My heels are still digging into the stone floor, the chain attached to my ankle stretched and taut to keep me as far away from him as possible. “Are you Interpol?Bundesnachrichtendienst-German FIS?”
He seems to find this funny, this enormous, scary man. “We’re… freelance.” Turning his head, he shouts out the door, “Get the bolt cutters in here!” I can tell he’s trying to keep me from freaking out, which I appreciate, by maintaining his distance. “I’m Dario. What’s your name?” His accent is Italian, I think.
“You speak English really well,” I observe stupidly.
He finds that funny, too. “Thank you. Can you tell me who you are?” He’s trying to give me space, I know this, but he’s huge and the size of him casts a shadow over me and I can’t think when he’s standing over me like this. Another man in an identical black tactical suit brings in a sinister-looking pair of bolt cutters. My chain jingles as I scoot the other way.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m just cutting your chain off. When we get you out of here, we’ll remove that shackle,” he says soothingly, touching the iron links. “I’m going to use the bolt cutters now, all right?”
My chest is heaving for air again, but I manage to nod. The cutters slice through the link next to the iron cuff around my ankle easily, and he rises, holding out his hand.
“Can you walk?”
Pushing myself up the stone wall, I say, “Yes, of course.” And then pitch forward.
Dario catches me before I face plant into the stone and swings me up in his arms. “We’ll move faster this way,” he says cheerfully, which seems creepy, given the circumstances.
“Is He dead?” I want to sound firm, and authoritative but it comes out in a whisper.
He smiles unpleasantly. “He will be.”
Dario…
This woman is lighter than air. It seems off; based on the condition of the other victims. Schmidt enjoyed forcing them to gain weight. She’s cringing away, trying not to touch me, but she doesn’t struggle as I carry her out of the room.
“Yuri, we’ve got two survivors,” I say into the headset, “one is critical. I think you’re going to need to fly her out.”
“Our timeline just changed,” he answers, “one of the scouts on the perimeter reported more cars heading this way. With a hostage and survivors, I don’t want to risk a shootout.”
“Tell our guys to bomb the gates open and get in here,” I said, “how many people can fit in that helicopter?”
“It’s a two-seater,” Yuri said, “We can have the pilot fly out the critically injured girl. We’ll all have to take our chances.”
“The trucks are armored,” I remind him, “the second we’re out of range, we blow this fucker sky high.”
“Roger that,” he said. “Have your team get the girl to the roof and see if the medic can stabilize her. I’ll put Schmidt in the third truck to keep him away from your survivor. We have less than ten minutes before this bastard’s reinforcements get within range.”
“On it,” I said, closing the connection. The girl I’m holding is shifting anxiously, craning her neck to look over my arm.
“The other survivor?” She’s trying to make her croaky little voice louder. “Who is she?”
“Did you know the other women?” I ask with a frown, taking the steps two at a time.
“Yeah…” Her head lolls against my shoulder before she tenses up again. “He used to bring them in and make me watch… watch Him…” There’s a trickle of tears on her pale face, I don’t think she’s aware she is crying.
“It’s okay,” I promise, tightening my arms around her, feeling insanely protective of this woman I don’t know. “He’ll never hurt anyone again.”
The courtyard is lit up from the headlights of our trucks, blazing down the paved boulevard leading up to the house. Pulling Carlo aside, I murmur, “Get Casey into the second truck, Schmidt goes in truck three, make sure Edoardo knocks him out. I want you and Lorenzo on him. I’ll wait for you to secure him before I put her in the first one.”
His eyes soften slightly as he gazes at her, limp in my arms. “Understood.”
The girl’s head lifts. “I thought you said He was dead?” Her green eyes are huge with terror. “You told me. You told me He was dead!”
“No,Bellissima,but he will be. He’s not getting anywhere near you, I promise.” I tighten my grip when she starts thrashing.
“You don’t know Him,” she moans, “you don’t know who you’re dealing with! Kill Him now!”
Carlo signals me as I try to comfort her. “Edoardo knocked the fucker out,” he said, “He’ll never see her.”
