Chapter 32 #2
Her head throbbed. Her heart still raced. And nothing but silence greeted her inquiry. She was alone, or Ackerman was here but still passed out—or worse—and nobody was coming to save them. He could be hurt, dead, dying.
She didn’t think she was dying, but she felt like hell.
She jerked against the restraints, searching for weakness, but they were tight. It felt like cuffs. She moved her hands, bending the fingers of one toward her wrist—and encountered steel.
Fear ripped from her stomach to her toes and back up to her brain. Where was she? How long had she been there? Where was Ackerman?
“Hey,” she called out. “Anybody there?”
No one came. She heard nothing in the darkness, no sounds of movement.
She focused on her senses. The air smelled like…
nothing? It wasn’t dank or earthy like a cave or a basement.
It was the nothingness of the indoors. She sniffed again.
The very faint odor of onions reached her. Or maybe she was imagining it.
But if there really were onions, then this was a house. She was on a bed, but she hadn’t wanted to assume. Beds could be dumped into cellars or warehouses, too. But her surroundings didn’t echo like a warehouse. She reached above her head, searching for the headboard.
It was iron, and she was anchored to it by a short chain that ran through the cuffs. She followed the chain with her fingers, scooting upward to see if there was any weakness, any kind of place where the chain might slip through the bars of the bed.
But search though she might, there was nothing. Frustration pounded into her.
And fear. Because what was this? What were they planning to do with her?
She dozed again, because the drugs hadn’t worn off completely, finally waking when she heard the scraping of a key in the lock. Light flooded into her prison, shining on her from a flashlight that someone shone in her face. She squeezed her eyes closed and brought her arms up to shield them.
“Ona prosnulas,” a male voice said. “Prevedi yeye.”
She’s awake. Bring her.
Russian hadn’t entirely deserted her then.
Rough hands grabbed her. A key snicked in a lock and the chain slid free. The cuffs remained, however. The man dragged her to her feet.
“You will walk,” he said.
“I can’t see. It’s too bright.”
“Put a hand over your eyes.” His tone said he couldn’t give two shits less.
Diana did as he instructed, covering her eyes as much as possible as they dragged her into a dimly lit hallway.
She was forced up a set of stairs and then another, stumbling to her knees again and again, being hauled roughly to her feet so she could keep going.
When she emerged into a huge living area with low-slung leather couches and artfully placed lamps, her gaze was first drawn to the giant windows that reflected the interior.
It was completely dark outside, which meant she’d lost an entire day. Or maybe it was more than a day.
Oh God, the militia meeting.
She was going to miss it, and Alex would go alone. What if something happened to him?
“Ah, Diana, it’s so lovely to see you. How have you been, my dear?”
Her gaze jerked to the source of that voice, her stomach knotting.
Viktor Dashevsky—Russian oligarch, fake humanitarian, man who would be king if he could manage it—lounged in one of the fat club chairs, a highball glass in one hand, ice cubes tinkling softly as he lifted it to sip the amber liquid.
Bourbon. She could smell it from where she stood.
“What have you done with Ackerman?” she growled. It was the only thing she could think to say. If she loosed her tongue and said what she really wanted, she would be screaming.
Viktor arched an eyebrow. His gaze slewed to the other chair where a man sat with his back to her. She hadn’t noticed him, but now he stood. Turned.
Her heart dropped to the floor as everything she thought she knew crumbled to ash.
“I’m sorry, Diana,” Ackerman said.
“Why?” she gasped, betrayal scouring every inch of her. Rewiring her understanding, her belief in people. “Why would you do such a thing?”
He frowned, his gaze dropping to the glass in his hand.
“President Willis is weak. She won’t take a hard stand against our enemies.
You know it as well as I do. If we don’t do something, we’ll be overrun.
Our nation will suffer, and people will be forced to fight foreigners on our own soil.
We’ll be invaded by the Chinese or the Muslims—or, hell, the Mexicans—if we don’t do something to take back control of our government. ”
Diana could only gape. And then she laughed, a bitter sound that was wrenched from her soul. “Oh, of course, because being invaded by the Russians is infinitely preferable to any of those people, right?”
Ackerman’s frown grew deeper. “We’re cooperating to make a better world.
A stronger world where we stand for what’s right against those who would tear us down.
Mr. Dashevsky is a great humanitarian, and a believer in ruling with strength and compassion.
He’s helping us to take back our country, not invading us.
That would be impossible. America is too strong for that. ”
Her heart hurt. Absolutely hurt. She’d had no idea he was filled with hate toward people who, for the most part, were just living their lives the same as he was. There were bad people everywhere, of every color and religion, but that didn’t make an entire group evil or intent on invasion.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, or who this man really is,” she told him, jerking her chin at Viktor. “No idea.”
Because, for all Ackerman’s delusional thoughts, he couldn’t really support a man who trafficked in humans and fomented war so he’d have a place to sell his weapons. Could he?
“Yes, yes, my dear,” Viktor said, sounding bored.
“You have always had it in for me since that moment when you seduced me. You wanted access to my money and my power, but I didn’t fall for you as you’d hoped.
I did not make you my wife, as indeed I told you I would not. You have only yourself to blame.”
Her throat closed tight. She couldn’t speak. The absolute unreality of the situation hammered at her like a sledge, destroying everything she thought she knew. She would tear him apart with her bare hands if she could. Spit on his remains.
And yet the chance of it happening now was next to nothing. Not with Ackerman on his side instead of hers. Her belly churned with acid as she tried not to succumb to hopelessness.
“Liar,” she growled. Her knees buckled as the man standing behind her kicked her legs out from under her. She fell hard, breaking her fall with her hands, but unable to save herself from hitting hard because of the way they were bound in front of her.
“Hey.” Ackerman sounded concerned. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her.”
“She is not hurt,” Viktor replied. “And it is up to her whether or not she will be. Boris, do not strike Ms. Adler, please. And remove those cuffs. She is no threat to us like this.”
The man behind her roughly removed her cuffs and took a step back.
Diana pushed herself to a sitting position.
She did not rise because her limbs felt weak.
She glared at Viktor, and then at Ackerman, who broke eye contact first. Good, let him marinate in guilt, if indeed he felt even an ounce of it.
He’d been her friend. They’d spent countless hours together, talking about life. Going to Cracker Barrel, eating breakfast, sharing Thanksgiving. She’d been there when Amy left him, and she’d teased him about his dating escapades later on.
None of it had been real. At least not for him.
“See, my dear, I can be reasonable. And I will be reasonable, I promise you.”
“What do you want from me?” She glared at Viktor. Because he had to want something, or she wouldn’t be there.
He twisted the highball glass in his hands, the ice clinking. “I wish to know everything you know about Colonel Bishop and his friends.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Viktor raised a finger. “Do not lie to me, Diana. Tell me the truth and leave nothing out, or I shall be forced to let Boris persuade you. His methods are not nearly as kind as mine.”