Wiping at the blood streaming from his nose and mouth with his forearm, he staggers to his feet, a combination of confusion and annoyance radiating from him. “What the fuck is your problem, Madden? What happened? And why is she here?” He glances back toward the bedroom, where Emerson has now grown quiet, listening to the scuffle between us.
“She told me!” I roar, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the unbearable agony. “She told me everything!”
He stomps over next to me and slams his hands down on the vanity so hard the mirror shakes. “She told you what exactly?” he seethes.
Prying my lids open slightly, I glower at his reflection, unable to even turn to look at him. “About the Russians, Easton. You don’t have to play stupid anymore,” I spit. “You turned in the woman I love to the goddamn fucking Russians. And I swear to God, if you don’t get her back to me in one fucking piece, I will kill you with my bare hands.”
All of the color drains from his face as alarm glazes over his shocked expression.
“Don’t act so surprised. You had to know Emerson wouldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut. The second I got her naked in my bed, she couldn’t wait to tell me of y’all’s little secrets,” I hiss, my body trembling with pure hate.
“Madden, listen to me right fucking now.” His voice drops several octaves lower than normal as he grabs my shoulders and forces me to look him directly in the eye. “I don’t know what in the hell she told you, but I swear to God, on our parents’ lives: I had nothing to do with Blake’s disappearance. Absolutely fucking nothing!”
He pauses a few seconds to allow his words to sink in then continues, “The reason I’m even here at your house is because I got a phone call tonight from Raze, Kabinov’s grandson. I thought he was calling about the money I owed, because with everything that’s happened this week, I haven’t even thought to touch base with him, but that wasn’t it . . .”
“Raze? Are you fucking kidding me, Easton?” I almost have to laugh at the absurdness of my life. “You got involved with a Russian mobster named Raze? And no alarms went off in that fucking thick skull of yours that maybe, just fucking maybe, that wasn’t a good idea?”
Scrubbing his hands over his face, my younger brother blows out an exasperated sigh and mumbles, “I know. I know. I’m a dumbass, but it all makes sense now.”
“What?!” I snap. “What makes sense? What are you talking about?”
“H-he wanted me to have you call him. On an untraceable line. Said it was urgent.”
Sharp, shooting pains in my chest steal my breath yet again as I try to process all of the information. “Why? What? That’s all he said?”
“Yeah,” he nods, extracting his phone from his back pocket and bringing it to life, “he called at nine-forty-two. Look. Right here.” I drop my gaze down to the call history screen and confirm he received a call from a Raze K. at the time he claims. “I don’t know why. He wouldn’t answer any questions, but obviously, when he told me to have you call him, I assumed it had something to do with Blake. I just . . . I just didn’t know the hows or whys or anything about Emerson. I jumped straight in my car and flew over here then let myself in with my key after you didn’t answer the door or your phone. Only to find her like that, and you nearly comatose on the floor in here.”
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly. I look into his eyes for any indication of him not telling the truth. He’s my brother. My own flesh and blood. But I don’t know who to trust anymore. It feels like the entire universe is working against me.
“Madden?” Easton pulls the guy’s contact information up on his cell and hands it over to me. “You knew you were going to need that extra line I dropped off yesterday. Now it’s time to use it. Let’s get your girl back, and we’ll deal with Emerson and prove my innocence later. Time is of the essence with these people.”
I accept the rectangular device and tip my chin toward the door. “Let me grab it from the safe, and we’ll go to another room to make the call. I don’t want her to hear any of this.”
Five minutes later, I’m standing in the guest room down the hall, punching in the numbers with my shaking hands. I say a quick prayer as I press connect and hold my breath while I wait. Luckily, it only rings once before a gruff male voice answers.
“Decker.” He states my name with full certainty it’s me on the other end of the call. “Are you confident this line is secure?”
Clearing my throat, I nod like he can see me. “I am.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ve got a pretty good idea about why I’m calling, and it’s not about your brother’s gambling debts.”
“Blake.” Her name falls from my lips with a breath of hope. “You have her.”
He grunts something in Russian then replies, “I do, but before you start asking a thousand questions, let me talk. You interrupt me and piss me off, I’ll hang up and this offer is dead.”
My ears perk up at the word ‘offer’, and I agree to hear him out. After all, I have no leverage to make any demands at this point. So as he begins to speak, I pace in a circle around the room, listening closely to what he has to say.
“For the safety of both of us, I’d prefer to answer most of the questions you have—the whos, hows, and whys of everything—in person. In addition, she has asked to see you, and I’ve granted her this wish. However, make no mistake about it, if you decide to agree to my terms, your life will be in danger. No one else is aware of this phone call, and as I’d be the one getting you in to see her, we will both be putting our lives on the line in the event we’re caught.”
Even if I wanted to ask questions, I couldn’t. I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say or think or do. This could very well be a setup to kill me, to get rid of the pain-in-the-ass boyfriend who won’t stop sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. But that seems too messy and like too much risk for an outfit the size of the Kabinovs. It would be too obvious. Or maybe I just want it to be.
The Russian takes my silence as his invitation to continue. “I’m aware you’ve been assigned an agent full-time, so you’d need to find a way to evade his watch. Also, it goes without saying, but if you whisper a word of this to any authorities whatsoever, you may as well pull the trigger yourself on your sweet Blake, because that’s the only option you’ll leave me. And, Decker, I promise I will find out.”
“H-how do I know this isn’t a set-up?” I sputter nervously. “That you’re not just luring me somewhere to kill me?”
He snickers. “If I wanted you dead, you’d know it. ‘Cause you’d already be fucking dead. I don’t play games. I don’t talk shit just to talk shit. I’ve got a girl here who’s got some pretty fucked up shit on her plate right now, and that’s not even talking about her god-awful fucking past. She wished she could see you, so I’m trying to help her out and let that happen. For Blake, not you.” I don’t miss the subtle change in his intonation when he talks about her, his voice softening involuntarily. Then he barks, “Now either you’re in or you’re out.”
I stop walking. Every nerve ending in my body is tingling. My tongue feels like it’s swollen to twice its size, and my salivary glands have completely dried up. My heart is fluttering faster than the wings of a hummingbird. So fast it may not be beating at all.
This. This right here. This is one of those self-defining moments. My decision, whether I choose to put my trust in this crazy Russian murderer named Raze or not, will forever shape the outcome of who I become. If my life was a choose-your-own-adventure book, right now I’d be deciding whether or not to continue on to chapter fifteen, which is the safe, responsible choice of calling the FBI and telling them what I know, or jumping straight to chapter twenty-three, where I find out just how dauntless I can be, going up against the big, bad captor who has fallen in love with my woman.