Hands grab my arms, yanking me away. I scream, the gag barely dulling the sound now. The man forces me to sit on the chair I knocked down. When he tries to put cable ties around my wrists again, I stomp at his feet before standing up again.
He pulls a gun out of his waistband, pointing it at me. “Sit the fuck down and don’t move or I’m going to shoot you in the fucking head.”
I sit down. He straps my left to the armrest, leaving my right hand free. He moves behind me, one of his hands on my shoulder, and puts his gun in my right hand. His gun directed at Lev prevents me from shooting him outright. I don’t know that he won’t pull the trigger the second I try to pull mine.
“Good, Miss Harrington,” he says. “Now, shoot Mr. Alekseiev.”
I shake my head.
“Miss Harrington, your father is the chief of police. I’m sure he’s killed criminals. This shouldn’t be a problem for you. Mr. Alekseiev killed my father—a man he barely knows—and he killed his own father, a man he trusted. Now it’s his turn to be killed by someone he barely knows and someone he trusts. You.”
I shake my head again.
“You shoot him or I will slowly kill you both,” he threatens, his grip on my shoulder getting tighter.
I shake my head for the third time. He snatches the gun from my hand, aims it, and shoots Lev in the leg. Lev screams. It barely lasts two seconds, but the sound pierces through me like a thousand bullets.
The man puts the gun back in my hand, carefully wrapping my fingers around the grip.
“Shoot him or I shoot the other leg, then each of his arms, and we can both thoroughly enjoy the view of him bleeding out. Then, it will be your turn.”
“Do it, Ally,” Lev growls, barely audible, his teeth gritted. “For me. I’d rather have you … I’d rather have you kill me than anyone else.”
I wait for some indication that he has some trick up his sleeve, but he only grips his thigh, blood seeping through his fingers.
I can’t breathe.
“Shoot him,” the man repeats. I take a deep breath and look straight at Lev. What a way for both of us to go out.
Then I open my hand, letting the gun fall between my feet. The man curses, quickly bending over to grab it. I stomp at him as hard as I can. He jerks backward and the rage in his eyes could burn whole cities down. The back of his hand hits me like a baseball bat. The chair topples over, the force of the fall breaking one of the armrests and one of the legs. Briefly, my thoughts turn to the baby that could be within me, and how badly hurt it could be. But it will be hurt even worse if I don’t get out of this. If Lev doesn’t.
With one arm free, I dive for the gun as best I can, given that my left arm is still strapped to the busted chair. The man lurches forward too, grabbing it before I can. I lunge at his legs. We fall to the floor. I crawl forward, the gun straight in front of me.
I don’t see the man grab the chair’s leg, but it jabs into my arm. I yank my arm back, cradling it to my chest, as the man swipes the gun.
“Marco!” Lev growls. “Don’t.”
The man aims the gun at me.
“Get up,” he orders. “This was about revenge against your boyfriend. I didn’t have anything against you. But now, you’re going to regret not shooting him for the rest of your life. Do you know how much I can sell you for as a sex slave to the Mexican cartel? Truthfully, not much. But I’m not going to do it for the profit.”
Lev writhes in his chair, but the bonds hold fast. His right leg is drenched with blood.
“Marco, don’t be an idiot,” Lev’s voice comes out soft, but the warning is clear in it. “Her father finds out that you did that, there’s nowhere you can hide.”
“I’ll be so far out of her father’s jurisdiction, he won’t be able to do a goddamn thing,” Marco says.
“And what about me? You know I’ll track you down, no matter where you go. Let’s just settle this like men. One-on-one this time.”
“Oh no, see, that’s the beauty of my new plan,” he says. “I won’t have to worry about you or her father because her father is going to be focused on you.”
Marco pulls out his phone. He taps on the screen three times before raising the phone to his ear. His other hand keeps the gun raised to my head.
“Oh God,” he says into the phone, his voice drenched in fear. “Oh God, I just came to visit my friends in the old house on Prairie Street—the big white one—and this guy, this violent Russian, he killed my friends. And he was bragging about killing the chief’s daughter. Oh God. Please send help. Please.”
He hangs up. I stare at him, feeling equally numb and broken.
“Goodbye, Lev,” he says. The man slices the remaining cable tie free and grabs my arm, dragging me to the entrance door. He gestures for me to open it. I could hit him with the door, I could fight back, but I know he’ll be more prepared for me this time and I need to get him away from Lev.
After I open the door, I try to look back at Lev, but Marco pushes me forward. In the front yard, a car pulls up. The kidnapper gets out.
“What’s happening, boss?” the man asks. “I thought you were taking
