The only sound was the rain.
April listened hard, straining to hear voices, footsteps, traffic, anything that might tell her where she was. But there was nothing. Just rain.
She didn't scream. The house could be in the middle of nowhere for all she knew. And if she screamed, they'd know she was awake. Better to wait. Better to gather information first.
April replayed the abduction in her mind, trying to piece together details. The firefighter. His accent had been American at first—professional, calm, reassuring.Can you walk?But atthe end, right before everything went black, his accent had changed. Russian. She was sure of it.
Is Vince behind this? Why would he do this to me? Oh my God, is Kevin safe?
She heard footsteps.
April's heart slammed against her ribs. Someone was coming closer. She heard the metallic sounds of a door being unlocked, somewhere behind her.
The door opened. Artificial light poured in.
April held perfectly still, watching the pale shadow of a man on the wall in front of her.
An overhead light turned on, bright and harsh, making her squint. A man walked around the recliner to stand in front of her. The same firefighter who'd "saved" her. Except he wasn't dressed like a firefighter anymore. All black—black pants, black shirt, black jacket.
How stereotypical, the detached part of her brain observed.A kidnapper dressed all in black. I guess the TV shows got it right.
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled.
"You’re awake already, April Taylor," he said, his Russian accent thick and unmistakable now. "Or is it April Meyer? I suppose you've gone back to Taylor, haven't you? Smart. Made it harder for Vince to find you."
April's blood ran cold. April Meyer. Her name in Vegas. The name she'd buried when she ran.
"I am going to remove your gag," the man continued, his tone conversational. "But before you waste any energy on screaming, let me tell you—no one is close enough to hear you. So why don't we do this the easy way? I remove the gag, you do not bite me, you do not scream, and you answer my questions. Do you understand?"
April nodded. She tried to say yes, but it came out muffled against the gag.
The man chuckled. "All right. The gag is coming off."
He reached forward and untied the cloth, then pulled it away from her mouth. April gasped, relief flooding through her even as her throat burned. She tried to speak and realized her mouth was bone dry. She coughed.
"Oh, of course." The man stepped back, disappearing from view. "You must be very thirsty. One moment. I'm a terrible host."
April heard plastic wrapping tearing, then the squeak of plastic moving against plastic. He returned with a water bottle, cap already removed.
"This should help," he said, his voice a mockery of politeness and hospitality. "I'm afraid I don't trust you enough to untie your hands, so I will give you the water."
He put the bottle to her lips.
The part of April that wanted to fight, to resist, to spit in his face—screamed at her to refuse. But the rational part, the part that wanted to get back to Kevin and Shane, told her to wait. To drink. To stay strong. To hold off for the right opportunity to escape, to fight, to kill if she had to.
She drank.
The water was cold, clean, the best she'd ever tasted. She nodded when she needed a breath, and he pulled the bottle back, then brought it to her lips again. It took a few minutes, but she drank the entire bottle. He crumpled it in his fist and tossed it into the corner.
"Now," he said, settling back on his heels. "I just got done speaking with Vince."
April's voice came out raspy. "What does he want?"
"He wants you to cooperate, of course. We all do." The man smiled. "This can go very easy for you, April. Of course you'llget a cut. Vince promised you that a long time ago, and we will honor it."
April stared at him, completely lost. "A cut? A cut of what? I don't know what you're talking about."
The man chuckled, shaking his head. "I see that we can't do this the easy way." He leaned forward, his eyes cold. "Listen. Vince made some bad choices. I am one of those bad choices. He came to me for help to find you after he got out of prison. He tried finding you on his own and no luck. He promised us a big, big cut. We gave him nice things. He said you ran away when he was arrested. I don't judge you for that. I don't blame you. I would too, if I knew what you knew."
