Chapter Six
What sort of room had I found myself in?
I wondered if there might be something in here that could help me.
I tore my attention from the door and looked around, blinking, willing my eyes to get used to the dim light which filtered in through the windows onto the corridor. Half-open blinds prevented anyone from looking directly in, but it also shut out the light from the corridor. I didn’t want to find a switch on the wall, knowing turning it on would be a beacon to my location.
Gradually, my eyes got used to the gloom, and I was able to make out more of the room I’d hidden in. I was in an office with the usual setup—a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet. Uninspiring pictures of cityscapes in black frames hung on the walls, and a faded rug covered the floor. None of that would be of any use to me, and my gaze darted back to the desk. Of course, there was a computer with an older style monitor, and a phone. A phone!
I’d never been given the cell phone number of any of the guys, but I still knew my aunt’s number. But had she still had her bag when we’d found her on the road with Hollan? I tried to picture the scene in my mind. No, she hadn’t had it on her person, but I was sure I’d seen it thrown to one side, discarded. Would she have insisted on picking it back up after Hollan had taken me, or had she been too distressed and had left everything on the side of the road? That didn’t sound like my aunt at all, but these weren’t normal circumstances. I guessed the only way I’d find out was if I tried the number. If the guys had taken her back to base, and she was deep underground, the phone wouldn’t work anyway. But still, it was worth a shot. I had no idea what I would say to her, how she could help, other than getting Devlin to tell the guys to hurry the fuck up, but still I had to try.
I snatched up the phone and pressed it to my ear. It had a dial tone, thank God.
Anxiously, I glanced back toward the door. The footsteps and voices had gone past me, but now they were getting louder again, coming closer. I heard the sound of doors opening and shutting, my name being called. They’d figured out I’d darted into one of the rooms. As soon as they tried this door and found it locked, they’d know exactly which one I’d run into.
As I recalled my aunt’s phone number, the digits appeared in my vision. Four ... One ... Five ... Five ...
I took comfort in seeing the numbers appear, as though they were old friends, instead of the thing that had gotten me into all this trouble.
I punched in her number as it appeared around my head. I willed for the phone to ring, but instead it went straight through to voicemail.
“You’ve reached Sarah. Please leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can ...”
At hearing her voice, I barked out a sob of despair, and then pressed my fist to my mouth to hold back the sound.
I pulled myself together enough to speak and left her a message. “It’s Darcy,” I managed to croak, willing my voice not to crack. “You have to tell the guys to hurry. Hollan’s trying to inject me with something that will make me tell him the code, and everything else I know. Please. They need to hurry!”
The door handle turned, and I froze, staring at the shapes on the outside of the door. The top panel was privacy glass, but I was still able to see through it. They were here.
“It’s locked,” a male voice said.
A different voice came next. “She’s in there.”
Shit.
I dropped the phone and looked for something I could use as a weapon. Perhaps I should have done this before I’d tried to make the phone call, but it was too late to think of that now. Everything on the desk was useless—a pot of pens, a calculator, a charger for a phone. Frantic, I yanked open the drawers and rifled through the paperwork I found there. My fingers closed around cool metal. Yes! It was a pair of scissors—not huge, but big enough to cause some damage when stabbed into a throat or eye.
“Open the door, Darcy!” I recognized Hollan’s voice. “We know you’re in there. Don’t make me shoot my way in. You know I’m more than capable, but to be frank, I’d rather not make a mess of my woodwork.”
Fuck his woodwork. He could shoot the whole place down, for all I cared.
But something he said pinged inside my head, and I realized I was brandishing a pair of scissors against several armed men. The moment they saw the blades, they’d point a gun at me and pluck them out of my hand. No, I needed to be smarter than that. I needed to pick my right moment, and it wasn’t now.
I still wasn’t opening the fucking door, though.
I stared down at the scissors in my hand and tried to figure out what the hell to do with them. I didn’t have time to think of anything smart, so I just shoved them down the side of my bra, hoping the elastic would hold them in place against my ribs, and that I didn’t manage to slice off a breast while they were there.
Crashing came at the door, the panel bowing inward. Remembering my need to buy time, I got behind the desk, putting something between us. Damn, I should have moved the filing cabinet over, too, but it was probably too heavy for me to move, and I hadn’t had time to think of it.
The door burst inward, flying open. The four men filled the gap.
I wanted a break, just to be able to put both hands up and call for a time out, but I couldn’t give up. I’d keep fighting for as long as I had to.
“Get her,” said Hollan to the two men who’d let me go, jerking his head toward me. “And try to keep a better hold this time.”
I took some pleasure in knowing I’d fooled them, if only for a few moments.
The two men stalked toward me, Stewart leading the way, his muddy brown eyes narrowing in a scowl. Bryson followed, his arms held out in a circle as though I was a farmyard animal they were trying to round up. Stewart, however, stalked forward with his gun held at his side, though I didn’t think he’d shoot me. Hollan would be pissed if he did.
I waited until he got close enough, then put my hands on the computer screen and gave it a shove. Being an older style, it was heavy, and toppled off the desk and smashed at his feet, the screen exploding into a thousand pieces.
“Crazy bitch!” he swore.
Bryson darted toward me, but all I had left was the phone, so I threw that at him. It bounced harmlessly off his shoulder, and then he was on me, his arm wrapped around my chest, pinning me against him. I struggled, trying to get in a jab of an elbow, or to kick his shins, but he held me too tight.
Stewart flashed his gun at me. “Calm down, bitch. We’re not allowed to kill you, but no one said anything about a bullet in the hand or foot.” That threat was enough to make me fall still. I didn’t want to give them an excuse to shoot me, even if it wasn’t going to be life threatening.
“Right,” said Hollan, exasperated, his hands on his hips. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
The new arrival, Otto, lurked behind him.
I wondered who all these men worked for on a day-to-day basis. Were they government men like Hollan, or were they individual agents who hired out their services? If so, what did they make of situations like this, or did they think it wasn’t their business to care? They were being paid to do a job, and that was all. What went on behind the scenes was none of their concern.
They hustled me back out of the room, through the busted door. I kept my arms pinned to my sides the best I could, so the men didn’t accidentally brush the scissors still stuffed down the side of my bra. I had a weapon, but I’d much rather have Isaac and the others arrive sooner than later. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to hold out.
I wanted to keep fighting, but my last sprint for freedom had left me exhausted. The briefcase was still in the Swedish guy’s hand, and I knew they were taking me back to the room to inject me with the drugs. Desperation filled me. I couldn’t let it happen, but I was all out of options. There was no way they’d let me run again now.
Feeling helpless and bleak, I resorted to begging. “No, please. I’m too tired now. Just let me rest for an hour, and then
we can do this.” I struggled against Stewart and Bryson, but my limbs were heavy with exhaustion, and my efforts felt futile.
Hollan laughed. “You can’t think I’d give you anything you asked for after that performance? No, young lady. This is going my way now.”
My sole focus was on trying to delay things, but I felt as though I was all out of options.
“Can I have some water?” My throat was painfully dry after the running and adrenaline. Yes, I was trying to postpone things, but I was also desperate for a drink. My lips glued themselves to my teeth, and my tongue felt like a fat, furry slug pressed against the roof of my mouth.
He glared at me as though I’d asked for champagne. “No, you fucking can’t.”
The four of us continued to move down the corridor like one entity, but we were interrupted by someone walking toward us.
The younger man in glasses, who’d been manning the security booth at the front, approached. Behind the black frames, his eyes darted anxiously between us. “Umm, sorry to interrupt, sir, but you have a phone call.”
Hollan drew to a halt. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
The man pulled himself straighter, putting his shoulders back. “It’s important, sir. I wouldn’t have interrupted otherwise.”
I wondered what had happened to the two men who’d arrived with us in the second car. Were they still in the building, or had they been sent off to do other things?
Hollan gave a huff of exasperation. “God dammit. Okay, fine. Put her back in the cell. I guess this will have to wait.”
My heart lifted. It wasn’t anything I’d contributed to, but it looked like I was getting some extra time after all.
Hollan must have sensed my relief, as he narrowed his eyes at me and growled. “You got your rest, but it won’t be for long, got it?”
I nodded, not speaking. I didn’t want to say anything that might make him change his mind.
Chapter Seven
I never thought I would be happy to be locked back up in this hideous room, but the relief of it caused my entire body to sag and I gulped back tears. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang, and the lock cracked back into place.
Exhaustion from my fight, combined with the adrenaline rush leaving my body, left me shaky. I staggered to the poor excuse for a bed and sank down onto the edge. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands, trying not to hyperventilate. That had been close. Had I not managed to run and lock myself in the room, I’d have found myself pumped full of some kind of drugs and most probably spilling my guts right now. My thoughts raced. What was it they used in the movies? I was sure I knew the name. Truth serum? No, there was a more technical name than that. It came to me. Sodium pentothal. That might be what they’d try to inject my veins full of, and I already knew I was suggestible from Kingsley hypnotizing me, so I didn’t doubt for a moment that I’d tell Hollan everything I knew. Dammit. I thought back to my time in the cellar. When Kingsley had told me I was suggestible, it had felt like an insult. Now I understood why. It was a weakness, and I had no control over it.
But if I wasn’t suggestible, I might never have recovered those memories. I might never have remembered I’d seen Hollan the night my father died, and that he was responsible for killing him. I might still be in the dark.
I tried to swallow against my bone dry throat. All the running, combined with the adrenaline and not having had so much as coffee that morning left me parched. I knew Hollan wouldn’t take any pity on me. In desperation, I did a quick search of my little cell, hoping I might have missed something, and maybe someone who’d been kept here before me had left a half drunk bottle of water beneath the bed, but there was nothing. Apart from the bed and the bucket, the room was empty.
Despondent, and with little else to do, I dropped back down on the bed. I wanted to lie down, but I didn’t like the idea of pressing my body against the dirty mattress. I didn’t know who’d been here before me, and the thought of possible sweat, blood, and tears made me shiver with revulsion. I hoped I wouldn’t be here long enough to warrant sleeping. The way things were looking, even if the guys didn’t arrive to rescue me, Hollan would get what he wanted and kill me anyway.
I pressed my fingers to the side of my ribcage, where I had the scissors held in place by the strap of my bra. At least I had a weapon. It wasn’t much of one against a gun, but I’d use it if I had to. I remembered the razorblade I’d gotten hold of back in the cellar, and how I’d slashed at Isaac’s arm. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. While now I was glad I hadn’t gone for Isaac’s throat or eye, nothing would stop me from stabbing Hollan in the right places, if I got the chance.
I wondered what had been the cause of the phone call. Dared I hope it had something to do with the guys, and that they were coming here for me? I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I couldn’t help it. I wished I’d worked out where Hollan kept the memory stick by now. When the guys arrived, I wanted to be able to tell them exactly where it was, and I wanted to be able to reassure them I hadn’t said a word. This was my dream ending, of course, my fantasy world. In that world, I also managed to shoot Hollan in his psychotic fucking head, but like I said, this was a fantasy. I also clutched to the hope that the guys would let me stay with them when all this was over, instead of sending me back to my old life, but now that I’d met Devlin, and seen what sort of lives they lived, I wasn’t sure that would be possible, even if it was what everyone wanted.
Dark thoughts plucked at my brain. What if they weren’t coming? What if the tracker wasn’t working? It might be faulty, and Isaac and Kingsley and the others had no idea where I was. Were they cursing me for being reckless and stupid once again? No, my plan was a good one. It wouldn’t have been my fault if the tracker wasn’t working. That would be down to Devlin for providing Isaac with faulty equipment.
I couldn’t let myself think that way. The tracker was fine, but the men would have needed to regroup and plan. They wouldn’t rush into this without figuring out exactly what was going on first. They’d check the layout of the place and work out what they needed to do to get me out. Plus, they’d had Aunt Sarah with them, and they wouldn’t have wanted to bring her with them.
I hoped Sarah wasn’t blaming herself too much for what had happened. I knew she would a little—how could she not? She must have contacted Hollan herself, unless he’d put some kind of tracker in her phone, which was also a possibility. But at the end of the day, she’d left without telling any of us, and that was what had put her at risk, together with not believing me when I’d told her the truth about Hollan being the one who’d killed my dad. It was a small comfort, but at least she had to believe me now. I hoped we’d get the chance to reconcile. I hoped I wouldn’t die in here, with her blaming herself.
I also couldn’t help but think Devlin and even Isaac were also somewhat to blame. They’d put what my aunt had done back on me, but perhaps they needed to ask some questions of themselves and their own security. Yes, they’d said they’d trusted me and my aunt because of our link to my father, but they should have done more, too. They should have searched her bag, or put extra security on her. Maybe their security was lax because the place was a home more than a prison, but they’d still failed in their own way.
A gentle knock came, and I sat up straight, staring at the door. My heartrate jumped. Who the hell would be knocking? It wasn’t as though I could open the damned thing anyway.
The lock clicked open, and I jumped to my feet, preparing myself for fight or flight. Was there a chance it was one of the guys? Was Hollan dealing with them now, and that was why he’d left me, but one of them had gotten past him?
The door cracked open, and my heart swelled with hope. Then it burst again as the tall Swedish man with the icy blond hair and pale blue eyes stepped through the gap.
I froze, my whole body tensing. What had Hollan called him? Otto?
He moved into the cell, and I took a step back, keeping the distance between us.
“What do yo
u want?” I demanded.
He held something out between us, and my gaze flicked down to the object. A pulse of need pounded through me, and I stepped forward, though I’d had no rational thought in doing so. My body did what it needed.
I reached out to the bottle of water Otto held in his hand. It was exactly how I’d been imagining one to be—fresh, and new, and chilled, the condensation pricking beads to the sides of the bottle.
“Quickly,” he said, waving it at me. “He does not know I have brought it to you.”
We both knew who he meant when he said ‘he.’ Hollan.
He held the bottle out to me as one might offer a piece of meat to a wild animal. I was more afraid of him than he was of me. I darted forward and snatched the bottle from his hand, quickly cracked open the lid, then placed the bottle to my lips. Cold water flowed over my tongue, and I gulped gratefully, feeling the liquid soothe my sore throat and settle in my belly.
I’d almost drained the bottle, but forced myself to save some. I screwed the lid back on, and, with nowhere else to hide it, pushed the bottle beneath the thin mattress. The bulge of the bottle looked obvious to me, but I was looking for it. Hopefully Hollan wouldn’t notice in the dim light.
I turned back to Otto, who remained lurking in the doorway. I assumed Hollan was preoccupied somewhere else in the building.
“Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”
He shrugged. “It did not seem right to deny you of a basic need like water.”
“Or freedom?” I said, gesturing at my surroundings.
“You can live without freedom,” he replied.
“Not for long.”
He stared at me, and I wondered what he was thinking.
“What has Hollan told you about me?” I asked, being the one to break the silence.
Decoding Darkness Page 4
