Read Online Infernal: Bite The Bullet by Jess Raven, Paula Black - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jess Raven, Paula Black
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went to voicemail. I pictured him, rolling his eyes at my caller ID
as he sat down to a very middle-class dinner with his prissy wife and kids.
Fucking great . I was the girl who cried
wolf. When I really needed him, he was cutting me off.
I rattled off a breathless message, giving
Konstantyn’s name and pseudonym, and my suspicions that he was responsible for
Daniel’s abduction and torture.
If I could just get to civilisation I should be
okay. Safer in plain sight.
North looked promising, and if I stuck to the
riverbank I figured I couldn’t get too lost.
CHAPTER TEN
When I heard the footfalls pounding the street, my
legs struck into a full-out run. That was no stranger running up behind me, no
jogger. Konstantyn was chasing me, like he was hell bent on steam rolling right
over me. I was in danger, and I wasn’t going to be able to outrun him. As a
dancer, I had stamina, but not for the long haul, adrenaline-pumping,
speed-racing my desperate terror was pushing my body into. I’d crash and then
I’d be screwed.
Frantic, my head whipped around as I sought an
escape route, but there was none, just an unending stretch along the River Thames,
and if the sound of his curses were as close as they seemed, I wasn’t covering
it fast enough,
He caught up and I yelped, raising my arms as I
spun to face him.
Konstantyn stopped about twenty feet away, his
palms outstretched and his chest heaving.
“You stay the hell away from me,” I warned, trying
to inject some threat into my breathless words, when my heart felt like it was
going to explode.
“Do not run,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Yeah, right. Ted Bundy probably said the same to
all of his victims. Who the hell are you?”
“That’s complicated,” he said with unnerving
calmness. “But I am not the one who killed your brother.”
“I saw the photographs of Daniel in your
apartment. And all those others. I saw the gun.” I scanned his body for any sign
he’d brought it with him, but he was still in his dance clothes from earlier,
and those left little to the imagination, and even less room for concealment.
“Ivan Zelenko. That’s your real name?”
He didn’t answer me, yet he didn’t make a move to
step closer. That was the only thing that stopped me from screaming ‘til my
lungs bled in the hope somebody in the dark-windowed offices overhead might
take notice.
“If you didn’t kill him, then where did you get
those photographs? What is your part in all this?” I was desperate. I sounded
desperate, and I hated myself, even as I praised myself for not falling apart.
He could kill me in a heartbeat, but here we were, engaged in a civilised,
terrifying chat.
“I am with Ukrainian Secret Service. I investigate
missing Ukrainian nationals in London.”
He was some kind of Eastern European
double-o-seven? Right, like I was going to buy that.
“So you’re working with the police?” I said,
taking a wary step backwards. He didn’t try to gain the upper hand, didn’t
move, except to lower his arms and widen his stance.
He shook his head. “Illegal aliens from my country
will not cooperate with your police.”
“But you think there’s a connection between my
brother’s murder and these missing persons?” Let’s just say I was humouring
him. I wasn’t going to trust him so easily, not after the photos. God, those
photos ...
“I didn’t know he was your brother before tonight,
but now, I think yes.”
I met his eyes and folded my arms across my chest,
trying to look confident, when he made me feel so small, and fear still had me
gripped and shaking. “Why?”
“The studio. The club, Infernal. You think it is
coincidence we both turn up looking in the same places? I think maybe you can
help me.”
“So, what, you’re working undercover at the studio
and the club?”
He inclined his head.
“But you… I mean, in that club. You were…” He’d
been prostituting himself. What government worker would
as he sat down to a very middle-class dinner with his prissy wife and kids.
Fucking great . I was the girl who cried
wolf. When I really needed him, he was cutting me off.
I rattled off a breathless message, giving
Konstantyn’s name and pseudonym, and my suspicions that he was responsible for
Daniel’s abduction and torture.
If I could just get to civilisation I should be
okay. Safer in plain sight.
North looked promising, and if I stuck to the
riverbank I figured I couldn’t get too lost.
CHAPTER TEN
When I heard the footfalls pounding the street, my
legs struck into a full-out run. That was no stranger running up behind me, no
jogger. Konstantyn was chasing me, like he was hell bent on steam rolling right
over me. I was in danger, and I wasn’t going to be able to outrun him. As a
dancer, I had stamina, but not for the long haul, adrenaline-pumping,
speed-racing my desperate terror was pushing my body into. I’d crash and then
I’d be screwed.
Frantic, my head whipped around as I sought an
escape route, but there was none, just an unending stretch along the River Thames,
and if the sound of his curses were as close as they seemed, I wasn’t covering
it fast enough,
He caught up and I yelped, raising my arms as I
spun to face him.
Konstantyn stopped about twenty feet away, his
palms outstretched and his chest heaving.
“You stay the hell away from me,” I warned, trying
to inject some threat into my breathless words, when my heart felt like it was
going to explode.
“Do not run,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Yeah, right. Ted Bundy probably said the same to
all of his victims. Who the hell are you?”
“That’s complicated,” he said with unnerving
calmness. “But I am not the one who killed your brother.”
“I saw the photographs of Daniel in your
apartment. And all those others. I saw the gun.” I scanned his body for any sign
he’d brought it with him, but he was still in his dance clothes from earlier,
and those left little to the imagination, and even less room for concealment.
“Ivan Zelenko. That’s your real name?”
He didn’t answer me, yet he didn’t make a move to
step closer. That was the only thing that stopped me from screaming ‘til my
lungs bled in the hope somebody in the dark-windowed offices overhead might
take notice.
“If you didn’t kill him, then where did you get
those photographs? What is your part in all this?” I was desperate. I sounded
desperate, and I hated myself, even as I praised myself for not falling apart.
He could kill me in a heartbeat, but here we were, engaged in a civilised,
terrifying chat.
“I am with Ukrainian Secret Service. I investigate
missing Ukrainian nationals in London.”
He was some kind of Eastern European
double-o-seven? Right, like I was going to buy that.
“So you’re working with the police?” I said,
taking a wary step backwards. He didn’t try to gain the upper hand, didn’t
move, except to lower his arms and widen his stance.
He shook his head. “Illegal aliens from my country
will not cooperate with your police.”
“But you think there’s a connection between my
brother’s murder and these missing persons?” Let’s just say I was humouring
him. I wasn’t going to trust him so easily, not after the photos. God, those
photos ...
“I didn’t know he was your brother before tonight,
but now, I think yes.”
I met his eyes and folded my arms across my chest,
trying to look confident, when he made me feel so small, and fear still had me
gripped and shaking. “Why?”
“The studio. The club, Infernal. You think it is
coincidence we both turn up looking in the same places? I think maybe you can
help me.”
“So, what, you’re working undercover at the studio
and the club?”
He inclined his head.
“But you… I mean, in that club. You were…” He’d
been prostituting himself. What government worker would
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