Page 113 of Claim Me
Drake threw a look toward the dark-haired man, the lump in his throat increasing in size. He finally lowered his head in resignation.
“Now, I’m not going to waste either your or my time with chitchat as it’s late and I have other places to be. I’m aware of your connection with Rurik. How long have you been working for Popov?” As an accountant, he could easily hide who he was working for, which was one reason his former working relationship hadn’t been properly identified. Jameson Valentine had no idea the man he’d hired to run his resort was working directly for Vladimir Popov.
Drake shifted from foot to foot, already sweating.
“You don’t want me to ask you again,” I told him.
“Eight years.”
“A few months before accepting the position offered by Jameson Valentine. Let me guess, you came highly recommended with all the creative bullshit needed to ensure you’d be hired. I would guess your resume was altered. You’re an accountant, not a resort manager.”
“I didn’t want to, but they made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
I laughed. “They. Ah, yes, the big bad Bratva. They always do. Did you have anything to do with the death of Jameson and his wife?”
His eyes opened wide. “I’m not a killer.”
“That remains to be seen. You looked the other way when they came for Charlie. Didn’t you?” When he didn’t answer right away, I almost lost my cool. “Didn’t you?”
Drake jumped visibly. “I had no choice. You don’t understand what it means to work for the Popov family.”
“Loyal for life or else. Yes, I believe I do. Loyalty is everything in our world. Now, one last question before you’re punished. Where is Marissa Valentine?”
He paled more than before. “I don’t know. I wasn’t a part of that.”
“Bullshit. You’re friends with Rurik. You’re buddies. He wanted her. The man was obsessed with having her. He became determined to make her his wife. And you had no problem assisting your friend. Where. Is. She?”
His entire demeanor changed as if he’d been programmed to shut down when interrogated at a certain point. If he truly believed he could save himself, he was a complete idiot. I moved toward him, crowding his space.
“I don’t know,” he insisted with a little more urgency.
“You’re lying. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s entirely up to you.”
Sweat slipped down both sides of his face. “Please, I have a family.”
“So do I and that includes Marissa. So talk and maybe I’ll allow you to return to your family.”
“You don’t know what they’ll do to me.”
I laughed, so did Alessandro, his comment amusing. “And it would seem you have no understanding of the Dmitriyev Bratva. Brutal bastards.”
Drake shifted his gaze from one to another as Mikhail inched closer. “Talk,” my brother barked.
The stupid mole did nothing except begin to shake.
I’d had enough and time was running out. I was strong, my muscles honed from years of training and time spent in the gym. I also enjoyed hiking and mountain climbing whenever possible. However, my strength tonight was fueled by rage. I shoved him toward the door leading to the balcony, throwing it open and pushing him onto the platform.
“What are you doing?” Drake cried out.
“This.” With no hesitation and no difficulty, I pushed him over the railing, catching him by one flailing arm. Fortunately, there were no guests lounging by the pool. I would hate for one of their lasting memories to be of a man perched perilously close to death’s door.
Drake screamed, clawing at my hand as his body swayed back and forth. “Please. Don’t let me fall!”
“I’ll be happy to pull you to safety. But only if you tell me what I need to know. Where is Marissa being held?”
He sputtered and whimpered, his other arm flailing, which wasn’t doing me any favors. The man was a dead weight.
Mikhail leaned over, issuing a ragged huff. “I’d answer his question, Mr. Carlisle. At fifteen stories, you’ll make a huge dent in the concrete deck, the force shattering at least sixty percent of your bones.”
