Page 85 of Queen of Ruin

“Raven?”

“Valentina?” Raven’s soft tones flood my ears as soon as she answers. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, listen. That little girl, Tabitha. Can you run a search on her and the park she was taken from and cross-reference it with everything we have on any Armenians who entered the county in the past six months?”

“Armenians?” Raven asks, though from the faint clack of her keyboard, she’s already on it. “Anything else?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thanks.” As I hang up, the skies open and rain pours down hard and fast as if someone’s flicked a switch. Each cold droplet of rain suddenly alerts me to the numerous open scratches and cuts over my bare arms and I wince.

“Armenians.” Bradley appears beside me, phone in hand. “You remembered something?”

Ruslan joins him, wearing the same hopeful look that Bradley has on his own face.

“I remember everything,” I reply, and my heart squeezes at the utter delight that crosses their faces. “But there’s no time for that right now. We have to get to Diego.”

33

VALENTINA

Frank has a change of clothes in the boot of his car and I’m quickly able to trade the alcohol-soaked clothes for an oversized T-shirt and black cargo pants. It takes a little creativity in order to get them to fit comfortably, but it’ll do for the drive.

“If he’s telling the truth,” Bradley says from the front seat of the car as we weave through the city, “there’s no telling what we’ll find there.”

“And if he’s not telling the truth,” says Ruslan from beside me, “he’ll be exactly where we left him.”

“And I’ll cut his balls off,” I mutter while staring down at my cut forearm. Ruslan’s doing his best to apply on-the-go first aid to the worst of the cuts. Luckily, adrenaline and the pain from the blow to my head are keeping most of the pain at bay, but every touch from Ruslan as he cleans my wounds is unpleasant. Every stroke of cotton pulls at cuts, and every brush of antiseptic feels too rough.

Diego was so gentle with me.

I miss that.

I miss him.

I pray we’re not out of time. As pissed as I am that he left, I just want him back with me so I can yell at him.

“Two squads will meet us there,” Bradley says, glancing up from his phone as he finishes making plans. “If Diego is there, we will get him out.”

The silence that follows remains heavy with everything no one dares to say. It’s been hours since Diego left and hours since that bastard handed him over. Anything could have happened to him in the time we’ve been tracking him, and there’s no guarantee he’d even be there anymore.

My heart squeezes tightly, and I cast my gaze out the window until Bradley turns slowly in his seat and faces me.

“You said you remember everything,” he says. “Tell me.”

“I can’t,” I murmur. “I can’t think clearly.”

“We have time,” Frank says as he expertly weaves through several cars driving far too slow for my liking. “We won’t be there for at least seven minutes.”

Seven minutes is far too long.

“Valentina.” Ruslan’s hands quickly secure the last bandage around my forearm. “You have to tell us what happened so we have an idea of what or who we’re walking into here. We all know they don’t really want Diego. He’s collateral. They want you. But who and why?”

I turn back to him as he rests back in his seat.

“You need to tell us.”