I couldn’t stop thinking about another dangerously elegant man with a hypnotic gaze and seemingly supernatural influence over me. I had literally known the man for barely twelve hours, and yet he consumed my thoughts. There was just something so intense about him, an irresistible sexual pull. That I couldn’t stop thinking about him or this morning was proof positive I needed to stay far away from him. I would retrieve his cufflinks from the pawnshop and find a way to return them to him without actually seeing him. I knew in my heart… and lower… I couldn’t trust myself in the same room with the man. I nodded. It was settled. I would return the cufflinks and walk—no, run—the other way.
I was so caught up in my thoughts I failed to notice the change in the store’s atmosphere until it was too late.
There is a certain lullaby of sounds to any bookstore. The soft tones of conversations in hushed whispers. The whoosh of the steamer on the espresso machine. The muted ching of the cash register when the drawer opens. The sound of flapping bird wings a book makes when it’s dropped with its pages open.
One by one those sounds disappeared, as if snuffed out like a candle.
I checked my phone. It was only eight forty-five p.m. Granted, it was a cold Tuesday night so there hadn’t been many people in the store or the café part when I entered, but still they had at least another hour and a half before they closed.
Leaning forward in my chair, I strained to listen.
There was only silence.
The chimes sounding over the entrance doorway gave me a moment of ease until the silence resumed. Then there came the unmistakable harsh metal clack of a lock being flipped into place. Careful not to make a sound, I slid the book I had been reading onto the top of some books on a nearby shelf and stood. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest it was hard to listen for any other sounds. I opened my mouth to call out, but it was too dry to speak. I licked my lips and tried again, calling out a hesitant, “Hello?”
No one answered.
No. One. Answered.
Then I heard it. A heavy footfall. Then another. The measured step of someone wearing shoes… not sneakers like pretty much a hundred percent of the college students who liked to come to this bookshop.
One step.
Then another.
Closer and closer.
I shifted backwards, bumping into the bookshelf behind me. It rattled slightly.
The steps stopped.
I held my breath.
Then the footsteps started again.
Oh, God.
What was happening? Were people still here in the store and just forced to keep quiet because someone was holding a gun? That was the only scenario that made sense.
I needed to figure out what my options were. I could call nine-one-one, but if I spoke that would give away my location within the store. I was fairly certain what I’d heard was the front door being locked, so I couldn’t risk making a run for it in that direction. I could try to get to the unisex bathroom, but the door was really flimsy and the lock usually broken. On the rare occasions I used it, I would always lean over and hold the knob, ready and eager to call out an ‘occupied’ at a second’s notice. There was probably another way out through the kitchen. If I crept alongside the bookcase, maybe I could circle around.
Leaving my purse where it was, in case I needed my hands free, I put my phone in my pocket and crept along the edge of the aisle, straining to hear any more footsteps.
Then a low, measured voice broke the silence. “I know you’re in here, Mary.”
My hand flew over my mouth to stifle my cry. It was Vaska. A thousand questions flooded my brain. How had he found me? Why would he make everyone leave the store? Did he know I’d pawned his cufflinks? Was he now here to murder me because of it? It sounded trivial, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Vaska was a dangerous man.
Dimitri, Emma’s boyfriend, was dangerous too, but somehow he seemed like a different kind of dangerous. The kind that was dangerous to other people, but not to her. It was obvious he was enamored of Emma and would never hurt her. I could not say the same for Vaska and me. I was simply the girl he’d fucked this morning who’d then stolen his super-expensive eleven-thousand-dollar cufflinks on a lark and ditched him later.
Oh. My. God.
He’s totally going to kill me.
I didn’t have to date a lot of men to know that men like Vaska didn’t enjoy having their egos bruised. Hell, that was the theme of half the action-adventure movies out there. I was nothing to him, a nobody. He would probably shoot me dead and not think twice about it.
Before I could decide what to do, he spoke again. “You’ve been a very bad girl, krasotka. Come out now and face your punishment before you make me any angrier than I already am.”
Face my punishment?
My punishment?
Like my murder?
No, thanks.
Forcing my legs to move, I crept further down the aisle as I peeked over the tops of the books on the shelves, hoping for a glimpse that would tell me his position within the store. As I got to the end, I bent my body in half and poked my head out. He was several aisles over on the other side of the now empty store. Small café tables and the espresso counter lay between us. If I bolted out of my hiding place fast enough, I could make it to the kitchen and out the back door. Thank God I wasn’t wearing heels right now.
I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer before sprinting across the store. I heard Vaska’s shout through the loud rushing in my ears, but it only spurred me on faster. I raced around the scarred wooden counter into the bright lights of the small kitchen. Daring a glance over my shoulder, I saw Vaska, dressed in a button-down white shirt and a pair of jeans, vault over the counter as if it were nothing. I ran past the stainless steel tables and launched myself at the back emergency door. I slammed my body weight against it. It didn’t budge. I shouldered it a second time. Nothing. I scanned the door, but it was one of those industrial metal doors. There was no obvious lock.
I was trapped.
“It looks like I have cornered a cute little rabbit.”
I turned to see Vaska standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. He’d rolled his sleeves up to expose all sorts of tattoos, both gray and black and colorful. I knew enough from Emma’s book on the subject to know the gray and black ones were probably prison tattoos.
He is going to murder me, and they’ll never find my body.
My frenzied gaze swept over the kitchen. In desperation, I snatched up a knife from a nearby cutting board filled with lemon slices. I held it out in front of me with both hands, pointing it directly at his chest.
Vaska’s eyes narrowed as he slowly shook his head. “You shouldn’t have done that, baby.”
Chapter 7
Mary
“I’ll give the money back! I didn’t mean it! It was just a stupid prank.”
Vaska’s gaze shifted to the weapon in my hand. “Put down the knife.”
I shook my head as I backed away. “No.”
He uncrossed his arms and fisted his hands at his sides. “Mary, I will not ask again, put down the goddamn knife.”
I tightened my grasp on the handle as my palms sweated. “I have the money. I’ll give it back, I wasn’t going to keep it. I’ll get your cufflinks back, I promise.”