The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,75
Go get her, now. We can make her do it.”
“Make her how?”
Oh, fuck me. I need to get out of here, find my phone, or Derek, and alert Konstantin now. I just must pray he doesn’t kill Liza and the baby when he finds out.
Creeping toward the stairs, I cry out as I fall forward, my foot catching on something. I hit the doors of the room the two plotters are in and fall into the room, landing on my knees in front of Liza.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
Denis looks at me but doesn’t do anything.
“Fucking hell, Denis, man the fuck up!” Liza is screeching, almost hysterical. “We have no time; this is the only way. I have an account in South America, different name. Make her transfer the money right the fuck now. Once it’s in there we transfer it straight away to another account. She won’t know where it is, and K will never find out either.”
Denis stares at me then seems to make up his mind, and when he does something primal and brutal washes over his coarse features. He grabs me by the hair, hauls me off the floor as I scream in pain, and grabs a massive gun from his waistband, which he points at my temple.
“You need to do a little something for us,” he growls.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Konstantin
It’s been a good day, all told. Vasily and I got to spend time with some amazing dogs, and now we have two beautiful German Shepherds in the back of the SUV in the dog cage, which I had put in yesterday. The dogs are amazingly well trained, and both Vasily and myself know the relevant commands.
It was good to see my old friend Winston too. He’s not aged a jot and is still trim and in shape. We traded laughs about things and shared a beer, or three, as we went through the process of how to train the dogs. Vasily didn’t partake as he’s driving. I’ve been using the journey back to catch up on emails. I’ve told Margaret I will be in the offices of Bridge Tech come Monday as I need to show my face. I’ve kind of dropped the ball on that a little since having my visitor here. My captor.
God, how I wish Liza didn’t exist, and hadn’t got herself pregnant with my child. At the thought of being a father, though, I can’t deny I get a surge of anticipation. It’s not something I’d planned. After all, I’m a father in every way but pure biology to Michael, but the idea of having a child that is my own flesh and blood does appeal. There’s no one left but me, and this gives me a chance to make something new out of the ashes and wreckage of my family. There, however, the fairy tale screeches to a halt as it collides with ugly reality because I’ll be making that new family with Liza, a woman I cannot stand.
God, how did I ever stick my dick in her? She’s false, whiny, untrustworthy in the extreme; if the way she’s handled this whole thing so far is anything to go by. The worst thing about her, though, is that I have nothing I want to say to her. Not one damn thing. It doesn’t bother me when I’m merely fucking someone. I’ve never looked to women for anything more than a warm, receptive body when I want it. Or as efficient employees like Margaret.
Women aren’t my friends; men are. Women aren’t my mother or sister, because they died. I’ve never been in love. The only woman I loved was murdered in the most horrific way.
The only woman I like, other than Margaret, is Cassie.
We pull up to the house and head inside. It’s quiet, and thank fuck because I’m tired now. I don’t travel well as a passenger, and reading and replying to emails while on the road was a bad idea. I’ve got a nagging headache and faint nausea swelling in my stomach.
“You okay, boss?” Vasily says. “You look a little green.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just the journey.”
“Ah yes, these country roads. They are very windy, no? Still, at least we aren’t driving in Russia, eh?”
He cracks up, and then we reminisce for a few minutes in Russian about some of the journeys we’ve taken together on the back roads of Russia. Roads that have more than a few potholes.
“I will go fetch the dogs in, and we can