Page 56 of The Bratva's Innocent Pregnant Bride
To hell with it. I couldn’t remain huddled against the wall for much longer. I had to get as far away as possible, simple enough. Still crouched down and with the chair awkwardly banging against my knees, I scrambled away from the wall and headed down a side alley between the neighboring building.
Headlights blinded me, stopping me in my tracks. The slow crunch of gravel under tires had me whipping around and running full out, my feet skidding in the loose stones. So it looked like Agent Pierce had taken his coffee break in his car, parked on the side of the warehouse. Desperation gave me incredible speed, or at least it felt like it until I was thrown through the air after a hard jolt to my backside. My hands scraped across the ground and the chair banged against my shoulder, painfully twisting my wrist.
He actually hit me with his car. I shook off my shock and tried to rise up enough to slam the chair into him, but he planted his foot in the middle of my back.
“There better not be a dent in my car,” he snarled, hauling me up by the back of my shirt.
The chair nearly tripped him but he kicked it away, finally swearing ruthlessly as he leaned over and uncuffed me from it. Leaving it in the gravel, he dragged me back toward the warehouse.
At the steps, I had recovered enough from hitting the dirt to kick at him, landing a good one in his thigh. He grunted, reaching down to smack me across the face. I got an even better kick to his crotch, and he roared with pain as he stumbled backwards. It wasn’t enough time to get back on my feet. I washalf risen when he slammed his fist into the side of my head, sending me down again in a heap.
His foot rose and I saw a terrifying grimace on his face high above me in the moonlight. Despite being dazed from the latest hit, I rolled to the side and curled into a ball.
“I’m sorry,” I said through my hands.
“Not enough.” Grabbing the back of my shirt again, he yanked me up enough to haul me up the steps and into the warehouse.
The door slammed with a screech of rusty hinges and a bang that echoed around the empty space. He dropped me onto the floor, my shoulder slamming painfully against the concrete. It hardly registered since everything hurt at that point.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, holding up my hands. “I won’t fight anymore.”
“Damn right you won’t. That was stupid.”
I nodded meekly, all while picturing getting his gun from him and ramming it down his throat before pulling the trigger. The vivid imagery made me shudder. There was never a time in my life I wished for someone to truly be harmed. I didn’t even find silly videos of people falling off ladders very amusing. But Agent Pierce pushed me over a line I feared I’d never be able to get back onto the right side of. I wanted him dead, now, and as painfully as possible.
He smiled viciously, leaning down to pull me over to the wall, propping me against it like a doll. “Are you ready to smarten up and talk?”
“Do you want me to lie?” I asked, wincing in anticipation of a blow.
None came as he shook his head slowly. “I want you to stop lying and tell me what you know about the Fokin organization.”
“Organization?” I asked incredulously. “I’m a temporary babysitter. I don’t know anything except what their kids like to eat for breakfast.”
His soulless eyes bored into mine but I refused to look away or blink. My fear was quickly turning to anger. He saw it and didn’t like it. Good. I wasn’t too happy with him, either.
“Okay,” he said in a pleasant tone but with a smile that was more like a wolf baring its teeth. “Let’s talk about the kids.”
The fear came rushing back and he saw that too. Now his smile was more sincere. The monster was happy about something I wasn’t going to like at all.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
He leaned back on his heels, holding up his hands. “Oh, I don’t want to. I don’t like hurting children.”
“So then don’t,” I pleaded.
“That’s up to you,” he told me. “Your bosses might as well be dead already, but if you tell me something I find useful, maybe we can spare the kids.”
He hadn’t been honest about anything, not about who he was or where his loyalties lay, so was he telling the truth now about the Fokins? Was Katie, who had been so welcoming to me, about to be tortured and killed? Brooke, Daria, Mila, along with the other moms? What about Dan? Oh God. Grotesque images of handsome, hearty Dan lying in a pool of his own blood, his vivid green eyes slowly fading into death, assaulted my mind. Because of me.
No. Not because of me. Because of this corrupt FBI asshole who was grinning at me like he just won the lottery.
With a scream, I launched myself at him, digging into his face with my fingernails, trying to crush his eyes with my thumbs. All the air gusted out of me as he slammed me onto my back with a shout of his own, his hands tightening around my throat.
Chapter 37 - Daniil
The map that Anatoli sent led me to a warehouse park that looked like it had fallen into disuse. Most of the buildings had an air of abandonment about them, the ones closer to the front that weren’t completely boarded up were empty. If Paisley had been taken here, I was now at a loss as to which building she was in. There were acres of ground to cover, and in almost total darkness.
Frustration welled as I drove down the lanes between warehouses, my headlights off so I wouldn’t be noticed by a lookout if there was one. I gripped the steering wheel, inching along, up and down the rows. This might be a dead end. There were certainly no working cameras here. I had to believe Anatoli was assuming Paisley was there at all because this was the only place for miles and perhaps this was the last time he caught the car she was in on a surveillance camera.
