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He heaved a heavy breath. She had a very valid point. Fuck. What were they going to do now?
* * *
Broken piecesof awareness filtered through Celeste’s consciousness until she became fully aware, but she felt disconnected, as if she was coming out from under anesthesia. The lethargy lifted bit by bit until she was able to open her eyes. She stared at an unfamiliar…commercial-looking ceiling above her, filled with wires and pipes and ducts.
Where the hell was she?
The last thing she could remember was discovering something profound…figuring out…something. What was it? She sat up, swallowing hard, her mouth dry, when she found herself in a small room with just the bed, a dresser, mirror, and an adjacent bathroom to the left. It was sparse and modern, the walls gray like the ceiling. There were no windows, and it made the room feel like a…cell. She was dressed in a gray jumpsuit, thermal from the feel of it, keeping her toasty warm, thick socks on her feet.
She pushed off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. Her head pounded with a dull thudding, and she worked to clear her mind, taking a huge breath of air. There was a carafe of water on the bedside table, and she reached out with shaking hands, pouring some into the glass. She drank thirstily until she was quenched, her stomach rolling a little.
Rising, she found some sherpa-lined cozy slippers, and she slipped her feet into them. She struggled to stay calm. Did she somehow have a psychotic break, and she’d been locked up in a mental institution? Where was GQ? He would never leave her alone.
Easing in a steadying breath, reaching deep down inside herself for courage, she went to the door and tried the handle. It turned. Her stomach dropped so quickly, it almost made her knees buckle. She hadn’t expected that.
That meant she could go out there…to what?
For an instant, for one frightening instant, alarm nearly got the upper hand, and she longed for the calm reassurance of GQ. With the next breath, she pulled the dread in and down, corralling it in a hard, shivery knot in the hole where her stomach used to be. Standing there like a frightened idiot wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She turned the handle and pulled open the door.
It opened soundlessly to a big living area, couches, a widescreen TV and a full kitchen, a game room with a bunch of games stacked in bookcases, a pool table, foosball table, and ping pong. There were long, narrow windows here, but they were so high up, she couldn’t see outside. She felt so disoriented, so surreal. What was this place?
Walking toward the kitchen, her stomach grumbling all the way, she stopped at the counter. Everything was gray, the appliances, the paint, the floor, the counters. She looked around to find two other rooms, one door open, the other closed.
Gathering her courage, she started for the closed door, but before she could get there, the door opened and Rose emerged, looking ready for a fight.
She saw Celeste and her eyes narrowed. “Where the hell are we?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Neither do I,” Karasu said from the entrance to a long hall. “It appears we're completely alone. No guards. No other people around at all.”
“That is correct, Karasu,” a male voice said and all three of them looked toward the television.
“Aaron Trasker,” Celeste said. “You’reNSH.” Everything flooded back to her. She’d been at GQ’s on her laptop and the final bit of the puzzle had fallen into place. That’s when she’d realized it was him. That’s what she had discovered: the hotel mogul who had been popping up at every one of the places where he’d engineered the attacks to enjoy the carnage and their oblivion as to his real identity.
“Why don’t you ladies take a seat? We have something to discuss.”
Karasu’s fists clenched. Celeste could see the bruises on her face, her cut lip, and a gash just at her collarbone that had been stitched. She must have fought them like a tiger. Celeste had been taken completely unaware. One minute she was working, the next she’d woken up here.
But then she wasn’t a CIA Shadowguard with ninja skills.
Suddenly she realized how much agony GQ was going through, not knowing where she was. What the hell did Trasker want?””
“You fucking cowardly bastard!” Karasu said and she surged forward and faced the TV. “You are a fucking psycho monster!”
He chuckled. “Why don’t you really tell me what you think of me?”
Karasu clenched her teeth and headed for the screen.
Rose crossed the room quickly, rage simmering in her eyes. Celeste couldn’t imagine what she was feeling, confronting the man who had killed her sister and brother-in-law. Facing the TV, she set her hand against Karasu’s arm, halting her from doing harm to the TV. Rose was ever the information gatherer. She knew knowledge was power. “What is it you want from us?”
“I took you and Karasu so I can watch your fumbling cohorts stumble around trying to locate you, breaking up the dream team. And…just for the fun of it.” His eyes glinted with humor. “But you’ll also do nicely as leverage. I multi-tasked. No, it’s Dr. Potter I really need.”
Both women turned to look at her, and her knees went watery. She grabbed onto the counter stool and slid onto it. “No,” she shook her head. “I’m not going to do anything for you.”
He smirked and sat back in the big leather chair. She could see outside his windows and recognized Sydney, Australia.
“You’re going to do exactly as I say. You have no choice. So, get comfortable on the sofa.”
