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When Kesera pressed the glass to her lower lip, nothing had ever tasted as good as that juice. Sky gulped it down, wanting more.
“More? Yes?”
“Y-yes, please?” Her voice was hoarse. Sky slowly looked down at herself. There was a dressing over the inside of her right arm. Her lower left calf ached intermittently. She felt too weak to move much. Every joint in her body ached and Sky wondered why. She tried to remember, but her brain was stuck in neutral.
The soup arrived, and another woman, short and heavy, wearing a white apron around her gray dress, gave the tray to Kesera. She kept her eyes down, not looking at Sky, and quickly left the room. The soup smelled good. Sky watched Kesera placed the soup on a tray with wheels, bringing it over to the bed.
“Our chef, who is the best in our country, cooks for the Don. And now, you get to taste his wonderful soup.” She lifted the spoon, blew on it to cool it and then pressed it onto Sky’s lower lip so she could sip it.
“That tastes… so good…,” Sky whispered. She tried lifting her hand. Every attempt, she felt it getting a little stronger. Sky knew the food would help, and she eagerly consumed the noodles, carrots, celery, and chicken in the thick, delicious broth. By the time she was done, she felt her strength begin to return.
“Where am I?” she asked the nurse again, her voice stronger.
“Ah, Señorita, I am not able to say,” Kesera said, giving her a sad look. “You will know soon, I promise. The Don is flying here. He will arrive tomorrow morning. He will tell you everything. I am only to care for you. Si?”
Sky slowly lifted her hand and rubbed her aching brow. Now, she had a splitting headache. Due to the drug? How did she get drugged? Why was she here? Nothing made sense, but she had no access to her memory, either.
Her lids grew heavy.
“Ah, you need to sleep a little, Señorita. I will put the bed down.” She patted Sky’s shoulder. “Just rest, rest…”
Sky nodded and felt the bed move her back into a prone position. She sighed, feeling better but feeling utterly spent. It bothered her she couldn’t remember anything. The birds were singing melodically. It soothed her frayed emotional state. Who was the Don? Kesera’s face took on a fearful look when she spoke his name, as if she were afraid of this man. Or was Don the man’s name? Her mind tumbled in free fall and Sky couldn’t hold her focus. The songs of the birds lulled her into a deep, healing sleep.
CHAPTER 10
June 17
Sky snapped awake,breathing in rasps, sweaty, her heart pounding. It was dark. She dizzily sat up in the bed, looking around. Faint moonlight filtered in through the black wrought iron bars across the window. Terror seized her as she remembered the seaplane landing and men in a raft paddling toward them.
“Oh, God…” she whispered, pressing her hands against her eyes. Wild with fear, Sky realized she’d been kidnapped. The Russian’s face glared back at her in her mind, and she forced open her eyes, breathing raggedly. She had to escape! She had to get out of here!
Sky pushed her legs across the bed, the sheet and blanket tangling between them. Dizziness assailed her. Gripping the edge of the mattress with both her hands, she gulped, trying to steady herself.Kidnapped. Captured.The words thundered through her head in time with the frantic beat of her heart. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the murky darkness of the quiet room. Scanning it, she found one door that was closed. There was another room, the door partially open, a tiny light dimly shining in it. Sky looked around the large room, realizing she was in a bedroom. But who’s? Where was she?
She slid herself off the bed. Her knees buckled as her ankles caught in the sheet. With a cry, she slammed to the wooden floor. The wood was cool against her sweaty cheek and she lay there, stunned. Pushing her hands against the polished surface, she tried to get up, but couldn’t. Her legs were entangled in the bedding, and weakness still gripped her. Tears squeezed from her tightly shut eyes.
Cal! Oh, God… Cal!
Sky’s mind roiled and tilted. Her emotions were amplified, ripping through her, making her shaky and unable to think coherently. There was a brushing sound against one of the windows. She slowly sat up, trying to pull her legs free of the binding sheet. Looking toward the sound, Sky realized it was a large leaf slapping against the window because of the wind. Gulping, her eyes adjusting, she saw two large wooden dressers, an antique armoire, and the door that opened to another room. Was there a way out of this place? An escape? Where the hell was she?
Swallowing painfully, Sky forced herself to sit up more. She was shaking, and she could feel remnants the drug still lingering in her bloodstream. Fear tore through her as she realized how alone she really was. The menacing glare of the Russian’s black eyes drilled into her when she closed her eyes. Brushing her leg, Sky remembered feeling pain. Rubbing the area that was now tender, she examined herself, trying to take stock, trying to calm down and think.
Sweat was dripping off her, the blue gown she wore clinging to her body. She saw a bandage on the inside of her right arm, touching it with trembling fingers.Thirsty.She was dying of thirst. Spotting a pitcher of water on a silver tray on top of one of the dressers, Sky pushed carefully into a crouch, testing her strength. This time, as she stood up more slowly, the dizziness didn’t fell her. Arms raised out from the sides of her body in order to balance herself, she walked unsurely toward the dresser. The outside of the glass pitcher was beaded, ice cubes melting inside it.
Taking the pitcher in both hands, Sky crouched and set it down on the floor. She didn’t have the coordination to pour the water out of it standing up. She slowly stood up once again, picking up the nearby glass. Sitting on the floor cross legged, it took both her hands to hold the pitcher and tip the spout downward. Water sloshed all around. Not caring, Sky gripped the glass, drinking the contents in several gulps. Closing her eyes, she felt like a camel who had been out on the desert for too long. For the next ten minutes, she filled and drank until there was no more water left in the pitcher.
Almost miraculously, her head cleared. Her thoughts began to string together. Sky pushed to her feet. She saw she was wearing a blue hospital gown with nothing beneath it. Grimacing, she stumbled her way toward the partially opened door. Inside the large, tiled room was a shower, a toilet, and washstand. Her legs were quivering almost uncontrollably now. The smell of fear, sweat, and the drug stench clung to her body. She sat down on a nearby vanity chair, staring longingly at the shower. Torn between getting clean and testing the door on the other side of the room to see if it was open, Sky tried to find out what time it was. There was no clock in the bathroom.
Heaving to her feet, she felt steadier. Every minute, she was getting stronger, more clear-headed. Her mind sprang to Cal, and she felt her heart wrench. She loved him so much. What must he be going through right now knowing she had been kidnapped? Step by step, Sky made it to the thick, wooden door. Sliding her hand around the black iron knob, she quietly twisted it, praying it was open.
The door was locked. Sky tried tugging on it, but she was in no shape to do anything physical, much less tear a door of this immense size open. Instinctively, she knew Vlad’s father was behind her kidnapping. Since Vlad had died, she’d felt a kernel of terror gnawing deep in her soul, like grit an oyster would have rubbing against its raw vulnerable innards. She’d never brought it up to Cal because they were both stressed out from nearly dying in Peru. All Sky had wanted was the peace of his home and his love to help heal her.
Why hadn’t she told Cal about her deepest fear? That Vlad’s father, Yerik Alexandrov, would come after her? That he would somehow blame her for Vlad’s death? Wiping her mouth, Sky turned and grimly walked to the dressers. There was just enough moonlight to look into each drawer. They were filled with women’s clothing, some casual, others, elegant, worth a great deal of money and all designer fashions. Sky rummaged through several drawers, tearing clothes out, trying to find something to wear that would fit her. She finally found a blue tee and a pair of wheat colored linen slacks. There were no shoes to be found. That wasn’t good if she could manage to escape.
She walked to the two windows. Each had black wrought iron bars across them. Sky opened the first window. A gust of humid wind, heavy with the scent of rain upon it, burst strongly into the stuffy room. Sky saw lightning somewhere in the far distance. The full moon was being hidden by the coming storm. Peering out, she could see what she thought was jungle surrounding the house, with tropical looking plants growing next to the villa’s wall.
Sliding her fingers around the bars, Sky tried to move them. They didn’t budge. And she couldn’t slide between the bars because they were set too closely together. Another form of panic began to gnaw at her. Quietly closing the window, Sky walked into the bathroom. There were plush pink terrycloth towels all neatly stacked on the cream-colored tile counter. She desperately needed a shower in order to get the drug smell and sweat off her skin.
As Sky washed with a pink hard-milled soap that smelled like roses, she cleaned herself up, discovering a bottle of shampoo on a tray sitting on the tile wall of the shower. Within twenty minutes, her hair was washed, and she was clean. Her mind was starting to work. Finding a brush and comb, Sky got her hair into some semblance of order. There were no bras or panties to be found in any of the drawers. She slipped into the tee and the slacks, wishing desperately for a pair of shoes.
