by Jordan Dane
She would have no secrets from her captors. None!
“Imagine my surprise…” A man’s voice came from the dark. “Such a beautiful woman…yet so scarred.”
She stopped her struggle and listened, her heart pounding and her chest heaving.
It took her a while to place the accent. Distinctly Russian, once she calmed down enough to reflect on it. She shifted her head right, then left, trying to catch a glimpse of the man. His footsteps echoed in the large room. And she followed the sound with her eyes, her lips trembling.
“You are a woman with secrets, yes?”
Finally, the Russian walked into the light, and she recognized his shoulder length hair. He was one of the men who had abducted her, the one who almost killed her. She swallowed, nearly choking on her next breath.
“Perhaps we share more than you know,” he whispered.
He kicked her legs apart and knelt between them. Slowly, he ran his hands up her thighs, not taking his eyes off her. The man looked like a coiled rattler ready to strike, and she couldn’t turn away. She tightened her jaw, grappling with fear.
“You wanted to know more about what goes on here. Now you will find out for yourself.”
He yanked at her knees and pulled her hips toward him, taking away her leverage to fight back. His body reacted to her nakedness. She felt it. He ran his hands over her breasts and squeezed until she cried out. Now, pinning her to the floor with his weight, he lowered his mouth to her nipple, taking it in his lips. She waited for the pain of his bite, but it never came—only the degradation. When he pulled back, he had a sick, twisted smile on his face.
“I get what I want…no matter. You tell me what I want to know and you decide. Pain or not?” He rose and leaned on an elbow, glaring at her. “Who is Seth Harper? He is not an easy man to locate, but with or without your help, I will find him.”
“Then you don’t need my help.”
Judging by the look in the Russian’s eyes, her feeble defiance struck a nerve. The man took a knife from a sheath on his belt. The blade glinted under the light. He traced the craggy scar along her eyebrow and ran the tip of his blade across her lip, cutting her. She winced.
“A pity that I will not be your first.”
She knew exactly what he meant. The man had the mark of a longtime abuser. She watched for the trigger, the instant the Russian would lose control and take what he wanted. She’d seen it before, too many times. The man stared at her now, perhaps reading her mind and torturing her with his restraint.
“You are…nothing,” he whispered, his face twisted with abuse. She felt his breath on her skin. “This…I think you know. I see it in…those eyes.”
The Russian dragged the blade under her right eye, and she held her breath. He was in complete control and she knew it. He had reminded her how weak she had always been. And no matter who she’d become, she knew a part of her would always be powerless. She had her trigger too, the point where she would give in to whatever happened. The Russian had seen it for himself. He lowered his mouth to her body and she shut her eyes, blocking everything out.
It was happening again and she’d never be free. When his hands groped her body, she fought back tears welling in her eyes. She gritted her teeth and detached herself from what was about to happen.
But a voice bellowed from the dark.
“I’ve got something you need to see. This won’t wait.” Another man called out from the back of the room, his voice in panic.
Jess couldn’t have been more grateful. Tears drained down her cheeks in relief, but to her shock, the Russian didn’t stop. If anything, he grew more determined. She heard the sound of his belt buckle and felt the urgency in his body. She struggled under him, bucking under his weight. She resisted the only way she could.
“Stas, we don’t have time for this,” the man shouted. She heard his footsteps come closer. “Put her with the others. I need you. Now.”
The Russian abruptly stopped—out of breath and seething with anger—the crazed look still in his eyes. In a move she didn’t see coming, he slashed across her chest with the knife.
“Aarrgh,” she cried, pulling her knees in tight.
The cut wasn’t deep, but he had left his mark. Blood seeped from the wound and rolled off her body. Cold chills raced across her skin.
“We are not done. You will see.” He rose from the floor and stood over her, pointing his knife. “And next time, you will wish we had finished here.”
After the Russian left, two men freed her hands and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but not out of compassion. They hauled her down a long dim hallway, past a door that got her attention.
Two uniformed men stood in the doorway, taking orders from the Russian, who glared at her as she passed. Across the room another man was talking on the phone. Although she only got a quick glimpse of him, she recognized his voice. He was the one who stopped the Russian from raping her. She didn’t get a good look, but the dimly lit room was filled with computers and high-tech control panels. A silent red flashing alarm spiraled its light through the room. The setup struck her as strange, but she was in too much pain to focus.
Down the hall, her captors tossed her into a dark room. When she fell, she scraped her knees and elbows, her body wracked with pain. Something else had been thrown on top of her, but she hurt too much to check it out. For a moment she lay where she’d fallen, curled into the blanket as best she could. But a sound from across the room forced her to listen.
A whisper. Very faint.
“Are you okay?” The whisper came again, stronger this time.
Jess rolled toward the noise and peered through the murky darkness, her only light coming from under the doorway. In the corner of the room, along the far wall, a shadow moved and then another. Others were with her. She wasn’t alone.
“Who are you?” She kept her voice low. “What’s happening?”
One of the shadows moved again and crawled toward her. A young girl. When she got closer, the girl spoke quietly.
“These aren’t much, but you should put them on. It’s cold in here.” The girl picked up what the men had tossed onto the floor beside her, nothing more than cotton drawstring pants and a shirt. “There’s more of us here, but the others are too scared to say anything.”
“How many others are here?” Jess asked as she dressed. Each move made her wince, but the girl helped her put the loose garments on.
“There’s only five in this room, including you, but I have no idea if there’s more. I haven’t been here that long.”
“Wait a minute. What’s your name?” Jess asked.
“My name’s Nikki. Nikki Archer. Who are you?”
Jess wanted to cry, but her tears at having found Archer’s niece were tinged with the hopelessness of their situation.
“I’m Jessie Beckett.” She stroked the girl’s hair with both hands. “Nikki, your uncle came to Chicago looking for you.”
“What? Uncle Payton?”
Before she could explain, the girl collapsed into her arms and let go. Without the fear of someone hearing her, she sobbed uncontrollably, her body trembling. Jess knew exactly how she felt. Long ago, she had experienced the overwhelming relief when she knew her physical torment had finally ended.
But unlike what happened with her, no one was here to rescue Nikki—no one that mattered anyway.
CHAPTER 17
Coming over a small rise past a set of railroad tracks, Sam hit the brakes and slowed to a crawl. Seth Harper stood in the middle of the road flagging her down with a flashlight in his hand and looking soaked in the drizzle. Up ahead, lights from a small town shined on the horizon, but she couldn’t tell how far it was. She pulled behind Seth’s blue van, along the graveled shoulder of the road, and turned to her passengers.
“I need you both to do as I say.” She knew Tanu had the discipline of a cop, but Archer was another story. “Do I have your word, Mr. Archer?”
It took him too long to answer.
“Look, I’m not sure what we’re going to find, but I can’t afford to have you fuck up this search trying to be a cowboy. You could not only jeopardize the rescue of your niece, but other people’s lives could be at risk. Now I want your word that you’ll do as I say, without question.”
“Yeah…sorry.” He nodded, looking her square in the eye. “You’ve got my word.”
She could see that it took restraint on his part not to say another word; the internal struggle showed on his face. She couldn’t imagine his frustration, but maybe tonight, he’d find peace.
To make her vehicle more visible, Sam left her hazard lights blinking for Detective Garza. They cast a yellow light onto scrub brush and mud puddles and gave them limited visibility, without drawing a lot of attention. Sam got out of the car, with Archer and Tanu following her. After quick introductions, Harper filled them in.
“I lost the signal, but I’m pretty sure I saw them turn off here.” He pointed across the road to what looked like private property. A recessed gate with an old abandoned guard station. Goodville Textiles. A rusted sign was posted on the fence.
“And see here? With the rain, their tires left fresh tracks.” He pulled at her elbow and shined his flashlight to the ground. “We can’t be that far behind. We gotta find her before…” He didn’t finish. He shrugged and turned away.
As a friend, Sam wanted to crash the gate and drive onto the property looking for Jessie. But as a cop, she had to think about the law. She had enough reason to believe Jess was in danger. And even though Harper hadn’t actually seen the men drive onto the premises, he’d trailed them to the property and was reasonably certain they were inside, plus the fresh tracks made his statement more credible. She had a witness to give her probable cause to search the premises without a warrant, but had to make sure.
“How certain are you that she’s here, Seth?” she prompted, but before he answered, she clarified her point. “For me to have probable cause to search the premises, I need a solid witness, or else I’d have to get a search warrant. And that would take time.”
She squeezed his arm and held his gaze until he knew what she was saying.
“Then yeah, she’s in there. I saw everything.” He nodded. “Definitely.”
“Good man.” She smiled. “And thanks, Seth.”
Her backup, Detective Garza, had her location and was on his way, but she had to make a decision now. She stared through the gate to the deserted textile plant. At a minimum, she needed more intel.
Having made up her mind, Sam pulled Harper aside again.
“Seth, I need you to stay here and flag down Detective Ray Garza. He should be right behind me, but I can’t wait for him to get here.” She wrote down the detective’s cell phone number on a piece of paper. “Here’s his cell just in case. When he gets here, let him know I’m on the property, but I won’t be alone.”
She turned to Joe Tanu and Payton Archer, who stood within earshot.
“Officially, I can’t ask you to join me, Joe, but I could use your help.” She knew it would be a waste of time to argue with Tanu about coming along, however his sidekick was a civilian. “But Archer stays here.”
The retired trooper stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. She hadn’t expected such a calm reaction. When he finally opened his mouth, he had her attention.
“Look, Payton and his sister are like family. If there’s a chance Nikki is being held by these people, I’m with you and I’ll follow your lead.” Tanu looked at Archer. “But Payton won’t sit on the sidelines, not with so much at stake. I know him.”
When Sam shifted her gaze to Archer, the man shrugged and said, “I never liked sitting on the bench. What can I say?”
Tanu retrieved the Walther PPK/S from his ankle holster and handed it to Archer, who confirmed he had a full magazine and racked the slide checking for brass, safety off.
“If it makes a difference, he’s a crack shot,” the retired trooper said. “I taught him how to shoot. And I’ll take full responsibility. The way I figure it, we could use all the help we can get.”
Tanu had a point, but she felt the need to make a point of her own and fixed her eyes on Payton.
“If you make me regret this, Archer, I’ll shoot you myself.”
The man shot her a sideways glance and shared one of his dimples. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Anytime.” Sam peered through the fence across the road and took a deep breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline. “Call me a gear freak, but I’ve got Kevlar in my trunk. Once we get suited up, we’re going in.”
“I like a woman with a sense of style.” Archer forced a grin, the tension showing through.
“Yeah, you should see my Christmas catalogs.”
As soon as they were decked in Kevlar vests and she had her badge visible, Sam breached the fence and crossed the massive parking lot, heading for the old abandoned textile factory with Tanu and Archer. Steady drizzle had drenched her clothes and given her a chill, despite the body armor. And with storm clouds blocking the moonlight, her eyesight gave her fits, making the shadows of the old building seem menacing. She had a flashlight, but didn’t want to screw up her night vision or make herself a target. She’d save it for when she actually needed it.
In her head, she said a quick prayer that no one would die, hoping God was listening. In her line of work, she’d begun to think that wasn’t always the case.
Hidden security cameras strategically placed on the Goodville Textiles premises had picked up the intruders outside the gate. Another vehicle had joined the blue van, and if cops were involved, Ethan knew more would follow. He’d never pulled the plug on a facility like this before, but now they had little choice.
That’s why he’d risked pissing off the Russian, insisting that he forget about the bounty hunter and keep his cock in his pants. Petrovin had the authority and the guts to make the final call. The bastard thrived on power and all that came with it; egotistical bullshit, as far as he was concerned. He knew when he had a losing hand and when to bail, and it had nothing to do with duty.
Ethan also knew there would be fallout over the incident. There always was. But he didn’t want to get caught in the middle. There would be no brownie points in knowing when to flush the operation—only repercussions—and he preferred not to be linked to the final decision, no matter how necessary. That’s why soldiers like Petrovin made convenient scapegoats, but Ethan was smarter than that.
“We can’t risk it, Stas. We have to shut it down…now.” He urged the Russian to do what must be done. “We can’t afford for anyone to find the control room. The rest of the organization would be at stake. Shutting down this facility is bad, but we can still operate elsewhere.”
When the Russian didn’t respond, he pressed. “It won’t take long for them to make it to the building. We gotta go.”
Petrovin clenched his jaw, glaring at the security monitors in the control room. The silent red flashing light cast a strange pallor on his face. There were times Ethan was perfectly content to be in ignorant bliss where the Russian was concerned, but not today.
“What are you thinking, Stas?” he asked. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”
“Make sure they find their way through the garage. Unlock the doors.” Petrovin smirked.
“Are you crazy? We can’t mess with them now,” he urged, pleading his case.
“Don’t worry. We will stick to our plan. I am only…adapting it.”
The control room had been rigged with thermite incendiary devices, primed with other pyrotechnic additives like barium nitrate to enhance their effect and make ignition more reliable. The enhanced thermite had been Petrovin’s choice. The chemical mixture burned with an intense white heat, and since it contained its own oxygen supply, it could not be smothered or extinguished by conventional means.
The incendiary devices had been placed strategically through the control room, atop critical equipment to destroy the bank of computers, their hard dr
ives, and any reports left behind. The rest of the makeshift facility didn’t matter, but the Russian had C-4 relayed to collapse the dilapidated structure onto anyone who dared to infiltrate the building.
After the thermite detonation was initiated, the rest would be discharged from a safe distance through a series of shaped charges.
A solenoid switch would open the valves of underground propane tanks by relay, releasing heavy propane fumes into the air of the tunnels—the sole purpose for the supply of propane. And after the buildup of gas, a charge near the propane tanks would initiate a white-hot fireball at the core of the building with more C-4 to hit structural supports. The blast would set off a chain reaction through the underground corridors with enough magnitude to drop a structure five times its size.
But that wasn’t enough for Petrovin. The Russian wanted to make sure his death trap would take out any cop who crossed his threshold. Someone would pay, and Petrovin would make sure of it.
“Sound the evacuation alarm for the men,” he ordered. “The noise will mask the sound of us leaving.”
“What about the girls?”
With dead eyes, the Russian smiled and said, “Do not worry about them. I have taken care of everything. I will meet you as agreed.”
Giving authority to an egotistical crazy man had its drawbacks.
Ethan had no more time to argue. He hit the evacuation alarm and ran out the door, leaving the Russian behind. When he blew past the room where the girls were held, he tried not to think about them. He’d given up the right to a conscience long ago.
And having a sense of morality was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
“What’s that sound?” Sam stopped to listen outside a delivery door near the loading bay. “Do you hear that?”
