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“I’m going to get us out of this mess, I swear it. I just need a little time.”
Salkov steps in from behind me. “Aww, isn’t this sweet,” she says, her voice like nails raking across a chalkboard. She hits me across the back of my shoulder. “Get a move on, lover boy. Quit dragging your feet, or I’ll shoot your girl between the eyes myself.”
I return my attention to Dani, giving her an apologetic look. “We have to get in the car.”
She looks downright horrified. I don’t blame her. After a moment, though, she slowly climbs into the back of the vehicle. I think she understands as well as I do that the only way out of this is to be taken against our will. I slide into the seat next to her, one of the guards shutting the door firmly behind me.
Dani takes my hand, giving my fingers a light squeeze. Neither of us say anything as we drive off. We pass the patrol car stationed outside the safehouse. Dani winces when we see the FBI agents dead, shot straight through the windshield, their eyes still open in shock.
Chapter 22
Dani
They put bags over our heads. It smells sour and musty. The least they could have done was wash the damn things, but can I honestly expect kidnappers to have that level of consideration?
I’m not sure how long we’re on the road. I try to count the number of stops. Every now and then, I catch a whiff of gasoline and stale air. A gas station? It’s hard to tell. And given the fact that I probably have a severe concussion from the explosion, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve been in and out of consciousness for the duration of the ride. There’s a good chance we’re several states away by now. The only thing keeping me from hyperventilating and freaking out is the press of Luka’s hand in mine.
He’s beside me, his warmth acting as an anchor.
My panic doesn’t truly set in until a few hours later. How much farther do we have to go? How many hours have passed? I need to get home. Has anyone noticed I’ve gone missing? Tabitha’s going to worry. I have to tell her I’m alright, that everything’s going to be okay.
Luka squeezes my hand. I can’t see him, but I’m pretty sure he knows I’m having a panic attack. The roughness of his palm and the curl of his fingers is the only thing keeping me from flying off the edge.
We haven’t been able to say a word to each other. Every time one of us so much as shifts in our seat, the driver up front shouts at us to keep it down. If this is the level of scrutiny we have to deal with from here on out, it’ll be next to impossible to formulate a plan to get the hell away.
After what feels like a million years on the road, I sense the car rolling to a stop. The loud roar of the concrete highway is suddenly replaced with the rough crunch of dirt and gravel. We’re somewhere remote, that much I can tell. When the vehicle lurches to a halt, I let myself hope. Maybe Luka and I can make a break for it.
I quickly realize this is an impossibility.
A door swings open. There’s angry shouting in Russian. Before I know it, Luka slips from my fingers.
“Let go of me!” he growls.
“Luka!” I scream after him. Someone opens the door on my side of the car and grabs me roughly by the arms, dragging me away. I kick and I scream. “Luka!”
“Dani!” he roars after me.
I instinctively stop fighting, deliberately becoming a dead weight. If these people think I’m going to willingly walk to a quiet spot where they can kill me, they’ve got another think coming. The guards who holding me yank me along with them, my shins and feet scraping the ground. I don’t hear Luka anymore, an alarming thought in and of itself.
I’m thrown onto the ground hard, an unceremoniousguhrushing out of my lungs as I land. Someone yanks my hood off. My vision is blurry, struggling to regain focus after so long in the dark. They’ve got a bright light on me—blinding. It takes me much too long to realize who I have to thank for the harsh welcome.
“God, you’re heavy,” Pritt grumbles.
I scramble to my feet, lunging at her with what little strength I can muster. I’m going to tear her fucking eyes out. Unfortunately, I’m no match. I’m too beaten and bruised.
“Gomez is dead!” I scream at her. “How could you betray us?!”
“Easily, as it turns out.”
“How much are they giving you?”
“They’ve promised me ten million dollars.”
My nostrils flare. “Promised? They haven’t even paid you yet?”
“No, but they’ve assured me once your boy toy hacks into his brothers’ accounts, there’ll be plenty.”
“You… Were you there when the bomb went off?”
