I closed my eyes and, with a weary sigh, let my arm drop. The gun felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. But Greg’s voice, shrill and angry, pierced the newfound calm in my head.
“Shoot him!” he railed. “Kill that bloody son of a bitch!”
I opened my eyes and saw Greg storming toward me with his fist in the air.
“Shoot that motherfucker!” he ordered as he came to a stop next to me.
I shook my head. “I can’t. I…I won’t.”
Greg stuck his beet-red face right up into mine. “Oh, but you will,” he seethed. “That man is the reason you are here, why you are mixed up with all of this. Do you think that night he killed Nick was the first time he attempted to do so?” he asked, spit flying from his mouth. “That old man worked for my father for over twenty years, back when your father betrayed the company and put my uncle away in prison. He discovered that Mikhail’s missing accountant was residing in Melbourne. He tracked you boys up to San Francisco, and when they found out your parents were coming to visit, he was commissioned to take your father out. He was responsible for Nick’s accident. He killed your parents and sister.”
Agitated, Greg walked in quick circles, his head down and his lips twitching as if he were talking to himself. Then he chuckled, like he’d just recalled something funny.
“He wasn’t supposed to touch your mother, you know. My father was very upset that he did. He worked for years to pay that debt off, and Nick’s demise was to be the final installment, paid in full. Do you understand?” he asked, finally looking up at me. “This man, he’s responsible for wiping out your entire family. So you fucking kill him, right now.”
I stared at Greg, my mind jumbled with all the details he’d just laid bare. He smiled and nodded, but I broke away, my gaze spinning until I finally collapsed to my knees on the floor. It was too much. I’d finally reached that point. Complete and total overload. My whole body began to shake again with rage. I shoved the back of my hand against my mouth as I dry-heaved with each and every memory—disconnecting my little sister from life support, burying her with my parents, and Nick, his injuries and recovery, his addiction and the robbery, everything that had led to his involvement with the Russians. He’d forfeited his freedom to protect me, gave his very life, the last of my family to fall to the animal hanging from a chain before me.
I gripped the gun tightly at my side, stood, and turned my head toward the man. The thought of everything he’d done forced my lip into a sneer. Then I charged. I bashed the gun twice into the man’s face. I felt his bone crush as the man’s blood sprayed onto my face and hands. He shrieked an animalistic cry that softened into a desperate moan.
The sound of his pain sickened me, but I wanted to do it again, to beat him until he disintegrated beneath me. I wanted to cut him down and boot him in the head as he’d done to Nick, to feel his neck twist then break. I wanted to flay him until the tattoos along every inch of his flesh were unrecognizable. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him in agony.
I wanted him dead.
But I could not do it. I could not shoot him.
I didn’t realize I’d been screaming with every angry thought, until I pulled back, breathless, and realized how quiet it had become. I gazed at the man, at what I had done to him with just two blows. The only noise he made now was the coughing and spitting of blood. He could only breathe through his mouth.
Thoroughly pleased, Greg clapped his hands. “Well done, my good man, well done. Now…finish the fucking job and shoot him.”
Still barely able to take a normal breath myself, I raised my hands and studied them, turning them over and examining each blood-covered side. Then I touched them to my face and smeared tracks through the blood there, as well. I listened for the voice in my head, the one that told me what was right and wrong, good and bad. It was silent now, and I felt abandoned, utterly and completely empty. A void.
How could I feel nothing?
I dropped the gun to the floor, disgusted that I felt so barren.
Greg stood beside me, his face crestfallen. “You disappoint me, Karras. You’re not half the man your brother was.” He shook his head. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, though, of course, I was afraid it might, which is why I made contingency plans, just in case.” He sighed and his shoulders fell. “What a shame it has to come to this.” He nodded to one of his men who immediately turned and left. “I tried to warn you of the repercussions of inaction and ill-made decisions. I truly am sorry.”
Now, I felt something. It wrapped around me and clung to my skin. Fear. Piercing and incontrovertible, it ran up my spine as a dark, cold chill, and every single hair on my body stood on end. Greg’s man returned with his iPad, and my heart tripped to a near stop in my chest. The guard held it out for Greg, who swiped his finger across the black screen, once again pulling up a live feed. Greg held out the device and pushed it up into my face. Through the blood, sweat, and tears, I couldn’t quite yet make out what I was seeing, but I could hear a woman crying, pleading in muted sobs.
Hannah.
I blinked and drew my arm across my eyes. I could see a woman, dressed as Hannah was earlier, but in a different room now, a dark one with cinderblock walls and a concrete floor with a drain in the middle and a small pendant light overhead. She sat in a chair, her wrists tied to the arms and her ankles to the legs, and a wet towel was wrapped around her head, obscuring her hair and face.
I stiffened, my body like ice as she sobbed and flailed about. A man emerged from the darkness behind her and tipped her chair back while he tugged on the soaked towel at the back of her head. She struggled. Her mouth drew wide beneath the towel and the fabric indented as she labored for air. Yet I just stood there, frozen, a petrified statue with my disbelieving eyes glued to the device in Greg’s hand.
Another man slithered in from the shadows. He raised a gallon of water over her towel-draped mouth and began to pour. Her soft cries were cut off as she gasped and gurgled for air. One of the men counted aloud, only seven seconds, but it felt like an eternity to me. I could only imagine what it felt like for her.
I hardly remember making the decision, but in an instant, I was on my knees, grabbing Greg’s gun from where I’d dropped it on the floor moments earlier. Greg’s reflexes were fast, though, and he sprang away with the tablet held out like a shield as I stood and stepped toward him with the gun sight set between his eyes. It didn’t matter that I had two automatic weapons trained on my head. I would do what I had to. But Greg waved his hand downward slowly, cautioning his men. His lips formed into a perfect O, and he blew out a long, slow breath.
He spoke, calm, quiet, slow. “If you so much as disturb one hair on my head, I swear to you, Hannah will die, but not quickly, my friend, and not easily. She will watch your daughter suffer, as will you, before you see them both die for your sins.”
My arm slowly dropped to my side, and, as the desperate wails continued unchecked from the tablet, I turned to the chained-up man. But I didn’t move to shoot him. The gun just shook in my hand at my side. Greg sighed in relief and called his man’s name across the feed. His team pulled Hannah back in the chair again. She screamed and struggled, but could barely breathe through the wet towel. Her fingers and toes splayed straight out like rigid twigs twitching in the wind.
“Noooooo!” I cried to Greg.
“Shoot him!” he screamed back.
I looked at the bloody pulp of a man as his body swung helplessly from the chain. Tears poured down my face, and the gun quivered as I raised it up with both hands, the barrel dead center in his face. My throat closed up as I put pressure on the trigger, but I couldn’t seem to follow through.
Until I heard my name screamed, right before the sound of water splashing against the concrete floor.
As if I could breathe for her, I opened my mouth and howled, “Hannah!”
“Shoot him or she dies!” Greg bellowed.
With one last pleading glance at Gre
g, I turned back to the man and shot him square in the head.
CHAPTER 50
Hannah
Chilled to the core, I teetered along the edge of the bed in my opulent cell, wrapped in a thick terry robe, yet unable to stop my incessant shivering. My hair hung in chunky wet ropes down my back, soaking through the fabric as I stared unseeing out the window. It was very quiet, the only noise the sound of the bed squeaking as I rocked back and forth. I thought I heard a knock, but it sounded so far away. I ignored it. I couldn’t move anyway, even if I wanted to. My body was like a block of ice.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the bedroom door crack open. Danny’s head popped through the narrow gap and around the door’s edge.
“Miss ‘annah?” he called quietly. “If you’re done with your bath, you can ‘ave a bit oov time with your wee one. Doesn’t that sound nice? I know you’ve been missin’ ‘er.”
Without waiting for my reply, he stepped from behind the door and opened it wider to allow his sister Dariya in. She carried Nicole, wrapped snuggly in a fleecy pink blanket, her head wedged securely in the crook of her arm. She approached the bed with a tentative smile though her brow was knotted with concern.
“I’ve been ‘oldin’ off feedin’ ‘er,” she said. “Your milk should be in by now. There’s no reason why ya can’t feed ‘er yourself.” She stole a worried glance at Danny when I didn’t reply or even acknowledge her.
He raised his chin as if in some prearranged signal, and she handed him the baby, careful to keep my daughter’s head covered. As Danny began to gently sway and bounce, Dariya disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a hairbrush and a towel in her hands. She climbed onto the bed behind me and placed a warm hand on my shoulder.
“You’re tremblin’, Miss ‘annah. Are ya cold?” she asked then began to run the brush through my hair, starting at the ends to get the numerous tangles out. “Let’s get your ‘air all smoothed out so we can dry it and get you warm again. Then you can take care oov the babe.”
“N-no, please…d-don’t…” I croaked, my voice rough and hoarse.
“What?” she chirped. “An’ why not? You’ve been waitin’ ta get ‘er all to yourself.”
“Because I’m s-so c-cold and I c-can’t stop sh-sh-shaking,” I stuttered. “I d-don’t want to dr-drop her.” But in all honesty, it wasn’t the cold that made me tremble. It was fear. I was afraid to get to know my own daughter now, afraid she’d be yanked from my arms. Afraid she’d be used against me, against her father. And I was afraid for her to know me, fearful she would bond with me then have me torn away. Ashamed, I covered my face and cried.
I heard a gentle scraping sound and looked up to see Danny—Nicole tucked safe in one hulking arm—dragging the chair from the corner across the thick rug over to the bed. He pulled it up in front of me then took a seat and settled the baby back into his full embrace. Hunched down, he leaned forward and dipped his chin as he raised his eyes up to meet mine.
“Don’t you do this, Miss, ya ‘ear? You don’t be goin’ an’ givin’ up. Not now, not ever,” he commanded gently, his voice stern, but hardly more than a whisper. He looked down into Nicole’s sleeping face and smiled, then back up at me in earnest. “This is your reason ta keep goin’, ta survive, no matter what.”
I shook my head. “Greg will never let us go, not now. Once he gets what he wants, he’ll kill us. And after what just happened…” I choked. “I think I’d rather just—”
“No!” Danny grabbed my knee with one hand. “You don’t be talkin’ like that, ya ‘ear?”
Dariya put her hand on my shoulder and twisted me around to meet her gaze. “‘E’s right. You can never give up. I know this first ‘and. I’m livin’ proof. If I can survive the ‘ell ‘e put me through, then so can you, for your daughter, just like I did for mine. That’s right,” she said when I gasped at her disclosure. “I ‘ave a babe just a few months older than yours. That’s how I’ve been able to nurse your Nicole. But it’s your turn now. ‘Ere,” she said, resting the towel over my shoulder. “Danny, put Nicole right inta Miss ‘annah’s arms. Yeah, like that,” she said when her brother did as she bid.
I balked, afraid she might shake right out of my grasp, but once Nicole was settled across my tummy, my arms magically calmed. Dariya draped the towel over Nicole’s head then reached underneath and pulled my robe down off my shoulder. Nicole latched onto my breast with little assistance, even though it was tight as a drum with milk.
The relief I felt was instantaneous as Nicole sucked greedily and my breast began to soften. A warm flush settled deep within me, wiping the horror of the last day away until it was but a dull ache. After a few minutes, Dariya transferred the towel to my other shoulder.
“Now for the other side,” she suggested.
Nicole was growing drowsy, but had yet to fall asleep. She cheeped in protest when I tugged my nipple from her tight little mouth, but hushed immediately when I rubbed the other side against her rosy, bow-shaped lips. I couldn’t help but sigh at the comforting release she provided, causing tears to slip silently down my cheeks.
From the moment she was born, this is what I’d been waiting for, to bond with her in the most primitive way a human being can bond with a child. To feed and nourish her, to allow her to know me, how I feel and smell, to learn the sound of my voice and the beat of my heart.
I brushed my fingertips along her brow and down over her head before I hooked my pinky under her tiny fingers, marveling at her strength when she tightened them around me. Without letting go, she beat her packed fist against my breast as her mouth worked diligently and her eyes began to flutter closed. After another minute, her mouth slackened for the briefest moment before her chin quivered and she renewed her sucking all over again. She repeated this several times until she was finally full and satisfied and floated off to dreamland.
I stared down at her for another moment before I pulled her away and straightened my robe. Dariya dragged the towel off my shoulder then gave me a small hug with her hands. I lifted Nicole to my shoulder and proceeded to gently pat her back until a very un-lady-like burp erupted from her puckered mouth, making us chuckle, despite the gravity of our situation.
I twisted toward the head of the bed and gently laid my daughter down head first into the deep V of pillows Dariya had shaped for her so she wouldn’t roll. We all stared at Nicole in wonder. I didn’t know what they were thinking, but I was glad Nicole couldn’t understand all the horrible things happening around her. I looked first at Danny, then to his sister.
“Thank you, Dariya. I’m so grateful to you for taking care of Nicole when I couldn’t, and for helping us now. You are truly a blessing, though well disguised at first, I must admit.”
She squeezed my hand then let go. “That’s what I’m here for, Miss ‘annah.”
I gave her a sad smile of gratitude. “I know, and I’m thankful, but…don’t you see? Even now, what you’re doing here, it’s for Greg. He’s still using you.”
“Usin’ ain’t killin’, Miss ‘annah, an’ as long as I do as I’m told, I ‘ave nothing to fear.”
“And what if Danny hadn’t done as he was told? What would’ve happened to you then?” I asked then turned to Danny. “Greg’s using me to get to my husband. He expects Ty to kill for him, but he can’t. He won’t. It’ll never happen. Tyler will never do that again. Ever.”
Danny and Dariya exchanged sad glances then looked back at me, and that’s when I knew, Ty already had.
CHAPTER 51
Hannah
I paced outside the doors to Greg’s den, waiting for Danny to come get me. I’d asked him to take me to see Greg. I needed to ask him to grant me a favor. I knew he probably wouldn’t go for it, but I didn’t think it would hurt to ask. And even if it did, it was worth the risk. Perhaps if Greg felt I was further at his mercy by requesting a favor, then maybe he’d feel more empowered and relent.
It was worth a sh
ot, but the wait to see him was absolutely killing me, standing under guard in the hall, listening to Greg and Danny’s muffled voices argue back and forth. Every cell within me quivered like a beaten animal. I wasn’t naïve anymore; I knew exactly what Greg was capable of. He’d proven that earlier. The memory of that would torment me forever.
The double doors finally swung wide. Danny stood to the side with his arm out. “Master Grig will see you now, Miss ‘annah,” he announced with way too much formality for my comfort.
He seemed cowed somehow, rattled, and that made me even more nervous. When I passed by him on my way into Greg’s office, he stood at attention, his eyes forward and above my head, refusing to meet my worried gaze. My jangled nerves twisted, solidified by the sound of the doors closing firmly behind me. And in front of me, leaning casually against the front edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest, stood Greg. He had a relaxed grin on his face, bored almost, belying the tone of the argument only moments earlier.
“My dear Hannah,” he greeted with exaggerated civility, “I trust you are feeling better after your warm bath?” He held his hand out toward the sofa. “Please, have a seat and tell me what it is I can help you with. Danill says you wanted to ask me something. I’m all ears.”
I sat down and pulled my borrowed sweater tighter around my body, my knees pressed together and my back straight and rigid. Swallowing hard to remove the taste of fear from my mouth, I fisted my hands together and looked up at my host.
“I was, um…wondering…if at all possible…before you get started on your…mission, or whatever…if you would allow me to speak to my husband.” I kept my gaze locked on Greg’s. I refused to let it waver or appear intimidated, even though I was—completely.
Leverage (The Mistaken Series) Page 33