Free Prisoner (Russian Tattoos Book 2) by Kat Shehata

being. I saw the gun on the floor and snagged it before the other guy could get to it. With a weapon, we had the advantage. I couldn’t skitter away like a cockroach and lock him in there with those killers.”
    Boris’s expression turned murderous. “That was very brave of you. And you would’ve done this for any random, good-looking member of my team?”
    I felt the blood drain from my face. “Dmitri is my bodyguard, that’s all.”
    Boris picked up his phone, tapped the screen, and turned it around so I could see it. It was video footage from my bedroom in the dungeon—where there wasn’t supposed to be a camera—of me clinging to Dmitri after he released me from the handcuffs. He was caressing my back, petting my hair, and whispering in Russian to calm me down.
    “Boris, I swear to God—”
    He raised his hand to silence me. “I understand you are frightened, and I know Dmitri has been communicating with you in English against my orders. You have bonded with your handsome protector. Under this type of pressure, your fragile mind might see things differently than what they really are. Have you heard of Stockholm Syndrome, dear?”
    I nodded. I knew what he was talking about. In cases where a person is kidnapped, the victim might sympathize with her captor or even form affectionate feelings toward the person holding her hostage. That was definitely not going on with Dmitri and me. “I’m not suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. I was just scared.”
    “Then you are seducing him to get him to turn against the family? Flutter your pretty eyes, cry your sad tears, cling to the big, strong fighter charged with protecting your broken little body. Build up his ego, show him affection, get him to do your bidding. It didn’t take long to work your charms and get him on your side, did it?”
    The video footage of me burrowing my face in the crook of his neck and Dmitri soothing me played on. To me, it portrayed him as a kind soul showing mercy and companionship to a broken-up, emotionally damaged, kidnapped woman. But from Boris’s perspective, it probably appeared that Dmitri had succumbed to my alleged romantic trickery and was making a pass at the pakhan’s screwed-up little angel.
    “How do you think boss will react when he sees you cuddled up and cooing in his prize fighter’s lap? Have you thought that through? You know what Vladimir is capable of, dear. Is that what you want to happen? In your messed up mind, does it make you feel loved when men fight over you?”
    “No. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
    “I am a reasonable man, Carter. I am willing to give you a pass on duping the fighter. You are in a desperate situation and your survival instincts caused you to offer your body to your captor in exchange for your safekeeping.”
    His insinuation that I would use my femininity to sway Dmitri was an insult and in no way true, but I kept my mouth shut and didn’t interrupt him as he twisted his serrated knife in my gut and assassinated my character.
    “ But if your girly bullshit continues, I will make you suffer on levels you have yet to comprehend in your short life.” Veins were bulging out on the side of his head. “You coming here was not part of the plan. Vladimir never expected to see you again. Don’t make this harder on him than it needs to be. And if you have any plans of taking advantage of his fondness for you—”
    “Boris, please. I would never do that.”
    “I won’t let you destroy my son. Consider yourself warned.”
    I dug my nails so deep into my thigh, I would’ve drawn blood had it not been for the protective layer of material from my dress shielding my skin.
    Boris sealed his threat by staring directly into my eyes, melting my brain with his fiendish glare. “Do I make myself clear?”
    I nodded obediently.
    Boris leaned back in the chair and sipped a cup of tea, satisfied he had officially scared the life out of me. “You can go outside or back to your room. Guards