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“It’s a pick. Comes down to almost the same thing.”
The lock gave way and Annie pulled free of the cuff. “Thank you.”
“Is your wrist raw?”
“A little. Nothing to worry about. Declan? They have the American ambassador. And his wife. She’s right here in this shed.”
“She’s already out. One of my guys has her.”
“Is she okay?”
“She will be.”
“There was another American. Someone from the embassy.”
“He’s gone.”
“Oh God! These horrible men—”
“You can be as upset as you want later. Right now, your job is to do as I say. You understand me, Princess?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“That’s who you are.”
“I’m not. I’m Annie.”
“You’re the Princess Anoushka,” Dec said coldly. He took her hand and drew her to her feet, yanked off his jacket and wrapped it around her. “And I’m here to get you back to your boyfriend, safe and sound.”
“My what?”
“Your fiancé. The Tharsalonian king.”
“Declan. Whatever you think you know—”
“Can you walk?”
“Will you listen? He is not—”
“You want to argue? Or you want to get the fuck out of here?”
She started to respond. Then she nodded.
“Okay,” Dec said. “How do you feel?”
“I feel fine.”
“I know you’re probably a little weak—”
“I am never weak!”
Jesus, she’d almost snapped his head off. Dec wanted to laugh—but he didn’t. Instead, he handed her a water bag. Her hands shook and he covered them with his and lifted the bag to her mouth.
“Not too much,” he warned. “This is no time to get sick.”
She nodded, slowed down, then let him take the water bag from her.
“What I meant about you feeling a little weak was that I’m sure you haven’t had much to eat or to drink, and you’ve been chained up here for hours.” He paused. “Unless I’m wrong and these gentlemen fed you steak and champagne before whirling you onto the dance floor.”
