Author's note: Sorry it's taken so long to post. Real life kicking me in the butt again plus my ever present nemesis, procrastination. I have another as yet unpublished story I'm working on (sorry not the 3rd story of my trilogy but I will get to that soon) that has booted me back into writing mode. Hopefully it keep me motivated through the hiatus.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Zalina wrested herself from his grasp and smiled evilly at him. "She's having sex with Yuri."
"No. That's not possible." Walter refused to accept Paige willingly agreed to sleep with the lead singer. He was certain she was only cloning the other man's phone. But she should have told him, she shouldn't have gone in without backup. The thought she'd willingly placed herself in danger filled him with dread.
"It's the truth." The back up singer shrugged. "I don't care if you believe me or no. What's it to you anyway?"
"Because I love her." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn't have said them. Not because they weren't true. . . They were. He barely let himself think of how much he loved her, let alone say it aloud. Oh shit, he groaned inwardly, he'd probably just blown his cover.
"How you love someone you just met two days ago?" Zalina demanded, strengthening his certainty he'd messed up. He needed to dissemble. . .and fast.
"Uh, I, um. . .I actually met her over two years ago." Sticking with the truth as closely as possible was always a good option when lying. At least that's what Toby always said. "She was w-with another, ah, band then. I, uh, I. . ."
"What, you have crush on her?" the blonde sneered. "Ha, that bitch doesn't care about you if she's letting Yuri fuck her. Forget her." Her face changed then and she sidled up to him, rubbing her breasts against his arm. "Let's you and me get a drink and get to know each other better." She slid her fingers down the front of his shirt, stopping when she reached the waistband of his jeans.
"I don't drink," Walter stated, stepping back from her again. Her touch confused him; his body reacted to it yet his mind was repulsed by it. He knew which one of the two was more intelligent, and which one he was going to heed.
"You don't drink, you don't fuck. What kind of man are you anyway?" She was glaring at him with a disgusted expression.
"A smart one."
"A loser, you mean." She looked him up and down as though she was stripping him naked. "I'm done wasting my time with you," she said scornfully. "I'm going to find me a real man."
She stalked away, glancing over her shoulder with a snarl on her lips. Walter guessed he was supposed to be disappointed by her change of attitude but all he really felt was relief as he sagged against the wall behind him.
A relief that was short-lived as Paige and her predicament came rushing to the forefront of his brain again. He wanted to go find her, make sure she was okay, beat up the lead singer just for thinking about touching her. But he didn't know which room was Yuri's. He could hardly go up and down the halls, knocking on doors. He didn't know who he could ask without rousing suspicion. Frustration raged through him and he pounded his fists against the wall.
"Hey, noob." Walter looked up to see Mikhail standing in front of him, holding two beers. The roadie glanced over his shoulder. "Zalina can be real bitch," he said, lowering his voice. "Good fuck though, huh?"
"Uh. . ." Unsure how to answer the other man's question, Walter just shrugged. Mikhail held out one of the bottles.
"Here, have beer. What's that saying you Americans have? Down your sorrows?"
"Something like that," said Walter as he took the offered alcohol. "Thanks."
"You know, you okay guy, noob." Slapping the genius on the arm, the roadie turned and waved at someone across the room, leaving Walter alone again with his worry about Paige. He realized even if she had told him of her plans, he couldn't have done anything to stop her. She was the only one of them who could close enough to Yuri.
He was just going to have to wait it out and hope for the best. Opening the beer, he paused a moment as its sharp yeasty smell hit his nose before lifting it to his lips.
ooooo
Paige tentatively knocked on Yuri's door. There were only five minutes of her hour left. She'd changed into the least sexy clothing she'd brought with her; a pair of old jeans and a baggy tee she usually slept in. Not that the sloppy body-concealing outfit would stop the lead singer from pouncing on her. But it was like a protective layer she could use to deflect him while she cloned his phone.
Patting the pocket which held the device, she jumped as the door flew open and Yuri was standing there, leering down at her. He was wearing a nearly unbuttoned shirt tucked into tight leather pants, the ever-present bulge on prominent display.
"Hey, babe," he said as he rubbed the hair on his chest. "You ready to party with Yuri?"
"Uh, sure." Paige stepped inside, flinching as he shut and locked it behind her. He led her over to the couch, inviting her to sit down. She did, nervously perching herself on the edge of the cushion. Oh, God, she wished she'd had the chance to let Walter know what she was doing but she'd hadn't seen him since sound check. He might not have liked her plan, but what other choice did they have?
"You like vodka?" Yuri didn't wait for her answer as he grabbed a bottle and poured some into two glasses. Handing one to her, he plopped down next to her. "Relax," he advised, gulping down his drink in one shot. "I won't bite. . .unless you want me to."
Restraining herself from rolling her eyes at the tired line, she instead smiled vacantly at him. "Oh, you're so funny," she lied before taking a big sip from her glass. A huge mistake, as the alcohol burned its way down her throat and she sputtered. "Oh, wow. . .that's. . .uh, that's really strong," she managed to gasp out after a few uncomfortable moments had passed.
"Real vodka," he boasted, filling his cup again. "Not like the shit they have here in US."
"Uh, yeah, it's really strong," she said, setting her drink down on the coffee table. "Uh, so you wanted to discuss my singing career?" Inwardly she winced at how naive she sounded. But Yuri seemed to fall for it as he moved closer.
"Da, you have a really good voice," he said, placing his hand on her thigh. "You and me. . . We could make beautiful music together."
Paige threw up a little in her mouth at the corny yet suggestive line. Swallowing back her disgust, she gazed up at him with what she hoped was a dreamy expression. "Oh, you want us to sing a duet? Yuri, I'm so flattered," she said in a voice so ditzy, she felt her IQ drop several points.
"Huh?" She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his confusion. "Nyet. No, not a duet. . ." He heaved a weary sigh. "I mean you and me. . ."
A loud riff filled the room, one Paige recognized as beginning of one of the band's songs. "Shit, just a minute." Yuri got up off the couch, walked into the bedroom, coming back out with his cell in his hand. "This fucking better be important," he snarled into it before switching to Russian. She didn't have a clue what he was saying, but she could tell by the tone of his voice he was pissed off about something.
Reaching into her pocket, Paige pressed the button to turn on the cloning device, then glanced at her watch. Three minutes, she just needed three minutes, then she could escape Yuri's evil clutches. She suppressed a giggle at the melodramatic thought then sobered, acknowledging the fact she was in over her head. She glanced again at her watch. Two and a half minutes to go. . .
She was so caught up in watching the time, she didn't realize Yuri had gone back into other room until he was almost five feet away. Hopping up off the couch, she moved closer, hoping he wouldn't notice she was following him. Or worse, think she was eager to join him in his bedroom. Scanning the suite, she spied a potted palm next to one end of the sofa. She snatched up her glass and tipped its contents into the straw surrounding the base of the artificial plant.
Paige was about to pour more vodka into her glass when Yuri emerged from the bedroom. "You want more, huh?" He took her cup from her. "Here, let me get it for you."
Flicking her eyes to her watch, she sagged with relief the three minutes were up. Praying she'd been close enough the whole time to send the signal, she shook her head.
"No, that's okay," she said. "I, uh, I should be going."
"But you just get here." The singer pointed to the couch. "Sit down. Relax. Let Yuri take care of you." He leered suggestively at her, looking so like a over-the-top villain from a cartoon she had to keep herself from laughing. Wondering how much vodka it would take for him to be drunk enough to pass out, she did as he requested.
With his back to her, he refilled their glasses. Paige reached down into her pocket, turning off the device, glancing up just in time to see Yuri put several drops of something into one of the drinks. Her breath caught in her throat. The son of a bitch was going to roofie her? He had groupies throwing themselves at him, why would he have to resort to drugging someone like her? She was hardly one of the barely legal teenagers the Russian usually favored.
"Here you go," he said, bringing the bottle with him along with the two glasses as he sat down so close he was practically in her lap.
"Uh, thanks." Paige reluctantly accepted the vodka.
"So, where were we?" he asked, slinging his arm around her shoulders.
She leaned forward, setting her glass on the coffee table. Time to act stupid again, she thought with a weary sigh. "You were asking me to do a duet with you," she said, batting her eyelashes.
He placed his cup next to hers. "Da, we can do a duet between. . ."
"Oh, that would be awesome. What song do you think we should do?" She bounced a little on the sofa, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, I know the perfect song! Leather and. . ."
Her words were cut off as Yuri grabbed her, putting his mouth on hers and forcing his slimy tongue between her lips. Gagging at the sudden intrusion, Paige flailed her arms, nearly knocking the glasses from the coffee table. An idea struck her then, one that could only be pulled off if she kept him distracted. Resisting the urge to fight him, she let him manhandle her as she reached for the cups with one hand. It took a couple of tries, but she finally switched the glasses.
Abruptly, Yuri pushed her away, and for a terrifying moment, she thought he'd seen what she'd done. Then he licked her neck up to her ear, giving it a not so gentle nip. "I'm not talking about singing. I'm talking about if you want to keeping singing for Zhalo, you need to fuck me."
"Oh, God," she whispered as she started shaking, suppressing the urge to throw up. She needed to get out, and getting the blond singer to drink the drugged glass of alcohol was her only hope. Praying he would follow her lead, she picked up her vodka and pretended to take a sip.
Yuri grabbed his cup and swallowed it in one gulp. "Da, da, drink up," he said, pouring more into his glass, and draining that as well. He slammed the cup on the table. "Come on, baby, let's do it." He didn't give her a chance to reply as he shoved her back onto the sofa and fell on top of her. He kissed her, once again ramming his tongue into her mouth.
Instinctively, she tried to push him off of her, but he was much stronger than his thin frame led her to believe. Panic set in as he groped her breasts and tore at her clothes, and she frantically wondered how long it would take whatever it was he'd put in her drink to take effect.
He was sliding his hands under her shirt, oblivious to her lack of response, when he suddenly shook himself. "Wha. . .wha the fuuu. . ." he slurred angrily. Renewing his rough fondling, he attempted to cram his tongue into her mouth, missing it and instead ending up licking her chin. Paige grabbed his hair, jerking it upward just in time to see his eyes roll back into his head as he collapsed onto her.
Letting out the breath she didn't realize she was holding, she shoved at him, finally pushing him onto his back. She jumped up off the couch, checking her pocket to make sure she still had the cloning device. Pulling it out, she rubbed her thumb across its shiny metal surface.
What if Yuri had wandered out of range during her attempt to clone his phone? The transmission would have been cut off and would have needed to be reset. Oh, crap. Darting a glance at the unconscious singer, she took a deep breath before dashing into his bedroom. His cell was sitting on a chest of drawers and she wasted no time activating her device, placing it next to the phone.
Three minutes. Glimpsing at her watch, she began to pace. He should be out for much longer than that. She peeked back out into the other room, where Yuri was still passed out on the couch. His shirt was unbuttoned almost to his waist and his leather trousers still bulged obscenely.
She stalked over to him, yanking out his shirt from his waistband before popping open the rest of the buttons. If she made it appear like he'd had sex with her, hopefully he'd leave her alone, because she didn't think she could handle doing this a second time. With a grimace, she undid the snap of his pants and pulled down the zipper, which revealed several pairs of socks wadded together.
Letting out a loud laugh, she then bit her lip in a vain attempt to stop her giggles. Fortunately, Yuri remained comatose as she removed the bundled socks and tossed them behind the sofa. Another glance at her watch told her she had a minute left. Going back into the bedroom, she fidgeted, keeping her eye on the remaining seconds.
A groan from the adjoining room made her heart skip a beat. She poked her head out and saw the lead singer shift restlessly. Oh, God. He couldn't wake up now, time was almost up.
After what felt like the longest thirty seconds of her life, she snatched up the cloning device and headed toward the suite's exit. She'd had just gently closed the door behind her when she heard a familiar voice call her name. "Paige?"
Spinning around, she saw Walter standing at the other end of the hallway, a panicked expression on his face. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Walter."
In a matter of seconds, she was safe in his arms.