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me. “I did a clear sweep. Every single person in there when I did my hit died by my hand. And when I was done, I double-checked. Triple-checked. And calmly walked out.”
    Vasili is gasping for air, making a noisy distraction.
    “Then there is nothing to worry about, and this is just an added precaution,” Gregorovich assures me with a placid, fake smile.
    “Too many added precautions can land one in trouble with the feds,” I say, knowing to add anymore would let him find me out. “But do as you need. My work is done.” I turn to leave, but one of the guards is in my way, and I have to stare him down.
    Which gives Vasili enough time to choke out a few words.
    “When I find that girl, I’m gonna cut her into ribbons. She’ll be more useless to the cops than a shredded document,” Vasili says, and my fists clench, my jaw tightening.
    I turn my head slowly, stare down that weasel shit.
    “Everyone knows what it is you like to do with women, govnjúk . But if I catch you laying a hand on one,” and I walk over to him, making him back against the wall as I stare down at him, “the only ribbon you’ll be worried about getting cut is the one between your legs.”
    I don’t give him time to snark back, I just plant my knee into his groin and make it so that he won’t think about women for a few days without a lot of pain.
    “You should not trust this little govnjúk , he’ll land you in trouble someday,” I caution Gregorovich before I just walk out, knowing I was in a precarious position and might’ve just overplayed my hand.

4
    Alicia
    T his safehouse wasn’t set up to keep people in, it was set up to keep people out, and that’s my one advantage here. But so far it’s not really paying off for me very well.
    My high heel didn’t turn out to be the miracle tool I’d hoped it would, and my attempts to use it to pry open the door or barred windows failed. The utensils in the kitchen were all even worse, plastic and easily broken.
    On the plus side, I didn’t find any cameras, so maybe it was just a fluke earlier when he came in just as I was trying to bust out. I still don’t know what to make of him. Part of me believes him that he only wants to keep me safe from whatever the hell happened that night. But I don’t know if that’s just lust speaking or not. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, and there’s nothing more that I’d want to believe than the idea that he’s my Prince Charming, rescuing me from some bad men.
    As I exhaust all the options I can think of, though, it’s seeming less and less likely that escape is possible. I’ve not heard or seen anyone else, and I still have no idea how much time has passed since that man captured me.
    Rescued.
    Who knows.
    The only thing I do know is that my window is my best option for escape, and I can’t give up. I glance around the room, and when my eyes settle on the TV, I get a bright idea. It’s big, and probably too much to carry comfortably, but maybe if I can hoist it up and throw it through the glass...
    It’s a long shot. A really long shot. And I don’t know what I’m going to do once the window is out, but I can’t just sit here like a damsel in distress for Mikhail to save me from whatever is happening out there. I have to rescue myself, damn it!
    I unplug the TV and try to pick it up, but it digs into my arms, almost too big for me to lift, but finally I manage.
    It’s a struggle to heave the TV, but as I heft it up, I hear the doorknob turn, and as I struggle to put the TV back into place, I realize there’s no way I’m doing that before he catches me.
    “What are you doing?” he asks, that deep, dark voice of his so blasé about the whole thing as he stands there watching me. “If you didn’t like the placement of the TV, you could have just asked,” he says, the grizzled man seeming almost amused by me, if I could read anything on his stoic face.
    I brush some hair from my eyes, feeling guilty as sin, as if I’m