The limo stopped. I lunged for the door handle and before I could touch it the younger man reached inside his puffy jacket and whipped out a handgun. He pointed it at me.
“Don’t try it.” He had a thick Russian accent.
“Shoot me and Victor never gets his money.”
He grimaced at me and I sat back. The older one blocked one door and the younger one kept his gun trained on me. The younger one—Evgeny—waved the gun at me. “Okay! Time to go.”
I grabbed my purse and scooted out of the limo. A white yacht loomed at the edge of the dock. Shaped like a mini cruise ship, it was much bigger than the Eleanor Rigby. I tried to look for its name on the hull but there was nothing painted on the back or sides.
I followed the new limo driver to the narrow ramp leading up to the deck. Briny ocean air and acrid diesel fuel burned my nose.
I tried to remember if my new will was official yet. I’d signed so many documents, but Bannister said things would take a few weeks to finalize.
We climbed up the steep gangplank—the driver in front of me and Evgeny and his gun behind me. I caught a glimpse of the driver’s hand on the railing.
His fingernails were long and pointy and painted in orange and black tiger stripes.
I froze. The limo driver stepped onto the dock and pulled his black cap off.
A pile of reddish blonde hair spilled down his back.
Actually, her back. Nastia slowly turned around to face me.
“Velcome back, Lana. Ready to pay debt?”
I climbed up the rest of the ramp and stepped onto the deck.
“Hey, Nastia. Long time no see. Can I please use your bathroom?”
She didn’t say a word, but gestured for me to walk ahead of her down a set of stairs. When I hesitated, the sharp muzzle of a gun poked my back. I gripped my bag and descended the stairs into a small but plush bedroom. Everything was white except for the bedcover, which was made of gold satin.
She and Evgeny watched me carefully.
“This is your room,” she said.
“My room?”
She held out her hand. “Phone.”
I smiled and shrugged. “I dropped it in the water before I got on board. Oops.”
Her eyes flashed in anger. She yanked my bag out of my hand and shook it upside down on the bed. She opened my wallet, then tossed it down in disgust. She stepped over to me. She looked older, more tired than the last time I’d seen her. The cracks in her thick base makeup deepened with her frown. “Jacket.”
I took my jacket off and handed it to her. I could hardly breathe. If she found the phone, my only lifeline would be snipped. Evgeny stepped into the room and leaned against the wall smirking, the gun still in his hand.
She smirked and looked me up and down. “You want I pat you down—or him?”
I thought—maybe if I let him do it, he’d forget to look in my boots.
“He can do it.”
Her thin eyebrows flew up. He grinned and his nostrils flared. He shoved the gun in his waistband and wasted no time getting in front of me.
“Arms out,” he said. I fought my disgust and gave him a flirty look, even biting my lip for effect. He slid his hands down my sides and around to my bottom, cupping it and running his hands under it as far as they could go. I took a tiny half step closer to him and kept my eyes on his. Nastia snapped at him in Russian, and he knelt down and ran his hands down my legs. I gritted my teeth as he stood up and ran his palm between my breasts. Something sharp pressed into my breastbone. His smile faded and his hands froze. The dove. He’s found the dove!
He reached around my neck and pulled the chain over my head. I grabbed his hands to stop him. “Hey, that’s mine!”
He wrenched his hands free and dropped the dove so it swung loose on its chain from his fist. A bright smile spread across Nastia’s face.
“Victor has been looking for this.” She snatched it out of Evgeny’s hand and gestured for him to leave. He winked at me and hopped back up the stairs.
I fought back sobs and squared my shoulders. “You’re nothing but a thief,” I said. “A thief working for a gangster.”
“Your father stole half a million from Victor. Who is real thief?”
She shrugged and examined the dove tenderly. Then she slid the chain over her head.
“Nastia, you have to let me go.” She just laughed and pressed a button on the wall, which opened to reveal a closet filled with clothes.
“Please, listen to me! I have millions of dollars, I can pay you whatever you want. Just get me off this boat, please!”
She laughed. “Plenty of time to talk to him on trip.”
Below my feet, an engine rumbled to life.
“If this boat leaves the dock, you’re going to prison for life for kidnapping.” If the boat sailed away, I was dead. Victor Savitch was not the type to drop me off at the nearest beach and wish me well.
She yanked a dress off a hanger and threw it on the bed. “Put that on and I take you to him.”
“Tell me where the boat is going.”
“I know you love traveling, Lana. Wait until you see island. Is off Costa Rica. Very nice.”
Terror clawed at my throat. Costa Rica? I needed her to leave so I could use my phone before we sailed. “Can I have some privacy?”
She shrugged and left the room, closing it behind her. “I give you three minutes.” I whipped out my phone and frantically texted Maya. I told her where I was, described the boat, and told her send the police to the marina.
I thought about texting Alexander, but I couldn’t let him get hurt again. He’d try and storm the yacht himself. I’d done enough damage. I refused to involve him in my nightmare again.
The last word I typed to Maya was HURRY.
Nastia banged on the door. “Ready?”
I hid the phone under the thin mattress. “Almost!” I picked up the garment she’d thrown on the bed and cringed. It was a tacky white tank mini-dress with weird cut-outs on the sides. I got undressed and pulled it on, carefully avoiding the mirror. I tugged it down as far as I could.
Nastia came in and appraised me. “It’s not too late for you, Nastia,” I said. “Help me and you won’t go to prison. And I will reward you. I can give you millions. What has Victor ever given you? Look at what you’re doing!” Tears sprang to my eyes. “You know what he’s going to do to me! And you’re letting it happen?! Save me—and save yourself!”
Her eyes fluttered and went dead. She stared at something I couldn’t see. I sensed a tiny crack in her shellacked veneer.
“Please, Nastia. Please get me off this boat.” I bit back my tears and stared her down. She blinked and her eyes scanned my body. “Why there are so many bruises on you? Why stitches?” I’d forgotten about the faded purple splotches all over me and the red scar on my shoulder. But she seemed stunned.
“Some are courtesy of your boyfriend, Victor. Some are from your friend Arkady, before I watched him fall to his death.”
Her breath hitched and her eyes seemed to lose focus for a second. She ran a finger lightly along my scar.
“His knife?”
“Yes,” I said. She nodded softly. She screwed up her mouth and looked around. Then she unbuttoned her tight black jeans.
“What are you doing?” She pulled the waistband of her jeans down and exposed her hip to me. There was a mark on her skin that looked like the profile of a roaring lion.
“Is that a tattoo?” I asked.
She shook her head. “A brand. You know . . . ” and she mimicked pressing a hot poker to her skin as she made a loud hissing sound. “I was same age as you when I met Victor.”
“Does that mean I get one, too?”
She snapped back to bitch mode. She pulled the neckline of my dress down at least two inches and frowned.
“No bra.”
I unhooked my bra, wiggled it off under the dress and tossed it on the bed. She came in close and peered at my face.
“He will hate your hair.” She handed me a
bright coral lipstick It was the exact same shade she wore. I smeared it on my lips. She sprayed me down in the same pungent perfume she wore. Finally, she picked up a pair of heels from the closet and dropped them on the rug in front of me.
“Am I replacing you?” I asked. She ignored my question. I slid my feet into the spike heels and wobbled on the plush white carpet. When you dive off to swim to shore, they’ll be easy to kick off.
The water would be so cold. Even in June the San Francisco Bay was freezing.
I sent a silent prayer to God and Georgette.
“Nastia, this is your last chance. Help me, and I will help you. I promise!”
She took my elbow and shoved me towards the door. “Too late to help me. Now go.”
What did that mean? I took a step and my heel got caught in the thick carpet and I fell to one knee. Sharp talons shank into my upper arm but I didn’t budge.
I was listening to a voice—a soft, but distinct voice in my head.
I’d heard it before. My eyes flew open and I scanned the room, but there was only Nastia glaring at me with an angry sneer on her lips.
“Stand up!” she hissed.
“In a second, hold on.” I squeezed my eyes to listen closely. A thousand icicles scraped over my skin. Yes, someone—something—was talking to me. A soft voice, a breathy whisper, in French. But I understood enough.
It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten a message from Georgette. Once, when I was trapped in Ramona’s mansion and had to choose which car keys to use to escape, and again in the back of Wade Jenner’s police car. Each whispered hint had saved me.
A sense of calm flooded my body. I stood up and pivoted to Nastia, who had her arm raised like she was about to hit me, and smiled. “You have a son.”
She blinked and her eyes darted around the room. Had she not heard me?
“You have a son and his name is Alexei.”
She took a small step back and for a moment her perennially sour features rearranged themselves into a configuration it hadn’t had to use in many years: fear. Ten years slid off her face like a heavy veil and a younger, more vulnerable woman trembled before me. Her hand flew to her throat. “Alexei?” Her voice cracked as she said the name. She stared at me in amazement. “How—how you know this?”
I put a hand on her shoulder and said a gentle voice, “He’s almost six now. But he misses his mother.”
“No! I had a son. He’s dead,” she spat. “Why you say these lies?”
“He’s alive, Nastia. Victor paid your aunt to tell you he was dead.” She stepped away from me, clawing at the collar of her shirt. “He cries at night. He misses you. He wonders why you don’t call him.”
She pushed her fists into her eyes and shook her head. “Stop! Stop now! Liar! Sergei told you this! Or Arkady . . . ?” She looked at me with wide, panicked eyes. Some of her makeup had rubbed off and there were dark shadows under her eyes.
I shook my head. “I see things, Nastia. I know things. Sometimes, I can move things. The dead help me.” Nastia backed away, her face ashen. “My dead godmother is the one who sent a knife into my hand. The one I used to kill Arkady.”
She made the sign of the cross.
“Let me go and I will tell you where Alexei is.” That was a bluff. But then somehow someone was whispering numbers in my ear. In French. I said them to myself so I wouldn’t forget. I grabbed the lipstick I’d dropped on the bed and started scrawling numbers on the wall. When I finished, she stared at me open-mouthed.
“That is Moscow phone number!”
“Call it. If I’m wrong, then I’m a liar. But if I’m right, you’ll talk to your son again.”
For a second hope flickered over her face. Then the engine of the boat roared below, and it seemed to shake her back to reality.
“Follow me or Victor kills us both.”
Chapter 23
Palus Epidemiarum ~ Marsh of Epidemics
The sunken sitting area had tan leather seating on all four sides. Giant TV screens hung on all the walls and each one played something different: soccer match, boxing match, horse race, and a Formula 1 car race. Victor perched on one of the couches holding a large tumbler of clear liquid and ice. He had a faint purple bruise on his forehead and a small bandage across it.
Courtesy of Georgette Ambrose—and one large glass vase of flowers.
“Welcome aboard, Miss Goodwin.” His beady eyes raked over my body.
Nastia jabbed her fingernails into the small of her back.
“I’m ready to take care of my father’s debt. Five hundred thousand is yours—as soon you let me go.” Nastia glanced over at me nervously. “So if you’ll just let me use a phone, I can have my attorney wire you the money or . . . overnight you a check. You tell me.”
He leaned back and stretched one arm across the back of his sofa. With the other he swirled his drink.
“A check? Very funny. After all that driving running from me, and you step right into our trap. Not so smart.”
I tugged the minidress down and smiled at Victor.
“Smart enough to knock you unconscious. Want me to do it again?”
Nastia’s head whipped to mine and her eyes flashed a warning.
“The amount you owe me has gone up. Again.”
I remembered him telling me what the new price was to pay him off: me, for the summer. I’d be dead before I let that happen. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. My fear had vanished.
“Try to touch me again and I’ll smash your head in again.” He took a gulp of his drink and wiped his mouth with his shirt cuff.
“You got lucky—that vase fell.”
“I made it fall. I can make things happen, Victor. Make things move without touching them. Just ask Nastia.”
Nastia looked visibly rattled. She eased away from me.
He sneered at me. “Go ahead—use your magic and fly away!”
Nastia laughed. Victor glanced at her and chuckled. “So much like her.” He approached me and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. I jerked my face away. “Same perfume even.” He slid a hand to the small of my back and pulled me closer to him.
Nastia’s blank expression betrayed no emotion.
“I found the dove, Victor! She had it on her.”
“Good. Put it in the safe.”
My eyes pleaded with her. I mouthed the words, “Call your son. CALL ALEXEI!” but she just glared at me. I counted at least three doorways to the balcony that wrapped around the boat. We were already sailing away from the shore, but we weren’t going fast—I could probably swim back to the marina if I jumped soon.
Terror swirled in my stomach. There were no sirens blaring, no police lights flashing on the dock. Just the clanking of boats and the cry of seabirds. Where were they? Maybe Maya didn’t get my text. Maybe she was out with Evan, at a movie.
I was doomed.
Victor picked up a phone on the wall and barked something in Russian. The engine revved up and the room tilted as the yacht pulled away into Richardson Bay, which led out to greater San Francisco Bay—and the ocean beyond that.
He cursed into the phone in Russian.
“Nastia!” he yelled, and she jumped. “Take her to my cabin.” Nastia waved me over to her. Evgeny blocked the door so I had to brush past him. His lips twisted up into a sneer.
“See you, Lana.”
I shivered and followed Nastia down a different set of stairs. We entered a cavernous room with a low bed covered with a black silk comforter, maroon walls, garish gold and black carpet, and black lacquer everything. There was a sculpture on a pillar of a nude, writhing woman holding a snake. It was carved out of what looked like blood-red marble.
The only thing missing was the white Persian cat every movie villain owns.
Nastia marched over to one wall and pressed a button. Part of the wall slid open to reveal a fully stocked bar. The floor under our feel swayed. I didn’t have much time before we hit open ocean. Outside the portholes, the lights of San Franc
isco twinkled. We’d be sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge within the hour.
Nastia picked up a bottle filled with clear liquid and filled a tall crystal shot glass to the brim. She held it out to me.
“No, thanks,” I said.
She shrugged and tipped the glass into her mouth. She poured another and held it out to me.
“Better to drink.”
“Better for both of us if you get me out of here.”
She tossed back the shot and then jumped again when Victor loomed in the doorway. His black eyes casually appraised me like I was a new trinket he’d acquired. Which I was.
He went over to the cabinet and slid the heavy silver watch off his hairy wrist.
The door clicked shut and I realized with horror that Nastia had abandoned us. Victor hit a switch and the lights dimmed. He padded over to the bed and patted the glossy black silk next to him. He grinned at me, showing off his small gray teeth. The scar across his nose deepened when he smiled. I shivered and rubbed my arms.
“I am worth millions, Victor. Let me pay you, and then let me go. Or I promise, you will regret it.”
He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and leaned back on the bed. “I had to get fifteen stitches in my head.” He rubbed the back of his buzzed scalp. “I lost a loyal employee because of you. My Lamborghinis were damaged. I went to a lot of trouble to find you. You should be begging me for mercy.”
I shivered. “Fine, I’ll beg. Please let me go—I’m only eighteen!”
His lips parted and his tongue ran over his teeth. “Nastia was younger than that when I discovered her.”
I shifted nervously—there was no window in the room big enough to fit through, and I doubted any of them opened anyway. My intestines twisted into tight knots. I realized I was hyperventilating and the room was starting to tilt and spin. The engines roared. Out the portholes, the bridge glittered in the clear evening air. Was help on the way? Even if it was, by the time police tracked the boat down, it would be too late. Victor would have already done what he planned to do to me.
I was not going to let that happen. I subtly looked around the room for a suitable weapon. There was a half-empty vodka bottle sitting on the bar. That would have to do.
Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2) Page 21
