Chapter 30
Consciousness returned slowly. Erica lay on her side on a narrow mattress, facing the wall. The room smelled like a basement: damp, moldy, and full of stale air.
She didn’t recall how she’d gotten here. Or someone changing her out of her gown and into jeans and a T-shirt.
Normally, the thought of someone touching her would have sent her into a panic. Now she felt nothing. It was like something inside her had burned out. The part that cared had simply stopped working.
The last thing she remembered was the garage. Her mind kept circling around it but never quite reaching it. Vince had been running toward her, shouting her name. Then searing pain, and everything went silent.
Her vision blurred with tears. She couldn’t believe he was gone.
Voices drifted through the door. A man was speaking Russian. His tone sounded irritated, but the words meant nothing to her.
Nothing mattered anymore. Not the approaching footsteps. Not the click of the lock.
The door opened briefly. Something clattered behind her before the footsteps receded and the lock clicked again.
Food. She could smell the grease. Her stomach threatened to rebel at the thought of eating. She was empty, but not hungry.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Time had lost shape.
Eventually, a quiet voice spoke from the other side of the room. “Are you awake?”
She didn’t respond.
A pause. Then softer: “Ma’am… are you all right?”
Fabric rustled. A moment later, a damp cloth touched her forehead. The cool sensation broke through the fog. She turned her head.
A young woman knelt beside the cot, hair pulled into a ponytail, revealing bruises along one cheekbone. Her eyes were familiar, but she was blonde, not a redhead.
“Shannon?”
She blinked in surprise. “No… I… You know Shannon? Have you seen her?”
“I don’t understand. Aren’t you her?”
“I’m Lauren.” She hesitated. “Shannon is my sister.”
“You’re twins,” Erica deduced.
“Yes, but not identical. We’re close, though.”
The vaguely different versions of Shannon in her visions made sense now.
“Who are you?”
“No one,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. “Just someone who saw something she shouldn’t have.”
Lauren hesitated. “You must be important, or they would have—” She stopped, her voice catching.
“Would have what? Killed me?”
“Yes,” she replied, voice trembling.
Erica turned toward the wall and curled up, her broken heart a physical pain worse than any she’d endured. “It feels like they already did,” she whispered.
Lauren reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry. These are not nice people.”
She waited for the onslaught of someone else’s life crashing into her mind, but there was nothing. No emotion. No horrific images. It was as if her gift was blocked, like with Vince.
She’d never wanted to read him. Now, she would take anything. A whisper, a trace of warmth, anything that meant he was still with her.
Bitterness cut through her numbness. Why couldn’t this have happened a month earlier? Before the Wilsons, before all the blood. Then maybe Vince would still be alive.
The thought twisted painfully.
If that had happened, she wouldn’t have met him.
God. How messed up was that? To have him, although briefly, Debra Wilson had to die.
She covered her face with her arm, shutting out everything but her grief.
Lauren eventually gave up trying to console her and returned to the other side of the room. The tray of food remained untouched.
Hours passed in silence before the door opened again. Heavy footsteps sounded like two men this time.
One said something in Russian. The other spoke from her bedside. “What’s wrong with you?”
She didn’t move or answer.
“She’s been like that for hours,” Lauren said. “She won’t eat and has barely spoken.”
He shook her once.
She braced, but still nothing. The numbness held.
“Bring her,” the other said in heavily accented English. “Mr. Kedrov wants to see her.”
Rough hands hauled her to her feet. When she refused to stand, he cursed and threw her over his shoulder.
Erica didn’t resist. She didn’t care where they were taking her.
She hung limp as he carried her up a flight of stairs. The hallway at the top was painfully bright compared to the dim cell.
The next thing she knew, she was flipped upright and practically dropped into a chair. It happened so quickly that the room tilted, and her head spun. She pushed her hair out of her face, hoping seeing her surroundings would help.
Then she wished she hadn’t. Alexander Kedrov stood before an enormous desk. Just like in her visions, he had the same slicked-back hair, the same diamond ring, wearing another expensive-looking white suit.
He smiled faintly. “I’m told you do not eat. Is my hospitality not to your liking?”
She barely looked at him. “What do you want?”
“Getting right down to business. I admire that.” He studied her for a moment. “I want to know more about your special talents.”
“You’re mistaken. I have no talents.”
“I do not make mistakes.” He leaned forward a little. “Do not take me for a fool, Miss Stevens,” he said, his warning as cold as his voice. “I intend to use your gift. You will work for me.”
When she still said nothing, his patience thinned.
“Perhaps you need motivation.” He nodded toward the door. “Bring in the girl.”
Lauren was shoved forward by the same big brute who had carried her. She stumbled. Before she could recover, the man struck her across the face.
The crack echoed loudly in the room, swallowing Lauren’s whimper of pain.
The second blow came without hesitation, splitting her lip. The third doubled her over and dropped her to her knees. When the brute bent to her to dish out more, she could no longer stand it.
“Stop!” The word tore from her throat. “I’ll cooperate. Just don’t hurt her anymore.”
Kedrov smiled. “I wondered how long it would take.”
Lauren sobbed between pain-filled gasps for air. “Please. Why are you doing this?”
The boss deigned to get his hands dirty. He crouched, his fingers digging into her chin, and turned her face her way.
“Do not beg me.” His gaze shifted to Erica. “Beg her. Your fate is in her hands.”
The numbness that had wrapped around her since the garage, began to crack. Fear poured off Lauren in sheets. And she felt again. Not only Lauren’s pain. Kedrov’s darkness.
Violence clung to him: lives ruined, threats made, deaths ordered without remorse.
It flooded her senses. As did the nausea when he rose and moved toward her. “Don’t touch me,” she said hoarsely.
Kedrov raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because your skin on mine will make me vomit.”
His expression hardened. In a burst of anger, he slapped her. Hard.
The sound rang through the room. Pain exploded, and her eyes watered, but she was too stunned to cry out. She’d never been struck before. Erica touched her burning cheek and dabbed at her lips, checking for blood, lowering her hand when it came away clear.
“That was the truth, not an insult.” Her voice didn’t waver. “I feel what you are, and it disgusts me.”
Actually, that was only partly true. Her skin crawled being in the same room with him. She also felt the sting from his slap, but nothing else. She kept that to herself, though. He needed to believe she did, for Lauren’s sake.
Kedrov didn’t speak or move. He watched her. The air seemed to thin and grow colder, as if the whole room was waiting for his response.
The door opened, letting out some of the tension, like steam from a pressure cooker. But when Erica saw the man who entered, her apathy shattered, rage taking its place.
“Morgan. You murderous, traitorous pig,” she spat.
Before anyone could react, she charged and delivered a kick, hard and precise, to his groin. With the power of her fury behind it, the FBI double agent let out a strangled curse as he folded forward, both hands clutching his groin. His momentum carried him to his knees.
The room went quiet as Morgan wheezed on the floor. It wasn’t justice for Vince—she doubted anything ever would be—but she felt a slim thread of satisfaction seeing him suffer some small bit.
Then the Russian guard chuckled. “Brought low by a tiny woman. FBI not so tough, yes?”
The brute joined him in laughter. “Our friend looks uncomfortable. What did you expect when she charged?”
Morgan snapped, “Shut up.” Face twisted with pain, he still managed to focus on her. “You’ll live to regret that.”
If he thought she’d cower, he would be disappointed. “You deserve a lot more than that for shooting Vince.”
“Enough,” Kedrov snapped.
He walked toward her, stopping inches from her face. Close enough that she could smell his cologne and the putrid scent of evil beneath it.
She leaned away instinctively, her hand covering her nose and mouth. “I swear if you touch me, I’ll puke.”
Kedrov’s eyes narrowed, but he thankfully didn’t strike again.
“You’ll figure a way around your disgust, or your roommate suffers,” he warned. “I will have your talents at my command.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“No?”
“No! I can’t call it up whenever I want,” she said. “It comes when it comes.”
Kedrov considered that then said calmly, “Until it does, prepare to be a guest here for a very long while.” He dismissed them, ordering his men, “Take them away.”
The brute hauled Lauren to her feet. Morgan grabbed Erica roughly by the arm.
She jerked away violently. “Are you deaf or just stupid? I’ll walk.”
The two guards chuckled again.
“Then, move,” Morgan snapped.