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“It wasn’t bleeding like that before.” The room spun as she turned her head toward a loud thump which sounded from the darkened hallway. When she turned back, Salina was scowling as she dug into her arm with what looked like a wicked ice pick. She couldn’t feel it, but it certainly looked like it should hurt. “What did you giveme?”
“We have to go!” Grant’s voice sounded hollow against the sudden ringing in her ears. “What’swrong?”
“Gr…Grant?” She tried to focus on his face but all she could see was a swirling mass of black creeping into the edges of the room.Grant. I can’t... Ineed…
“She has a tracking chip in her arm. I can’t….” Salina grunted as she made one last try for it. “There!” A thin metal sliver fell from the tweezers into her otherhand.
“Fuck! That explains why the place is crawling with shitbags!” Grant bent to gather Thalia into his arms. “What the hell did you giveher?”
Salina threw open a set of closet doors and grabbed a handful of clothes, pushing them at Grant. “Put those on her. I gave her a shot of ketamine. I needed her sedated once I realized what I was dealing with.” After pulling off her latex gloves she paused, brushing her hands over her face. “What the hell have you gotten meinto?”
Grant ignored her, frantically pulling Thalia’s arms through the dark blue scrub top. “Grab what you can. You’ve got two minutes if you want to come withus.”
Salina grabbed a wad of gauze and taped it over the hole in Thalia’s arm as Grant pulled her shirt into place. “I will meet you outside in oneminute.”
“No. We leave through the tunnels.” Salina nodded and sprinted down the hall. “Hold on, fossa. I’ve got you.” Grant hoisted her over his shoulder and marched over to the row of cabinets, throwing the doors open one by one. When he found the antibiotics he dumped the trash and raked them and a handful of other various bottles into thebag.
There was no warning before a blast rocked the building. Chunks of concrete and dust rained down onto Grant’s back as he ducked and ran from the room, Thalia unconscious over his shoulder. Bright flashes of light lit the hallway as gunfire erupted near the front of the structure. Grant followed his mental map, familiar with every turn through the maze of doors and hallways, until he reached the cellar door. It was still locked so he knew Salina hadn’t made it. With no time to search for her, he kicked in the door. Gun in hand he rushed down the stairs, stopping only to throw a steel bar across the door. He carried Thalia to the back of the small, dank room and carefully set her down against thewall.
Working in near total darkness, his hands found the edge of the hidden panel with flawless precision. With a grunt, he slid the heavy metal slab away and grabbed for Thalia, pulling her through the low opening and hauling her back over hisshoulder.
As he knew it would, the short, dark tunnel led him into a maze of underground rabbit holes and eventually into the building across the street from Salina’s. When he’d heard the commotion in the street and saw the group of heavily armed men signaling to another driver, it didn’t take long to figure out who they were looking for. He’d quietly stashed his things into anotherborrowedvehicle and parked it behind an abandoned dumpster on the backside of the otherbuilding.
Now that the tracking device was crushed under a pile of rubble, he felt fairly certain they wouldn’t be followed, but he wasn’t taking any chances. After buckling Thalia into the front seat of the truck he’d procured, he reached into the back and unlocked his storage trunk, taking out his sat phone and an extra firearm. It was time to call in a chip ortwo.
* * *
Cold air swirled round Thalia,thewomp, womp, wompsound of an industrial sized fan rattling her bones. She tried to raise her head, to push herself up from the pallet of blood stained blankets, the stench of urine and feces assaulting her senses. Heavy. She felt soheavy.
A scream filled her ears and she opened her eyes, holding her breath and wishing she could disappear. Light flooded the dim room as a door opened at the far end. A man with a gun shoved a small girl into the room ahead of him. The same man who had forced her into the room the daybefore.
The girl’s clothes were torn and her hair hung in tangles around her face. She couldn’t see her bruises or the cuts that spilled the blood running down her neck. She didn’t have to see. She knew it was no different than her own beaten flesh. She watched, hovering somewhere outside herself, as the man slapped the girl, sending her body crashing to the concrete floor. He crouched over top of her and ripped the remains of her tattered clothes from herbody.
She felt her screams rip through her throat. He had to be stopped. She couldn’t let him! She was so little. No! Her next scream died on her lips as the man stopped, his head whipping around to pin her with his evil eyes. She tried to crawl away, to huddle against the evil she saw as he stomped toward her. Light flashed against the sharp steel blade as it was wielded at her face. Her hand flew up and batted it away, but whatever they had given her made her too weak tofight.
Adrenaline pumped through her veins and pulled Thalia from the nightmare with a jolt, her hands grasping frantically at the air aroundher.
“Easy, fossa. There are a lot of buttons here you don’t want to push by accident.” Grant’s voice sounded loud in her ears, sending what felt like shards of glass ripping through her brain. Thalia ripped off the headset and cradled her throbbing head in her hands. The sudden movement, coupled with the now deafening sound of the helicopter blades and the tightening fear in her chest, caused a weird pitch and roll in her stomach, sending bile and God knows what else on a stealth flight through her esophagus straight onto the floor at herfeet.
“Oh, damn. Hopper is going to kick my ass.” Grant shifted and pulled out a tattered rag from his pocket and handed it to her. When she took it from his hand, he grabbed her headset and pushed it into her other hand. She snatched it back up and slipped it over her ears, squeezing her eyes closed against what she was sure was the worst headache she’d everhad.
Grabbing his own mic, he motioned for her to use hers. “You have to speak into…” Grant chuckled when she flinched and cringed back against the seat. “Okay. No talking.” She nodded weakly, cradling her head again. “Just…try not to throw up again.Okay?”
Ugh. I want to die.She wiped her parched lips with the rag, but it did nothing for the vile taste in her mouth. The helicopter dipped and her stomach lurched again.No.She glanced at Grant.I want to put a bullet in his knee and thendie.
Grant offered her a sheepish grin, mouthing the wordsorry.Crap. He was being nice again. Okay, so maybe blowing out his knee was a little harsh. Even with the worst headache on record, she knew he’d saved her life. Again. There was that, and the fact that he was flying the helicopter. She ran her tongue over her teeth, her mouth so dry it stuck to the enamel. God, what she wouldn’t give for a glass of water. To hell with the glass. She’d drink out of a puddle of mud if he would just land this thing within a hundred yards ofone.
She cleared her throat, wincing at the sound of her own voice as it echoed through the headset. “Ahh,” she coughed and tried again. “Got anywater?”
Grant shook his head. “We will be landing in fourteen minutes.” She could tell he was trying to keep his voice as low as possible. He was going to kill her with kindness. Her lips curled into a somewhat involuntary smile. It was something she hadn’t had much use for lately. It felt almoststrange.
She closed her eyes and sank back into the hard bucket seat, trying to organize her thoughts. She had a million and two questions, but nothing was going to be asked or answered until they landed. She usually didn’t mind flying, but she could safely cross puking in a helicopter off her list of things to try in thefuture.
Grant watched her from the corner of his eye as he maneuvered the chopper into the landing zone. He hadn’t known many women in his life, but the ones who came to mind resembled nothing of the tough-as-nails woman who sat quietly in the seat next to him. Other than throwing up in his friend’s multi-million dollar aircraft, she’d handled waking up at thirty-five-hundred feet pretty well, all thingsconsidered.
She’d been surprising him from the minute she’d opened her eyes on that beach. Not many people could impress him these days, and she’d managed to do it at nearly every turn. He kept thinking about the look in her eyes when he’d issued that brilliant declaration back at Salina’s. He could have kicked himself for being so damnthoughtless.
She’d been a slave, for fuck’s sake. Most likely a sex slave. God only knew what nightmares she’d lived through. He had no right or business throwing things like spanking and bondage around so casually. The look in her eyes when he’d said it was nothing if not pure need. Aside from confusing the hell out of him, her reaction to him and his thoughtlesspromiseinspired an entirely different line of questioning. He was going to have to navigate these waters very, very carefully. First and foremost, he needed to find out who the hell she was. That, he feared, was going to be one hell of achat.
