A moment later she was back on her feet.
“Are you okay?”
A man in a baseball cap stood just outside the car that had hit her. She didn’t know the brand of his vehicle. Didn’t recognize the logo. Something cheap. A child stared at her through the window of the back seat.
Fiona stood a moment, unsure which way to go. Down the block she spotted the ornate entrance to Parasol Pictures.
Security. Safety.
Fiona bolted down the street, barefoot, as fast as she could run.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I guess I don’t need to ask you if you want the gloves,” said Volkov, chuckling. He traded his bottle of oil for a small wooden box, pulled from his desk drawer. Opening it, he retrieved what looked like a ball of white powder in plastic wrap. Shaking some of the powder into his palm, he snorted it before rewrapping the ball and placed it back in the box.
Catriona felt as if she’d fallen into shock.
None of this can be real.
She couldn’t be watching a man lather himself with oil and snort drugs as he prepares to—
Those movies.
She looked away and tried to make her mind go blank. When she looked back, he was staring at her, awaiting an answer.
“No.”
Catriona watched him slide the box back into the desk drawer.
“What did you think about the end of the videos?” he asked, finishing the sentence with a sniff as he pinched at his nose.
She found she couldn’t answer. Her ability to pretend had left her. She refused to look at him.
He let his question die. “Ready?”
Volkov flipped a switch mounted to the wall and the lights in the center fighting room blasted into a new gear. Apparently, he liked his victims to be well lit for the camera.
He lifted her from the chair.
“No. No, no no—” The words spilled from Catriona’s lips. When she began to struggle, he pushed his nails into her skin and gripped, crushing her against him until she could barely breathe.
He walked her into the large room and dropped her in the center.
“Stay there.”
Bound hand and foot, she didn’t have much choice. He pulled a tiny pocket knife from the band of his shorts and cut the tie around her feet.
He took a step back, pulling her hands out with him as he went. When he was standing just out of reach, he put the knife behind the tie and pulled the blade through the plastic.
Catriona’s hands dropped to her sides and she took a step back.
They stood facing each other. Catriona rubbed her wrists. Her limbs felt numb, but she knew it was fear and not the zip-ties that had left them tingling.
She stood, heart in her throat, mentally replaying the videos of the girls who’d come before her, hoping her ability to recall things in detail would allow her to spot a misstep in his attack. Something that would give her the advantage.
Catriona now knew Volkov usually fought in a traditional boxing style. He rarely used his feet to kick, though he’d had some experience wrestling, judging by the holds in which he’d wrapped the second woman during their fierce battle.
Catriona hoped her own kickboxing style might prove an advantage. If the color coding of the thumb drives meant anything—if red was reserved for women who fought back—then he wasn’t used to a challenge. Volkov could brag that he loved a good fight, but he preyed on hookers; women who were often tired, malnourished and suffering the effects of drugs and alcohol use.
Coward.
Volkov stood before her, bouncing one pec and then the other before repeating. His eyes danced in his skull. His countenance was joyful.
Catriona took a deep breath.
Concentrate. You can do this.
This man brutalized women. He ordered Broch’s death—
Catriona realized an awful truth. If she died in this sick fight-club pit, Sean would never know what happened to either of them.
He’d be devastated.
She could only hope if something did happen, Sean would find his way to Volkov and destroy him.
It wouldn’t do her much good, but it was a nice thought.
No. Wrong thinking.
Don’t imagine Sean coming after Volkov.
I am going to destroy him.
Volkov took a step back and grabbed a small hammer hanging from the bell mounted on the wall. He hit it, once. She recognized the sound from the beginning of the videos she’d watched.
It had started.
Volkov raised his fists and circled them in front of his nose like an old-timey Marquess of Queensbury rules boxer. He looked cartoonish.
He’s toying with me.
Already he wasn’t following his pattern. He’d been very serious with the other women.
Would all his tricks be new today?
Volkov motioned for her to come forward.
“Do it. Come at me.”
Catriona held up her hands and circled with him. She preferred to let him make the first move.
Really, she preferred to circle endlessly and never have to fight the psychopath at all.
Volkov rushed her and she kicked, instinctively, catching him on his hip. He laughed and returned to his stance.
He stepped in again and tried to slap her face, again, toying with her. She blocked him easily and moved away.
Moving forward, he tried boxing her into the corner of the room. She sensed the trap, ducked and moved away.
Volkov bounced on his toes.
“You can’t avoid me forever.”
He rushed forward before the end of his sentence, swinging wildly, left and right. She blocked one, partially blocked the second and took a glancing blow to her cheekbone as she kicked him in the stomach, just missing his groin.
He rolled back and made a tsking noise, shaking his
