?”

Belevich takes a few steps down the hallway and pushes open another door. He waves me over as he enters. I peek inside to see the employee break room Marina mentioned. Inside is a small card table, two chairs, a mini fridge, a microwave, and a coffee maker.

Belevich helps himself to a bottle of water from the fridge and tosses me one too. “It’s not vodka, but it will do for right now.”

He pulls out both chairs and motions for me to take the one opposite him as he sits.

“Do you not think it is strange that de Vere did not come? He has made a habit of following you everywhere he can, has he not? Like Mallorca. He did not play, but he came to watch you. Make trouble for you.”

My mind instantly dredges up the memory of what Jericho said about the chopper being tampered with, preventing my security detail and me from taking it home.

“That night . . . in Mallorca, I thought he was up to something. It was like he didn’t want me to be able to leave.”

“De Vere has always wanted you. No one can miss that. But he cannot have you as long as your husband is in the way.”

“But—” I start to say something, then snap my lips shut.

“What?” Belevich asks after he takes a swig of his water.

My mind goes to that evening in Alanna’s apartment, and how Bastien’s employee’s little brother had stashed a suitcase there with my stuff and enough drugs to get me sentenced to years in prison.

“He doesn’t want me anymore,” I say as I twist open the cap of the water.

“Why would you say that?”

I take a sip and decide I have nothing to lose by telling Belevich what happened. When I finish, he leans on the two back legs of the chair and motions at me with his now empty bottle.

“That is interesting, but it does not mean what you think. If de Vere cannot have you, maybe he does not want anyone to have you. Then again, if he got rid of Forge, he would change his tune quickly. After all, you are the daughter of one of the world’s richest men. Even de Vere couldn’t walk away from a temptation like that. Especially now that he’s been cut off by his family.”

I swallow a lump that rose in my throat as he spoke. “Are you sure . . . totally sure . . . that my father wouldn’t . . .” I try to figure out how to phrase the question I want to ask, but Belevich doesn’t need to hear it.

“Federov would not kidnap Forge. From what I know, the two men have much respect for each other.” Belevich leans forward, and the legs of the chair hit the floor. “Which is why you are right—we should call your father for help.”





5





Forge





I jerk awake as someone grips my hands and another person grabs my feet.

Through my duct-tape gag, I yell, but I’m trussed up like a fucking swine that’s about to be spit roasted as they haul me out of the van. Hinges squeak and footsteps echo on concrete as I breathe in the scent of blood.

Another door groans as it opens, sending cold air over my face, and goose bumps rise on my skin. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees, but we’re not outside anymore.

My hands are lifted above my head and hooked over something. Fuck. It’s a walk-in cooler. As soon as my feet are released, my entire body weight jerks at my shoulders as gravity kicks in. I dangle, unable to touch my bound feet to the floor.

“Boss?” a man asks.

“Coming,” another man with a Russian accent replies.

Someone steps close enough for me to feel his body heat, but I can’t see anything with my eyes covered until someone shoves the fabric up. I blink in the dim light, trying to focus on the pale blue eyes staring back at me. The rest of his face is obscured by a balaclava. He reaches out and tears away the duct tape covering my mouth with one quick yank, taking skin off with it.

I swipe my tongue out to taste blood once more and grit my teeth together. Focusing on how badly I want to rip his head from his body, I push everything else aside.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are or who’s paying you, but—”

His mouth opens and he huffs out a laugh. “Let me guess. You can pay me more to double-cross them? Original.” His accent is solidly eastern European, and my gut clenches.

He can’t be working for Federov. Federov wouldn’t fucking do this. Would he? That’s the billion-dollar question. I pissed him off, and I’ve heard plenty of stories about his ruthless reprisals before, but I never thought he’d dare with me.

“Take the fucking mask off, you piece of shit. Let me see your face. Tell me who you work for.” I bark out the orders, knowing that they won’t be followed, but I still have to try.

“Who I work for will not matter, because you will die, Forge . . . and then what will happen to that pretty little wife of yours?”

As soon as he mentions Indy, rage turns to ice in my veins. They can torture me. Peel the fucking skin from my body. But if they fucking dare touch one hair on her head . . . I’ll burn the entire world down.

“You motherfuck—” I swing backward, using the momentum to lift my legs and kick out at him, but a blow from behind cracks against the back of my skull, and my entire body goes limp as blackness invades once more.