35. Sloane
35
SLOANE
M y captor, Mikhal, stays for a long, long time. He struggles to believe my story, prodding with information about the base and warehouse where I work that he absolutely should not have. So much of it I don’t even have access to.
When he thinks I’m playing at ignorance, he threatens my co-workers, the guys, my daughter, my personal safety, and his protection from his men. I’m silently crying—fucking hormones—by the time we’re done. By the time he’s promised to end everything I’ve ever cared about, he seems to believe me.
Those threats ease into our conversation after the fact.
It’s time for me to drop my investigation. He makes me promise I will do so. All I have to do is stop asking questions.
I lie through my teeth. Can he tell? Do the tears make me seem more sincere?
Obviously, if I don’t get out of here, I’ll not be able to betray my promises. I’m not convinced he’s going to let me go even though he talks about it.
Does he think I’ll take Edmund’s place at the warehouse? He won’t be let back on the job after what we’ve found, recorded, and have wrapped up and waiting for the right time to deliver to Warren.
Come on, Sloane, don’t let the fire show. Make him believe you’ve been beaten.
But putting on too much weakness won’t work with him, either. He’s already seen that I’m defiant. Instead, I have to look beaten and torn about it.
We stare at each other for a long bout of silence. I loathe every second of it. He’s one of the hardest men I’ve ever tried to read, so much like Alistair’s high-powered attorney friend. Blank. Unwilling to let go of any kind of control over what I see.
It’s the scariest skill I’ve ever witnessed.
And only one I’ve seen from monsters.
Mikhal stands abruptly, making me jerk back. “Why don’t we get you some food and water? A bathroom break? How does that sound?”
I nod, unable to control my voice.
“Okay, come on. Up. The bathroom is only a few steps away. I’ll be there to guard you.” He waves a hand at me, and I get to my feet.
My legs have fallen asleep, so I wobble to the door where he waits. Mikhal’s hand grasps my elbow firmly without hurting me as the door opens for him. Are they watching? Did he signal them somehow?
A big man stares down at me as we pass. And Mikhal is correct. It’s less than a dozen steps to the bathroom. It’s a single. I’m relieved when he doesn’t come inside with me.
I’m dehydrated. That much is obvious.
My breath is sour, so I rinse my mouth out and scrub my face with some water and my palms.
The door opens behind me, and the big man reveals my captor again. He beckons me with a hand, leading me back to that room. A tray with beans, rice, and a mystery meat is waiting on the bunk I’ve been using, accompanied by a spork.
I’m closed in again, so I take my time, opening the bottle of water left for me to guzzle down a few gulps.
Breathing heavily, the liquid sloshes and turns my stomach. This is going to be an experience…
I sniff the food, cringing before I slowly spoon the beans and rice in my mouth. They’re bland, but that’s probably better. The mystery meat, however, has something that makes me gag merely from the scent.
I eat what I can and put the plate on the other bunk. Sipping the water bottle until it’s half empty, my stomach churns.
When I feel it coming back up, there’s nothing to puke into except to hover over that gross plate and retch. Small chunks come up, and it doesn’t overflow the edges. Thank God.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I scramble back to my bunk and bend over my knees.
It takes a count to ten for the door to open. Mikhal walks in, and someone follows behind him to remove the plate.
My captor crouches in front of me. He examines my face. The furrow of his brow as he works out whatever he’s looking for is the first genuine emotion I’ve seen from him. Curiosity.
That’s never ended well for me.
I just try to keep breathing, to not puke on Mikhal because that won’t help me at all. One roll of nausea has me closing my eyes and slowing my breath. It takes a new count to fifteen before I open them to Mikhal’s rich brown eyes. They’re pretty and surrounded by long lashes when he’s not threatening everything I love.
He smiles at me, and it honestly has my heart freaking the fuck out. Mikhal pats my knee and leaves me with only the bindings on my wrists.
Once I have control of my limbs again, I’m on my feet and searching the room. One full wall is rock. Thick and cold, like the floor. A cave. Right. No windows out.
I look over both bunks since they’re the only furniture in the room and don’t find anything useful. He’s left me with two bare bunks. Not even a pillow or sheet. Not that I should expect comfort.
Tracing my hands over everything I can reach anyway, I exhaust my options and myself. So I rest.
Curled up on the bed, I refuse to put my back to the door. It’s too much trust to give.
My mind swirls blackness as the events of the day and my situation catch up with me.
I’m halfway to sleep when the door bangs open and Mikhal barges in. Lifted half on my elbow, I blink at him. The smile on his face now is sinister.
“I’ve learned a few things about you that perhaps you don’t want me to know…”
I struggle to sit all the way upright as he approaches the bunk, trying to keep some space between us. My fatigue is worsening the green around my gills. Bile hovers at the back of my throat as I try to swallow it down.
“Why don’t I share with our new friend, too?”
Two big guys haul Jack into the room, his hands bound behind his back as they shove him to his knees in front of Mikhal. Another two men follow with fully automatic weapons pointed at his back.
I stare into his stony blue eyes. All I see is relief. He’s relieved to see me alive and whole.
Me, too.
I wish he were close enough to touch. That I could lean into his big chest and just let everything else go. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
But just as quickly as relief came, it crashes away again as panic ensues. If he’s in here, he’s been caught. We’re both in trouble, and there are so, so many people around to keep us here.
I hate myself for still being glad that I’m not alone. Tears blur my vision.
Mikhal steps behind him as his goons retreat. The fact that they trust him to handle himself scares me more as he bends down beside Jack, talking in his ear. “Want to know your lovely little lady’s secret?”
I can’t breathe, can’t fill my lungs with air as I stare at them both.
What is he talking about? What kind of animosity is he trying to sow? What can he have figured out during our interrogation?
That smile returns, but this time it’s small, a smug signal that he’s hammered another crack in my armor.
“She’s pregnant.” His whisper drops like a bomb, and all the air is sucked out of my lungs. I’m gasping, choking on the information that I only figured out hours ago being let go like a weapon.
Jack blinks at me, and I bet he wishes he didn’t come, that he might have left me here and not had to deal with the fallout of my idiotic decisions.