by Tiffany Snow
“Yes, what can I do for you?” she asked, polite but to the point.
“I’m looking for a man who was admitted last night,” I said. “He had a gunshot wound and he . . . he didn’t make it.” At that, her expression softened. “I’d like to see his body. I was a friend of his and I’d really like to say goodbye.” My voice cracked on the last part and I flushed as I cleared my throat, blinking back tears.
“Let me see what I can do,” she said. “What was his name?”
“Clay. Devon Clay. Though he might have been admitted as a John Doe.” That last part had occurred to me once I realized how unlikely it was that Vega would tell them Devon’s real name. “A helicopter dropped him off around one in the morning.”
She typed on her computer for a moment. I looked around, taking in the usual sights and smells of a hospital. The lobby was nice and it was obvious they’d tried to make it more comfortable, but a hospital was still a hospital.
“I’m sorry, miss . . .” she said.
I glanced back at her. She was frowning as she studied her screen.
“. . . there was a John Doe brought in last night, but he didn’t die.”
Hope flared inside like I’d swallowed a sparkler on the Fourth of July. “Are you sure it’s the right man?”
“Gunshot wound to the back,” she said. “Is that him?”
“Yes.”
“Miss, he didn’t die. Surgery removed the bullet and he was stabilized early this morning.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I couldn’t help the smile that was so wide it felt as though it was going to crack my face. Vega had lied to me. Big surprise. “So he’s stabilized?” I repeated.
She nodded. “Looks like he’s going to make a full recovery.”
I had to see him. “Can you tell me his room number, please?” I asked.
Glancing back at her screen, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but he was transferred to private care a short while ago.”
My smile faded. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s no longer here.”
“Where did he go?” Panic was rising in my chest.
“I’m sorry, but we weren’t given that information.”
“But . . . but I have to find him,” I said, desperate now. “He means everything to me, and if he’s still alive . . .”
“I’m very sorry,” she said sympathetically. “But I can’t help you.”
I nodded. “It’s okay. I understand,” I said. Walking away, I tried to think.
Devon was alive.
But . . . where was he? Where had they taken him?
I stepped outside and warm air hit my face along with a rush of pure rage. She’d known Devon was alive, that he was going to make it, and she’d lied. Then she’d taken him away and hidden him from me.
The need for revenge burned like acid in my gut. I started walking, thinking. An idea, half-formed, occurred to me and I ducked into a store. After buying what I needed, I headed back to the hotel.
Several hours later, night had fallen and I used my cell to dial the number I’d memorized. A man answered.
“I’m the one you’re supposed to be transporting,” I said, watching the car from where I was sitting in an outdoor café a hundred yards away. I’d tipped the doorman to give a burner phone I’d picked up to whoever showed up for me. “But I’m not coming. Tell Vega the deal has changed. I know Devon’s alive, and I’m not giving her the password until I see him. I’ll call back in thirty minutes.” I hung up.
I took a deep breath, wondering if this was the wisest course of action. Probably not. But I had to see Devon, had to see that he’d made it.
The next thirty minutes passed in slow motion. When I dialed again, Vega answered.
“You lied to me,” were the first words I said.
“Exceedingly well, I might add.”
My eyes narrowed. “I want to see Devon.”
“And I want the password.”
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“You’re just too precious,” she said. “This whole power play you’re trying to do. I find it amusing.”
I gritted my teeth. Never had I wanted to physically assault someone as much as I wanted to hurt her at this moment.
“This isn’t a game,” I retorted.
“Oh, but it is,” she said. “And one you’re really not equipped to play. Frankly, you’re not worth my time. So I’m going to make a deal of my own.”
“What do you want?”
“Sweetie, I hate to disappoint you, but you’re not my partner in this.” She paused. “You’re my collateral.”
Men surrounded me in the blink of an eye, all with very dangerous-looking muzzles pointed in my general direction. Carefully, I raised my hands in the universal signal of surrender.
Someone pushed through the line and André Levin appeared in front of me.
“Well, there you are, just as she said,” he said, looking at me. “Bring her.” He turned and walked away.
Two men grabbed me up, hauling me between them as they hustled me into the backseat of a running car. Levin got in after them and the car shot down the street.
“Well, well. I certainly hadn’t expected to see you again,” he said. Reaching out, he trailed the back of his hand down my cheek.
I jerked away. “Keep your hands off me,” I snarled.
Levin got right up in my face. He was several inches taller than me, quite a bit wider, and outweighed me twice over. To say he was intimidating was putting it mildly.
“I’d suggest you take a sweeter tone. Your life is now in my hands, courtesy of the woman you’ve tried to fuck over.” His voice was low and menacing and I swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to end well for me, I was sure of it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“I think you do,” Levin said. “And you’re going to tell me the password she wants from you.”
“Why would I do that?”
He pushed a hand into my hair and grabbed a handful, jerking me toward him. I bit back a cry of pain.
“Because you’re the one responsible for hacking my system,” he hissed, “and costing me three hundred million dollars.”
Vega had told him I was the hacker? Then she’d given me to him. Oh God . . .
Levin stared hard into my eyes for a long moment. I swallowed, squeezing my hands into fists so they wouldn’t shake. Finally, he smiled and I breathed a sigh of relief as he turned away.
Without warning, he turned back and coldcocked me right in the jaw. Pain exploded in a blinding flash.
Ice-cold water splashed my face and I jerked awake with a startled gasp. I tried to sit up, but didn’t get far.
Both my wrists were tied above my head and I was lying flat on something. My ankles were tied, too, one to each corner. I blinked the water out of my eyes, choking and coughing to get it out of my lungs.
“Now she’s awake,” I heard someone say.
Focusing my eyes, I saw Levin standing nearby while another man stood over me. He’d been the one with the water and the bucket still dangled from his fingers. Levin spoke.
“What’s the password?” he asked.
I didn’t answer, still trying to get my breath.
“Was that your boyfriend?” Levin asked me. “Our gallant and chivalrous mutual friend who fought for you at Club Elegance?”
I remained silent.
Levin sighed and glanced at the other man, then gave a curt nod.
I braced myself, but the blow still hurt, the flat of his palm stinging like fire against my cheek. Before I could take a breath, he’d hit me again and this time I tasted blood.
But it wasn’t anything I hadn’t gone through before, and I didn’t make a sound.
“I said, what’s the password,” Levin repeated. At my continued silence, he said, “That password is worth three hundred million dollars.”
He saw the look on my face and laughed. “Indeed. An exchange. I get the pas
sword out of you—by any means necessary, I might add—and I get my money back.
“It seems the British don’t quite have . . . the stomach for the nasty business of making people talk. Too bad for you that we Russians have no such qualms.”
I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts drifting away as I coaxed them down the tunnel inside my head. I didn’t want to be around for whatever Levin had in store for me when he realized I wasn’t going to talk. That password was my only leverage with Vega. I had no doubt she’d probably tell Devon I was dead, too, whenever he was well enough to ask about me.
The very thought of him made pain knife through me. I hoped he was okay, wherever she’d taken him. I prayed he’d think to try to find me, to not blindly accept what Vega said, as I had.
The last thought was instinctual. I knew I was in dire straits. Who knew how much time I had left before I wouldn’t be able to survive Levin’s attempt to get the password from me?
The man next to me used a knife and slit my shirt from hem to neckline. The cotton fell aside. I still stared at the ceiling. He began cutting, tracing a line in my stomach, but I didn’t flinch.
“This one’s accustomed to pain,” Levin mused. “Perhaps her boyfriend likes it rough. Either way, this isn’t going to work. Go get Izzy.”
I heard the words as though from a long ways away. I was floating on a river, the water covering my ears, and staring up at a cloudless sky. I was alone. The blood on my abdomen tickled as it flowed in tiny rivulets, as though unseen fingers brushed my skin. Pain, flowing out of me.
A sharp cry penetrated my haze and I blinked twice, confused. The man was no longer standing over me and I turned my head to see what was going on.
There was a little girl in the room, maybe seven or eight years old. She was tiny, with scrawny arms and legs and long, tangled brown hair. The man who’d been hitting me had her by the hair, his hand shoved up underneath the tattered dress she wore. Her eyes were wide and filled with terror. He jerked her hair and she screamed again, her eyes filling with tears.
“Stop that!” I pulled hard on my arms, but the bonds around my wrists held firm. “Leave her alone, asshole!”
“This is Izzy,” Levin said, stepping forward from where he’d been silently observing me. “She’s quite pretty, isn’t she? You wouldn’t believe how much she’d fetch on the open market. But there are always more where she came from.”
The man produced a knife and held it so I could see.
“Shall she die today?” Levin asked me. “You can save her. Just tell me what I want to know.”
The girl’s panicked eyes swiveled between me and the blade. I couldn’t tell if she understood English or not, but she knew well enough what the knife meant. She tried to squirm away, but the man switched his grip from her hair to her jaw, squeezing so tightly that she whimpered in pain.
“I’ll give you the password,” I said. “Now stop!” I had no choice. The girl . . . I couldn’t let them hurt her.
“Excellent!” Levin cried, smiling. His teeth were very white. “We just needed the right persuasion, it seems.”
I glared at him.
“What’s her name? The woman who wants this password so badly?” he asked.
“Vega.”
“Now, tell me his name. The boyfriend who helped you break my system.”
His name. Even I knew that Devon’s name was something that shouldn’t be told under any circumstances. I hesitated.
“Ever seen a child sexually assaulted, Ivy?” Levin asked. “It’s not pleasant, I can assure you.” At my silence, he turned to the man with Izzy—
“Clay,” I blurted. “Devon Clay.” Tears burned my eyes but I blinked them back. “I’ll tell you what you want, but you have to untie me and give me the girl.” My eyes burned with hatred as I stared at him. A man who’d use a child in this way deserved the same fate as Jace.
Levin considered for a moment, then motioned to the man with Izzy. He stood, shoving her aside, and walked to the cot where I lay. Taking the knife, he cut the ropes holding my wrists, then cut the ones around my ankles.
In a flash, I was up and hurrying to the girl. She seemed to know I wanted to protect her, or maybe it was just the instinct of women trying to protect themselves from men, but either way she flung herself into my arms. I crouched down onto the floor, holding her close and shielding her with my body.
“Such a maternal instinct,” Levin jeered. “I do hope you and Devon plan on having children someday. Now tell me: Who does Devon work for?”
“He works for Vega. They’re called the Shadow,” I said. “Devon is an agent.”
Understanding dawned. “Ah. I see. And here I’d always thought those rumors were mere speculation and overwrought imaginations at work.
“Now the password, if you please.”
“The edge of hell. No spaces.”
I clutched Izzy to me, waiting for more, but Levin merely snapped his fingers and the other guy opened the door to the little room we were in. In a moment, they were gone. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Izzy didn’t let go, so I kept holding her, my heart sick at the thought of what they’d done to her or would do. I didn’t hold out a lot of hope that I’d be able to escape or that rescue was coming. The only one to rescue me was Devon, who may not be in any kind of condition to search for me. And while maybe I’d have a chance of escaping on my own, there was no way I’d leave the girl behind.
“Izzy,” I said. “Is that your name?”
She shook her head, buried against my neck.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Ezabell.”
“Hi, Ezabell,” I said. “I’m Ivy. How old are you?”
“Eight.”
She spoke English and had an accent. British or Irish or something like that. It was hard to tell, the way she was mumbling against my neck.
“How did you get here, Ezabell?”
“A man took me from the playground,” she said. Her hands were fisted in my shirt. She began to cry. “I want my mom.”
“Shh, sweetheart, I know you do,” I tried to soothe her. It was one thing for me to get taken and locked up like this, and quite another to see them do it to an innocent little girl. I’d known the danger that surrounded Devon, though I hadn’t counted on this happening. Ezabell was just an innocent bystander.
I studied the room we were in. There was a window above us, kind of on the smallish side, but I could see lights from the city outside. The only furniture was the cot I’d been tied to. The room itself was tiny, not even ten feet wide.
“Come with me,” I said to Ezabell, disengaging her arms from around my waist and taking her by the hand. I tried the door, which of course was locked. Then I inspected the cot. If I set aside the paper-thin mattress on top, it was just a tough net strung up over metal bars.
I crouched down again, taking a closer look. I pried at the netting, which was knotted with a thin plastic-coated rope, and tied to the frame. But the knots could be pried off the netting, if your fingers were small and nimble enough.
Sitting back on on the floor, I began to work. If I could get the netting off the top bar, maybe I could take some of the bed apart, at least enough to give me a weapon I could swing at someone. The standoff I had with Levin wouldn’t last long, I was sure of it.
I folded the mattress over on itself and patted it. “Come lie down,” I encouraged Ezabell, but she just looked at me. Her eyes were haunted and looked too old for her. The same eyes I’d seen in the mirror a thousand times.
“I swear, no one is going to take you from me,” I promised her. At least, not while I am alive. I’d die before I let anyone lay another hand on her.
Cautiously, she eased down onto the mattress, scooting it on the linoleum floor until it was closer to me. I smiled at her and went back to work.
I didn’t have a watch, but saw the sky begin to lighten outside the window. Ezabell eventually fell asleep, curled in a little ball on the mattress. The knots were making
my fingers bleed, but I was almost there. Three more and I’d be able to slip the metal frame off.
Then I heard steps outside the door.
“Wake up, Ezabell!” I hissed urgently. I grabbed her and scooted her off the mattress, throwing it over the top of the cot and pulling her into my arms as the door opened.
Ezabell was silent. I was sure she was confused since I’d jerked her awake from a dead sleep, but her gaze was on the man standing in the doorway. She shrank farther into my arms.
“What do you want?” I asked the man. It was a different guy than had been in here earlier.
“Boss is making me bring you both food,” he said, “though I was against it.” He smiled and it had a cruel edge to it. “I’ve found people tend to be more . . . agreeable when they’re hungry.”
I didn’t reply and he tossed a plastic bag at me. I caught it, but kept my eye on him. I didn’t like the way he was looking at Ezabell and my muscles tightened, ready to fight him if he came for her. But he left, the door closing and locking securely behind him.
From the bag, I pulled out a couple of shrink-wrapped sandwiches and gave one to Ezabell. She ate while I kept working on the cot. Finally, the last knot slipped free and I was able to get at the frame.
It was locked together, but if I used my feet against one side and pulled on the other, I had enough strength and leverage to pull the metal apart. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Afraid the noise would attract attention, I snatched up one of the rods and hurried to stand behind the door.
About three feet long, the rod was hollow, but sturdy, and I held it like I would a baseball bat. I waited a few minutes, but no one came. Lowering the rod, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Ezabell was watching me, her half-eaten sandwich held in her hand. Her eyes were wide and her face pale.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “They’ll get mad.”
I crouched down next to her. “That’s probably true,” I said. “But I have to try. If we want to get out of here, I’m going to need you to do what I tell you to. Can you do that?”
She nodded.
“Even if you’re afraid, or I tell you to run, I need you to do it, okay?”