by D. L. Roan
Voices, loud and angry, shouting beyond the door shook her from her thoughts of the other girls. Fear, cold and violent, raced through her veins as the door opened again and more blinding light flooded the room. She could hear the scuffling of shoes as they approached her, a few wicked chuckles echoing around her like ghosts. Her lungs filled with acid as breath after breath she fought not to gag or scream. Maybe if she was quiet enough they would forget about her.
“I told you. She wasn’t to be kept with the others.” A harsh accent she couldn’t place sounded beyond the curtain just before it was yanked away.
Instinctively her body flinched, turning away from the large man who stood looming over her, his arms above his head as his fingers hung from the wire above. Through her light-deprived eyes she could only make out a gauzy shadow as he released the wire and moved closer. When she tried to move away she fell from her kneeling position, and her cheekbone slapped against the cold, gritty concrete, sending more waves of pain through her skull.
“Now, now. Can’t have you scarring up that pretty face.” She tried to fight him off, but was helpless against the ropes that bound her as his hands wrapped around her aching arms and yanked her to her feet like a lifeless doll. “Having fun yet?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away from the foul smell of his breath. He’d been drinking. His smelly body was pressed against her naked skin, his fists clenched in her hair. “When someone asks you a question, you answer it like a good little bitch.”
She shook her head, unsure of what the question even was. The only thing she could think about was getting away from him. Please, please, please. Her thoughts begged and screamed the words her mouth couldn’t.
“That’s a good little princess.” His fists fell from her hair and she was released from his hold. His fingers framed her chin and turned her head, his thumb caressing the burning scratch on her cheek. “We’ve only just begun, little girl. Mind your manners and this will be a lot easier for you.”
As he turned to usher her from the room a deafening, blood-chilling scream filled the hallway just beyond the door. Her battered legs froze in place, unwilling and unable to take another step toward the door that so many others had disappeared through. The man pushed her forward and she stumbled back another step. No! Please! I can’t go with you! Please don’t make me! Please!
“Please! I’m begging you! Just let me go!”
“Natalie!” Frantic, Daniel rushed into the bedroom. “Natty, honey. It’s just a dream. You’re safe, honey.”
Drenched in sweat, Thalia kicked out, her legs flailing against the sheets as she sat up in the bed and scrambled away from the man looming over her. Daniel Gregory. Her chest burned, each breath harder to take in as her memory of the last few hours pushed its way through the panic.
“Breathe, Natty. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” Daniel stayed at the foot of the bed, his hands held out to her.
She didn’t know those hands. She shut her eyes and bit back a scream of frustration. If she didn’t get control now, she would lose her mind forever. Closing out the world around her, she forced herself to focus. Breath after breath, she allowed the space inside her mind to expand a little further until finally she was able to open her eyes.
“What happened in your dream?”
The redhead’s voice filled the space in the room where Daniel had been. He was gone, but Thalia could hear someone shuffling about in the next room. “I never remember.” She shrugged and looked away. A shiver of residual fear fluttered beneath her skin. It wasn’t an entirely true statement anymore, but whoever this woman was, she didn’t need to know. “Where’s Grant?”
“You don’t have to talk about it, but it might help if you did.”
“Trust me.” Thalia flung the covers away and slid from the bed, her ankle protesting the weight, but was surprisingly less swollen than it had been earlier. “If I remembered I’d tell you all about it, because you’re such a close friend, right?” She pulled her shirt up and over her head, enjoying the embarrassment and shock on the woman’s face as she limped into the adjoining bathroom. “That’s what best friends do, right? Tell each other their deepest, darkest secrets.”
The sound of the spray hitting the shower floor drowned out whatever reply the woman may have had. Just what I need, someone else to hover. Thalia allowed the hot, steamy water to wash the sweat and grime from her body. Too bad it couldn’t wash the last year and a half from her mind as easily. God, she wanted more than anything for Grant to come in and join her, to make love to her aching body and take her away from all of the relentless questions that were demanding answers she didn’t have.
When she exited the shower, a fresh change of clothes lay on the opulent counter top, mocking her foul mood. Damn her. She closed her eyes and tried to massage away the nagging ache growing in her temples. She hated being a bitch. They seemed like nice people, but all she really wanted to do was scream at them to leave her the hell alone and get back to finding a way to Jauhar. She had no idea why Issa had lied to her, but it didn’t keep her from loving him. Jauhar still had to pay for his murder.
She pulled on the fresh blue jeans and tank top before fingering the larger tangles from her hair and pulling it back with a rubber band she found around a clump of other toiletries sitting beside the sink. Her mouth watered when she spotted the fresh toothbrush and toothpaste packaged neatly beside the sink. It had been a while since she’d felt this clean. She wasn’t sure if her heart could take another look of pity from Grant, but at least now she felt strong enough to set him straight. Shit! Shit! Shit! Missing a step, her swollen ankle collided with the cabinet. “Ouch.” As long as she didn’t have to run anywhere she should be able to hold her own.
Chapter Twenty-One
What do you mean he’s gone? Thalia could hear herself asking that question over and over in her mind as she sat crammed like a sardine into an aisle seat on a jumbo jet bound for the U.S. The flight attendants made their way down the aisle, pushing and shoving the bags into the overhead compartments as the last few passengers boarded and they prepared for takeoff.
He’d left her, taking the thumb drive and what was left of her heart with him. He’d stolen the only chance she had at revenging Issa’s murder and left her with nothing. Not even him. She’d been right. He no longer wanted her. She’d seen it in his eyes, the passion and fire that once called her to him was replaced by nothing but pity and disappointment.
“Natalie.”
Ignoring Daniel, she shifted restlessly in her seat, desperate to be somewhere, anywhere, other than where she was.
“Natalie, I know he cared for you. He’s just…”
Fuck Grant! The urge to hit something grew stronger with each claustrophobic second that ticked by. She could feel the raging scream building in her chest as she wavered constantly between anger and anguish over losing a piece of her soul to a man she knew better than to trust. God, I trusted him. How could she have been so stupid?
He’d lied to her. She had been so completely stunned when Daniel had told her Grant had left and was never coming back. Was he only after the thumb drive all along? He’d left no reason as to why he’d done it. Only clear instructions for her to leave with Daniel and Rebecca and never come back. No goodbye. Nothing. No reason for her to believe what they had was anything but a lie. Now she was supposed to follow along and let go of everything? Give up on seeing justice done for Issa? Let go of what she’d thought she’d seen in Grant’s eyes when they last made love in that ramshackle hotel room in Mutare? All because Daniel was his so-called friend she was supposed to trust him now?
She turned her head and looked at the man sitting next her. Really looked at him. He was a nice man with a kind heart. She didn’t fear him and honestly believed he meant her no harm. The simple truth was that she didn’t know him. Even if all they had told her was completely true, it didn’t change anything. She wasn’t that little girl in those pictures anymore. She wasn’t the damaged p
erson who had supposedly been beaten and raped and sold into a life of slavery either. She was just a woman who had no memory of being a girl, seeking justice for the only person who had ever loved her.
Her fingers trailed down her neck as she fought against the suffocating noose of confusion that threatened to strangle the life out of her each time she thought about those pictures. She couldn’t allow herself to slip into another panic attack. Not now. She had to think, dammit!
The only thing she knew for sure? Issa had lied to her, but he was still the only father she’d ever known. Not the man sitting next to her. What was left of her life, as dismal as it was, was in India. She didn’t need Grant or these other people. She hadn’t asked for any of this. She couldn’t allow them to distract her from achieving justice for Issa. She had one goal, one purpose, and blindly following them away from that purpose was not, and had never been, part of the plan. I have to get off this plane.
Decision made, adrenaline rushed through her veins as she quietly flipped the latch open on her seatbelt and let the ends slide behind her back. Her legs and arms tingled with anticipation as she waited. An oncoming passenger pushed his way down the aisle, his overstuffed carry-on bumping against her seat on his way by. She saw her one and only chance and took it, darting from her seat, rushing to the front of the plane. Shoving past a frantic flight attendant, she ignored the sharp pain in her ankle and sprinted up the jet way, then back through the gate. A horde of security guards gave chase, their voices growing closer as they closed the small amount of distance the element of surprise had given her.
Her borrowed shoes, half a size too big, squeaked on the industrial linoleum floor as stride after stride she pushed her way through the throngs of people disembarking from their flights. The terminal narrowed and the crowd thickened as she neared the main security checkpoint. Crashing into bystander after bystander, she didn’t bother looking back or apologizing. All she could see through the tunnel vision created by her frantic state and determination to escape was the wall of glass doors at the end of the terminal that would lead to her freedom. Until she hit what could only be described as brick wall.
Her legs pumped frantically but found no purchase as she was lifted from the ground, her head still spinning form the collision. Everything happened so quickly. The room spun. Her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest. Shouting voices in the distance were drowned out by grunts and curses in a language she didn’t understand. She couldn’t right herself or focus on anything but the blurred faces that whirled by as she was dragged away into a darkened hallway.
She screamed for help, or at least she thought she did. Her arms and legs were moving but connected with nothing as she fought for distance from her captors. Hot, damp air filled her lungs as she was dragged through a series of doors and then outside the air conditioned building. She’d lost her shoes in her struggle to escape and the scorching, rough concrete bit into the soles of her feet with each staggered step she took. A dark sedan sat just beyond the doorway, surrounded by three more men she didn’t recognize and one man she would never forget. The black patch he wore over his right eye didn’t mask the satisfied expression behind it. Hamisi’s evil grin was the last thing she saw. Fire exploded behind her left eye and everything around her went dark and blissfully quiet.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Here you go, sir.” Grant smiled his irresistible delivery guy smile and took the clipboard from the nice looking receptionist, giving her a flirty wink as he handed her the package marked as urgent delivery. He turned and left through the front doors of the posh, seaside apartment building, throwing her a final glance over his shoulder on his way out. Security in these places was usually a joke at best, but this one had a few extra layers to wade through. High class pussy demanded high class protection he guessed, but none of it made a difference to him.
Thanks to the quick work of Miss Efficient at the front desk and the idiot who came up with the brilliant idea of labeling the valet tickets by the resident’s floor number, fifteen minutes later he had the exact location of Jauhar’s mistress’ apartment and a security key fob that granted him access to her floor.
He’d spent the last three days running intel and watching Jauhar’s ocean front compound. It was nothing less than he’d expected. Guards posted in random shifts both inside and out. No set pattern of ground sweeps, so there was little chance of sneaking in undetected. Unlike most, he seemed to run a heavier guard presence at night. Getting in under the cover of darkness alone was unlikely.
Based on the satellite photos and security system plans Diver had been able to dig up after they’d had a fuck-all chat about his role in their little partnership, his chances of storming the compound, killing Jauhar, and getting out undetected were slim at best.
If he managed to scale the fifteen foot high concrete security wall and slip past the team of lackeys on the outside, it would be next to impossible to penetrate the building undetected with the amount of technology inside. Motion and infrared sensors built into the walls, bulletproof glass shutters that activated on voice command and covered every entry and exit point. There was a panic room in the east wing situated between what he was sure was Jauhar’s bedroom and office. It wasn’t listed on any of the plans, but his gut told him there was an escape tunnel that led from the panic room away from the compound. He’d thought briefly about going in through the tunnel, but it would take too long to find the entry point if there was one. No. If he was going in it would have to be through the front door.
After the initial shock of what he’d learned at Issa’s grave had worn off, he’d been able to see things much more clearly and had scrapped his initial plan. Now that he knew who the key players were, there were some things about the hit on Issa that didn’t quite add up. If his suspicions were correct, all of the intel he’d gathered might be useless anyway. There was a fifty-fifty chance Jauhar might not even be there. He hadn’t seen him step foot outside the compound since the day before, but he also didn’t have eyes in the back of his head or time to wait around for additional visual confirmation. The heavy guard presence told him he was there, and that’s all he needed to know for now.
During his three days of recon, it had only taken him one day to nail down the one weakness in Jauhar’s security. The raven-haired bombshell that had Jauhar by his balls was a royal pain in his security team’s collective ass. In the two and a half hours he’d shadowed her from Jauhar’s compound on Juhu Beach, he’d seen her break protocol no less than twenty times. The gorillas guarding her didn’t even bother getting out of the car to walk her to her apartment after she’d finished massaging her driver’s tonsils with her tongue. After the day they’d had they would run, not walk, when they saw her car pulling back into Jauhar’s compound. Now was the time to strike and she would be his ticket in.
The one thing he hadn’t counted on when he entered the luxury flat was the innocent face of the small, dark haired boy who greeted him at the door after a single knock. A shriek of terror erupted from the woman on the far side of the room as he pushed his way in and scooped the little boy under one arm, the other skillfully and calmly taking aim at her with the silenced throw-away piece he’d acquired the day before.
“Not one word.” He motioned with the gun for her to take a seat on the white leather sofa. Fuck. He hadn’t come here to screw up a kid’s head, but he had no choice. There was no backing out. He was now fully committed. “Is there anyone else in the apartment?”
The woman shook her head as she dropped to the sofa, pleading sobs muffling any reply she tried to give. “Don’t move.” Keeping the gun trained on his target, he shouldered the partially opened bedroom door and peered inside. Quickly and silently he cleared the other two small rooms before returning to the main parlor where the mistress sat, a pleading look of shock and horror marring her unusual beauty.
“Is he Jauhar’s?” When she shook her head no, he lowered the crying boy to the floor and knelt down to comfort him. “
Hey, little guy. What’s your name?”
“He does not speak English,” the mistress cried, perched anxiously on the edge of the cushion, her arms outstretched, pleading for the boy. “Please. He is my sister’s son.”
Shit. This could be a problem. “When will she be back?” There was no room in his plan for a four year old, and he couldn’t leave him there by himself.
“She is on holiday with her husband.”
“You have a babysitter, yes? Someone who watched him while you were fu…servicing Jauhar earlier?” Jesus, he was going to hell already. What difference did it make if he cursed in front of the child?
“Nadia, yes.” She nodded frantically, her eyes darting continuously between him, the gun in his hand, and her nephew.
He scooped up the boy, ignoring the woman’s escalated pleas as he walked to the hall table and grabbed her designer purse. Forgoing what he knew would be a time consuming, blind and fruitless search, he dumped the contents onto the table and grabbed the cell phone from the pile of other useless shit women seemed to carry with them. He scrolled through her contacts, found Nadia’s name and tapped the call button before tossing the phone to her. “It’s ringing. Tell her you need her to take the boy for the night.” He tucked his gun under his arm and reached up to caress the little boy’s tears away, never taking his eyes from her. “Let’s make sure she doesn’t ask any questions, got it?” He didn’t have the stomach to hurt the kid, but she didn’t need to know that. She understood his warning loud and clear.
He had to hand it to her. Mistress of The Year was smooth under pressure. She had quite the acting ability, which played perfectly into his plan as they approached the gated entrance to Jauhar’s compound. “Remember,” he said as he pulled the driver’s cap down to better shield his eyes and turned into the drive. “One misstep and your sister will be coming home to plan her son’s funeral.”