Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)(27)

The building itself is dark and quiet, but there’s a foyer entrance off to the side that’s lit up. I head inside the lobby and take a moment to appreciate the warmth that washes over me the moment the door closes. It feels like the best hug of my life.

The little lobby is set up with a front desk in front of a wall full of keys to each of the rooms. It’s old-school, almost charming. As is the man behind the desk. He’s in his fifties at least, with a thick woolen sweater and the mustache to match. His eyes go wide when he looks up and sees me standing there.

“Hi,” I say, offering a friendly smile. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping there was a phone nearby that I could use?”

He blinks and stumbles over his words. “Um, well, I suppose… yeah… hold on a second…”

He goes into the back room, and I turn towards the glass doors that I just walked through. I expect to see Leo standing on the other side of the glass, hot on my trail.

But there’s no one.

Instead, I see the building of motel rooms. The siding is a deep, saturated green and the doors are light wood with golden door knockers. As far as motels go, this one’s pretty nice. From the outside, at least.

I hear footsteps, and a moment later, the man re-emerges. He seems to have gained a little more composure. But I’m not above disarming him with my charm if it comes to that.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says. My heart sinks. “Our phone lines are currently disconnected. The whole area is down from the last snow. It should be fixed first thing in the morning.”

It’s a struggle to keep the smile on my face. “Do you have a cell phone I can borrow, then?”

“No cell reception for the last few hours.” He notices the disappointment on my face. “It happens up here,” he says. “I can offer you a room, though. Even give you a discount.”

“Can I pay when I leave in the morning?” I ask, deciding not to tell him that I have zero cash on me.

“Of course, ma’am.”

I breathe a sigh of relief for old-school trust and accept the key to a room on the second floor. He offers to walk me up, but I decline politely and set off to my room.

I hate the idea of being stuck here so close to Leo and his men, but I don’t have a choice. I won’t make it much longer out there in the dark and the cold.

The room is spacious and cozy with two twin beds. I don’t have a change of clothes, so I stay in the ones I’m wearing and settle on the bed furthest from the door. The warmth is comforting. It’s almost enough to distract from the fact that my stomach is rumbling.

One more night, I tell myself. One more night and then I’ll be able to call Anya. She’ll send a team out to get me.

Morning will solve everything.

But for now, I’m so tired…





I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping when I hear something from outside. At least, I think I hear it. My mind is groggy and my eyelids are heavy, though. I can barely muster the strength to open them.

“Hello?” I croak into the darkness of the room. “Is someone there?”

I frown and blink away the sleepiness. Is that…?

The next thing I know, I’m struggling for breath. I try to scream, but there’s a bag over my head, cutting off my oxygen. Hands grab me on either side, strong and rough.

“No! No!” I rasp.

Is this a dream? It has to be. It has to be.

But it’s too vivid, too real. Even through the bag on my head, I can smell the scent of perfume. It’s familiar. I’ll remember that smell until the day I die.

I’m torn from the bed and tossed into a chair. There are at least two sets of hands on me. As I breathe and my training begins to kick in, I can pick out scents, voices.

“Tie her up.”

That voice—so confident and clipped. Filled with the kind of control I’ve tried to embody the last several months.

Oh God.

The bag is pulled from my head, and I squint at her blurry silhouette. When my eyes finally adjust to the light, they confirm what I already know.

Brit.

“Hi, Willow. Long time, no see.”

“You fucking bitch,” I hiss.

She pretends to be offended. “Is that how you greet me? After all I did to set you free?”

“I don’t imagine you did it for me.”

“True enough,” she says with a shrug. “But I did it all the same.”

My hands are tied behind the chair. I struggle against the bindings. “Let me fucking go.”

“Sorry, dear. Afraid I can’t do that.”

“What was the point of setting me free if you were just going to re-capture me?” I demand.

Her blonde hair spills over her right shoulder in a messy braid. She’s dressed in all black again. Dark trousers, tight black sweater. She looks like a supermodel on a spy mission.

“Just following orders,” she says.

“Whose orders?”

The door opens and closes again. “Mine.”





11





WILLOW





Leo stops next to Brit, his eyes dark and annoyed.

They’re both dressed in black. He is broad and muscled; she is lean and lithe. Of all the thoughts I should be having right now, the only one I can focus on is: They make a beautiful couple. Looking at them together feels like staring into the sun.