Boris looked at Maks with contempt. Deliberately, he walked around his desk and slapped Maks hard across the face.
“How did you miss this when you checked her clothing?”
Maks rubbed his flaming cheek. “It wasn’t there, when I checked.”
Boris slapped him again, this one more violent than the first. “If you had stopped looking at her tits you would have found it.” Grasping Maks by the face, he shoved him away in disgust.
“You are useless to me.”
Dismissing his hapless nephew, Boris inserted the drive into the laptop on his desk, but the images sprang up on the flat screens surrounding the room. There in living color was Flynn snorting coke off her boobs.
Izzy’s skin warmed when she watched him smiling at her, and his fingers linger on her body. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest and she prayed that they would be given the chance to build something together.
Miro did the slow clap. Boris was beaming.
“Bravo, Izzy, Bravo,” Miro said. “Most ingenious.”
She didn’t like the way he said it, as if he knew it was a setup. “Tell me about Jasmyn,” she said to Boris, who looked to Miro for the okay. The icy Russian nodded.
“She was sold,” Boris said.
Oh, please God, no. Her worst fears were realized. Nausea roiled through her, the urge to retch so strong, Izzy covered her mouth forcing the bile down. “Sold? Sold how, to whom?”
“I don’t know the name of client, he was quite adamant about remaining anonymous,” he said, shrugging off her questions.
Disbelieving him, Izzy pushed. “Surely you vet your ‘clients.’ ”
Boris speared her with a glare. “We vet cold hard cash. Who it comes from is irrelevant.”
“You’re lying to me.” Frantically, she looked to Andre, who refused to make eye contact, and then to Miro. “Please, she’s my sister. She needs me.”
“Get me another video,” Boris said, “I’ll give you the name of the client that referred him.”
“That wasn’t the deal!” Izzy cried. She had lost her leverage the moment she handed over the drive. Turning to Miro, she pleaded. “Please, Mr. Bushnik, make him to tell me where she is. I just want my sister back. I won’t tell anyone what happened to her.”
Ignoring her plea, Miro walked over to the laptop, pulled the drive, and pocketed it.
“That belongs to me,” Boris said.
“All that is yours is because of my efforts,” Miro replied coolly.
Miro turned slowly and looked at Izzy. His arctic eyes shone with a glacial chill. “Jasmyn was special. Just like you, Izzy. A rare jewel in a pile of rocks.” He moved to the bar and poured himself a drink. “We had a full house here that night. Bidders from all over the country. A dark, scarred, tattooed man outbid them all for her.”
Miro smiled and tossed down his drink. “That was that.”
“Bidders? An auction? For what? Like a prostitute?”
“For as long as the buyer wishes to own his newly purchased property.”
Izzy’s jaw dropped at his casual demeanor. “You sold my sister to another human being? Like a slave?” She hoped the guys were getting all of this because she wanted to kill these guys. Who did they think were taking someone against their will and selling them?
Miro nodded. “I was tempted to keep her for myself, but . . .” He shrugged. “There was a man who wanted her more.” He raised his empty glass to her. “As I said, Jasmyn was spectacular. I have never seen men so determined to outbid one another for a woman.”
“Why did you tell me this?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“Even if Boris is not a man of his word, I am. It is your part of the bargain. So now you know. Not that it matters, because Jasmyn is gone to parts unknown.” He checked his shiny gold wristwatch. “In two hours we depart for mother Russia.” He smiled, the gesture frosting his eyes. “It is your choice whether you voluntarily accompany me as my guest or are dragged from here like a slave as your sister was, four months ago.”
Every hair on Izzy’s body spiked. The nausea roiled higher. She’d kill herself before she’d leave with Bushnik.
“Miro, think of the bigger picture,” Boris said, stepping toward him. “She’s worth three times her weight in gold if she stays here and makes more videos.”
With no pause to consider Boris’s plea, Miro said, “Boris, sit down and shut up. This is my decision and mine alone.”
“You’re only thinking of yourself, not the organization. What do you always tell me: Look ahead five years!” Boris spewed. “No woman is worth what you are willing to sacrifice!”
Miro graced Boris with a chilling smile. “It’s done.”
“Nyet!”
The tension level in the room shot through the roof. One small step at a time, Izzy began to back away. She prayed they would start fighting and she could slip unseen out of the room. “I need that vodka now,” she said, hoping the guys heard her code word for get me the hell out of here!
Miro shook his head, slid his hand into his suit jacket, withdrew a gun with a long silencer, and shot Boris twice in the chest.
Izzy screamed. Maks pulled a gun and before he could level it at Miro, he was shot where he stood. Shocked, Maks grabbed his chest, stumbled backward, and slumped to the floor. Miro looked at Andre, who had not moved.
“You are smarter than you look, Andre,” he said.
Andre’s dark eyes looked to where Boris lay. “Boris is fool.”
“Congratulations, my giant friend, you have just replaced Boris at the club.” Miro poured himself another drink and thoughtfully sipped it. “I take seventy-five percent gross from the house, the rest is yours.”
Izzy’s stomach tightened as she stared at Boris’s bloody body and lifeless face. Maks had fallen to the side of the desk and all she could see was the scuffed bottoms of his shoes.
Bushnik’s two men stoically flanked him. When she turned horrified eyes to Andre, his narrowed as if telling her to keep cool. Slight as it was, it was his only tell.
“I’m not going to Russia with you,” Izzy whispered, afraid that if she said it too loudly, he’d shoot her, too.
Bushnik laughed, finished his drink, set the glass on the desk, and smiled at her. “Izzy does not befit a woman of your beauty. What is your given name?”
“Isadora,” she choked.
“Ah, meaning ‘a gift’. A most befitting name.” He extended his arm to her. “Come, Isadora, we have a long flight ahead of us, and I’d like some dinner first.”
“I can’t just leave!” she said, trying to stall him. “I have family. A job. School and bills to pay and a crazy FBI Agent stalker who will hunt you down!”
Bushnik’s eyes narrowed. “Take my hand now.”
Wanting to live a few minutes more, Izzy took it. When she did, he smiled and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I have a lovely villa overlooking the river in St. Petersburg I think you will find most comfortable, Isadora.”
“I don’t like water or villas.”
As the two thugs preceded them, opening the double doors, Bushnik purred. “I think you will come to love all things Russian, my precious gift.”
As they entered the hallway, Izzy fought down the bile rising in her throat and the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. Please, Flynn, I hope you’re listening.
As they approached the landing, Izzy realized it was tomb quiet. Had Flynn lost her? Had her team as well?
“Which airport are we going to?” she asked nervously.
“A private one,” Bushnik answered, pulling her close. “My aircraft is large with a sumptuous bedroom suite. I expect we shall spend most of the flight there as I teach you Russian.” He chuckled at his joke.
Izzy’s knees buckled.