by Amber Bardan
“It’s ironic sometimes, how things connect.” He dropped the cigarette onto the floor and squashed it with his shiny black shoe. “I deal in much more valuable commodities than theoretical weapons, Miss Neeson, no matter how promising those theories might be.”
I glanced around. I had to get out of here.
No matter freaking what, I wouldn’t be used against Avner.
“This right here, where we sit, is the holding facility for my Australian merchandise.”
I blinked, trying to decipher those keywords, like holding facility and Australian merchandise. Because you don’t have “holding facilities” for drugs or weapons...
“Today there are ten empty rooms for ten girls I find myself in need of replacing.” He linked his fingers together, jaw shifting before he smiled. “But the only girl here today is you.”
The blood rushed from my face in a sickly head-spinning wave.
Girls.
Human. Fucking. Traffickers.
I kept my gaze even, didn’t flinch or blink. Because maybe, maybe, there was still some way out of this, because what the hell did anything about this have to do with me?
“Someone’s been stealing from me, Emma.” His hands dropped between his knees. “Taking my product.”
The question curled my tongue—Why are you telling me?
But I had the sickest feeling I was about to find out.
“If we hadn’t been keeping such a close eye on you, we may never have found out.” His chin made a small movement to his right where Arman stood as still and as silent as if he were made of marble.
I didn’t look at him, nope. Way too busy trying to pretend he didn’t exist.
Narek reached into his pocket.
Shit.
My body braced for it—gun, knife, torture device.
He took out a cell phone.
I released a breath.
He turned the screen to me. “Ever seen this woman?”
I stared at the cell phone.
My skin crawled at the image of the person in the photo. Gaunt, pretty, completely freaking frail. Dressed up in a cocktail dress, but back against the wall as though her mug shot was being taken.
But it was her eyes—dove gray and completely empty—that made me want to check my skin for bugs.
“No, never.”
He turned the phone away, but not before I caught one more look at those vacant gray eyes.
Maya.
I clamped down on the feeling before they could see it. It wasn’t Maya. But the resemblance was uncanny—familial. I’d bet my left tit it was her daughter.
Avner’s sister.
Heartache poured into my chest, a tsunami of emotion I couldn’t afford to indulge. He’d been trying to find his sister.
I didn’t need to be told to know it. Finally, but too late, the clogs slipped into place.
“You’re going to tell me everything I want to know about Avner Malfacini.”
Like hell.
Arman stepped closer, and I did shudder.
“Okay.” I whispered the lie, yet the look on the face of Arman, who’d stalked me and most likely drugged me, told me that no placations would help me now.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emma
It was only a matter of time before they were on to me. The convoluted string of bullshit I’d spewed was art-fucking-tistic, but still bullshit.
I shivered. The soaked fabric of my shirt clung in an icy film.
I’d taken the hitting like a champ—I’d had plenty of practice—but the head dunking... My whole body convulsed at the terror-drenched memory.
I shook my head to clear the flashback. Nope. I’d survived that too.
Now I had to get it together. Who knew how much longer I’d be alone in here. I continued to attempt to work my wrists together in the duct tape.
My muscles strained against the resistance. I held my breath, tugging harder—then slumped.
Freaking hell.
This would never work. I panted and tossed my head, dislodging the sopping hair plastered over my face. Oh, the irony. I’d once given a demonstration on how to break free of tape-bound hands.
Unfortunately, that technique required momentum.
Momentum I couldn’t gain stuck in a chair.
The wood groaned. I glanced down and kicked my heel into the leg. The chair wobbled. I looked behind me at the concrete wall, then glanced at the door.
Had to get out before they could use me to bait Avner.
I leaned forward and lifted the back of the chair off the ground, then shuffled backward on bent legs and positioned myself a few feet from the wall. One. Two. Three. I propelled myself backward.
The chair collided with the wall.
Pain slammed through my spine. I fell to the ground. My cheek met the floor with a thwack. My skull thumped. I rocked onto my knees. My back screamed, but I made it to my feet. I could do this. What was a little backache to a chick who’d survived steel-toe boots to the ribs as a regular Friday night event?
I lined myself up again, and took three swift breaths in and dived back with my full bodyweight. Wood splintered. The back of my head ricocheted off the wall. I crumpled. My muscles throbbed. The inside of my head buzzed with a blinding ache. I rocked sideways, and freed myself from the crushed chair.
I wiggled to a clear space, then lifted my ass off the floor, shimmying my bound hands underneath my hips and down my thighs.
Things got interesting at my calves.
Interesting in the way that I couldn’t maneuver my hands any further.
Holy dammit.
Movies made this look misleadingly easy. I closed my eyes. No. Nope. I would not get stuck with my legs to my chest in this room. This was no longer about research. It wasn’t about a cure.
It wasn’t even about saving my own life.
I stretched my legs as close to myself as possible and focused on bending and sliding just one leg. My foot slipped through, then the other leg was an easy bend through.
No, this was about Avner.
I panted and shuffled to standing. This was about the fact that if I was going to die sometime soon, it wouldn’t be in fucking here.
It wouldn’t be in such a way as Avner would blame himself as I knew he would.
I brought my arms up as high as I could then slammed them back down with all my might. The tape snapped. I tore my wrist free—and that was how it was freaking done.
I rummaged through the debris on the floor and found a nicely pointed splintered chair leg, and tucked it into the back of my pants.
Nope, not one more thing was going to happen to me today.
Because the man I loved was coming for me, and when he did I’d be ready and waiting—no matter what it took.
Because anything worth loving is worth fighting for.
Avner
Her signal vanished from the app. My whole system rioted with panic. I dialed Emma’s phone still with Rohan. He didn’t answer. Sickness roiled in me. Nothing would stop Rohan from taking my call. Especially now.
I arrived at Dean Waldolf’s residence and lowered the window. “Avner Malfacini.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
I leaned from the window. “My woman was last seen here, and now both she and her bodyguard have apparently disappeared. So why don’t you tell Mr. Waldolf that if he would like to avoid a police visit, and I assure you I have the means to persuade both that and a very thorough search of these premises, then he had best let me in now.”
I may have said police, and that was an adequate threat to a guilty person like Dean, but the truth was, if I had to go in there to get her, it wouldn’t be with the fucking police to witness.
Th
e guard backed up, then spoke into a radio.
A buzz droned next to me. I glanced at my phone—her number displayed.
“Rohan?”
“No, Dean.” His voice sent equal parts rage and dread smashing into me. “It seems you have something of mine, and I have something of yours.”
So he knew it was me who had downloaded his servers. “What do you want?”
How? I’d covered my tracks fucking excellently. It could’ve been anyone who hacked into their systems and downloaded the servers before their alarms were tripped and they set the place fucking on fire, two minutes too late to stop it.
“I want my data returned and guarantees no copies have been made.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Perhaps denial was a dangerous game to play, but they had proof of nothing.
“Don’t test me, Malfacini. I could return her to you in pieces.”
My guts churned. He could try to hide her, but he wouldn’t succeed for long. Even without the watch, I’d still find her. That it’d gone dead either meant she was underground, or they’d managed to cut it from her.
“That would be foolish on your part.” I spoke calmly, reasonably. “You’ve admitted you have her, and you’re too pretty for prison.”
“Didn’t you hear me, I have Emma. If you go to the police, I’ll cut her to fucking ribbons. I have all the power here, so why don’t you shut up, and tell me when you’re going to give me back my data.”
My determination almost wavered. What if he did hurt her because of me? What if she was already hurt? But she was in danger already. I’d hold on to what leverage I had and buy some time.
“You hurt her and it’s not the police you’ll have to worry about. How much are you worth, twenty million? Perhaps thirty if we count whatever passes under the table. Do you have any idea what I’m worth?”
“You think I care what you’re fucking worth? I’m not looking to be paid off—”
“I’m not offering to pay you off.” My voice dropped, low and gravelly. “You may think you have enough money to hide from the authorities if you really want to sacrifice your entire life over this, but I promise you don’t have enough to hide from me. How long could you hide with a million dollars on your head?” He didn’t need to know I was the one he needed to worry about, not anyone who I might pay. “What about twenty million? Two hundred million?”
A bounty a fraction of that would have every assassin on the planet after him. Even he’d have to know he’d never be able to hide from that.
His gulp was audible. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Return her to me in anything other than perfect health, and you’ll be the one regretting every moment of your miserable life.”
“We’ll see, Malfacini. You have twenty-four hours to comply.”
The line went dead. I set down the phone.
She wouldn’t have to wait that long. He had no idea who he was dealing with...or did he? I rubbed my face, and went over everything.
How the hell could he know it was me last night?
I’d hacked into Waldolf as a precaution, wanting all the information I could get my hands on to keep Emma safe.
I breathed deep. If Narek had followed me that would come as no surprise, but Waldolf?
Narek...
If he wanted Emma’s research, what better way than to have someone like Dean develop it for him.
I dialed Emilio.
“We’re on our way.”
“They have Rohan too.” I reversed out of the drive and swung onto the road. “Access the trackers on Arman and his vehicle. I know where to find them all.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emma
The door swung open and Dean Waldolf stepped through. I faced him and suppressed my sigh of relief. Not because I’d considered him something of a friend but because there was only one of him—and he was a douchebag of a less-menacing variety to Narek.
I hugged my arms to myself. “Dean, let me go.”
He didn’t react as he moved into the room, but surveyed the damage. “You won’t be going anywhere, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart—spew in my mouth. Not that there was anything sweet about the way he said that.
“You going to kill me?” I looked him in the face, and maybe for the sake of performance I should’ve injected a little terror.
Except I wanted to know. Needed to know. Exactly how awful were his plans for me?
“Kill?” He came closer. “After I’ve invested so much in you? What a waste that would be.” His top lip curled up in a way that had me far from relieved. “How this ends is up to you.”
“You don’t have to do this, Dean.” I said his name again. See how we know each other.
“It’s too late to fool me with the sweet, clueless charade. I know how cunning you are, and I’ve encountered your powers of negotiation firsthand.”
I dropped my arms. Fine. “What do you want?”
He squinted. “I want restitution.”
“Restitution?” I frowned. “From me?”
“From you...” He shrugged. “From your boyfriend. At this point I’m not sure who deserves it more.”
“I’ve done nothing to you.”
“Done nothing?” His eyes sparked. “Do you have any idea how much Narek was going to pay if your research was successful?”
I backed up, with one foot only, distributing my weight.
“And that’s the least of it. Tell me Emma, were you in on it all along?” Then he was right in front of me.
I kept my hands to myself, when they wanted to fly out.
Not yet.
“In on what?”
He grabbed my shoulder, his thumb digging into the muscle. “Don’t play dumb with me, he hacked our servers. He forced me to take drastic action.”
I shrunk from his touch. “You started the fire?”
“Do you think your research was the only research with potential?”
I kept my mouth closed. Depends what you call potential. For exploitation? Of course not if you’re an immoral, greedy asshole like Dean.
“So you’ll pay me back, Emma.” He pressed harder, his sneering face so close. “However I see fit.”
A glint flashed at his collar. My coin—Avner’s coin.
My hand flew to my throat.
“I took that while you were sleeping.” He laughed. “It’s a worthless little bit of junk, so I’m assuming it’s sentimental?”
My teeth ground together. He really, really shouldn’t have touched my fucking coin.
“Maybe I’ll just let you wonder what else I might have taken while you were asleep?” His voice went low and sickening.
I gasped, hairs on my body bolting upright.
His grip intensified and his other fist flew, catching me off guard. Pain slammed into my cheek.
My head snapped back. Bright white light filled my vision, then a punch to the stomach raked my middle. I kept to my feet. My nerves lit up with agony that was completely freaking familiar.
“Ready to do whatever I say?” he whispered.
I leaned to the side, and spat a mouthful of blood. A giggle worked out of me. A delirious little giggle. The inside of my head rang with a roaring sound. Either I’d taken two knocks too many to the head, or things were not going so great for me healthwise.
“Have you lost your mind, what could possibly be funny now?” His face contorted.
The laughter shook my whole chest. Either way there wasn’t much left to lose, so self-preservation didn’t seem so essential right now. “I’m just remembering the time I was in a pool of jelly, and a chick in a cat woman costume with truly incredible tits hit me better than you just did.”
His eyes widened, and he
swung again—just as I knew he would.
I ducked and weaved to the right, taking his wrist in my left hand and slamming my right forearm into his elbow. A glass-shattering scream pierced my eardrums.
Dean sank to his knees, holding his arm, elbow bend now going in the opposite direction, out in front of him.
“You know what else?” I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and took two sharp breaths to regain control. “She took cheap shots too.” I reached behind me into my waistband. “But you did one thing better than her, Dean, because when I broke her arm, she didn’t scream.”
He blinked up at me.
I watched the moment he realized his mistake play out on his face, and gripped the stake, dragging it free. “You’re really going to need to give me my coin back now.”
It turned out Dean’s tolerance for pain—not so great.
* * *
I blinked through the mist of adrenaline that seemed to have formed around my head, and ran down the hall and to the corner. My pulse hummed. My skin chilled, though it wasn’t water soaking me now.
I moved into a second hall, and stopped—listening.
Murmuring voices drifted toward me. I swallowed. Light shone under a closed door. I took a breath, then stepped lightly past the door and ran toward a shadowy stairwell. The instant I burst into that run, every bit of panic I’d stored up and suppressed flooded me. I powered up the stairs, two at a time, racing up and up until I hit a platform, then tugged on a green door.
The handle turned but the door was bolted shut.
Fuck.
I moved to the next set of stairs. My calves burned, and my lungs squeezed tight. I reached the next platform.
The door burst open.
All I saw was gun. Black and shiny. I didn’t stop moving, and in a gasp I was right up against the black clad figure, turning and rolling him over my shoulder, then I was out that fucking door.
Three pointing guns halted me mid lunge.
I went down, concrete biting into my knees. My chest heaved, my sticky mouth filled with grit and dirt, and a bloody tang. I raised my palms.
The three guns lowered, and the middle figure tore off his ski mask.
