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I can’t believe I’m accepting my fate here. But what choice do I have?
Uri holds on a little longer, as though he needs to make doubly sure that I mean it. His arms feel even more massive now that they’re engulfing me, leaving no room for anything other than resignation.
When he drops them, I feel cold immediately. Wrapping my own arms around my body to make up for the loss of heat, I turn around slowly to face him.
“You’re saying that you will let me go when things are safe again?”
“Yes.” I’m looking for signs that he’s lying, but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t falter. He doesn’t look away.
“Soon?”
“Depends on your definition of ‘soon.’”
“A couple of days?”
His eyebrows rise, which makes my heart sink. “Then no,narushitel. Not soon.”
I try to tell myself that it’s okay. I mean, he could have lied, right? Maybe that means he’s not lying about the ‘letting me go’ part, either?
“How long?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t give you a timeline. The men I’m dealing with are cold-blooded killers.”
“What does that make you?”
My brain screeches in protest.Why the hell are you asking questions you don’t want the answers to? Idiot!
His eyes home in on me like a heat-seeking missile. “All you need to know is that you’re safe here. As long as you follow the rules and listen, everything will be fine.”
It’s up there as one of the more subtle threats I’ve ever heard, but there’s no doubt that it is in fact a threat.Stay and you’ll be safe. Leave and you’re a dead woman.
Right. Real freaking comforting.
But the sad truth is, I’m running low on options. There’s no way out of this basement and even if there was, I’m facing a legion of surveillance and security guards. Not to mention a high freaking fence with Garfield-exposing nails everywhere. I’m at Uri’s mercy. For as long as he says I am.
This right here—this is why I avoid intimacy. Nothing good ever comes out of it.
His eyes drop to my wrist and only then do I realize that I’m rubbing my charm link between my thumb and my index finger. I drop it and push my hands behind my back.
What would you do, Ziva?
The moment I ask the question, the answer pops into my head. Ziva would play him. She would let him think that she was going to be the perfect little hostage. She would lull him into a false sense of security and then she would take the opportunity when it presented itself. As soon as he slipped up, she’d run like hell.
So that’s what I’m gonna do, too.
“Okay, I’ll stay put. But I would like to be comfortable here.”
He frowns and looks around pointedly. “You have everything you’ll ever need.”
I scowl. “Except windows.”
“If they can’t see you, they can’t kill you,” he replies flatly.
I shudder. Is it possible to see death and violence so much that you become flippant about it? He’s throwing around the idea of murder like it doesn’t mean a damn thing.
“I need to breathe!” I protest. “I need natural sunlight! Vitamin D. Do you know how important Vitamin D is for your skin? Very.”
“I’ll get you supplements.”
