Chapter 26
M ila gasped and sputtered. She squeezed her eyes tight, her arms struggling against the restraints anchoring her on the tabletop.
The onslaught of water rushed through the rag covering her face and into her mouth.
She shook her head, struggling to hold her breath, but the force of the water made it impossible.
She couldn’t breathe.
Panic assailed her. She kicked and bounced, swishing her head desperately for a gulp of air.
“Stop,” one of the men commanded. The pail landed on the floor with a clank .
Mila shuddered. She blinked against the weight of the soaked black cloth. Every breath brought moisture and droplets into her mouth. The rag was ripped away. She turned her head, coughing and greedily trying to suck in air.
Rough hands grasped her beneath her arms and dragged her off the table. The overhead light shone in her face, making her blink. Her arms and legs hung limply and her head lolled from exhaustion as she was dropped in a corner. Her teeth chattered and her shoulders shook from the cold and shock.
Mila forced open her eyes. Her gaze landed on one of the men who’d tortured her. She committed the harsh lines of his face to memory as he secured her shackled wrists to the chain on the wall. He was unfamiliar, but it didn’t matter.
She’d find him.
“Let’s go,” the man waiting by the table demanded, his arms crossed over his chest. His body language screamed he didn’t want to be there. Judging by the sound of his voice, he was the one who’d told his friend to stop moments before.
The other man knelt in front of her with a smirk. He patted her cheek roughly. “No beauty sleep for you.” He stood and hit a switch.
Bright lights washed over her face. She winced. Her gaze landed on a set of speakers nearby that hadn’t been there before. One of her captors must have set them up while she’d been waterboarded.
Before her brain could register anything else, music came on. The screech of heavy metal shook the ground.
The men left the barn. Mila shifted and lay down facing the wall. Every muscle in her body pulsed and screamed, and the music intensified the pain in her head.
Fear wanted to sink its death grip into her, but she pushed it away. She couldn’t get lost in useless emotions right now. Not when she needed to escape.
She closed her eyes, needing to rest for just a few minutes.
Ghost filled her mind’s eye, and for some reason the paw-print tattoo jumped to the forefront.
She’d been leery of him when she first noticed the tattoo, but that little design had been one of the first things that’d made her soften toward him.
She thought of his warm laugh and amused gray eyes. More than anything, she wanted to be back at the cabin with him. It was there that she’d fallen for him, where she’d uncovered things about herself while discovering more about him.
It was there that she’d realized she had the strength not just to withstand discomfort, pain, and fear, but to give herself more. To want more.
Her career with Irinia had started off with force and a need to survive, but once she’d become an adult, she hadn’t fought the choices that’d been made for her. It hadn’t occurred to her that she could until now.
No matter what Irinia did to her, she wouldn’t return to work. She wouldn’t kill for no reason anymore.
She wanted to live.
Her limbs trembled. The barn was cold, her body wet and freezing. Memories of the workshop on Ghost’s property assaulted her. But this was different. She knew firsthand how sadistic Irinia was.
She balled her hands into fists and forced open her eyes. Despite the lights and music, fatigue wanted her to pass out. Pain wanted her to give up. Neither of those was an option.
She’d been taught skills, and she’d use them.
Inhaling, she rolled away from the wall, scanning the barn. A jug of water sat near the table, and the wet rag was on the floor. Hay speckled the ground and the smell of farm animals was heavy in the air. Unlike the barn she’d been kept in as a child, this place was mostly empty.
It wasn’t one of their usual properties. There were no weights, punching bags, mats, or other types of training equipment. All evidence pointed to it being somewhere to dump and hold her—either until they “reprogrammed” or killed her.
Until now, she hadn’t thought Irinia would murder her. She’d put too much energy into raising her. But Irinia was a businesswoman: she wanted a solid return on her investment and would use Mila until she couldn’t anymore.
Mila raked her gaze over the barn, pillaging the walls and posts for a camera. Nothing jumped out at her. No flashing lights, no black objects. Her suspicion was confirmed: this was a temporary setup.
Which meant her prison wasn’t ironclad. Windows wouldn’t be properly barricaded, and there was probably minimal security outside. When Boris arrived, he’d have men with him and she’d be wrapped up tighter than royalty.
If there was any hope of escape, she had to attempt it now.
Pushing into a sitting position, she examined the chains on her wrists and the method they’d used to wrap them. The one good thing about chains was that they were more difficult to get supertight around the wrists, especially hers, which were slim.
She wiggled her arms, twisting and turning her hands at different angles. Alexei had shown her how to get out of chains, though that’d been years ago. She turned her wrists so the insides touched, then pressed them together as tightly as she could. A little bit of slack appeared on the outsides.
Not much. Maybe not enough.
She grimaced and began rubbing her wrists together in a back-and-forth motion. The skin on her arms screamed, chafing the already bleeding flesh. She ignored the sting.
After a minute or so, more slack appeared. Gritting her teeth, she slid her right hand backward. All she needed was to get one hand free. Then the chain would slide off.
Her skin pinched and tore. Sweat collected on her face. The contrast of hot and cold was enough to make her ill. Blood touched her palms, but she didn’t slow as the chain moved over the back of her hand and stopped right before her knuckles.
She panted, dropping her hands and lowering her head. Defeat swirled around her like a flock of angry birds. The deafening music vibrated the walls. Alexei’s image entered her mind, urging her on. Pushing her.
Her mother’s voice came next. Tears rushed down Mila’s cheeks.
Maybe this was where her life had to end.
After all these years, perhaps it was time to be reunited with her family.
Time for the pain and tortuous memories to end.
She sniffed but didn’t lift her hands to wipe her eyes. Couldn’t. The fatigue was too great.
Momma, what do I do?
Ghost stormed into her mind. Loud, protective, and dominating. If he were here, he wouldn’t let her give up. He’d carried her up a hill, pulled her from a river, brought her joy she’d never experienced—nor invited. But that was Ghost. He didn’t wait for an invitation.
He’d come for her.
And she’d be damned if he found her dead because she’d given up.
Inhaling a shuddering breath, she lifted her head. The metal cut fiercely into her bones. Her clammy skin was swollen from the harsh friction. If she pushed the links any further, they’d rip off her knuckles.
She stared at the chain in the blinding light. If she could move her thumb...
Tucking her thumb tightly to her hand, she strained it around the link. The small socket threatened to pop, but she managed to slide it free. She gasped as the slack increased—and she slid the chain over her hand.
She shook off the metal and pushed herself to her feet. Pride inflated her body, but her legs buckled and threatened to send her to the ground. She stumbled to the wall and clung to the wood for support. She had to hurry.
The men had left her beneath the bright lights and blaring music for a reason. They wanted to break her. To have her barely hanging on when they got back.
But if they came to check on her, she was done.
She stumbled around the speakers and out of the glow of the fluorescent lights, blinking away the orbs from their assault.
Her knees wobbled and her head spun but she kept going.
The door wasn’t far. Just across the barn.
She scanned the room. Tools hung on the wall.
The large metal shovels, racks, and other gadgets would surely be suitable as weapons, but they’d be too heavy and awkward to carry.
She reached a tool bench and found a hammer and screwdriver. After tucking the screwdriver into the back of her yoga pants, she gripped the hammer and walked toward the barn door. With each step, she earned a little more strength.
Her heart pounded as she reached the door. Trepidation swirled in a wild storm in her belly. Fear bit into her sides, preventing her from charging outside. Her fingers twitched on the handle of the hammer, ready to strike. As she inched open the door, all the moisture left her mouth.
The cold December air hit her wet clothes, making her skin pucker. But the crisp air was silent. She slipped out. Had she been in the barn in Russia, there’d have been guards and—
A man’s laugh boomed from around the corner. The crunch of boots on gravel made her freeze when she really needed to flee. The corner of the barn was less than ten feet away, the other corner three times further. She’d never make it in time without them seeing.
Instinct outweighed indecision.
Tightening her grip on the hammer, she ran in the direction of the noise. She swung just as one of the men rounded the corner. The man dodged, and the steel end of the hammer whacked his shoulder.
“Fuck!” he bellowed, seizing her arm. “Get her, Wes!”
Panic sizzled her nerve endings. The other man, Wes, tore the weapon from her, his hold punishing. His fingertips bit into her flesh as he steered her toward the barn. “How the fuck did she get out of those chains?” he spat.
She needed to fight them. If she let them tie her up again, she’d never get free.
“You locked her up!”
“Shut up.”
Her bare feet scraped over the rough, cold stones. The barn door loomed. Using all her strength, she threw her elbow into Wes’s abdomen, throwing him off balance. She spun around to face him and slammed her open hand against his jugular.
Wes sputtered and dropped to his knees in a coughing fit. When the other man lunged for her, she leapt to the side and kicked him in the junk. He buckled, but his hand swept around her calf. Her body slammed hard into the earth, and her head smacked off the side of the barn.
Stars blipped in front of her vision. Rough fingers sank into her hair, hauling her to her feet. Before she could swing at Wes, the other man pulled out a gun and aimed it at her face.
“Move,” he snarled.
Wes jerked back her head. “Give us a reason to shoot you. I dare ya.”
She didn’t give any indication she’d fight.
Wes spun her toward the open door. Each step was like a nail in her coffin. Boris would be here soon, and that idea terrified her more than that of a bullet driving through the back of her head.
“Don’t tell Irinia about this, Paul,” Wes grumbled over the music. “She’ll be pissed the bitch almost got away.”
Paul grunted. “Don’t mark her up more and we won’t have anything to explain.”
They got closer to the far side of the barn. The bass vibrated the ground. The bright lights were waiting to torture her.
While still holding her hair with one hand, Wes dug his other hand into her bicep. She’d dropped the hammer, but she still had the screwdriver at the back of her pants. The handle dug into her spine, promising retribution.
Mila inched her hand around her back as sharp determination recharged her senses.
“Grab the chains,” Wes shouted, over the raging instruments.
***
A sense of doom covered Ghost like a soaked fleece blanket. “Pull over,” he told Rami.
They’d reached the area where the cell tower had picked up Nick’s phone. By now, they should’ve heard from Taschen with an update.
Rami coasted to the side of the road, stopped, and shifted into park. “What’s up?”
Ghost pushed open the door and stomped onto the gravel. The sun would rise in the next hour or so. The cold air whipped against his skin, but he welcomed the brutal wind.
Needed the harsh slap to ground him because right now, he was on the verge of losing his damn mind. He stalked along the shoulder of the road, dragging both hands over his face. He heard the guys get out of the vehicle but didn’t slow down.
Mila.
Christ. He’d let her down. Endangered her. He should’ve fucking taken care of Irinia immediately. He hadn’t expected they’d come for her, especially so soon.
Ring , ring
Ghost spun around to see Rami pulling his phone from his pocket. He looked up at Ghost. “It’s Taschen.”
Ghost retraced his steps as Rami answered. “Hey. You’re on speaker.”
Ghost stopped next to his friends. Rami held the phone between them. Zain stood close with his arms crossed.
“I’ve got a lead,” Taschen said.
“What is it?” Ghost barked. Anticipation fissured through him like a termite through wood.
“Not concrete. But there’s a property not far from Carnation that was recently for rent. Looks like it’s occupied now. A small farmhouse on twenty acres with a barn. I dunno though. Seems like a weird place to hold someone.”
A barn.
“That’s it,” Ghost said.
Zain’s eyebrows bounced. “How do you know?”
Tension wound around Ghost’s vocal cords as he remembered what Mila had described. “Because that bitch kept her in a barn in Russia. That’s where they held her after her kidnapping.”
Rami’s eyes turned dark and furious, mirroring Ghost’s torment.
“All right,” Taschen drawled, clearly not sold. “I mean, there’s a lot of farms in the area. It’s not unlikely some would be for rent.”
“Did you get any other confirmed location from Nick Shriver’s phone?”
“No. Which might be an indication you’re right. There’s another cell tower fifty miles away. No ping there.”
“Send us the pin. We’re heading there now.”
“Copy,” Taschen said, before hanging up.
The guys piled into the SUV, and Ghost got in the front. A second later a text came through, and then Rami’s GPS blurted out directions.
Fifteen minutes away. Christ.