I’m going to kill Ochoa. Painfully. Her face… Blood stains her cheek, all the way down to her jaw, and a thick line of burned and blistered skin follows the contour of her cheekbone. Another long cut along her collarbone is still bleeding. Fuck. She has to be in agony, and it’s all my fault. Her justbeinghere is my fault. I can’t find my voice as she nudges my arms up so she can duck under them and rest her uninjured cheek against my neck.
“You’re so cold, TJ. Just…hold on to me.”
I do. For too long. But I might never get this chance again. As soon as Ochoa pulls me out of here, I’m going to kill him for what he did to her. I don’t know how; I’m too weak to stand, but I’ll find a way.
“Dani. What—what did he do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re all that matters,” she says as she holds me tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Having her pressed against me makes everything else in the world fade away, if only for a few minutes, and I can’t think of a single damn thing she should be sorry for.
“The article. It wasn’t me. My editor published it. I left notes at the end of the article that said it couldn’t go out, that it wasn’t done, that lives depended on this staying quiet until I gave the word, but he did it anyway.” Her tears soak into the dirty red prison shirt, and she hisses in pain. I don’t give a fuck about the article. Or about anything but getting her out of here alive.
“Look at me, baby. Please.”
Dani wriggles out from under my arms, and when I lock on to her haunted gaze, I hate myself for everything I’ve done. Pushing her away all those years ago. Not trusting her with my past—and Gil’s—not protecting her from that bastard general, but most of all, for thinking, even for a minute, that she might have put her career ahead of my safety.
“You’re not the one who should be sorry. I am. But we don’t have much time. Ochoa said five minutes. If I don’t tell him what he wants to know, he’s—”
Her lips brush mine. Gently at first, then with pure, raw desperation. “Ten minutes,” she whispers against my ear, her breath warm on my chilled skin. A low tone buzzes from somewhere close, and I don’t understand what it is until she corrects herself. “Seven.”
She’s on comms.
“You have to tell the general what he wants to know,” Dani says, then winces and cups her cheek. “Dammit. That wasn’t…” Her eyes flutter, and she collapses against me.
“Dani, breathe.”
The door opens, and Ochoa’s harsh voice makes us both jump. “Your time is up, Señor Moana.” The general snaps his fingers, and two of his men appear behind Dani. “Take her back to her cell.”
“Wait!” Dani’s fingers curl around mine, and I tense when I feel her press something hard against my palm. Her gaze is almost…triumphant. “Tell him everything, Trev. Please. Then, we can get out of here.”
She keeps repeating those words until the door slams shut, and the other two men who entered with the general pick me up and deposit me into a chair.
I still have whatever she gave me hidden, and as I look the general up and down, I realize what it is. One of his complement of medals. It’s not much of a weapon, but it’s the only thing I have, and it’s better than nothing.
Ochoa drops a small notebook and pen in my lap. “What will it be, Señor Moana? Freedom? A long life with the beautiful Daniella outside of Venezuela? Or a very short one where you will both be in constant agony?”
Seven minutes. Less now. If I can stall long enough, we’ll have a chance. “You’re the worst kind of asshole, Ochoa. One who thinks he’s better than everyone else. I’m only doing this for Dani. Because you hurt her, and I won’teverlet that happen again.”
With my wrists still cuffed and the medal hidden in my left hand, it’s awkward as hell to write, but I start making up names and randomly picking cities and neighborhoods these fictional assets live in. I stop after the fifth name, pretending to be too tired to continue. “I could…finish this…a lot easier…if you gave me some food…shithead.”
One of the soldiers knocks me off the chair, but before he can haul me back up again, the lights flicker and then go off completely.
* * *
Dani
Locked in a cell on the basement’s top level, I grab the rough blanket off the bed and press it to the cut on my collarbone. The pain makes me hiss, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing in my cheek.
It has to be shift change by now. Ry, Austin, and Graham should be inside.
“Lois. What’s your location?” Ry asks.
I turn away from the cameras. “Sublevel One. Third cell on the right. Superman’s on Sublevel Three. Door facing the elevator. Or was.”
“Hold tight.”
Only seconds later, something shakes the floor under my feet. Holy shit. All of a sudden, carrying that tin of thinking putty filled with C4 in my bag, onlyinches from my heart, seems like a very stupid idea. The lights flicker, and then I’m plunged into darkness.
