Page 109 of Beyond Enemy Vows
I grip the napkin tighter.
Something's not right.
36
NIKO
Iwatch Calli walk away, her red dress flashing between the black tuxedos and glittering gowns.
I keep my eyes on her until she vanishes, half-listening to whatever the hell George is rambling about.
"So, Niko," George continues, pulling my attention back to him. "Your father tells me you've been handling the European export expansion. Impressive growth from what I'm hearing."
I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "We've had a good year."
"Actually, on that note," George says, lowering his voice, "there's something I'd like to discuss with you about getting involved in that." He glances around the crowded ballroom. "Outside, perhaps?"
I look around for Calli, but she's nowhere to be found. Probably in the bathroom freshening up.
I then see my father standing with a group of people talking, that calculated smile plastered on his face.
"Okay," I say finally. "I've got a few minutes before she returns."
"Of course. This won't take long."
He gestures toward the terrace doors. I follow.
"Beautiful night, huh?" George says.
"Sure. What did you want to talk about?"
He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I... well, you see. The thing is, about my exports out of Athens..."
His words come too fast, stumbling over each other. His eyes dart past my shoulder, not meeting mine.
My body tenses.
"George—" I start, but before I can finish, strong hands grab me from behind. My body reacts before my mind catches up. I twist, driving my elbow back, connecting with something solid. Shit. There's too many of them. Four guards, maybe five, with more emerging from the shadows like they were waiting for a signal. They're grabbing my arms, my shoulders, pinning me.
"What the fuck," I yell, but one of them drives an elbow into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I go to swing, but my arms won't move.
George backs away, hands raised like he had nothing to do with this.
"You son of a?—"
A punch to the face followed by another silences me.
They drag me down the stone steps, my feet barely touching the ground. I try to fight, but they know what they're doing. One hand locked around each arm, another on my collar, keeping meoff balance. The music from the ballroom grows fainter as they haul me into the side mansion, the one I walked through just last night to hide a gun under the kitchen sink. The same kitchen I carefully scoped out for an escape route.
Now it feels like a trap of my own making.
We move fast. Through the kitchen. Down a hall. Into a dark side room with no windows. A storage room, maybe. The second the door opens, I'm thrown forward, hitting the floor hard.
The door slams shut behind me.
I quickly get to my feet and lunge at the door, pounding my fist against the heavy wood. "Fuck you!" I pound louder. "Open this fucking door!"
Nothing.
