Page 43 of Sinner's Sacrifice

“Yes, sir,” Mason said, taking off at a jog. Yvgeny followed in his wake.

“I don’t need—” she began.

“You will be examined by a doctor and have an x-ray taken of your ribs to ensure nothing is broken,” he told her in a tone with no give to it whatsoever. “You won’t like what happens next if you argue with me.”

Her chest and side throbbed double time with her heart rate. “Okay,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said, okay. You’re right and I’m wrong. Does that make you feel better?”

“No.” he wasn’t looking at her, kept his eyes on the way forward. “God damn it, do you know how close he came to killing you? If I had been any slower, he might have done anything...” His arms tightened around her. “Anything at all. You are not to be hurt.”

The elevator dinged, and he got into it.

She pressed the basement level button. The car descended.

“I didn’t think he’d attack me so blatantly,” she said, her jaw chattering and her tongue heavy and thick. “I had him talking to me. He admitted to killing Sharon, and he was delighted I’d seen the cuts he’d made on her.”

Yvgeny didn’t say anything, but his face was so tense he looked like he was carved out of marble rather than made of living flesh.

“Yvgeny,” she said in a whisper. “He said I was a special order.”

The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and he stepped out before answering her. But it wasn’t in English. He muttered something in what sounded like Russian.

It didn’t sound happy.

The elevator opened at the parking garage level. Waiting by the elevator were two of Yvgeny’s security men in their black uniforms. They nodded at him and followed as he carried her out of the elevator and down the hall toward the exit.

“Where is this clinic?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

She glanced at the two guards as a shiver crawled up her spine, its talons digging into her skin.

They left the building and approached another limo. One of the guards stepped past them to open the back door. Yvgeny ducked in and placed her on the seat, then crowded in beside her. She shuffled over, holding back a groan as the pain in her chest and side surged with the movement.

Yvgeny studied her face with more focus than she was comfortable with.

“Will you stop?” she snapped at him. “I’m sore, not stabbed.”

He bared his teeth at her, his canines looking sharper than usual. Maybe it was because he was so close?

“Clinic,” he barked at the driver.

The car pulled away, taking the circuitous route toward the exit.

Sam turned to face forward and ignored Yvgeny’s baleful stare.

After a minute, he sat back, muttering something in that Cyrillic language.

“Did you call me an idiot?”

“No, I called you a stupid woman.”

Same thing.

She shook her head but decided not to add fuel to the fire.