Page 11 of Cruel Russian Monster
I checked my watch.
Vera still hadn’t come out of the bathroom.
I knocked on the door again but got no answer. I tried the knob, and it was locked.
My gut tightened. I slammed my shoulder into the door. On the third hit, the frame cracked, and I yanked it open.
The bathroom was empty.
And the goddamn window was wide open.
Vera was fucking gone.
I bolted out of the house and into my truck. I was about to fucking explode. This was the second time today Vera had slipped through my fingers, and when I got her back, because Iwouldget her back, she’d learn firsthand what it meant to cross me.
She didn’t have her phone or any money. That meant she was on foot and vulnerable.
This was a dead-end street. One way in, one way out. She had a five-minute head start, max.
As I rolled through the neighborhood, my eyes scanned every yard, every alley, every shadow that shifted too quickly. If Vera made it back to Philly without me, my entire plan would go up in flames.
She wouldn’t risk the open road. Not yet. Outside this neighborhood was just a long, exposed stretch of asphalt. She’d stay hidden, wait for dark, then vanish.
I had to find her before the sun dipped too low, before the shadows became her ally.
After an hour of crawling through the neighborhood in my truck, I knew I needed to ditch it. I needed something she wouldn't recognize. I spotted a U-Haul, a big one. I parked the truck, hotwired the U-Haul, which had a narrow passthrough slit between the cab and the back, and started making my rounds.
It wasn’t long before I spotted her. Vera was climbing out of a goddamn treehouse in someone's front yard.
I let the U-Haul roll past her slowly, watching through the side mirror. When I got far enough ahead, I pulled over and waited. I let her come to me. And when she walked past my door, I pounced.
She barely had time to scream before I snatched her, tossed her into the back like cargo, slammed the door, and locked it tight.
I climbed back into the cab, shifted into gear, and headed for the private hangar.
Vegas was done. Now it was time for retribution. The real game was about to begin.
Chapter 4 - Vera
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I couldn’t believe I was stuck in a freaking U-Haul like a piece of goddamn furniture! I had long thrown the cap and wig to the ground.
I slammed my foot against the door again, but of course it didn't budge; it was solid metal. Just like the man driving.
My palms stung from beating against the walls, and my throat was sore as I desperately yelled to a world that had clearly decided to ignore me.
I was sweating and shaking, my breathing uneven from panic and adrenaline. I couldn’t stay trapped in here. I had to get out. Somehow.
But how? Jaroslav had my bag, which held my phone, my money, and credit cards.
Maybe I could talk to him and reason with him.
Like you talked and reasoned with him at the house? Good luck.
I had to at least try.
My legs trembled as I made my way to the front of the truck, toward the narrow slot that led to the cab. I banged on it and paused.
