Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,63

The second bridge had similar stone pillars. Rusty metal hoops led down to the water. The river churned as it wound unhappily around the stone obstruction. He dropped a leaf and watched it roll below the murky surface in moments. The current was strong. He bit his lip and hoped his weight would help. Either way, he would know by the time he reached here whether his plan had worked. All he had to do was be patient.

He walked off the bridge and headed back to Bernard’s to kill six hours.

Chapter 27

The duct tape cut into Sidney’s wrists and the gag across her mouth forced her to breathe through her nose. She stretched her back and twisted her hips, almost the only thing she could move. Her legs were numb from lying in the same position for hours. She kept flexing her hands to ward off pins and needles.

Kuznik walked into the bedroom and smiled a broad, greasy sneer. His eyes darted from side to side, and Sidney wondered if he was on drugs, or if the thrill of seeing her bound on the floor did it for him.

He closed the door, the latch clicking softly behind him. She had no idea of the time, but there was no light around the heavy drapes. God, don’t let her time be up. Or Piers’ time, or whatever it was.

He smiled with one side of his face. “Comfortable down there?”

She glowered at him.

He walked around the room. “You know he hasn’t called?”

Sidney grunted. Piers would call. He was clever. He’d find the money. And if he didn’t, he’d bring the police.

Kuznik stared at her and shrugged. “Maybe he won’t call. Maybe he’ll just leave you here.”

Sidney clenched her teeth. He’d call. He had to call. He wouldn’t leave her, would he? Could he? She sighed silently because she knew she had given him good reason to.

Kuznik sat on the bed, placing his boots inches from her face. “When we left him, I don’t think he even managed to pick up the phone number. Think it blew away.” He grinned. “That would make it difficult to call.”

She screwed her face up and glowered at him. “He’ll call,” she grunted through her sealed lips.

Kuznik put his hand to his ear. “What’s that you say? I can’t quite hear you? You have such an accent for a French person.” He laughed.

Sidney lowered her head toward her chest.

He flexed his boots then reached down to touch her hair. “He is a coward. He didn’t even try to get you free when we first arrived on the scene.” He gazed up at the ceiling in mock contemplation. “And you know, if he didn’t get you free then, why would he come back now?”

Sidney jerked her body in defiance.

Kuznik rolled off the bed and knelt beside her. He ran his hand up her thigh. “Mind you.” She jolted back the few inches that her bonds would allow, though not enough to stop him running his hand further up her thigh. “We could have some fun if he never came back.”

The dictator’s voice sounded at the door. “Leave her.”

Kuznik looked up. His eyebrows inched together then his face took on a calm, neutral smile.

Sidney squeezed her knees up to her chest and let loose with all the might her bound legs could muster. Her stockinged feet thumped into Kuznik’s side. He grunted, twisting to absorb the force, and swung his arm around, smacking her legs away.

Kuznik stood up, massaging his side with one hand and drawing his knife with the other. “Bitch!”

“We still need her,” Brunwald hissed.

Kuznik glanced at the dictator, slid his knife back into its sheath, and looked down at her. “You’re never going to see that creep again. And I am going to have some fun with you.”

He spat at her and walked out. The dictator followed, closing the door after him, like a parent escorting a child to bed.

Sidney’s heart slowed its race. She twisted her head to wipe the sweat off her brow with the carpet. Kicking him had been a stupid thing to do. She’d probably hurt herself more than him, and if Brunwald hadn’t turned up she might be dead. Not that she had much to thank Brunwald for. She’d fallen for his smooth lines, just like she fallen for so many other men’s smooth lines.

She sighed. Her chest felt heavy. She eased her head down onto the floor.

Smooth lines. Is that what Piers had been using with her? Was that what