[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

concern in his voice. The frustration. He could sense, on some level, that I was going to end it.
I nodded miserably.
 I can show you the hospital where my mother died, he said.  I can show you where they gave
me my tattoos. I m showing you my past.
 Why? I said desperately.  Why?
 Because if I share my past, maybe you ll share yours, too. He stroked my cheek and then tucked
a lock of hair back behind my ear.  I want to help you, Arianna. You are too good a person to be in so
much pain. He shook his head.  Even if you won t be with me, I want you to be happy.
I don t deserve that. Even if talking about the crash would help, what right did I have to feel
better, when I was about to destroy his whole life?
I closed my eyes, trying to stop the tears coming. I couldn t last until that evening. I had to do it
now.  Luka, I said.  We have to talk.
And that s when the truck slammed into the side of the car.
That sickening flying feeling I d felt once before, and countless times afterwards in flashbacks.
This time, we didn t just skid and then fall. We shot sideways, Luka s body crashing against mine, our
heads almost cracking together. Then there was a crunching impact right on the other side of my door
and we were flipping. I lifted off my seat, weightless for an instant. The ceiling became the wall and
then the floor.
We did a full turn in the air. The car slammed down onto its wheels and my spine felt as if it was
trying to force its way through my head. Then silence, except for a hiss of steam from the engine.
I looked around. The air was full of choking white dust from where the airbags had fired. They
were all around us, cushioning us from the sides of the car. The car itself seemed to have stayed in
shape, although most of the windows were cracked. Beside me, Luka was groaning but awake. Yuri
was slumped over the wheel, either unconscious or dead.
The door next to me was wrenched open and hands freed my seatbelt and hauled me out. I was
still blinking from the dust and I thought for a moment that they were police, and that we were being
rescued.
Then I saw the van, with the door already open.
A bag came down over my head.
I felt myself being lifted inside, then shoved down against the van s floor. Hands wrenched my
wrists behind my back.
I screamed  Luka! and I thought I heard him shout my name in response.
Something hard surrounded my wrists and pulled tight. A second later, another one tightened
around my ankles. Then a hard circle of metal pressed against my cheek through the bag. The barrel of
a gun.
I stopped screaming.
The van s suspension sunk as Luka s muscled body landed next to mine. I heard him kicking and
thrashing as they tried to secure him.
 Stop struggling, said a voice in Russian.  Or we kill your little bitch.
Luka went still.
And the van sped off.
I don t know how long we drove for. My heart was hammering so fast that I thought I was having a
heart attack. The bag over my face meant I couldn t breathe properly and someone was still pushing a
gun into my cheek.
Then I felt something against my hand. A big, strong finger rubbing against my thumb. Luka had
stretched out his bound hands to meet mine. I grabbed his finger and clung to it with all my strength.
Minutes or hours later, I was hauled out and thrown to the floor. I cried out as my shoulder hit
concrete. Luka landed with a grunt next to me.
I was pulled up to an awkward sitting position and the bag was pulled off my head.
Darkness. The person who d pulled off the bag stepped back into the shadows and disappeared,
leaving Luka and I alone. A lone light overhead cast a pool of light around us.
 Are you okay? asked Luka.
I nodded breathlessly.
 No, said a voice from the darkness. He spoke English, but with a strong Russian accent.  She s
not. Because she s with you.
From the echo, the room was vast. A warehouse, maybe. I searched the darkness for any sign of
the man who d spoken, but there was just blackness.
Then a single point of light exploded, glaringly bright. A match. A second later, a cigarette tip
glowed orange.
He walked towards us out of the shadows. A short man in a cheap gray suit. I d never seen him
before, but his piggish eyes reminded me of his son s.
 Hello, Arianna, said Olaf Ralavich.
I twisted away from him, trying to get closer to Luka. He laughed and squatted down near our
bound feet. I knew he was the equivalent of Vasiliy and must be about the same age. But time hadn t
been so kind to the head of the Ralavich family. Where Vasiliy had maintained his muscles, Olaf was
flabby. And where Vasiliy radiated a kind of cold, calculated charm, Olaf was all swagger and
brutish violence. A thug, not a criminal.
And he was staring right at me with those dark little deep-set eyes.
 So you re the one who saved my son, he said to me. His English surprised me it was at least [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]