The End of Lies: The Single Lady Spy 4 (The Single Lady Spy Series)

by Tara Brown

  He turned the water off, laughing and grabbing a washcloth with something on it. He began scrubbing me. My freshly burnt skin screamed, but I bit my lips until they bled refusing for a sound to leave me.

  He was thorough, washing me everywhere, roughly and cruelly.

  I forced my mind to enter the dark place survivors went. The place where you told yourself, five more minutes. I can manage five more minutes of this. I can live through this.

  By the time he was done, I didn't believe that anymore. I had made peace with the fact my mother was likely killing everyone in the house trying to find me, and if she didn't, Fitz would take excellent care of my kids. He would tell them lies like I was a hero and I died trying to stop something terrible.

  The truth was I was out of my league and foolish, which was what Coop would tell them. Coop would protect them.

  I pressed my eyes shut, hating the stinging from having the camera slid out roughly, and silently chanted things like Servario’s name.

  Not that he would save me.

  Not this time.

  Did he know Elise had betrayed us?

  I likely wouldn't live long enough to find out.

  The water turned back on, going from searing hot to ice cold.

  Eventually, I screamed.

  I cried and begged as he laughed.

  The shower spray felt like needles stabbing me.

  Blood, brown body spray, and makeup eventually rinsed from me until there was nothing but a stream of blood. Some from my lip. Some from my cheek. Some from new wounds being picked open by the water.

  The whole time, Saransk cruelly mocked me as he drove home the point no one was coming to save me. Because no one else was alive.

  It was a lie.

  It had to be.

  I just had to hang on long enough for them to find me.

  12

  Worst shower ever

  Pain in my shoulder woke me.

  The feeling of the stretching muscles was ungodly. I’d fallen asleep standing in the stupid shower.

  Saransk hadn’t come back. Our torture session had ended with a final shower and he’d left without another word.

  I’d stayed in the dark with only the slightest bit of light coming in under the door. It was enough that I was able to see once my eyes adjusted.

  He was good at torture.

  I could admit that.

  I was dying of thirst, my skin was sore from the burning and freezing I had endured, and my muscles ached from the strain of being cuffed standing in a shower with one arm over my head.

  My body hurt from the abuse he’d loved giving me.

  He enjoyed hitting women.

  Newfound rage lingered inside me, reminding me that I had come to kill him, and I wouldn't leave here until I’d done just that.

  I started to take stock of my physical situation. Parting my lips, my lower lip cracked and blood began to seep from it once more. I tried to take a deep breath but was certain my ribs were broken again. They would hold me back. I'd have to fight smarter once I was free.

  A sound from outside the room startled me. I backed up as much as possible, seeking the dark corner of the shower and waiting for the noise of men speaking to get closer so I could hear what they were saying.

  Two men, muffled voices speaking Russian, drew closer, creating shadows on the floor in the slip of light. One laughed and for a second I thought I recognized the laugh. The door opened, blinding me with the light glaring in from the room behind them. The two silhouettes filled the doorway, but I couldn't make out faces.

  Saransk was one of them. He said something in Russian and laughed. His laugh would haunt me for a while.

  The other man was silent and as he stepped forward. He rustled his belt getting closer. Close enough for me to see his face. My heart leapt and sank at the same time. I believed he was here to save me, but he was undoing his pants and smiling bitterly.

  Saransk winked at me as Servario walked over.

  “Come here,” Servario said as if he were indifferent to my circumstances. In fact, I wondered if we knew each other in this little act he had going for Saransk. He gripped my arm tightly and inspected my face. “Why is she all beat up?” He wrinkled his nose and turned back to Saransk.

  “She needed a little tenderizing. She was spicy. Even the tranquilizer didn't mellow her out.” Saransk chuckled. “Fuck her in the dark, you won’t notice.”

  “Did you get your answers from her?”

  “I don't need answers. I already know the Americans want me dead. The kill was sanctioned by the CIA, where Evie and her partner work.” He sounded so casual about the misinformation he had been given.

  “Where is Elise?” Servario’s tone changed.

  “Upstairs. Sleeping. She’s fine. No one would hurt your precious cargo.” Saransk rolled his eyes. “Don't forget to wash her when you’re done. I don't like them dirty. I saved it so you could go first, as we agreed, but I’m keeping this one for myself after you’re done. And don't be gentle. She killed Erwin and Barron. Show her how we repay that sort of violence.” Saransk pulled the door to almost closed, leaving us in near darkness.

  Servario slowly removed his clothes, tormenting me with the agonizing stillness of the room that whispered with only the shuffling of his clothes.

  I started to worry.

  What if Elise was his precious cargo and I truly was nothing but a CIA spy?

  No, he loved me.

  I had to cling to that.

  I needed it.

  I needed him.

  It dawned on me what the plan really was.

  It was never me, Luce, and Elise as Indian dancers, tricking Saransk.

  The plan was to get us in the door by making Saransk think he was one up on us. He believed he was being handed agents who thought they were coming here undercover. Saransk thought Servario was dating a double agent, Elise. That had been his cover in Paris. Him and Elise. He’d saved her from the brothel, she was loyal to him to the death.

  It was why he never came to see me in England. He was setting the stage.

  The shower was likely being watched.

  Saransk had probably recorded his hours of tormenting me.

  He would definitely be watching as Servario did the one thing Saransk hadn’t done yet. The one thing I’d been dreading since I’d arrived.

  I was going to have to put up a fight. Be believable.

  It wasn't a stretch.

  I wasn't in the mood, not even for Servario.

  Now that the drugs were out of my system, I was going to fight to the death on this one. Servario was a dead man.

  He might have saved me from being raped, but that didn't mean my mother and Luce had been spared the same fate. And I had been tortured for hours. Hours he knew I was being tortured for.

  This had been his plan all along. Was sacrificing Luce and my mom part of it?

  “Don't do this,” I pleaded weakly, wiping my bloody lip with my free hand.

  He ignored me.

  “Please, don't do this.” My words made me sound weak and exhausted. It wasn't exactly a lie. I was dying.

  “Silence.” He offered no effort when he spoke. Like I was worth nothing.

  He finished taking his clothes off and walked to me calmly, but I backed away from him, pulling to the corner.

  “Stay away from me!” I screamed at him, scared he was really going to fuck me here.

  He didn't speak, he swung, backhanding me the same way Saransk had. I hit my head on the wall, seeing stars for the second it took for him to pull me from the corner and spin me around, slamming the front of my body on the shower wall.

  He reached up, groping my breasts as he pinned me to the wall.

  Once I got my bearings, I pushed off, struggling but it was no use. He was too strong, and I was weakened from the lack of food and water and sleep mixing with the abundance of torture.

  “I want you to fight me,” he muttered in my ear. He reached down and pulled my butt cheeks apar
t. “Unless of course you want it here.” He pressed himself against my butt.

  Life breathed into me in the form of rage.

  He pushed hard, giving me the momentum to slide out of his grip and reach up and smack his face into the tiled wall. He grunted as I jumped on his back and slid the arm that was cuffed around his throat, making us both scream as the cuff cut into my wounded wrist and ankle.

  He spun, slamming my back into the wall, making those injured ribs sing and forcing me to release him as I slid down the shower as low as the cuff would allow. He twisted fast, lifting me into the air, his cock hard and pressed against me. He crushed my back against the wall and forced himself inside me. I gasped and wheezed for air as he entered and paused.

  Even in the dim light, I saw the smug grin slide across his lips, but there was no mistaking the horror in his stare.

  “Please, don’t!” I shook my head, pushing on him and trying to wiggle, but his body held mine, splayed as he began thrusting in and out of me.

  He lowered his face into my neck and whispered, “One hour, Evie. One hour and this is all over.”

  “I hate you,” I gasped as I closed my eyes, going to that haunted shadow where Elise had hidden. I’d seen her go there. Closing herself off. A disgustingly filthy veil of sickness smothered me, making me want to throw up, but the broken ribs begged me to hold it back.

  Losing the will to fight him, I let him pretend to finish, but he’d gone limp partway and wasn't inside me anymore. It was the fastest and worst sex we’d ever had. Certainly not what I expected from him ever, but in some sick way he probably believed he was protecting me.

  He put me down, not collapsing on me the way he always did.

  He pulled back and left me there as he turned on the shower, spraying me with icy cold water, exactly as Saransk had.

  He left it cold for a long time, rinsing me clean of what he’d done.

  But that wasn't the truth.

  The truth was we would never wash clean from the things we’d done. Neither of us.

  He left me there, dripping wet and in agony, keeping the light off so I could sit in the dark and cry alone. In the shower like a winner. Like always.

  13

  Naked and afraid

  He wasn't true to his word.

  Well over an hour passed before the door opened. And it wasn't Servario.

  It was Saransk.

  He held a key. “If you agree to be a good girl, I’ll let you come out and get something to eat and drink. I want you to get your strength back.”

  “I promise,” I muttered hoarsely. My throat was on fire, and when I blinked, my eyes had no lube.

  “Okay. I’m trusting you.” He said it like this was fun and maybe a bit of a joke.

  Which, it was.

  Where would I go?

  How would I escape Russia alone?

  I was a betrayed CIA agent, alone in the countryside with a Russian drug lord and human trafficker. I was going nowhere.

  He unlocked the cuffs. My wrist and ankle both felt instantly better and worse as the wounds became more visible.

  He grabbed my arm roughly and led me limping from the shower and bathroom to the games room. Walking naked into the daylight wasn't awkward, not when I thought we were alone.

  But we weren’t.

  Three other men were there.

  I couldn't see out of one of my eyes, it was swollen shut. And my lips were both fat so I wasn't exactly a tempting distraction. So the men mostly ignored me. A few eyes flickered to my vagina, which I had to admit, I would have looked too. But other than that, they talked amongst themselves as I was led from the room.

  I walked naked and afraid but let them believe I was too weak to do anything about it, led by Saransk to a small room at the end of a hallway. He opened the door and tossed me inside, closing the door and locking it.

  “The room is bugged; they brought you here to try to identify me. I’m just an agent, same as you,” my mother’s voice whispered right in my ear as arms embraced me. She wrapped herself around me, acting scared. She wasn't. It was an act. A good one, but I saw the savage lingering in her, waiting for its chance to slit throats.

  I was relieved to find her alive and unharmed, though she looked like a little old lady. Who would honestly hurt her? Apparently, even Saransk wasn't that sort of monster.

  She pulled me back and took in my wounds, assessing me quickly. “The other girl is dead,” she whispered as she leaned in, hugging me. Again, she spoke so softly I barely heard it, “Luce is alive, but you need to be shocked and cry.”

  “How?” I asked, letting my initial response take over.

  “Servario. He shot her and left her for dead.” She sighed. “Elise has double-crossed us. Though I suppose you’re aware of that now.” Mom sounded like she was at her wit’s end, but after a moment of contemplating it all, I realized Luce and I were the only ones not in on this.

  My mom knew.

  She wasn't angry. She was playing along. And unharmed, no doubt thanks to Servario.

  Luce and I had genuinely been played but my mother was one of the players.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked, fighting the desire to scream at her.

  “Die, darling. There’s not much else for options I’m afraid.” She was resigned to die. Well, her fake character was.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead.” I slumped my shoulders.

  “I know. Have some water.” Mom rose and grabbed a tray of food and drinks from the dresser and brought it to me. The small room was like a maid’s quarters.

  I snatched the glass of water greedily and drank until my stomach ached. Next, I started eating. First grapes, then a sandwich. I shoveled food in until she took it away.

  “You’re going to get sick if you eat like that,” she scolded, sounding like my mom.

  I drank another glass of water, slowly, and let the food drop into my stomach.

  “What did they do to you?” I asked.

  “Threw me in this room.” She shrugged. “I’ve been in here since Saransk recognized you and blew the entire operation.”

  “Well, if they offer you a tour of the games room, don't go.” I scoffed bitterly, wiping my face with a napkin she passed me.

  “Yes, it looks rough.” She brushed my hair from my face. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Evie. You’re a good agent.”

  “Yeah, me too. Being betrayed is harsh.” I glared at her.

  “I’m so sorry. I truly believed my old connection with Elise had garnered us some loyalty.” She was speaking like this was scripted. It probably was. I wanted to scream and rage, but I told myself, five more minutes. I could do five more minutes of this.

  “I’m going to kill her.” That was not an act. It was not for the cameras. It was real. I hoped Elise was watching. I hoped she knew how angry I was.

  “Okay.” Mom didn't sound convinced. She continued working that angle of us dying here. “Did you see Servario?”

  “Yeah,” I almost laughed. How did I explain he had beaten and forced bad sex on me in the shower for show? How did someone say that to their mother? “I’m going to lie down and pretend I don't feel my broken ribs.” I rose slowly, clutching them despite almost falling as my legs threatened to buckle, and staggered to the small bed. I gently lay down, my mom covering my naked body with a blanket. I didn't want to deal with her or any of this. Not right now. I was exhausted. It took me several minutes to find the right angle, but when I did, sleep came immediately.

  So did waking up.

  Cold water splashed on me, making me shoot up from where I was lying.

  But as I sat up and peered around the room, there was nothing.

  No water.

  No Mom.

  No one else.

  Just me and what had to have been a bad dream, and throbbing ribs and a sore hand from the stab wound.

  The bed wasn't even damp.

  Everything hurt as I climbed off the bed and sat for a moment. “Hello?” I said
softly into the darkness but she didn't answer. I needed to find Luce and Mom.

  Saransk.

  First, I had to kill him, then I would find Luce and Mom.

  Deciding I didn't want to be naked when I murdered him, I pulled the sheet from the bed, making a toga.

  I noticed the door was ajar, just a crack, and a dead guard on the floor on the other side, in the hall.

  Peeking out into the dark hallway, I didn't see anything else out of place.

  The house was still.

  No one moved.

  Not a sound in the air around me.

  Unsure of what to do, I crept from the room and hurried toward the kitchen, I rushed past where the catering company had been and grabbed several long filleting knives from the huge knife holder.

  Carrying them and noting my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I slipped through the halls, checking behind doors.

  I locked the door to the backyard, sticking a chair up against the handle. I did the same to the front doors.

  Then I headed up the stairs to find my mark.

  My fury burned as the images of everything he’d done to me flashed on replay, but I couldn't focus on that now. I needed to be calm and calculated.

  It was so strange being in the silent house.

  There had been countless people here, even earlier when I was brought to the room with Mom.

  And now it was still.

  The large clock on the wall showed three o’clock. I assumed it meant three in the morning by the darkness.

  I’d been here for well over twenty-four hours.

  At the top of the stairs I surveyed out the large window and saw the security detail remained. Many of them were there, standing or milling about the gates. They were dressed in dark clothes and carrying large assault rifles but did seem bored. It was an ordinary night for them maybe.

  The moon was full and shone enough light in the windows that it was easier to see where I was going.

  I hurried to the right wing of the house and slowly opened the first door.

  I couldn't tell who it was, but someone was asleep in the bed. I crept in, closing the door behind me and snuck closer to the unsuspecting person.