Jenna
Somehow, Garrett had managed to calm and steady my nerves, though I wasn’t sure if it was anything he’d done or just my fear of what would happen if I didn’t play along. Straightening my back and mustering up my resolve, I walked across the lower level of the garage to the steel door of the room where he said he was holding the man he needed me to talk to for him, Dima.
As I watched him walk over to me from the opposite end of the room, I realized I’d never met a man quite like Garrett Norton before. Most of the men I’d known were academic types—quiet, mild-mannered, studious, and the antithesis of everything Garrett seemed to be. Garrett was commanding and authoritative. He took charge, and he didn’t take no for an answer once an order was barked.
The men I knew would have killed for his body, but only after calculating the risk of getting caught for the crime. Then, only if they felt the risk was worth the payoff would they have gone through with it. Needless to say, none of them ever seemed to really work on their bodies, not to the point that this man had.
When he walked over and opened the door into the concrete interrogation room in the basement, I was tempted to refuse to go in. I wanted him to grab me again. I couldn’t shake the desire to have his arms around my waist one more time and have him forcefully take charge of me. There was something so sexy about that. It made no sense to want him to manhandle me, but I did want him to, and I thought I saw the desire in his dark, mysterious eyes as he opened the door and let me walk into the room.
“Dima,” he said loudly as he closed the door and locked it behind us, “I’ve got Dr. Dunn from the university to help us talk.” He spoke slowly, and his voice boomed in the little room, as if that would help break through the language barrier. Unfortunately, that tactic never seemed to work as well as people thought it should.
“I don’t think that helps,” I told Garrett as I looked around the room. The room was essentially a concrete cube with one dim light bulb hanging down from the ceiling over a small wooden table. Other than a small pool of light directly under the hanging bulb, the rest of the room was almost completely dark.
The man he called Dima sat in what looked like a metal chair. It was hard to see in the dim light, but it looked like he was tied to the chair. He was also a thick, muscular man a little smaller than Garrett. His features were distinctly Russian. He wore his hair cropped closely, almost a buzz cut. He looked up at me as I took my seat across the table from him, and I saw blue eyes that were probably once beautiful, but now they looked tired, defeated.
“Dima,” I said, leaning across the table to make sure he was looking at me, “my name is Dr. Dunn. Garrett has asked me to come in so you could have someone to talk to.” I spoke to him in Russian.
His eyes focused on me. He glanced quickly at Garrett standing behind me, then jerked his head back to me. “You speak Russian?” he asked me.
I nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”
“What’s he saying?” Garrett asked eagerly.
“Nothing yet. We’re just making our introductions,” I told him.
“Well, tell him he better talk or else I’m going to start breaking his fingers.” I decided to ignore the perverse pleasure Garrett seemed to take in making his threat.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, refusing to repeat Garrett’s threat of violence.
“I don’t want to talk with him in here,” Dima told me.
I cut my eyes to Garrett, wondering if I could bring myself to ask him to leave us alone. He glared at us, at me in particular, from just beyond the pool of light surrounding the table. The darkness fought with the yellow glow of the light to conceal his features. The effect was a sinister play of light and shadow on his face. I didn’t feel I could ask him any favors while he looked like that. He didn’t look human anymore. He looked demonic, as if he really was a demon sent to torture poor souls like Dima’s.
“He doesn’t know what we’re saying,” I assured Dima in Russian. “He asked me here because he can’t understand a word of Russian.”
“You’re talking too much,” Garrett barked. “I need you to get him to talk.”
I turned to him. “I know I’m not making threats and being aggressive, but let me work at him my way. What do you want me to ask him?”
“Ask him where I can find Igor.”
I didn’t ask who Igor was. I figured there were things I didn’t need to know, and the less I knew, the better. I shifted my weight in the chair and leaned across the table. “He wants to know where he can find Igor,” I told Dima.
He looked at me with his cold blue eyes.
“You know who he’s talking about, don’t you?”
“I’m not telling him anything,” Dima said, cutting his eyes to Garrett.
I rubbed my brow and sighed. “He’s not talking,” I told Garrett.
The behemoth stepped into the light and leaned over the table, bringing his face within inches of Dima’s. “You tell him that if he doesn’t start talking, we’re going to make his life a living fucking hell.” Though he looked Dima in the eye, he spoke to me.
“He said if you don’t cooperate, he’s going to make your life a living hell,” I told Dima.
The Russian laughed in Garrett’s face, and I saw rage darken his features even more. I was surprised when he stood up and refrained from hitting the man. “You’re not helping,” he told me in a threatening tone. “If you don’t start getting answers, you could find yourself in trouble with him.”
I looked at Dima, whose eyes met mine, and for a brief moment it looked like he understood the threat Garrett had just issued. Maybe he’d just picked up on the tone of his voice.
“What did he just say?” Dima asked me.
“He threatened me if I can’t get you to talk,” I told him in a flat tone. “I need you to give me something I can use.”
“Tell him to go fuck himself,” Dima told me.
I shook my head.
“What is it? What did he say?” Garrett asked, his voice growing more and more frustrated.
Emotions were starting to run a little too high for my comfort, and I was stuck right in the middle of it all.
“He’s not talking,” I answered.
Garrett let out a frustrated groan. “Tell him if he doesn’t start talking, I’m going to kill him. Then, I’m going after his family.”
I sat back and looked at Garrett, shocked. “You told me I wasn’t doing any such thing,” I protested.
“I told you before we walked in here to follow my lead and say what I told you to say,” he reminded me. “Now, if you can’t do that, I’ll find someone who will, and you might find yourself in a chair like Dima’s,” he threatened. He leaned down, bringing his face down beside mine. I could feel the heat of his anger radiating from his face and hear his deep, hard breathing.
“Except, what I’ll do to you will be far worse than Dima’s fate,” he whispered in my ear.
Dima sat upright, bound to his chair, and watched our little exchange with concern in his eyes. I gave him a sidelong glance.
“Tell him we know he’s working for Igor,” Garrett said. “Ask him again where Igor is.”
I turned to face Dima again. “He says he knows you’re working for Igor.”
A smile spread across the Russian’s face. “Of course he does. That was never supposed to be a secret. Tell him congratulations.”
“Where is your boss?” I asked him. “Dima, where is Igor?”
He laughed then. “I’m not going to tell you anything, Dr. Dunn. He needs the information too much to seriously hurt me, so I’m going to keep my mouth shut. Once I tell him where Igor is, he’s going to kill me.”
“No,” I argued. “No. He told me he’s going to let you go. He’s just trying to find Igor.”
“You have no idea what you got yourself into, do you?” Dima asked, realizing that I really had no idea what this was all about.
I was starting to get pieces of the puzzle, though, and I didn’t like what I was seeing. Dima was being held against his will, tied to the chair in this dank, musty old room. All this talk about bosses and where to find them was straight out of the movies. I was beginning to think I’d been pulled into a conflict between two rival mob factions.
“Why don’t you go back to your university, doctor?” Dima continued. “This isn’t the place for a woman like you.”
“What’s he saying?” Garrett asked me.
“You’re in over your head, Dr. Dunn.”
I shook my head. “He’s not talking.”
“I ought to bash his skull in right here and now,” Garrett growled. “Tell him I’m threatening him again.”
I stood up and looked back and forth between the two men. “He understands violence,” I told Garrett. “Just raise your fist at him. He’ll know what you mean.” I started towards the door. “He’s not talking to me.”
“Where are you going? You can’t get out of here without the key.” Garrett pulled the key out of his pocket, and I considered stepping back over to him to snatch it from his hand, but I feared his hand would meet my face in a bad way if I tried anything like that on him.
“Listen, I’m not getting anywhere with him,” I said, frustrated. “He told me he’s not going to talk with you in the room, so we need to figure out a different approach.”
“He’ll talk no matter what,” Garrett threatened. “If the dumb bastard knows what’s good for him.”
He raised his hand, but the Russian just calmly looked up at him, his face not even registering anticipation. It was as if he didn’t even expect Garrett to make good on any of his threats.
“I think we need to talk,” I told Garrett. “This isn’t working.”
Garrett kicked over the chair I’d just been sitting in. He slammed his fists down on the wooden desk and leaned across it again, coming face to face with Dima. He didn’t issue any threats. He just stared into the Russian’s blue eyes, his face seething with rage.
“Garrett, that’s not helping.”
Dima stared into the hateful expression on Garrett’s face and said to me, “Tell him that if he harms me, he won’t have to look for Igor. Igor will find him.”
“Garrett, we need to go. We need to talk. In private,” I urged the biker. I couldn’t believe I was willingly offering to examine other options to get through to the Russian, but something told me my ass was suddenly on the line, too.
“Fine. Let’s talk.” He pushed himself up from the table and walked over to the door, unlocking it to let us out and locking it again once we were out, to keep Dima inside. Alone.
He grabbed my arm and walked me away from the room, toward the steps leading back up to the garage.
“Talk,” he said. “What was all that about in there? You two talked a lot for your answer to be that he wasn’t telling you anything,” he accused me.
“He was just telling me he wasn’t going to talk. At first, he said he wasn’t comfortable talking with you in the room. Then, he said he felt like you were going to kill him once he did talk,” I explained to Garrett. “I think I should go back in there alone,” I added.
“Good. And you’ll get the chance, because you’re staying with us until you get him to talk,” he said matter-of-factly before taking me by the arm and leading me upstairs.
His grip was firm and forceful, but it didn’t hurt. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, just to make sure I understood my place.