Russian Mafia Boss's Heir by Bella Rose

Author:Bella Rose [Rose, Bella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-09-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

“Hey! Can you please answer just one question?” Tori shouted at the men lounging on the other side of the warehouse.

They ignored her. Or actually they continued to ignore her. She had no notion of time since they had taken her cell phone away, but it felt as though she’d been held inside this cold, cavernous space for hours.

There was no telling time here. Perhaps time didn’t exist. The only thing that did exist was the persistent dripping of water from a large overhead beam to the cement floor of the warehouse, and the murmur of voices speaking in Russian. The temperature was cold. The New England fall weather was quickly winding down, and soon the brutal winter would be upon them. Tori could almost believe it was already here. She expected to see frost on the inside of the windows high above the floor.

Her fingers were numb. Of course, that was likely due to her awkward position and not the cold. She hung from a chain that had been thrown over a beam high above the warehouse floor. Her wrists were shackled, and her toes barely touched the floor. Her shoulders and back were screaming in agony as soreness and muscle cramping set in from remaining for so long in that painful position. Too much longer and she would probably sustain permanent nerve damage.

The thought made her angry. “Hey!” She spoke in Russian. “What right do you dogs have to hold me here without even telling me who you work for? This makes no sense! I’ve done nothing! What’s my crime?”

She continued to rail at them in Russian, scraping her toes on the floor to try and lift her body just a little bit higher and ease the tension on her hands. The worst part was that after she managed to succeed, the blood rushed back into her fingers and wrists and the throbbing began.

Tori finally lapsed into silence. She forced her brain to think rationally. Mikhail would be coming for her. Eventually. Right? He would notice that she was gone. Mrs. O’Connell would call him. Or he would try to contact her and then want to know why she wasn’t answering her phone.

In the meantime, she needed to find out who these goons worked for. She didn’t recognize them at all. There were two skinny ones, a really overblown guy with big shoulders, and a fat one who looked as though he could eat his way through an entire donut store in an hour without batting an eyelash.

“Hey!” she called to the fat one. “Blini boy! Who hired you?”

Finally. Finally. The man glanced over at her, a sour expression on his face. It was apparent that she’d hit a soft spot, which gave her an idea. “What?” she taunted. “That’s what gave you that belly, right? Did you eat all the blini you could find? Or does your mother still cook all your meals made to order with an extra side of fat?” Yes. That pretty much qualified as mean.

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