Free Madness (Revenge Series Book 3) by M.S. Brannon Page A

awe. The room is large and twice the size of my apartment at home. The area is set up like a swanky, contemporary style loft with a sitting area on the right side and the sleeping area on the left. The half-wall between the two areas has a see-through fireplace with flat screens affixed on either side. It’s stunning, and I can feel myself getting used to the accommodations that surround Nikolai’s lifestyle.
    I walk to bedroom area and pull my clothes from the garment bag and suitcase, proceeding to hang them in the closet, but the anxious feeling begins to return. I don’t know if it’s the emptiness of the room or worrying about Nikolai.
    Needing to keep my hands busy and my mind clear, I finish putting my clothes in the closet then step toward the mini bar. The small bottles probably cost a fortune, but I don’t care. I pull out a bottle of the top-shelf vodka then locate the ice bucket. Walking down the hall, I retrieve ice from the vending area then hustle back to the room.
    I pull cubes of ice out with the small tongs and drop them into the glass with a clank. Then I crack open the small bottle and dump the clear contents over ice. My hands are starting to shake, my nerves fried.
    I walk to the fruit basket and find a couple of limes inside. I use the letter opener from the desk to slice them open. The citrus smell fills the air when I squeeze the fruit then drop the lime wedge into my glass before gulping down the drink.
    My throat burns, but I chug it down and repeat the process. Again and again.
     

C HAPTER T WELVE
    Nikolai
    August 18, 2015 7:53 p.m.
     
     
    J osslyn walks from the sleeper coach, her legs wobbly, but she manages to go out on her own. I know she wasn’t prepared for this—the journey across Moscow alone—but there is no time. From this moment on, she and I are no more in public. Like I promised, I will follow her, but I can’t watch her every second, because I need to see who has interest in her, if anyone. I need to draw out the thieves if possible, and Josslyn is my live bait. She will not go unnoticed on the streets of Moscow.
    Any hot-blooded man would be a fool not to gaze in her direction. However, a woman of Josslyn’s beauty will definitely attract the attention of the criminal underworld. The human trafficking trade was just starting to become popular when I was locked away in prison, and from what I have read over the years, it has become an epidemic.
    This is where dangling my sexy, American bait will come in handy. She is a little old for some men’s liking, or the wrong sex for that matter, but I know several men involved in the auction would love to have a taste of Josslyn.
    The scouts for these large auctions will undoubtedly zero in on her. And, with any luck, I will find a thief on the other end.
    The hatred runs deep for Americans, and Stravinsky is one of them. He would especially love breaking her.
    Josslyn steps out onto the street and freezes. She holds her belongings, struggling with what to do next.
    I try to let the aggravation roll off my shoulders when it’s clear she is on the verge of having a meltdown. Keeping a low profile, I move over to the side of the building to observe, tucked into an alleyway between two old, brick buildings. I inwardly scream for her to move. She’s doing the exact opposite of what I told her to do. If anyone looks frightened and lost, it’s her.
    She turns to the side, looking down the street, trying to find a taxi.
    I can’t watch this happen any longer. Yes, I wanted her to be bait, but she is putting herself in too much danger by standing there in a panic on the streets.
    Setting my suitcase down, I pull my cell phone out and dial the number for a local cab company. The operator comes on the line, and I tell them the location and to look for an American girl in a gray suit. The operator assures me someone will be over in a couple of minutes. Hopefully, that is true.
    As she starts moving down the street, a man tucked next to