Moving Target (Target #3)(11)
“Either from that guy who punched me in the face, or your car that also punched me in the face.”
He mutters a curse, and then starts dragging me away from the car.
“Where are you taking me? Are you going to kill me, too?”
That stops him. He turns to me. “Kill you? Fuck, no. I’m taking you inside so you can take care of … things.”
“Inside where?” I struggle, pitifully so. I have no idea how long I’ve been out, but it’s probably not as long as they wanted considering my lack of restraints.
“Petrol station. There is a hotel in the next town. We can stay there for the night.”
While I allow him to lead me inside, I start to plan the best way to get away from him. Sure, he broke my heart the last time we were together and sure, I’d always wished I’d gotten another chance.
But this was so not the chance I pictured.
I think I stay in the bathroom for a good ten minutes before I’m ready to come out. Mostly because I’m still planning and a little because I think it’s the longest I’ve ever peed in my life. Like longer than Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own.
After I wash my hands, I splash cold water on my face and assess my injuries. There’s a bruise in the middle of my forehead, thanks to the car, and my cheek is a beautiful shade of green and purple. I touch it lightly and hiss in pain.
“Chloe. I’ve waited long enough.”
“I’m washing my face.”
“Do you need help?”
“No.”
“Then come out.”
I tap my foot a couple of times, just to waste time and glance down at my outfit. My pretty dress is gone, along with my bucket list and credit card, and I’m wearing a loose fitting shirt with a pair of shorts, and sandals on my feet.
I whimper at the loss of my bucket list. That I’ll never get back.
“If you don’t come out, then I’m coming in to get you.”
Turning the lock. “No one likes their property damaged, so unless you know how to pick a lock…”
I could out wait him, but I’m pretty sure he’d find a way inside because he probably already knows how to pick a lock. Criminals who kidnap people have to know hot to pick a lock. I’m sure it’s in their job description.
Hands shaking, I try to think of another way out. I could scream for help, but what if no one came to my aid, like in Paris?
Obviously, I can’t hide in here. I can’t fit through the vent in the ceiling. The only other way out is through that door or the window…
“Holy crud.” There’s a window to my left and it’s wide enough for me to—I rush over to it, get one leg out and there’s Dima standing there with a frown on his face.
“Where did you plan on going?”
“Outside.”
His lips quirk. “And after that?”
“Sightseeing.”
“Chloe.” He holds out his hands to me and my body, the traitor, goes right to him. He helps me the rest of the way out of the window. “You cannot go off alone.”
“I want to go home.” I bite my lip and look at the ground. No way will I let him see me cry. I cried a million tears over him seven years ago. Now I’m older and wiser.
“I can’t take you home.”
My gaze jerks up to his. “Why the hell not? You know me. Send me home. Make up a story and say you dumped me in the ocean and the sharks ate me.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“You have to have a video of it? For proof?” Bile rises in my throat. I slept with this guy. Repeatedly. I cried over him and let him break my heart.
“No.” He touches my face, his fingers light as he pushes my hair behind an ear. “We must get you safe, and I must figure out why Leonid wanted me to deliver you to Amsterdam.”
“Is that his name?” I ask, falling into step beside him. Okay, so he’s kinda dragging me, but if he has answers, then I want them.
“Yes. I should have known it was a set up, but why you?”
“I assumed it was for bad things—death, sex slave… shark food.”
“Did you steal from Konstantin?”
I scrunch my nose. “The only Konstantin I know is the guy Keanu Reeves played in a scary tail movie.”
Dima searches my face.
“I’m not lying,” I insist.
He exhales. “I don’t think you’re lying, but…”
“But what?”
“But you need food. Sleep. A shower—no offense, but you smell rank.”
“That’s so nice of you to notice,” I say tartly. “Can you add airplane ticket home to your list? You won’t have to smell me then.”
“Absolutely not.” His face grows dark. “There is no way I’m letting you go this time.”
Seven years ago, I would have given anything to hear those words from him. But now… they just piss me off… and scare me.
6
Dmitry
It’s all I can do not to touch her again, to see if she truly is sitting in the passenger seat of my car, her face an angry and scared profile. Concentrating on the road is of upmost importance at this point—mostly because I broke rule number two and opened the fucking trunk. Anyone could have seen me. Leonid is the type to have watchers, as is Konstantin.