Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Predictably, his gaze drops to the wet T-shirt contest in a cage as he leans in and takes the cuffs out with a grunt. He stares at me but doesn't speak for long minutes while I take my time observing everything I can. He wears a tank top, and the markings on his neck show me a few things. He's not just Bratva but high-ranking Bratva, for one. He spent time in jail for another. But there's no ink to indicate he's an assassin.
"I'm assuming you know the Kopolovs," I say. My tongue is thick, and my voice sounds strange. I close my eyes to make myself look half out of it. He doesn't answer but just watches me. "If you are, then you would know I have a deal with the Irish."
He nods his head almost amiably. "More accurately, you did."
My heart thumps. What?
"I'm sorry to tell you," he says in a tone that isn't sorry at all, "we've moved in and given the Irish a better deal. They don't need your services anymore."
"But you do?" I snap. This isn't fair. After everything I did for them, they're just going to ditch me?
"Do I have a use for you? Yeah, you could say that,” he drawls, his voice dripping with amusement.
I don’t flinch. He doesn’t own me. And the second I get a chance? I’m gone.
I’m almost sad I’m going to ditch his sorry ass. Could be fun taking the piss out of a guy like him, and I’ve been bored for a while. But I did not come this far only to be put back in a literal cage.
Asshole.
I’m going to play the long game. He might be motivated, but I suspect he’s done what most men have done—underestimated me. And since he obviously thinks he’s already caught his prey, it’s only a matter of time before I can make my move. Every man has a weakness. All of them. And this one, despite his control, is no exception.
A door opens, and someone stands on the other side. I’m momentarily blinded by bright white light. Okay, so we’re not flying, then, but in some sort of transport vehicle.
“Matvei.”
With a growl, he turns his back to me and snarls at his visitor. Ha! He doesn’t want me to know his name.
Matvei. Nope, definitely not one of the Kopolov brothers. I knew their names. But his name is unfamiliar to me. One of their friends? Associates? Hmm.
The Irish never kept me in the loop of what their plans were, and for my own safety, I kept my nose out of details. They gave me a job, and I did it, no questions asked unless I had questions that were directly related to my job.
I watch the way he moves, slow and deliberate, which makes sense for a guy of his size. Despite Matvei’s control, he still has a weakness. But I’ll wait.
"I'm a little nauseous," I say in a low whisper. "Can I have something to eat?"
He eyes me suspiciously, definitely expecting that I'm going to play him. Of course I fucking am.
"We'll get something to eat once I get you situated."
"Oh," I say with mock excitement. "Do you have a bigger cage for me? Or am I good enough that I'll get let out of my cage and maybe get a little fresh air? Spread my wings a little bit? Please, sir?"
He now has his eyes on me and doesn't respond. I'm a scrapper, but he's obviously larger than I am, and larger usually means slower. He’s the goddamn linebacker for the Bratva, too big to move with any speed, and either way, too damn proud to send someone else after me, or… this is personal.
Incapacitating a man this big takes precision.
I will not get a second chance.
He comes closer to me and bends. I draw in a breath, and I move. A quick jab to the throat, followed by a knee to the groin. I lift the water bottle and smash it against his skull. He stumbles, caught off guard, and he's so big that when I kick his kneecap, he falls hard. He reaches for me with a growl, but I have the key in my hand already.
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.
"You little bitch," he says. He almost grabs a fistful of my hair, but I quickly evade his grip and elbow him in the neck before I kick his groin. He could have grabbed me just now, could have manhandled me, but either he's afraid to break me or too surprised by my sudden movements. I take the water, splash it in his face, and when he turns and blinks on instinct, I dive out of the cage. I slam it, turn the key in the lock, and take a moment to gloat at the sight of him in there. He grabs my wrist straight through it. I bite down on his finger until I taste blood. He screams, shouting in Russian, but I shake my head at him. "Did you forget? Nobody can hear you screaming in here."