Hostile Witness (Sanctuary, Inc. #1)

Chapter 21

21

O nce the limo reached its destination, Gus poured a glass of sparkling water and downed a quick sip. He yanked the bag from Romanov’s head and ripped the tape off his mouth. He retrieved a Glock from under the seat and set it on the center console. Glaring at the scumbag, Gus spoke in the precise cadence of a Russian mafia boss. “Pavel, my friend, you have the power to right this business deal.” He leveled a cold stare at the sweating man, leaned back in his seat, and steepled his fingers. “My boss wants five new playmates, and I will get them for him. I paid you this afternoon. No. More. Money.” He yanked the tape from Romanov’s mouth and aimed his gun at the server’s head. “Where are the girls?”

Romanov squirmed in his seat, pulling at the restraints holding his forearms to the armrests. “I have never been treated so poorly. Let her go, and I will tell you.”

An eerie half smile crossed Gus’s lips. “You are mistaken. We are not in the negotiation phase. I ask the questions, and you give the answers. It’s that simple.” He pulled the bag and tape off the server’s mouth. “Where are the girls?”

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered.

Gus waved the gun between the two of them. “At least one of you knows the location of the five women who belong to my boss. I suggest you cough it up before I’m forced to employ more drastic measures.”

Romanov dipped his chin. “Let her go. She doesn’t know anything.”

Gus chuckled. “How can I be sure? Pillow talk tempts a man to betray confidences.”

Romanov spat across the aisle, staining Gus’s lapel. “I don’t discuss business with my women. Ever.”

Gus shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. What a shame for her.” He handed the gun to Ethan. “Take care of her.”

Ethan pulled the server from her seat. He flung open the limo door and hauled her behind him.

Wild-eyed and panicked, she spun around. “Tell them, Pavel. You promised you’d take care of me. Tell them.”

The bound man shrugged a shoulder and looked away. “I can’t. They will kill me.”

“They’ll kill you anyway, you son of a bitch. Tell them,” she shrieked as Ethan dragged her to the other side of the road. “Tell them, Pavel, please, please, I’m begging you. If you have any feelings for me, tell them.”

Ethan guided her toward the woods.

They’d walked maybe ten yards when the server turned and yelled, “I hope you rot in hell, Pavel. I’ll tell them everything I know before I’ll die for you. I promise.” She tripped and fell to her knees.

Ethan pulled her up, nudging her in the back with the gun. “Keep walking.” He glanced at the sky. It was partly cloudy with a waxing gibbous moon. Too much light. He’d need more distance between them and the limo.

The server dodged right and ran a few steps back toward the road. “Pavel, I know your wife’s address and phone number. Don’t you let me die out here.” She gave a chilling scream when her foot caught on a tree root and she face-planted on a bed of wet leaves. She rolled over and stared at Ethan. “I hope you’re a gentleman and will help me up. That really hurt.”

Amused, he smiled. “Enough of the theatrics. We’re on a schedule here.” He heaved her upright, aimed her in the right direction, and gave a gentle shove. “Move it. The quicker we get to the clearing, the sooner you’ll be free.”

She trudged forward. “Right. But I’m marching to my supposed death, so there will be a bit of protest.” She paused. “I wonder what you look like in real life.”

“Nothing special. That I can guarantee.”

She let out another scream for effect, coughed, and spat in the leaves. “The muscles under that tux say otherwise. I like muscles.”

The hoot of an owl echoed from a tree on their left. “And I like listening to your accent, but I doubt I’ll hear it again.”

“What’s your real name, big boy? Perhaps we’ll get together so I can feel your muscles and you can listen to my Russian.”

Ethan gave a wry laugh. “Are you always like this?”

“Always. The direct approach works for me.”

“You missed a word in the code. Which word was it?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked. Otherwise, I’d be expecting a double cross.”

“Which word was it?” He really didn’t want to use his last syringe on her and turn her over to the authorities.

“We have Bemka Crown, sir .”

Perfect. He glanced ahead, picked a spot, and cut the zip tie on her hands. “Walk twenty paces and turn around.”

“You want me to scream again?”

“If you’ve got it in you, go for it.”

She pulled away from him and stumbled forward with a piercing scream that shattered the forest. The trees rustled, and startled birds took flight. Turning around to face him, she walked backward.

“Pavel’s wife’s name is Nadia. His kids’ names are under her contact in his phone. The access code to his phone is one-three-five-seven-nine-two. Repeat the code to me.”

“One-three-five-seven-nine-two.” He aimed the gun at her.

“For God’s sake, you’ve got that thing trained on my head.”

“I’m aiming slightly to the right. Make sure you fall to your right. They’re blanks.”

“How good of a shot are you?”

“Number one in my class, lady. On three. One. Two.” The crack of the gun sent the forest wildlife into a flurry as the server feigned falling limp to the ground. Ethan shoved the firearm into his pocket. “Don’t. Move. Your extraction team will pick you up as soon as we drive away. Have a good life. Maybe take a vacation.”

“My name is Lana. We’ll meet again, muscle man.”

Ethan said nothing, turned, and quietly made his way back to the road. The only woman he wanted noticing his muscles was Tia, and she was still trying to fix him up with one of her friends. Considering his relationship track record, her lack of interest might be wise. But still . . . even he deserved a second chance at least one time.

Slipping the mask of a cold-blooded killer onto his face, he strode to the limo. The real work of rescuing those trafficked women began now.