Chapter 13
Sklad (Warehouse)
Orrin lay on his side, his cheek pressed against the cold, damp concrete floor. His arms were numb from being bound behind his back. He was certain at least three of his ribs were broken from the last beating. There was also a chance his left wrist was, as well.
There were two things the Russians did well—drink and fight.
The sound of voices reached him through the metal door. They were muffled, and the Russian words were spoken quickly, but he was able to get the gist of the conversation.
One of the guards wanted to kill him. Immediately.
Another of the guards was quite happy with spending the time using Orrin as a punching bag.
It was Yuri who, with one word, silenced them. Inwardly, Orrin grinned. He knew his old friend well enough to know that the beatings weren’t close to being done. He would suffer many, many more.
But Yuri was underestimating him. Yuri assumed he would give up the location of Ragnarok and the formula because of pain. Except none of them realized he’d been living the worst kind of pain for the last twenty-two years.
Nothing had erased Melanie’s murder, the heinous way her life was snuffed out. There wasn’t a second of any day that he didn’t feel the loss, the helplessness of not being there to stop her killer. Not even sleep was an escape.
In his dreams, Melanie was still alive, and they were happy. The boys were at the ranch, and the love that held the family together was stronger than ever before.
Then he would wake, and cold, hard reality would intrude. His heart shattering all over again. The fact that his sons hated him only made things worse. They blamed him for Melanie’s murder.
It was all right. He blamed himself.
“Are you ready to talk, stariy droog?”
Damn. Was he so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard Yuri enter? He couldn’t afford something like that. He was alive because he kept his wits about him.
“No,” he bit out.
Blood still caked one eye shut, so he had to shift his head slightly in order to see Yuri. The general stared down at him with contempt in his blue eyes. Gone was the camo uniform. In its place was a sports coat and trousers.
He wondered where the uniform was. It made Orrin miss his own. He’d outranked Yuri before he retired. Since Yuri was as competitive as they came, they’d once had a friendly rivalry of who could get promoted faster.
At least, he always assumed it was friendly. Now he knew the truth. He hated being blindsided. It was the second time in his life, and it didn’t suck any less the second go round.
Yuri looked around the cell. “You look like hell, starik.”
“Old man? I’m not the one with gray hair,” he said. He wanted to sit up, but that would take too much energy to hide the pain of his broken bones.
“The formula you stole is not Ragnarok as you were led to believe. It is a new fertilizer.”
He barked a laugh, sending pain from his ribs that he ignored. “Nice try.”
“You did not test it, did you?” Yuri smiled as he bent down to see Orrin’s face. “You did not have time. A pity. Had you, you would have known you chose the wrong lab.”
“Then why kill my team and take me? Why keep asking for the vial? It’s because I got the bioweapon your country intended to use.”
Yuri tsked and went down on his haunches. “Orrin, your problem has always been your pride. You never liked to consider you were wrong. Your team was killed, and you were taken not because you stole Ragnarok, but because you broke into the Kremlin. And I took you at your word.”
“We’ve both lied to each other when it comes to our countries.”
Yuri shrugged. “That was before you put my job in jeopardy.”
He went along with the scenario because he knew he’d stolen Ragnarok. There was a ring of truth to Yuri’s story, however, which meant his job probably was on the line.
“If I didn’t steal the bioweapon, then why do you keep asking for it?”
Yuri gave him a flat look. “You know how much our countries spend on things like that. It is a breakthrough we need for our crops, stariy droog. You understand this, da?”
Oh, he understood. He understood just what a liar Yuri was. Bastard. When he got out, he was going to take pleasure in bringing Yuri down.
“What’s so important about Ragnarok? It’s just another bioweapon you can remake.”
Yuri’s lips compressed.
“Your government sends men to find me because of fertilizer? Not buying it.”
“Think whatever you like. I know the truth.”
He grinned at Yuri as reality sank in. There were too many years under his belt in the Navy, too many missions as a SEAL to disregard such a sorry excuse for an explanation.
Fertilizer his ass.
It was Ragnarok that he and his men stole, but more importantly, he had a suspicion that the bioweapon was one that would end them all.
Unless someone had the antidote.
Sending the vial to Callie might have been the single worst thing he could’ve done. Yuri and his group wouldn’t stop until they had it, which meant more deaths.
Then there was the fact that the vial could kill Callie and his sons because he hadn’t bothered to look for an antidote while in Russia.
He’d known not to take the mission. Everything had told him to let it pass, but the idea that he could save his sons from encountering such a weapon was what led him to accept the job.
How wrong he’d been. Now they would hate him more than ever.
“If you will not talk, you leave me no choice but to order another beating.” Yuri stood, sighing loudly. “This brings me no pleasure.”
“Get on with it,” Orrin stated.
“See you soon.”
“Yeah. See you soon.”
As soon as Yuri walked from the small room, two men strode in. They yanked Orrin to his feet and shoved him into a chair. He took a breath and held it, right before the first punch landed on his broken ribs.