Lace and Sin (Sinners Series Book 1) (18 page)

Chapter 21

Kayla

I wake groggily when I hear a door opening, and I
instinctively jerk upright into a sitting position. I feel the throb in my
entire arm and realise it’s raised up and cuffed to the bed post, the cuffs
jingling quietly with my movement.

“Oh, you’re awake” says the guy that’s just come into the room, arms
holding a tray full of food. The closer he gets to me, the more I come to
recognise him as the guy that was on watch by the intercom outside when I did
my run by.

I don’t say a word, just glare as he gets closer and puts the tray down
on the edge of the bed, and sits down next to it.

“How’s your head?” he asks, genuinely looking concerned for me. Still I
say nothing.

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, “Look, I’m not going to hurt
you, okay Kayla?”

I nod once, “Then let me go.”

“I can’t do that. You’re here as collateral because the boss wants your
boyfriend in on a job…and because he got his hands on something that shouldn’t
exist.”

“You’re not making any sense to me, you know. Why are you even telling me
this?”

“I guess I’ve taken a liking to you” he smirks lightly. Again I say
nothing in response.

He picks up one of the pieces of toast and starts to eat it, crunching
loudly with each bite, “You hungry?”

“Nope” I answer, just as my stomach rumbles noisily at the sight of him
eating. He chuckles and nudges the tray closer towards me.

“You mind taking the cuffs off so I can eat?”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine with one hand” he says still smirking,
taking another bite of the toast, “Oh, that reminds me” he says as he pulls out
a phone, and turns it towards me to take a picture.

I give him the finger, just as I hear the camera go off, and he laughs as
he finishes off the piece of toast.

“Bet your boyfriend will love that.”

“Fuck you” I spit back.

“Would love to gorgeous, but we ain’t got the time” he grins, “Like I
said, I’m not going to hurt you or do anything you don’t want me to. Just eat,
alright?”

I reach out and grab the other piece of toast, nibbling on the crust
quietly as he sits there watching me.

“So, why are you feeding me? Shouldn’t you have me chained up in the
basement somewhere, sending Carter pics of that, not this”, I look around the
room, “I mean who the hell has a room with gold furnishings?”

He laughs hard at that and shakes his head, “You should be thanking God
that you’re up here with me and not down in the basement. They’re not all
exactly happy with you after it took five of them to bring you in.”

“No thanks, I’m not religious” I say straight-faced, “And what’d you
expect me to do, come willingly?”

“Not exactly, but no one realised how much shit they’d get into. What are
you like a fucking trained assassin or something?”

“Yeah” I scoff, “So are all five of them nursing their wounds in the
basement then?”

“Something like that” he grins back.

“So who’s monitoring the hallways then?”

He quirks his brow and smiles, “two outside this door and five more
through-out the house, going back and forth like clockwork.”

I laugh, “Right, I believe you. You wouldn’t have told me that so generously
if it was the truth.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

I watch him for a moment as I finish off my toast, and wipe away any
crumbs on my face. He stares back at me seriously and I realise he’s telling
the truth, either that or he’s got a great poker face.

He leaves the room after that with a few hushed words, telling me not to
do anything stupid.

I lay there for a few minutes, contemplating my best way out of this, and
then I spring into action. My hair is a mess but it’s still braided down the
side, so I dig through with my fingers until they come in contact with one of
my bobby pins.

I pull it out and bite down on one end as I stretch it apart, then stick
it into the key hole of the hand cuffs. It’s a little awkward because of how
I’m sitting, but I eventually manage to unlock them with a satisfied grin.

I flick them open and bring my arm down, rolling my shoulder around in
circles to relieve the pain, as I rub my wrist with my other hand. I jump off
the bed and tread as quietly as I can to the window, taking a quick peek
outside. The sun is barely peeking out over the horizon, probably right on dawn
I’m guessing, and there’s a few guards wandering around outside.

I take a look around the room and notice two other doors. I peek through
one quietly and see it’s just a bathroom and the other one is unfortunately
locked. Think, Kayla, think.

I remember scanning the blueprint numerous times and recall him having
air vents throughout the whole manor, so I automatically walk over and look up
at it curiously. Before I can form a plan, I hear someone fumbling with the
lock on the door.

I quickly jump back onto the bed, and loosely put the cuffs back on as
though I’m still locked up. I watch, disgusted, as one of the men that took me
waltzes into the room. He has a sick grin on his face as he makes his way
towards me.

“You like to play games?” he says, but all I do is scowl at him in
response. He leans down over me and runs his finger up my cheek, before
grabbing a handful of my hair. He pulls the braid tightly, pulling my face up
towards his as he skims his nose along the skin of my neck.

I quickly pull my hand free from the cuff and grab the gun that’s tucked
in his jeans. He pulls back from me, slightly shocked, so I kick out, getting
him right in the gut. He grunts and doubles over, bracing himself on the edge
of the bed, so I move without thinking, like its second nature to do these
types of things.

I wrap my legs around his neck and squeeze my thighs as tight as I can
manage, cutting off his air.

I watch with sick satisfaction as his face starts to turn a different
colour, and his palm lethargically starts to smack at my leg, trying to break
free. He picks me up and drops me roughly to the floor, momentarily knocking
the air out of my lungs.

I don’t release my grip though, I’m not giving up. This filthy,
disgusting, human being is not laying another finger on me. His struggles die
down, and then finally after his hands uselessly scratch at me, he’s out.

My legs slowly slide away from him, and I push him off me to the side. I
lay there, staring at the ceiling, before I’m up again and checking the ammo in
the gun.

I walk back towards the desk, and start to drag the heavy piece of
furniture across the floor as quietly as I can. Heaving as I go and working up
a light sweat from the ridiculously unnecessary weight of it.
Goddamn stupid, gold furnishings.

Once I have it situated right under the vent I jump up onto it, barely
reaching the ceiling. I huff out in annoyance and jump back down, grabbing the
chair to stack up on top of the desk. I jump back up and push the vent open
easily, then pull myself up as quietly as I can.

I look up and down the dark empty vent and decide to go left, moving as
quietly as I can. Every so often there’s a grill vent door to allow ventilation,
which conveniently allows me to see where I am. The further I head the more I
feel like this was too easy to get away from. I just have to get into either
the garage and take a car, or risk getting shot by guards or mauled by a dog,
and leg it across the expanse of his yard. But then I’d have to figure out a
way to make it over the solid brick wall closing off his property.

I lay flat next to one of the vents and breathe deeply, trying to relax
myself. Do I risk it and go find Mikhalov, or do I break out and run for
safety?

A couple guards walk underneath talking into a walkie, and I catch a few
brief snippets of their conversation.

“She’s done what? Gde ona?” one of them barks into the receiver.

The crackly and sudden reply from the walkie has me moving further along,
“She’s snuck into the air vents.”

I crawl my way along for a few more meters, until I realise I’m right
above Mikhalov’s office. I watch quietly, and see one guy pacing back and
forth, disappearing into the little side room every so often that holds the
safe.

I bite my lip and start to pry the vent grill up, then slide my way out
and quietly land on top of the giant desk. This is what I’ve wanted to do for
the last few years, and here I am, inside his home – albeit unprepared and scared
shitless. I quickly jump down and crawl under the desk as the guard comes back
out, eyes the room suspiciously and goes back to the safe that I see is wide
open.

I sit there for a few minutes catching my breath, and as I sigh I check
the ammo in the gun again for comfort. Once I’ve caught my breath back, I crawl
out from my hiding space and walk silently towards the little room.

The guy is too busy pulling almost everything out of the safe and shoving
it into a trash bag, as if his orders are to get rid of anything incriminating.
I press the gun to the back of his head without thinking.

“Drop it” I say as his hands slowly rise up in surrender. He slowly
starts to turn his head, but I prod the gun harder against his head to stop
him.

“I would have thought the jewels were more your thing” I nudge my chin in
the direction of the sparkling diamonds. He laughs once as if I’m stupid, “I’m
not stealing, I’m doing my job” he says, in thick Russian I barely manage to
understand this time.

“In English” I growl as I tap the gun against his head again, but he
starts to stand up and turn around, arms still raised high.

“Shoot me then” he says as I take a step back. I hold the gun firmly, my
palm starting to sweat around the metal of the gun.

“Where’s Mikhalov?” I demand, but he ignores my request.

“Do it” he says as he takes another step, and I bite down on my lip a
little unsure. I can’t kill someone, plus I was hoping not to have to actually
use the gun, because it’ll be loud enough for everyone in the manor to know
where I am. What the hell was I expecting to do when I walked in here anyway?

I try to get a glimpse of the papers scattered across the floor, and see
they’re legal documents outlining the owners of Mikhalov’s empire. The name
that stands out from the bottom of the page has my eyes snapping back to the man
in front of me. It’s suddenly all clear why Mikhalov killed Carter’s dad, or
why this guy is trying to destroy these documents.

There on the dotted line of the page, is Carter’s dad – Thomas Monroe,
and his signature. So after his sudden death it would mean that Carter is the
sole successor and owner of the entire company, as well as Mikhalov’s.

The guy in front of me must sense my weakness, because he grins wide and
says, “Didn’t think you had it in you to kill me.”

He lowers his hands and almost jumps at me. I instinctively pull the
trigger, and the loud bang resonates through the empty and quiet room,
momentarily freezing us to the spot. Jesus I just shot someone. Holy shit, I
actually
just shot someone.

He practically falls into me, taking us both to the ground as he swears
and fumbles for the gun in my hand. His weight crushes me and squeezes the air
from my lungs. I grip the gun tighter as we struggle for the upper hand, and
the gun goes off again, not sure whether that was my doing or his but suddenly
my side is burning, like a fire has sparked from my insides.

The gun clatters to the carpeted floor as he wraps his fingers around my
throat, squeezing hard until I’m gasping for air.

He presses his lips against my ear and whispers, “Go to hell you crazy
bitch.”

I growl and kick out as hard as I can, getting him right in the nuts. He
gasps as I push him off me and fumble for the gun to my right. I pick it up as
I jump to my feet, and don’t even think as I shoot again, getting him twice in
the chest.

He lays there motionless, eyes staring blankly at me as I stand there
panting, breathless and shaking from the shock. My hands are trembling, my eyes
are watering, and my side aches like I’ve just been dipped in gasoline and set
on fire.