“Listen, buddy. You might have saved me, but I don’t appreciate you invading my space.” I watched him warily. The evidence of a hard life was displayed across his face in deep creases and harsh lines.
A hint of a smile played around his lips but it was gone before I could be sure it was a smile.
“I’m searching.”
“What for? A gold mine?” I spat back at him. I had no idea what he was searching for but he kept digging for something from beneath the passenger seat.
His hard body was flushed against mine, his elbow pressed right below my breast. He retrieved a box and another gun.
“No, not a gold mine.”
“Why do you need another gun?” My voice trembled slightly as I asked the question, although there was annoyance there too. I really wished I was more of a badass at this moment.
He ignored my question and crawled onto the back seat, taking aim out the back window. He fired his weapon, once, twice, and I heard squealing tires.
“Left side,” the guy behind the wheel shouted.
The bullets whizzed overhead, striking with a crack against the metal of the vehicle. The sound of bullets all around me was ear-piercing. It felt like bullets were flying everywhere, terrifying the living shit out of me. The deafening impact of bullets hitting the car echoed loudly in my ear. I was terrified that one would force its way through the panelling of the car and end the hell that had been my life for the last two weeks. I never thought I’d have to go through a kidnapping again. Once was quite enough and I’ve worked to forget it for the past fifteen years.
A scream escaped me as glass shattered all around me, and I covered my face to protect it.
“I’m done sightseeing in Russia.” I yelled into my hands, not sure why. “I’m sick and tired of Russia, Russians, and anything related to this country.”
The man above me reloaded his gun and with a calm focus aimed out and fired repeatedly. Bullet casings dropped out of his gun all around me.
I heard a loud crash outside. “Ok, they are dead,” he commented calmly. “Speed out of here so the rest of them can’t catch up.”
He spoke like he had just ordered dinner, not killed a few men. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me back onto the seat. Broken glass was all around us. This man next to me held a gun in one hand as he pulled me closer to him. His eyes darted behind us to try and catch a glimpse of anyone following, while the driver kept his eyes on the road and a gun secured in his own hand.
Swallowing hard, I eyed him warily. “You said my father sent you?”
“Yes.”
“Should we call the police?” I suggested hopefully. It was hard to breathe. Was I really free? “Or the embassy?”
“No.”
The car swerved right, speeding down the road as the man next to me sat staring at me expressionless. He'd just killed at least a half dozen men, but it hadn't seemed to faze him. A chill ran through my body as his eyes stayed locked with mine.
“Where are you taking me?” I was trying hard to tamper the feeling of panic. I hoped I didn’t go from being a prisoner to one group of lunatics to a prisoner to another group of psychotic killers. I swept my tongue over my lip and felt a sting. I couldn’t even imagine what kind of shape I was in.
The man pulled out a phone and dialed up.
“We have her,” he spoke into it. I felt like a prize that would be sacrificed for something. “It’s the job of an organized criminal group supporting Boris.”
I stiffened at hearing that name. But no, that couldn’t be the same person. Life couldn’t be that cruel. Besides, he was in prison. He’d never get out.
The man’s gaze shifted to me and he handed me the phone. “You have two minutes. Make it count.”
My hands trembled as I took the phone. “Hello,” I answered hesitantly.
“Anastasia.” It was my father and my breaking point came. “You good?”
“Dad,” my voice shook and tears finally started streaming down my face. “Yes. I thought I went from bad to worse.”
I wiped my face with a shaking hand. Relief made my whole body shake.
“Listen, Anastasia,” my dad’s voice shook slightly, which never happened. For as long as I remembered, he always kept a cool head and his nerves never wavered. Even fifteen years ago when I barely made it out of those woods alive, he kept his shit together. “We don’t have much time. You can’t come back home until it’s safe.”