Page 2 of My Ruthless Mountain Man

“Perhaps we will look anyway.” He motions to Mikhail without taking his eyes off me.

“Wait! You can’t just push your way into my house.” I step toward Mikhail, fueled by pure panic. Like I could actually stop him from doing anything he wanted.

Ilya catches my wrist and reels me back against his chest. One arm locks around my waist, holding me in place. “Now, now, kitten. Allow Mikhail to look. It will go better for you if he finds your brother, you understand?”

No. I don’t understand any of this. I push against him, but it’s futile. He ignores my struggles as if I really were a kitten.

Ilya’s hand strikes fast, gripping a fistful of my hair and pulling my face close to his. His minty breath skates over my lips and those deep blue eyes pierce mine. “When Ryan told me of you, he neglected to say you were such a beauty. It seems he has something of value, after all.”

My lungs freeze and dark spots dance in my eyes. No! I can’t pass out, no matter how scared I am. I don’t want to be vulnerable around this man. “Please,” I whisper. “Let me go.”

Ilya scans my body where it’s pressed against his.

He’s so close, I can see the flecks of gray and gold in his eyes and feel the warmth of his breath on my lips.

“He’s not here,” Mikhail says as he comes back into the living room.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

Ilya nods. He relaxes his grip, though he doesn’t release me. “You will deliver a message for me, kitten. Tell your brother he has twenty-four hours to repay the money.” The fingers of his other hand flex on my hip. “Or maybe I take you instead.”

“How much money?” I’m afraid to ask, but I have to know how badly Ryan is indebted.

“Seventy-five,” Mikhail says.

“Seventy-five hundred?” Oh my God. We can’t possibly come up with —

Ilya chuckles again, as if everything I say amuses him. “Seventy-five thousand, kitten.”

I sway as my knees threaten to give out. Ilya catches me and deposits me into a nearby armchair. “Thousand?” My voice breaks on the word.

“So sweet,” he murmurs. “I am wicked to hope he doesn’t pay the money. But I am a man of my word. Twenty-four hours. No longer. Tell him.”

Then they’re gone, closing the door softly as if this was a pleasant visit and they hadn’t just threatened to take me in exchange for my brother’s gambling debt.

Seventy-five thousand dollars in twenty-four hours. They may as well have asked for a trillion. After bills, I don’t even have enough money for takeout.

An hour later,I’m finishing my second glass of wine whenRyan stumbles through the door. It bangs against the wall with a loud thump.

“Shit. Sorry sis.” His eyes are bloodshot and he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He pulls off his gray beanie and runs a hand through his matted brown hair.

How did he get to this point? How did I?

I take another sip and sink further into the couch cushions.

Ryan closes the door and toes off his boots. “You okay?” He eyes my wine glass. “You only drink when you’re upset.”

After Ilya and his henchman left, I curled up on the couch and tried to think of a way out of this mess.

“I had a visitor.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryan starts rifling through the mail. “Did I get a package?”

I huff an exasperated breath. “No. You got a message.”

He glances at me. “What kind of message?”

“The threatening kind. You owe seventy-five thousand, Ryan?”

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