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Realizing I need a weapon, I look around and vainly search for anything to arm myself with. It’s pretty slim pickings, but I spot a pen rolling around on the floor. The men upfront are paying no attention to me and clearly don’t consider me a threat. That’s good, though. Better than good. I extend my foot and place it over the pen, slowly dragging it over to me. Discreetly reaching down, I grab it and tuck it in the front of my leggings. I won’t hesitate to stab someone with it.
We arrive at Anton Petrov’s compound and I recognize it from the satellite photos that Dash had spread across the table when he and Nik were making their plans earlier. The beasts get out of the car and the next thing I know, I’m being led into the huge house. But I only get a quick glimpse of the living quarters with its fancy, most likely stolen artwork and expensive-looking trinkets, because I wind up in an elevator.
The ride down into the bowels of the compound is torturous. I’m doing my best to maintain a stoic appearance, but inside I’m trembling like a leaf in a windstorm. The entire cab reeks of garlic and vodka, and I can only imagine what the beastly duo had for dinner. They’re looking at me in a way that I don’t like at all and I begin to feel like I’m about to be their dessert.
When the door opens, I pull in a deep breath of cleaner air and try not to gag. It’s musty down here, and the further they take me, the more my fear builds. I have no idea where we’re going or what’s going to happen and—
I stop short when I see a couple of cells then trip over my own feet when one of the beastly brutes yanks me forward. In the middle cage, there’s a man sitting on the floor, hunched forward, dark head hanging low. The moment he lifts that shaggy head, my heart speeds up and his familiar teal eyes meet mine.
“Dash!” I cry. The guard can’t unlock the cell fast enough and the moment it swings open, I launch myself inside and straight into Dash’s arms. He’s holding me tight and must be glaring over my head at the guard because I hear the door quickly slam shut behind me and the lock engages. After saying something in Russian, the beast stomps away and Dash pulls back, grasping my face, his gaze searching mine.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Touch you?”
I shake my head, so grateful to be here with Dash and to be able to see with my own eyes that he’s okay. “No, I’m fine. Are you alright?”
“Thank Christ.” Dash heaves out a relieved breath then presses his lips to my forehead.
For the first time, I notice that we’re alone. “Where’s Nik?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Dash tells me in a low voice. “They knocked him out and dragged him away. Since he used to work for Petrov…”
He doesn’t have to finish. The ominous tone in his voice tells me all that I need to know. If Nik is still alive, he probably wishes he wasn’t.
“We need to get out of here,” I say, pulling back and looking over our prison. But Dash makes no move to do anything and the look on his face isn’t something I’ve ever seen before. It’s almost like he’s given up. Hopeless. Resigned to his fate. “Dash?”
“I’ve tried,” he says wearily. There’s an empty, blank look in his eyes that’s scaring me.
“We can’t give up.” I grab his arms and give him a little shake. “What’s wrong? What did they do to you?”
“Nothing,” he says flatly.
But something isn’t right.
“Dash, talk to me, please,” I plead. Where is my James Bond, my fearless protector? Whatever funk he’s in, I need to snap him out of it. Now. “Nik needs you.”
“Nik is probably dead,” he states in a flat voice.
My mouth drops open. “Don’t say that.”
“Petrov will never let any of us leave here alive. Just like the Syrians,” he mumbles. “I’m so goddamn sorry, Lake. I failed you.”
A tremble moves through his body and I realize what’s happening. He’s having some kind of PTSD episode. Although I have no idea what happened to him during his time in Delta, an image of the horrible scars on his side fill my mind.
“Oh, Dash,” I murmur and wrap my arms around him. “You’re okay. I swear, we’re going to escape. And I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
“Such a fierce warrior for a teacher,” he says softly. Emotionlessly. His arms encircle me.
“Preschoolteacher,” I correct him and step back. Grabbing his stubbled jaw, I force him to focus on me. “Listen to me, Dash Slater. You are not going to give up, do you hear me? I don’t know what happened in the past but right nowwe’regetting the hell out of here. I need your help, though. Don’t give up on me. On us.Please.”
When he doesn’t respond, I release his chin and give him a sound slap on the cheek.
“We aren’t dead yet!” I snap.
He blinks, a shocked look on his face, and slowly, I see the life pour back into his blue-green eyes.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Lake,” he hisses, shoving his hands through his hair. Fighting something that I know nothing about.
But I’m going to be with him every step of the way. I might not have ever fired a gun or possess any of the badass genes the Slater Security women have, but I will go down swinging for this man. I will hold him up when he’s on the verge of falling and I will help him through whatever is haunting him right now.
