by Linda Grimes
good idea to vomit with a gag in my mouth, so I pushed myself over onto my back, trying to get my nose as far away from the
skins as possible. To stave off panic, I closed my eyes and searched my brain for images of wide-open places. Cloud-filed skies,
fields of spring flowers, roling plains—No! Cut that last one. It made me think of roling planes, and only made the turbulence
harder to take.
Better just to try and figure out the situation. Okay, I’d been unconscious. How long had I been out? Where on the plane was
I? And most important, how much longer would I be stuck here?
I didn’t have much time to ponder it. The door opened and a big silhouette took its place. I squinted and squeaked, trying to
push myself back against the wal. I couldn’t tel if it was one of the Vikings who had grabbed me or not—al I could see was
golden halo atop a linebacker body.
“You are awake.”
Bright guy.
“If you promise not to make any noise, I wil let you out. Do you promise?” His voice was deep, a little singsongy. Sounded
Viking to me, but I knew better than to trust my opinion on accents.
I nodded. “Mmm-hmm.” What the hel did he expect me to do? Shake my head and go back to sleep?
He removed my gag first, probably testing to see if I’d keep my word. I remained silent, except for gulping in air, so he untied
my hands and legs. I stretched as much as space alowed and rubbed my arms, trying to restore circulation. He helped me to a
sitting position. My head swam and the world got al black around the edges. I must’ve been drugged up pretty good.
“Take it easy. You wil be better soon.”
“I’m al right. Just give me a second.” My voice was raspy, my mouth dry and nasty-tasting.
He waited patiently. Once I was seeing clearly again, I could tel he was the tackler. Not in nearly as much of a hurry now as he
was the last time I saw him.
“What’s this about?” I asked. “If you’re holding me for ransom—”
“I told you to be quiet.”
“But—”
He reached for the gag. I shut up.
“Come with me,” he said.
My legs were wobbly, so I didn’t mind him holding on to my shoulders as we walked down the aisle as much as I might have
otherwise. He stayed close behind me, bending his head to avoid bumping it on the ceiling. It was a smal cabin—wel, compared
to a commercial jet, anyway—maybe a Gulfstream, maybe a Lear. I’d flown on corporate jets before, during other jobs, but not
so often that I could tel them apart. I was never crazy about spending time in the air, but those rides had been a hel of lot more
fun than this one.
We approached the Viking I’d bitten. I felt a tiny burst of pleasure at the sight of his bandaged hand, and hoped his worst fears
of infection came true. He was sitting on the sofa that stretched along one side of the cabin, talking with a man who didn’t look
remotely like a Viking. More like an Indian, the Native American kind.
In fact, he looked a whole lot like Jay Silverheels, the guy who played Tonto on The Lone Ranger, my favorite TV western. I
had such a crush on him when I was a kid—he was way cooler than the masked man. My dad had recorded the whole series,
and I used to make Bily watch the shows with me over and over, even though he teased me relentlessly about my crush on Mr.
Silverheels. Just thinking about Tonto made me smile at the black-haired Viking. “Hey, you kind of remind me…”
The words died in my mouth when I saw the look in his eyes. Uh-oh. Guess he wasn’t a fan of westerns. O-kaaay. Not Tonto.
The un-Tonto it is. Nonto.
I sat where the big guy behind me told me to, across from the others. “As long as you are quiet, you may stay out here in the
cabin. If you make trouble, you wil be given another injection and put back into the luggage compartment.”
I gave him the double thumbs-up, not risking a single word.
“Would you like something to eat or drink?”
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t entirely bad. “Some water would be good,” I said, voice stil scratchy. “Pelegrino, if you have it,” I
added. “I don’t realy like Perrier.” What the hel. As long as I was Mina, I might as wel stay in character.
Nonto was studying me, his face motionless. I had a strong urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I resisted.
“Watch out for her,” the other Viking said. “She bites.”
“Only when I’m being kidnapped,” I said, plastering a big, phony smile on Mina’s face. “By the way, where are we going?”
He flexed his bandaged hand into a fist. “Perhaps we should take you to a veterinarian and make sure you don’t have rabies,”
he said. Al right, he was going to be Nasty Viking. From the looks of him, he’d enjoy the role. Nonto stil hadn’t said anything.
Slightly Nicer Viking returned with the Pelegrino, the bottle stil unopened, and a commercialy wrapped sandwich. Maybe it
was his way of showing me the food and water weren’t drugged. Geez, Ciel. Get a grip. Why would they need to drug your
food and water when they have shots they can give you, you idiot? Okay, so I wanted to believe somebody here was
halfway decent. What was so wrong with that? Damn. This is probably how Stockholm syndrome starts, I thought as I sipped
the water.
“We are taking you to your boyfriend,” Nice Viking said after he sat in front of me. His seat faced mine.
“Nils!” Nasty Viking cut him off.
“You have Trey, too?” I piped up. “Where is he? Is he al right?” Now I realy was concerned. If they had the real Trey, why
were they stil after the fake Trey?
“He is healthy. You wil see him soon.”
“Nils.” There was a warning in Nasty Viking’s voice.
“You worry too much, Per. There can be no harm in teling her. If she knows she is going to see him, perhaps she wil be a
better passenger.”
I wondered briefly why Nasty Viking was named for a fruit, but decided it didn’t realy matter in the grand scheme of things.
Probably meant something else in Swedish, anyway.
“Where is he?” I repeated, pressing my advantage with Nils. (That name I recognized, thanks to Bruce Springsteen’s E Street
Band.) “Why did you take him? And me? Does this have something to do with his import business?” I scooted forward in my
seat, trying to react how Mina would under the circumstances. “Oh, my God—is he smuggling? He can’t be. He would never do
anything like that. He’s—”
“Håll käfton!” Per said.
I looked at him blankly. Hole shefton? What the hel did that mean?
“He wants you to be quiet. It means ‘hold your jaw,’” Nils explained.
Wel, how rude. I looked down Mina’s perfect nose at Per. “Didn’t your mommy teach you any manners?” I said.
He reached across the aisle and grabbed my arm, half-puling me out of my seat, scaring the bejeezus out of me. Talk about
overreacting. His grip would leave a bruise for sure, if I let it show. Which I wouldn’t. I didn’t let myself wince either—no way
would I give this creep the satisfaction. “Oooh, tough guy,” I said. “You’re not half the man my Trey is!” (I know! But it just
slipped out. When I’m scared, I bluster. It might be stupid, but it’s better than pissing yourself.)
He squeezed my arm harder, twisting it until I was afraid it might break. “You overstep yourself, Miss Worthington. A lady
should know better. But perhaps you’re not so much of a lady. Perhaps you would like proof I am more of a man than your Trey
could ever be. Is that why you taunt me?”<
br />
Uh-oh. The gleam in his eye pegged him as a certified resident of Crazy Town. I tried to pul away. Saw that Nonto behind him
appeared to be enjoying the show. Yikes. Guess I should have gone with pissing myself.
“Per. That’s enough.” Nils had risen. He took Per by the wrist, his knuckles whitening with the pressure he applied.
“Remember the plan.”
Per glared at Nils and let loose a string of Swedish I couldn’t begin to decipher. Nils listened patiently, but didn’t loosen his
hold until Per let go of me. “I wil sit with her.”
“Fine. We wil move up front,” Per said. He headed for a seat as far away from me as he could get, and Nonto folowed him
without adding anything to the conversation. What was he, mute?
Shaky, I leaned back in my seat. Almost made a comment about Mr. Loony Tunes, but decided not to press my luck. Instead I
said, “If you could just tel me why—”
“I am afraid I cannot tel you any more than I already have.”
“But—”
He shook his head, a single time. A definitive no. I sighed. “Can you at least tel me if Trey and I are going to come out of this
alive?” I said, a little wistfuly. I realy was curious about that. When I die, I think I’d rather do it as myself.
“If you do as you’re told.”
“Wel, color me obedient,” I said, and tried to twist my mouth into something resembling a cooperative smile. “But I think it’s
only fair to warn you, there are some pretty powerful people who won’t be happy to find out I’m not where I should be. They’l
be coming after you.”
“Let’s not dwel on unpleasant business for now. Surely there are nicer things we can discuss.”
Okay, so much for threats on my part. “The weather, maybe?” I suggested. “I do hope I’m appropriately dressed for…?” I
raised my brows.
“Don’t worry about your clothing. We wil supply you with something suitable before we arrive at our destination.”
Per caled out from the front, interrupting us.
Nils stood. “You wil excuse me?” he said.
“Of course,” I said, nodding graciously, like I had a choice. Since we were being so polite and al.
Mostly just to keep myself occupied, I opened the sandwich and bit into it (turkey, a little dry, but tasty enough on an empty
stomach), al the while straining to hear what they were discussing. Unfortunately, the exchange between Nils and Per was in
Swedish. They switched to English when they addressed Nonto, but they also lowered their voices even more. Al the words
blurred together until one jumped out at me with frightening clarity: “… bomb…”
Cripes. Bomb? Did I realy hear that?
I tried to swalow, found I couldn’t, so I spit congealed turkey and bread into a napkin and shoved it between the seats. Geez,
these clowns were supposed to be the great restorers of masculinity to Scandinavia? Hey, guys, real men don’t use bombs!
Damn it all to fucking hell. I tried realy hard not to think about how much trouble I was in. And what if I wasn’t the only
one? What about Bily? Had he made it to Gotland safely? Was he on Trey’s trail, or had the Vikings caught him, too? And
Mark? Had they gotten him, back at the lake house? Did they shoot him like Pete? Jesus, I could not think about this now—I’d
go crazy.
I closed my eyes and attempted to focus on something more pleasant, like how when I was out of this mess I was going to treat
myself to a pedicure. I don’t even like pedicures. It’s boring as hel to sit there and stare at the top of somebody’s head while they
mess with your toenails, but it was better than what I was doing now. Boredom had suddenly become a lot more appealing.
I must have dozed off—a residual effect from the drugs, I suppose—because next thing I knew Nils was shaking my shoulder.
“It is time to ready ourselves for landing. If you wil come this way?” He indicated the back of the plane.
“Can’t I just buckle my seat belt here?”
“First you must change your clothing.”
“Oh.” I looked from one end of the plane to the other. There didn’t seem to be anyplace that offered a great deal of privacy,
other than the lavatory, and that would be a tight fit.
“I wil hold up a blanket for you, if you like,” Nils said, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“Um, thanks.” I got up and headed to the back. On the last seat was a pile of cloth that looked more like bed linens than
clothes. I looked back over my shoulder at Nils and raised my brows. He nodded. I shrugged and reached for the garment,
unfurling it as I lifted.
There were two pieces—an ankle-length, ivory-colored dress with a rounded neckline and long sleeves, and a dark brown
overtunic made of some roughly spun fabric. Okay, this was weird.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Quite,” Nils answered, and offered no further explanation. He squeezed by me and retrieved a green, fuzzy blanket from the
closet where I’d been stowed. Shook it out and held it between me and the male eyes on board.
“Hurry, please,” he said. Now would be a good time to do something, if I could think of a damn thing to do. But even if I could
incapacitate Nils, I’d stil have the other two to contend with, not to mention the pilot.
I sighed and began shedding my Maria clothing. I left on her granny panties (elasticized, so they wouldn’t fal off) and bra, since
they were better than nothing. I did take an extra moment to unhook the bra and tie the back into a secure knot to make it fit a
little better. Not perfect, but it was wearable. The ivory dress went on easily enough. The hem grazed the floor and the bodice
was a bit snug, but al in al it was a good fit.
I checked to see if Nils was looking; he wasn’t. More “nice” points for him. How many nice points did you have to earn to
counterbalance kidnapping someone? Not wanting to push his limits, I hurriedly puled the brown, sleeveless tunic over my head.
It hugged Mina’s curves pretty snugly, but I could breathe.
“Are you finished?” Nils inquired, stil polite.
“Yeah, I think so. Unless you have some ancient shoes to complete the ensemble. So, what’s up with this outfit, anyway? Are
we going to a costume party?”
He lowered the blanket. “Your own shoes wil suffice for now,” he said, ignoring my questions.
Fortunately, Maria’s sensible walking shoes were not a bad fit for Mina, and I’d already proven I could run wel enough in
them. Not fast enough, obviously, but wel enough. It remained to be seen if I could work up any speed in the medieval garb. I’d
sure as hel test it out as soon as I got the opportunity.
Per interrupted us, a smal, black leather bag in his hand and a smile on his face. That couldn’t be good.
“So, back to my seat?” I said brightly to Nils, deliberately not looking at Per.
Nils shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Per stopped right behind Nils and opened the bag. He removed a syringe.
My heart waloped the inside of my rib cage. I hate needles. I’ve never even had my ears pierced—if I want to wear earrings, I
adapt myself lobe holes. “Look, there’s no need—”
Nils took my hand, gently at first, but clamped down when I tried to yank it away. I puled harder, putting my whole body into
it. I lashed out with my free hand. It was captured and held fast. I kicked anything I could reach, but the damned dress rendered
the attempts useless.
“Stop screaming. No one can help you here,” Per said.
Funny, I hadn’t even considered that. Nor did I parti
cularly care. I got my mouth as close to Per’s ear as I could. Screeched
loud and long. Mainly just noise, but I think I squeezed out an “asshole” and a “dickhead.” Possibly a “motherfucking, boy-buggering, shit-eating douche-nozzle,” too. My mouth was pretty much on autopilot, so it’s hard to say for sure.
My chain of description was unceremoniously interrupted by the back of Per’s hand slamming across my mouth. He didn’t
leave it there long enough for me to take a hunk out of it this time, so the only blood I tasted was mine. It made me fight that much
harder.
Didn’t do me a lick of good. Using both his arms and one of his legs, Nils immobilized me while Per pushed my sleeve up and
jabbed the needle into my arm.
Chapter 14
When I came to again I was on a bed in a tiny, dimly lit room. My head hurt and I had to pee. But at least I wasn’t gagged, and I
wasn’t on an airplane. I felt good about that.
There was a wooden dresser against the opposite wal, and a whitewashed nightstand with a quaint oil lamp on it to my left. A
simple country bedroom, it appeared. I bounced once to test the mattress. It was comfy enough. If one of my wrists hadn’t been
handcuffed to the iron headboard, it might have been a nice place to wake up from a nap.
I didn’t have an old rag stuffed in my mouth, so I supposed the Vikings expected a shout out from me when I woke up.
“Helo?” I croaked. Guess I was a little hoarse from al that screaming right before Per jabbed me. I mustered some saliva,
swalowed, and tried again. It was a bit louder this time, but stil nothing to brag about.
“Is anyone there?”
Cue the crickets.
Suppressing an unreasonable flash of panic at being abandoned by my captors, I assessed my situation. I was stil in medieval
attire, with no idea why. Judging by the light filtering through the red-checkered curtains of the room’s lone window, it was either
dawn or dusk. I’d know in a few minutes, when it either got lighter or darker.
Since I appeared to be alone, I figured no harm could come of taking a look around. I flipped through my mental files for an
aura with the smalest hands possible. It would have to be Moly, Bily’s youngest sister. Ten years old and tiny, stil anxiously
