Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Water poured over the cloth covering Jessica’s face as she laid atop the bed.
She couldn’t take a breath.
When the man removed the fabric from her face and jerked her into a seated position, she lifted her chin and gasped while glaring at him.
When she’d joined the CIA over thirteen years ago, she’d been subjected to different forms of torture to see whether she could withstand it without giving up intel.
She could handle almost anything. She’d been reminding herself this for the last few hours, at least.
The Farm had beaten the weakness out of her, and by the time she’d become an officer, she’d been hardened into someone she’d barely recognized. She’d become a block of ice the agency had shaped into what they wanted.
Her captor’s eyes thinned beneath his mask. He shoved her flat onto the bed again in the vine-covered and graffiti-walled room. From what she could gather, she was in an old hospital probably dating back to the days of the Nazis and eugenics.
More water splashed over the cloth, creating the sensation of drowning.
She tried to go back to her training in her head, to stay focused and not give in to him . . . but her thoughts drifted to the past.
Don’t you think we should help Ara and the others? Jessica had asked Asher. Her body had been sweaty and pressed tight against his on the small bed in the barracks.
You’re asking me? I don’t usually deal with the aftermath of what I do. I just get the job done and then—
Move on? Hadn’t she always moved on, too, though?
Her thoughts scattered. Breaking into fragments as she regained her focus and made her way back to the moment. A moment she didn’t want to be in.
Ara.
And, oh . . . the water.
She was growing dizzy.
Stay strong, she commanded herself as her captor jerked her upright, freeing her of the cloth.
She sucked in slow and deliberate breaths, so she didn’t become more light-headed.
He set down the empty jug and tossed the cloth onto a medical rolling table.
He had two portable heaters on the right and left sides of her bed. It was clear he planned on keeping her there for a while, and he didn’t want her to die from the cold since the room lacked central heating.
“Who do you work for?”
She refused to give him anything, not even her tears. No, she’d save crying for when she made it out of there.
He turned his back to her when she remained quiet, and she checked her shackled hands before sweeping her focus to her roped feet. Maybe she could escape? She wasn’t attached to the bed, so if she could knock him out somehow?
“Your passport says you’re Stephanie Patterson.” He thumbed through the pages of her alias. “But we both know that’s not your real name. The girls call you Stephanie, though.”
He was trying to bait her. To scare her into giving up information by bringing up the girls. But this man had no idea whom he was dealing with.
“Fuck you.” It was the first time she’d spoken.
He faced her again. “There you are.” His accent was German. Austrian German, maybe.
She cataloged the few details about him, in case—
“What do you do for work?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She remained quiet.
He set her passport down. “You helped Ara become Nahla. You smuggled her to Berlin. Why?”
Nahla, in Arabic, meant drink of water, and now . . .
He turned to grab another water jug from the line of ten on the dirty concrete floor.
He’d given her too much recovery time. A dumb idea on his part.
She shifted off the bed and, as he turned to face her, flung the weight of her arms at the jug, knocking it from his grasp, splashing water everywhere.
“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”
She attempted to shuffle in the direction of a black duffel bag—it had to house his guns. If only she could—
He knocked her to the ground.
Her cheek smashed into the concrete, and he pressed the heel of his hand to her face against the grimy floor.
His knee went to her back. She was forced to take the brunt of his weight with her cuffs beneath her, digging into her stomach.
“I don’t normally deal with the living.” His hot breath, even through the mask, had her skin crawling and her eyes sealing tight.
He shifted off her a few seconds later and dragged her to her feet, jerking her around to face him.
With open eyes, she managed not to blink as his fist came straight at her face, knocking her momentarily back to the past.
Again! her instructor had shouted during her training at the Farm. If you get hit, suck it up and take it like a man. Don’t let them sense weakness.
What if I can’t? What if he’s too strong? Jessica had scrambled to her feet and lifted her fists on the boxing mat.
Your only weakness right now is in here, he’d said while tapping at his skull. If he can’t get in here, he can’t get to you anywhere.
Jessica took another punch from her captor—this time to her left cheek.
She raised her cuffed hands to deflect his next punch, but he forced her arms down and elbowed her in the face.
“CIA? FBI? Who else knows about Ara?”
This time, a hard punch to the stomach had her stumbling back, losing her footing. Her tailbone slammed hard against the concrete.
She tipped her chin to the ceiling and closed her eyes, trying to remember the rest of her training.
Stick to the cover. Speak to the story. Be the alias. Live and breathe it.
She’d forgotten. Failed.
She’d acted too strong. Too tough.
But maybe it didn’t matter. He somehow knew of her connection to Ara.
“Who do you work for?” He grabbed the cuffs and yanked on them, forcing her upright again, the metal scraping against her flesh. “Who are you?”
“I’m somebody who will make you pay for what you did to her,” she said through gritted teeth, trying not to lose the fight inside of her.
He cocked his head, wrapped a hand around her throat, and squeezed.
She lifted her arms between them to clutch at his wrist, trying not to resist too much to save her energy and breath.
“Tell me what you know, or I will kill you, just as I killed her.”
You’ll kill me anyway.
“Are you willing to let the girls die, too?”
His fingertips dug harder, and she could feel the rise of her pulse fighting for life in her neck.
For the second time that night, everything went black.