Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners #3)(12)

“Where in Poland?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. We traveled by private jet, and I always stayed in the house.”

Gabriel lifts a hand to his face, his fingers brushing over his jaw. “Who are Mazur’s allies?”

How am I supposed to know something like that?

“Ahh… Marcel? He’s the head of the guards. If Mr. Mazur trusts anyone, it’s Marcel.” I’d gladly throw Marcel under the bus if it got me out of the hot seat.

A frown line forms between Gabriel's eyes, making him look more threatening. “Dudek. How long has he worked for Mazur?”

I don’t know. “He has always been there.”

“Why were you at Aqua?”

The question is random, but the moment the words register, ice pours through my veins.

“To get dinner for Mr. Mazur,” I answer the same as before.

Gabriel leans forward, and resting his forearms on his thighs, he links his hands. His intense gaze bores into mine. “Did you try to plant a tracking device on me?”

What?

“No!” I shake my head vehemently.

“Were you supposed to kill me?”

God.

My chin starts to tremble. “No.”

“Why were you at Aqua?”

I gasp for air, fear gripping my throat in a strangling hold. It’s hard to squeeze the words out. “To get dinner for Mr. Mazur.”

Gabriel stands up, and as he buttons his jacket, he slowly walks closer to me.

I struggle up from the bed, the chain rattling. My legs feel weak, and sweat beads on my forehead.

He stops in front of me and stares me down until I feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt in my life. I keep my head lowered and my eyes trained on the carpet, every muscle in my body on high alert.

“I really hope for your sake, the next time we talk, you will have something of importance to tell me.”

Or else?

When I glance up, Gabriel’s eyes slice through mine, his expression cold, merciless, and filled with promises of pain.

He turns around and leaves the bedroom, then air whooshes from my lungs, and I slump down on the side of the bed.

Dear God.





Chapter 8


Gabriel



It’s been an entire week, and Lara keeps giving me the same answers. It’s clear as fucking day she’s scared shitless, and my gut tells me she hasn’t lied to me.

Yet.

Still, I’m no closer to finding Mazur. The fucker vanished into thin air.

Walking into the cottage, I ask, “Still the same?”

“Evet,” Murat answers. “She eats, showers, and tries to get out of the shackle. She hasn’t asked Nisa Hanim to help her escape again. Nothing new.”

Nodding, I walk to the bedroom and let myself in. Just like every other day, Lara moves to the side of the bed, her body tensing with fear. Since yesterday she’s been wearing the dresses I had Nisa bring to the room. The colorful patterns make her look even younger.

Some color is returning to her face, and she seems to be gaining weight. She doesn’t look as gaunt anymore, her striking eyes sparkling brighter.

Lara never keeps eye contact because she’s always on guard and scared shitless.

That doesn’t mean she’s not brave.

Not once has she cried, and not a day has passed where she hasn’t tried to break the fucking shackle.

Yesterday, Dr. Bayram removed the IV and said Lara was recovering well.

Trying a different strategy today, I shut the door behind me and take a seat on the chair. Removing my gun from behind my back, I release the clip.

As I lift my eyes to Lara’s, I say, “For every right answer, I’ll remove a bullet. By the time I’m done questioning you, I’ll use the remaining bullets on you.”

I watch as fear darkens her eyes until they almost look like the night sky, light blue flecks shining like stars.

The woman’s eyes are something else. She can keep her facial expression neutral, but her eyes give away her emotions.

“Why were you at Aqua?” I ask for the hundredth time.

Lara takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “To get dinner for Mr. Mazur.”

Again, my thoughts turn back to the scene outside the restaurant. Lara’s shocked expression. Her outburst. Her fear. How she ordered another meal and left without looking at our table.

Unfortunately, I’m really starting to believe her.

My thumb moves, ejecting a bullet. I set the round down on the armrest.

Lara’s eyes widen, and I watch as relief trickles into them.

“Does Mazur have any romantic relationships?”

Her brow creases, and for a split second, she looks repulsed. “Not that I know of.”

I focus on the emotion she let slip by her defenses. “Why are you repulsed by the question?”

She shrugs. Her gaze darts to the clip in my hand before meeting my eyes again. “It’s hard to imagine Mr. Mazur being intimate in any way.”

“No girlfriends? No wives?”

She shakes her head. “None that I’ve seen.”

I remove another bullet. When I set it down next to the other one, Lara relaxes more.

Questioning the woman, I’ve learned a couple of things. She has zero loyalty to Mazur. I have no idea what her life was like, but I can imagine it wasn’t good. I’ve heard Mazur has a habit of killing his staff for the slightest offense.