21Lucas
A child. She had been a f*****g child when they planted her in Moscow and forced her to sleep with sleazy government assholes.
The rage blasting through me feels hot enough to incinerate my insides. It had taken every ounce of my self-control to conceal my reaction from Yulia. If I hadn’t left the house when I did, I would’ve put my fist through a wall.
The impulse is still with me an hour later, so I hammer the sandbag in front of me, channeling my fury into each blow. I can see the other men giving me inquiring looks; I’ve been at it for the past forty minutes without so much as a water break.
“Lucas, you crazy gringo, what’s gotten into you?” A man’s voice breaks my concentration, and I spin around to see Diego standing there. The tall Mexican is grinning, his teeth flashing
