Page 47 of Cashmere Cruelty

“Bury this,” I order, handing the envelope back to him. “Make sure Vlad doesn’t find out. If he asks, the test is still underway.”

Yuri nods. “Got it.”

I force myself to snap out of it. Thoughts of April’s warm body will do me no good right now. No, what I need is a distraction.

Which is why I came here in the first place.

Yuri opens the door to the warehouse. I follow. Already from the stairs, I can smell the stench of blood and human misery.

I walk into a wide, bare room. When I acquired this building, I didn’t bother with renovations. For the kind of guests I had in mind, four walls and a roof were more than enough. All they had to do was drown out the screams.

A few men nod with respect as I pass them by. I recognize their faces: Yuri’s most trusted, his most loyal.

Good.We can never be too careful.

“Where are they?” I ask, the sound of my steps echoing off the walls.

“We separated them,” Yuri informs me. “One in Room A, the other in Room B.”

“Prisoner’s dilemma,” I commend. “Nice work.”

Yuri shrugs. “Hasn’t yielded results thus far, though. Hopefully, seeing you will scare the truth out of them.”

The truth. What a volatile concept. “I’ll do my worst.”

I fully intend to. With April wreaking havoc on my mind, I need to lose myself in something. Work—but not the sanitized kind. Not the kind you can do behind an expensive desk, earning praise from board members who don’t know what their shares are really being used for.

No. I need the kind you do with your own two hands.

I walk into Room A first. One kidnapper is tied to a chair, soaking in a pool of his own blood and fitfully asleep. On a tray nearby, I spy the tools of the trade, still coated in red. Yuri’s handiwork, no doubt.

I kick the chair. The guy jolts upright, yanking on his restraints.

And then he sees me. “Blyat’,” he curses, spitting blood on the floor.

One of them was Russian, April’s voice murmurs in my memories.

“Brother,” I call him spitefully in his own language, tilting his chin up to see him. “Enjoyed the hospitality?”

This—now,thisis my scene. Forget sexy baby mamas; this is what I was born to do. Lust is great and all, but it’ll never hold a candle tobloodlust.

Not for me.

Despite the gore and grime covering his entire face, I could swear I recognize him. I can’t remember his name—which is odd; I make it my business to know all my men—but I remember his features. I can tell, without a doubt, that I’ve seen him before.

If only I could remember where.

The man stares at me like he’s just seen the angel of death—which, to be fair, is mostly accurate. His entire body begins to shake. A pungent smell reaches my nose and I look down, realizing he’s pissing himself.

If he was ever one of mine, I’m glad he no longer is.

I strike him across the face, hard. Something goescrackwith the motion; seconds later, the man spits a tooth at my feet. “Please,” he croaks. “You have to protect me! I’ll tell you everything, but you have to?—”

I could promise him that. I could pretend I’ll ever consider letting him go. With how desperate he is, he’d believe me.

“No,” I tell him instead.

Thismudakkidnapped my child. He kidnappedApril.