“Why?” My voice was ragged from lack of spit. “Why would you go after her then? The first night?”
“A truly good predator is always able to throw off its own scent.” Petrov twisted a large ring around his middle finger. “We wanted to get the layout of the house, and what better way for us to grab you? We get you to focus on Andi, keeping her safe without any regard to yourself.” He let out a low chuckle. “I bet you started sleeping with your gun and knife in the nightstand instead of under your pillow. After all, the bed is for making love, not war.”
Damn it, he was right.
Foolishness washed over me.
“And there it is.” He clapped his large hands slowly. “Admission. She betrayed you.”
She betrayed me.
The love of my life had betrayed me.
I blinked back tears as the fire roared to life behind me. “She betrayed me.”
“Good.” Petrov nodded. “And what are you going to do about it?”
I was silent.
He sniffed, walked away from me, and pulled open the door. “One more syringe, another twenty-four hours, and we’ll get our answer.”
She was so beautiful, like a black widow spinning her web of deceit, just waiting for me, someone so weak, so desperate for love to fall into her clutches.
She waited.
The heat was too intense between us.
I wanted to escape.
Still she waited while I dangled in her web.
And then, she struck.
The poison spread from my back to my legs — heavy, so heavy. The pain seared through my hip and up my shoulder.
So much pain.
I strained against her bite, bucking my body away from her.
She simply smiled and bit harder.
My head fell back. A buzzing hit me in the neck—
I jolted awake.
The room was spinning; my back was on fire; my face fell forward again, this time slamming against the keys of the piano.
The zap jerked my head up.
Eyelids heavy, I fought for the sleep I needed, prayed that water would pour from the ceiling as I tried to lick my dry lips.
Andi’s fault.
She’d done this.
She was the reason I was here.
Rage burst inside of me. I let out a hoarse yell.
The door to the room opened. Petrov walked in, his boots slamming against the hardwood. I saw four of him, maybe six — I lost count of how many blurs were in front of me. All I knew was that he was the key to everything. The key to water.
Sleep.
God, I’d do anything for sleep — for hydration.
Petrov pulled out a chair and snapped his fingers. The door opened again.
Water.
I moaned.
“Ah, see?” Petrov took the pitcher of water and poured it into the glass that accompanied it. “See how I take care of what is mine?”
He lifted the water to his lips and sipped, droplets fell down his large chin onto his chest. “It’s very fresh. Cold.”
My breathing was erratic; I couldn’t focus on anything but the water. The drops he was wasting… the drops I would lick off him if I could just reach… That was all I needed in life — two drops of water.
“She betrayed you,” he said as he slowly dumped water from the pitcher onto the floor.
“No!” I screamed.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Y-yes.” I hung my head. The zap didn’t come, but neither did sleep; instead, a frenzied madness took its place. “Yes!” I lifted my head. “The bitch betrayed me.”
Petrov rose, his knees cracked as he held the water to my lips. “And what are you going to do about it?”
I met his glare. “I’m going to kill them all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Andi
”NIXON!” I YELLED INTO MY CELL PHONE as it went to voicemail yet again. “Answer your damn phone!”
I hit the accelerator harder, ready to ram the gate that led into his house. Dying before my time wouldn’t help Sergio. I rubbed my head where I’d been hit; the bruise looked horrific. It had probably caused brain damage, but I couldn’t think of that right now.
Sergio had been taken…
By my father.
And I was going to get him back even if it killed me — or if I needed to kill my own flesh and blood to do so.
The stupid-ass idiot who’d knocked me out had tied my hands and feet together and stuffed me in a closet then dropped what felt like a hundred pounds of clothes on top of me…
I wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish, other than suffocating me, but once I had fought through the clothes I had a new problem.
How was I going to get to a phone?
By the time I managed to kick down the closet door, I was exhausted. My sickness wasn’t allowing any sort of Xena-warrior-princess tendencies. Instead, I turned on my side and puked.
When I was done tossing my guts I inched and hopped down the hall. He’d put me in the farthest room in the house — a million miles away from a phone.
When I passed the upstairs’ study, I noticed that it was already starting to get dark again.
How long had I been out?
The pain in my ass was intense; bruises would cover my body by the time I made it to the phone.
I had no concept of time — only that I had to call Nixon… or find a knife.
When I reached Sergio’s room, I nearly burst into tears. No phone. They’d taken all communication from his room. No cells, nothing.
Knife. I needed a knife.
Or a machete.
Another few hours, and I was at the stairway.