Chapter 17

What. The. Fuck? Where were the drugs?

"Where are the drugs?" she mumbled incoherently, squinting into the gloom of a dimly lit room.

Movement to her left indicated another presence in the room. He stood, tall and predatory by her side, and swooped low over her bed. Brushing the hair off her forehead he asked in a deeply accented voice, "What was that, malysh?"

Vladimir Sitnikov.

What was he doing in her hospital room? Shouldn't a woman be allowed a little bit of privacy when she was slowly dying of increasing excruciating pain? And where the fuck was the morphine? Jane licked her lips and cracking her eyes as much as she could handle, rolled her head toward his voice, "Where the fuck are my drugs, Sitnikov?"

He clicked his tongue. "Tsk, are you into the drug business, Jane? Well that would make us rivals, wouldn't it? I'd probably have to have you killed."

Jane snorted painfully, "You know I'm not into that criminal shit. I mean where is the goddamned morphine? I shouldn't be