Beauty & the Beast by Nancy Holder Read Free Book Online Page A

end of the phone assured Anatoly that it would be handled as discreetly as possible, and that he would be informed the moment that the mission was accomplished.
    “Of course,” Anatoly said, and disconnected. He turned the sound back on.
    Ilya and Svetlana had finished tying up the girl. They stood back, framing her as if inviting him to admire their handiwork. Ankles tied to the chair, wrists bound, face smeared with color, she looked like a silly clown, a silly repulsive clown. She looked like she would sink like a stone if they threw her in the Hudson.
    “My sister is a cop,” she said between hitching sobs. “If you don’t let me go, the entire New York City police force will come looking for me. And they-they’ll find me.”
    See? Americans were so childlike.
    He cocked his head. “Do you by chance speak Russian?” he asked her directly, in English.
    “What? No. No, I don’t.” She hesitated as if trying to decide if her lack of knowledge was good or bad. “So whatever they said to each other, I couldn’t understand them. Okay? Honest. I don’t know anything about any of you.”
    “Except that they killed your boyfriend.”
    “He wasn’t my boyfriend. We’d just started dating. Oh, God, please, please let me go,” she cried. “I don’t know who you are. Your names, nothing. I can’t identify you.”
    “You’re so helpful,” he said. “Listen, Heather Chandler. You may be able to save your own life. As you know, your sister has something that belongs to me. It may come to a trade, you for it. You will need to be able to speak to your sister. But you cannot do that if you are dead. And my two friends there will kill you if you try to escape. Do you understand? They will not hesitate.”
    “Okay.” She nodded, pulling herself together with a sniffle. “Okay, I understand.” She nodded like a bobblehead toy.
    “So do I have your word that you will not try to escape?”
    “Yes.” She sounded almost eager to sign her own death certificate. Surely she must understand that he could never let her live. If her sister was foolish enough to agree to the trade, they would still kill her. More quickly, maybe, but where was the fun in that?
    I must not give in to my emotions , he reminded himself. They are a sign of weakness. Look at her, so hysterical. A disgusting display.
    “Svetlana, knock her out,” he told his beautiful one in Russian. “It’s tiresome, da ? All the tears.”
    “Poor thing,” Ilya chirruped.
    Svetlana glared at Ilya, then flashed Anatoly a sour smile, pulled her gun from her jacket, and clubbed the girl over the head with it. Heather Chandler’s face fell forward.
    “Put her in the cell,” he said to them both.
    He watched as Ilya and Svetlana picked up the chair together and shuffled off to the left. Out of his line of sight, he heard the squeal of the cell door. There was a thud. A giggle. And then a clang.
    Ilya and Svetlana reappeared. Ilya was grinning like a naughty little boy. Svetlana’s lips were pursed in silent disapproval.
    “Done,” Ilya announced.
    “Ilya, what did you do?” Anatoly prodded.
    “Her chair tipped over when we set it down,” he said. “We left it that way.”
    Anatoly pictured the rat. And then her face. Where there was one rat, there were others. He tried to decide if a group of rats could chew enough of her face off to kill her before he would need her to speak to her sister. If he needed her at all.
    Better safe than sorry.
    “Put her chair upright,” he said. Ilya’s face fell. “Ilya, do as I say.”
    “I’ll do it,” Svetlana announced.
    She marched out of his visual range; while she was gone, Ilya pouted. “It was Svetlana’s fault that we knocked the chair over. And she was the one who made such a mess when we killed Suresh.”
    Anatoly was a bit alarmed. Not a lot. But some. “There was a mess?” This was a detail both of them had omitted.
    “A lot of blood,” Ilya said. “She shot him on their sofa. We didn’t