When She's Gone

by Palmer, Jane;

  “Because it was your operation.”

  “No, no, no.” He turned her head one way and then the other before squeezing even tighter. It was like being in a vice. He leaned closer. “It was my son you killed that day.”

  Her eyes widened with shock, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Yes, darling Ara, you murdered my son.”

  He backhanded her across the face so hard she flew to the cold metal deck. She was pulled back up by Ivan and turned to face Dmitri.

  The murderous intent in his eyes froze her blood. He was not going to let them go. He’d been planning this for a long time. Dmitri wanted revenge, and he would take it, painfully.

  “I didn’t kill your son.” Ara forced her voice to stay calm in spite of the rising panic within her. “He died in a fire he set himself.”

  “Do you think me some kind of fool?” Dmitri scoffed. “You handcuffed my son to the bed. You left him there to die.”

  Ara shook her head. “I tried to save him. I went back into the fire and nearly died myself. I tried to get him out.”

  “Lies!” Dmitri screamed, suddenly losing any sense of control. His face twisted, mouth contorting with rage. “You murdered him, you stupid bitch! He wasn’t even supposed to be there. He’d gone to that miserable house in the middle of fucking nowhere to prove himself to me, to show he could take over our operations. He wanted to make me proud.”

  He drew closer to her, threateningly close, and Ara prepared herself for another blow.

  It didn’t come.

  Dmitri sucked in a deep breath, and just as quickly as it had begun, his tirade was over. He smoothed down his tie, checked his hair.

  “Now.” He held out a hand, and Ivan reached into his jacket, producing a long, jagged knife. Ara’s heart picked up speed and her mouth turned dry. What the hell was he going to do with that?

  “Tell me, Ara, it’s been hell for you these last few days, hasn’t it?” Dmitri paused, a glint in his eyes. “I’ve taken great pleasure in knowing the pain you’ve been suffering.”

  She didn’t answer. Dmitri didn’t seem to expect her to. He moved toward Sam, and Ara struggled against the binds. Ivan simply tightened his hold.

  Sam whimpered as Dmitri grew closer, her gaze fixed on the blade in his hand. Her fear fed Ara’s own, and before she could stop herself she cried out, “Don’t!”

  Dmitri paused, and Ara forged ahead. “She has nothing to do with this. I’m the one you want.”

  He chuckled, long and low. A shiver raced down Ara’s spine at the sound of his laugh.

  “On the contrary.” Dmitri turned toward her, his expression triumphant. “She has everything to do with this and always has. Right from the beginning.”

  His words hung in the air between them. The only sounds were the slapping of the waves against the boat and the hum of the engines. Realization slammed into her like a sledgehammer to the chest. She couldn’t breathe.

  He planned this. All of it.

  Her mind flashed through the last couple of days, the clues they’d come across along the way. Sam’s kidnapping was never about the money, or about Eddie paying off his debts. That was all a mask, a cover-up for Dmitri’s real intentions. He used Eddie and Nick to get close to Sam so he could arrange her kidnapping, knowing that by taking her, Ara would feel responsible. Knowing she would join the investigation.

  Everything had led them to this point, to this ship, to this confrontation.

  To her.

  Understanding must have shown in her expression because he laughed again. “Yes, Ara. This . . .” He waved the knife toward Sam, Eddie on the dinghy. “All of this was part of my revenge.”

  Ara’s gaze darted to Sam, and guilt clawed at her. The whole reason Sam was standing on this boat, shivering in the cold wind, was because of her. Ara knew, better than anyone, the pain and terror of being kidnapped. The knowledge that her failures had caused Sam to go through the same horrifying experiences she had once endured was gut-wrenching.

  “Aren’t you curious about why I devised this particular method for you?” he asked, pulling her focus back to him. He was gloating now, his chest puffed out with pride, as he moved to stand in front of her.

  Dmitri waved the knife in her face, and the blade caught the moonlight as he placed the point of it at her throat. She knew he could see the racing of her heart through the thin skin at her neck, but she would not give him the satisfaction of being openly terrified. She kept her face placid and met his gaze straight on.

  He chuckled, amused by her challenge. “You, dear Ara, are a warrior. A survivor.” The knife’s edge trailed down her body, in between her breasts, across her navel. “And even though you are a murdering little bitch, I find some qualities in you to admire.”

  Dmitri gripped the bottom of her jacket and used the blade to slice through it, cutting it straight off her body. Ara closed her eyes as his hands ran along the outside of her thin, long-sleeve T-shirt, his fingers trailing the length of her arms.

  The slicing of the fabric brought her back. Dmitri cut away her shirt, tearing it off her body. Her skin prickled from fear and the sudden rush of cold night air.

  Dmitri passed the knife back to Ivan before once again circling around her. But this time, while standing behind her, he stopped. Ara craned her neck, desperate to see what he was doing. She had visions of being knifed or shot but quickly reminded herself that wasn’t Dmitri’s style. He didn’t like making death easy for those who’d wronged him.

  And Ara had wronged him. In the worst possible way. She jumped when she felt his fingers on her shoulders.

  “These scars . . .” He traced the long, puckered scars down her arms to just past her elbows.

  He leaned in closer. She could feel the thick wool of his suit jacket against her bare back, and she fought the urge to step away.

  “It took me a long time to find out how you got these, Ara. But once I knew your name, and learned you had come to the United States at the tender age of fourteen, it was a simple matter of calling my Russian friends.”

  Her stomach twisted and churned. She was going to be sick.

  “It seems my son is not the only person you’ve murdered.”

  She was shaking violently now and couldn’t bring herself to stop. “Your son was a piece of shit who trafficked and raped young women and children. It’s not my fault he died.”

  Dmitri breathed out a sigh, nearly like a release. He seemed to absorb her pain, using it like a salve on his own wound.

  “Ah, Ara, but what about those girls?” He touched her scars again, the constant reminders of the lives she hadn’t saved. “Those girls you left behind in Russia. What do you think happened to them?”

  She fought back the sudden rush of tears. She knew what had happened to them. Of course she did.

  Dmitri gripped her shoulders and spun her around. “You see, Ara, I could torture your body. But once I’d learned what you had survived as a child, I knew that you would be able to withstand any physical pain.”

  His voice was low and smooth, like a snake. “No, what I needed to do was to hurt your soul. And so now, I’m going to have my men kill Eddie, Nick, and Sam before they kill you. That way you’ll know, before you die, that there were three other people whose deaths you are responsible for.”

  His words cut through her.

  “Fuck you.” She spat in his face.

  Ivan stepped forward, his fist already clenched, but Dmitri held up a hand to stop him.

  “No, no. It’s all right. It’s merely a sign that I am correct.” He removed a silk handkerchief from the front pocket of his suit and wiped his face. “Isn’t that true, Ara?”

  She glared at him, and a knowing smile stretched across Dmitri’s face. He clapped his hands suddenly. “Maksim, Ivan. I leave you to carry out my orders.”

  “You’ll never get away with it.” She tossed the words at his retreating back. “The FBI knows about you, about your involvement in the forgery scheme. They’ll catch y
ou.”

  He half turned and chuckled, confident, controlled. “I don’t think so, my dear. I hear Mexico is quite lovely this time of year.”

  She didn’t have time to even give him a retort. Ivan scooped her up, carrying her toward the edge of the boat. From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a gun, cocked it, and held it to her temple.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dmitri disappear on the far side, followed and protected by one of his henchmen. The vibrations of the ship ceased immediately, and Ara realized they’d stopped moving.

  He was escaping.

  She wanted to scream with fury and frustration. She wanted to kill him with her own bare hands. But she didn’t have time to focus on Dmitri. She had much more immediate problems.

  Sam, with her hands still zip-tied behind her back, was forced at gunpoint by Maksim to stand next to Ara. Her lips were turning blue and her teeth were chattering violently. Nick was shoved into place alongside her.

  “Shoot me first.” Nick’s voice was hollow and flat, but when he met Ara’s gaze with his one good eye, he tilted his head just slightly in Sam’s direction.

  Ara blinked, hoping he would understand that she had gotten his message. Loud and clear.

  Sam, however, was pulling out of her glassy-eyed state. Nick’s words seemed to have ignited her fear.

  “No, no, no.” Each word heightened her pitch until she was red in the face.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Maksim whacked her in the back of the head with his hand, and the words died on her lips. She sucked in breaths with great gulps, and Ara feared that if she didn’t calm down, Sam would hyperventilate and pass out.

  Maksim pointed the gun at Sam, and Nick moved suddenly, without warning. Ivan’s head turned, momentarily distracted, and Ara took the opportunity.

  She ducked and kicked, slamming her leg into Ivan’s groin before ramming her shoulder into his stomach.

  A gun went off. Faintly, as if from a faraway place, she could hear Sam screaming.

  Ivan toppled over, his gun skittering away into the darkness. Ara gave him one swift kick to the face, hard enough to shatter his nose in a spray of blood. Before he had a chance to recover, she struck him again. His head slammed against the side of a container so hard it gave a sickening, egg-like crack. With one glance, she knew he was either dead or unconscious.

  Nick and Maksim were wrestling a few feet away. Both of them were crouched over, each trying to gain control of the gun between them. Nick’s hands were slick with blood, his face red with effort. Maksim bared all his teeth, kicking out with his feet. One of his hands hung loosely and unused next to his side, giving the beaten Nick a fighting chance.

  Sam stood to one side, motionless and expressionless. Even the screaming had stopped.

  “Sam!” Ara cried. “Move now!”

  She shoved the girl, pushing her into the darkness with her shoulder. She had to get these damn binds off her hands. She couldn’t help Nick without doing that first, and she needed Sam out of the way, hidden, and at least partially out of danger.

  As they moved further into the ship, Ara scanned their surroundings. There was only a sliver of a moon, barely enough to see by, and it was difficult to make out anything distinctively.

  She shoved Sam next to a container, into the shadows. “Are you hurt?”

  “N-n-no,” she stuttered. “Oh my God, Nick.”

  “I need something sharp. Something to cut the ties off with.”

  The request created a calm in Sam. Her shaking stopped, and she helped Ara look. A moment later, she whispered, “Here! I found something.”

  Ara closed the distance between them quickly. Sam jerked her head toward the jagged edge of a container that had been worn away by rust.

  “Will that work?”

  “It’s perfect.” Ara spun around and maneuvered her hands into position. Jerking her body back and forth, she sliced through the tie in three motions. The rusty metal had also cut her hands, but Ara barely felt the wounds.

  “Now you,” she ordered Sam, placing her into position. More carefully than she’d been with herself, she released the teenager’s bonds.

  The sound of a gunshot echoed across the distance, bouncing off of the metal. Sam sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening with terror. She gripped Ara’s arm.

  “Nick.”

  Ara reached down and pulled out her clutch piece from her boot. It was small, with a limited number of shots, but it was all she had.

  They needed to get off this boat.

  She grabbed Sam’s hand and started leading her toward the front of the vessel.

  “Where are you going?” Sam halted, drawing Ara to a stop. “Nick is the other way.”

  “I’m getting you somewhere safe.”

  “We can’t just leave him.” Sam threw away Ara’s hand. “He needs our help.”

  “We don’t—”

  “No. I tricked him into this. He didn’t know about the plan. He was furious when he found out. Nick tried to talk us out of it, but I wouldn’t listen. Then these men came, and it all went to hell . . .” Tears welled in her eyes. “He risked his life to help us. We can’t just leave him to die.”

  Ara looked into her face and saw the determination, the loyalty. Sam was right. He’d risked his life to help them escape. They couldn’t leave Nick behind.

  “Okay.” Ara jabbed a finger at her. “But you stay behind me. Close.”

  “You got it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Ara hid with Sam behind a container, listening. There was nothing. No sounds, except for her own ragged breath and Sam’s behind her.

  Keeping to the darkness as much as possible, leading with her weapon, she crept toward the spot where she’d seen Maksim and Nick wrestling. Sam clung with both hands to the back of Ara’s jeans, and while it made Ara’s progression forward slightly awkward, she didn’t complain.

  They moved to the final container, then Ara slid up next to the smooth metal. Sucking in a breath, she peeked around the corner.

  Nick lay still on the deck, his limbs splayed out. Underneath him was a dark pool of blood.

  “Nick.” Sam took one step toward him, but Ara stopped her, swinging an arm around her waist.

  “Listen to me.”

  Sam struggled against her. “No, no, Nick.”

  “We can’t help him now,” Ara hissed. “And if we don’t get off this boat, they are going to kill us, too. Do you want to die?”

  Sam stopped, the question as effective as a slap to the face. “No, I don’t want to die.”

  “Good. So help me get you out of here.” Ara peered around the corner of the container again. Ivan was still right where she’d left him, in the same crumpled position, and she felt a brief sense of relief. But as she scanned the area further, she saw no sign of Maksim.

  Damn it.

  He was wounded and armed, which made him even more dangerous. And while she’d only seen Maksim, it was possible there were more men on board the ship than just him.

  She hesitated. There had to be dinghies attached to some part of the ship. They’d placed Eddie on one. The poor bastard was still out there, drifting on the ocean with a ticking bomb underneath him. Dmitri had escaped on one, too. If she was lucky, there would be a third for Maksim and his men. She just had to find it first.

  Dmitri had moved toward the back of the ship. It wasn’t much, but it was the best clue she had. She took a quick look at the deck. They had to pass through the empty space—and a relatively well-lit empty space at that—in order to go in the direction of the dinghies. It was dangerous—Maksim could be hiding in any number of places, waiting for them to appear again. She could only hope he’d gone after them, or that he was lying somewhere in a pool of his own blood.

  If they weren’t lucky . . . Ara tightened her grip on her weapon. She would just have to be the better shot.

  Ara grabbed Sam’s hand. It was cool and small. “We’re going to make a run for it. Don’t look anywhere except
down at your feet.” She didn’t want Sam seeing Nick’s body more than she already had. “Do you understand?”

  Sam gave a swift nod.

  Still holding the teenager’s hand, Ara bolted out from behind the container. She kept her focus on the red container opposite of them, the darkness beyond it. Safety was a mere 500 feet away.

  400.

  300.

  The gunshot rang out, pinging off of the metal deck near Ara’s feet. Maksim stepped out of the darkness right in front of her.

  She screeched to a halt so fast Sam slammed into her back. They both nearly tumbled to the ground, with only Ara’s firm footing preventing them from becoming a tangled heap.

  Maksim grinned, the blood streak across his face making it macabre. “You cops are always so predictable.” He stepped forward even more. His arm, covered in blood, hung loosely at his side. “So stupid. You can’t help yourselves.”

  Ara hid the hand holding the gun carefully behind her, wedged between her and Sam. She needed to bring him a little closer. There would only be one shot, and she wasn’t going to mess it up.

  “How so?” she asked, allowing her voice to tremble with fear.

  “You were trying to save poor Nicky-boy, weren’t you? You always have to play the hero.”

  “You’re injured,” she said. “And at the rate that wound is bleeding, you’re going to pass out soon.”

  He smirked at her, a twist of beautifully shaped lips, and raised his weapon. “Not soon enough for you.”

  With one hand, she shoved Sam down to the floor, simultaneously raising her own weapon.

  The gunfire echoed off of the metal containers, reverberating in the air.

  Something slammed into her vest just as Maksim’s head exploded like a watermelon. The smell of gunpowder and blood filled her nostrils.

  Then she heard the rush of pounding footsteps.

  Pulling Sam up to her feet, Ara’s breath felt like it was tearing through her chest. She was nauseous and cold. Blood ran in a river down her sleeve from her injured arm. From overhead came the thump, thump, thump of a familiar sound.

  A helicopter.

  It flew low and fast over them, heading out to sea where Eddie’s boat sat waiting. Shoving and pushing Sam, hair flying from the high winds created by the helicopter’s propeller, they managed to reach the side of the boat.