“Is that all you’ve got?” I taunt. “A toddler hits harder than that.”
That does it. Lloyd goes apeshit and lets his fists fly. I feel myself fading, my vision blurring at the edges. My head throbs from my earlier concussion, and every blow drives me closer to darkness.
“Boss, we need to keep her alive. She’s right. We could have a mole. Her people will come after us if she goes missing. We can still play this off as a mugging. And we’ve got a shipment leaving in two hours that we need to deal with.”
Samson’s voice reaches me through the haze of pain as Lloyd delivers another punch.
“You’re right,” Lloyd pants. “Put her in with the boy. We’ll deal with her later. Start looking for the mole.”
Samson unhooks my arms, but my legs won’t hold me up, so he throws me over his shoulder. Every muscle in my body protests before blackness swallows me again.
***
I’m not sure how many hours have passed when I’m woken up by soft hands patting my cheeks.
“Lady, wake up.”
Blinking, I stare into bright blue eyes framed by dark blond lashes. His dirty cheeks are lined with tear tracks, and a riot of blond curls frames his cherubic face. For a minute, I think I’ve died, and an angel has come to guide me to heaven.
Then, nausea rips through me, and I turn my head, purging the contents of my stomach on the ground. When I’m done, I slowly push myself into a seated position against the wall and look around. Or at least, I try to look around; it’s tricky with one eye swollen shut and the double vision in the other.
From the looks of it, we’re still at the warehouse. I’m not sure if it’s the same one I was in earlier or if they’ve moved me to another. One door on the opposite wall. A small blanket rests on a grungy mattress on the floor with a bucket and bottles of water beside it. In the distance, I hear people sobbing and shouting.
Glancing down, I’m relieved to see I’m still dressed and wearing my boots. I still have a knife tucked in my boot. My hand flies to my neck, and I exhale shakily when my fingers find my necklace.
The little boy shuffles closer, and I raise my arm for him to snuggle into me. It’s bloody freezing in here, and he’s only wearing a thin shirt. I don’t want to think about why.
We need to get out of here, but I have to find out who the boy is first.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Noah,” he whispers, his big blue eyes fixed on mine trustingly. At that moment, my heart tumbles and falls.
“How old are you, sweetie?”
He screws up his nose and holds up four fingers.
My heart clenches and breaks. “Do you have a mummy and daddy?”
“No.”
Bloody hell, did they kill his parents?
I need to figure out how long I’ve been out and whether backup is imminent. I know it’ll take about two and a half hours for them to get to me. Then they’ll do recon. In the meantime, I neededto get over to the door and check it out. As long as there’s no deadbolt on the outside, I’ll be able to get us out of here.
“Did I sleep for a long time after the man brought me in here?”
Noah shakes his head. “You not sleep long. I wake you up. Bad things happen when you sleep.”
Fucking bastards.
Anger thrums through me. Never again. When we get out of here—and we will—I’ll move heaven and earth to make sure this little boy never has to worry again about bad things when he sleeps.
I run my fingers gently through his curls. “I’m going to get us out of here, okay?”
Noah shakes his head frantically, clinging to my arm. “No! They’ll hurt you.”
Pressing my lips to his little head, I ignore the smell of unwashed boy as I comfort him. “Listen to me, little man. My friends are coming for me, but I need to get us out of here before Samson comes back.”
