10. IVY
10
IVY
Daniel twisted the gun in his hand as he loomed over me in the dimly lit room. The musty air felt thick, suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on me.
I swallowed hard as his demand echoed in my mind. “Tell me every person you confided in about your concerns over your father’s death. And your claims of being innocent against the evidence against you.”
“Why, so you can kill them, too?” I asked.
Daniel crouched down, just outside of kicking range.
Coward.
“You seem to be under the impression you have a choice in the matter, Ivy.” His tone was condescending, as if he were speaking to a child. But maybe, God willing, he was bluffing about torturing me.
“If you wanted to torture me for information, why send Grayson to kill me back then instead of taking me hostage?”
He scratched his temple. “Before, you were merely a grief-stricken girl upset over her father’s death. Now, your suspicions over his death might take legs in other people’s minds. Especially after you were almost killed in that garage. More importantly, you and Grayson have probably been spreading doubts about the evidence against you. I’ll need every name involved.”
Oh God. Grayson’s brothers, Luna, Barry—they’d all be in danger, too. Were they already dead? Had the CIA killed them after those men threw me into the van? I opened my mouth to ask, but if I asked about Grayson’s brothers at this exact moment, Daniel would take that as an admission they knew something they shouldn’t. And if, God willing, Grayson’s brothers were still alive, I wanted to keep it that way. So, as painful as it was to not know, I shifted the question to something different.
“That evidence,” I started. “How did you manufacture it?” I shifted slightly, feigning nonchalance despite the sinking pit in my stomach. “It was quite compelling. Well, almost.” Daniel’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. “But you left a digital footprint. And if someone else looks at it, they’ll see it, too.” I relished the flicker of uncertainty that crossed his features.
“If you don’t give me names,” he said, his words hanging in the air like a guillotine, “I’m afraid I’ll have to assume everyone in your life is compromised. Every coworker, every nurse that you have come across at your grandmother’s medical facility…” He raised his eyebrows. “Your grandmother.”
A cold sweat broke over my skin, but I tried to swallow the horror gripping my windpipe. He had to be bluffing; he couldn’t take out everyone in my life without raising suspicion.
“It’s only a matter of time before you’re screwed, Daniel. No matter what you do to me.” I forced the words out, my voice wavering slightly. “Only I’m pretty sure your crimes will be categorized as treason.”
Daniel swiped his lower lip with this thumb. “Tell me what you told that detective.”
“You’re CIA. Aren’t you supposed to be experts at getting that kind of intel?”
His jaw set tighter.
“You can’t go through normal channels without raising suspicion, can you?”
It was a small thing to take satisfaction in, but I did it anyway.
Until Daniel clicked something on his cell phone, put it to his ear, and said in a cold voice, “Let’s get started.”
My gut plummeted, a wave of nausea washing over me as footsteps echoed down the staircase. Slowly, a figure loomed in the darkness, clutching a duffel bag. He walked calmly, emerging into the basement, where the fluorescent light illuminated his face.
The guy looked like an ordinary businessman. Clean-cut hair, freshly shaven, sharp cheekbones, and a lean frame.
“How do you want to play this?” the man asked, setting the bag down with a thud.
“We need answers. Now,” Daniel replied.
The man nodded, unzipped it, and pulled out a blowtorch. I watched in mute horror, bile rising in my throat.
“Last chance,” the man said to me, almost gently. “It doesn’t have to go this way. Just tell him what he wants to know.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look away as he clicked the flame to life with a hiss. I’d treated burn victims before and knew the agony that awaited me.
“Please,” I heard myself whisper. “I didn’t tell anyone,” I lied. “I swear.”
Blowtorch dude sighed, like he actually pitied me for my answer.