“Yes.” My hand shakes as I dry my tears. “I understand. Please…just find him.”
“I will.” The call drops, and I take a deep breath. I can do this. Rising, I stare up at the wispy clouds. “Please, God. Keep Leo safe.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Leo
The empty cupof water mocks me from the corner of the room. With my wrists shackled to the table, I can’t stand up.
Who are you kidding? Even if they took the cuffs off, you’d still be fucked.
I passed out minutes after the IPS agents muscled me into the SUV. When I came to, they were dragging me down a long hallway to God knows where.
Strip searched, beaten until I couldn’t stand on my own, and thrown in here. No shoes, no belt. They even took my fucking ear studs.
My legs are half numb. I can’t make a fist with my right hand. My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each. Every time I put my head down, someone slams the door so loud, I jump.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. No windows. No way to mark the passage of time other than my exhaustion. They won’t let me sleep. No food. Only a few ounces of water and that was hours ago.
The door bangs open, and I jerk against the cuffs. Peña, the one who asks all the questions, holds a steaming cup of coffee, and fuck. It smells like heaven.
Reyes, his partner—whose only contribution to the party is his fists—leans against the wall to my right. Fucker must know I can’t see shit on that side.
“Mr. Basher, you do not look well,” Peña says and takes a long sip of coffee. “We can bring in a doctor if you tell us what we want to know.”
“Listen, dumbfuck—”
Reyes kicks the chair out from under me. The metal cuffs dig into my wrists. My ass hits the cement floor and sharp pain lances through my shoulders.
It takes me three tries to get to my knees. The room spins, Peña’s expression fading in and out of focus. “If you’re going to kill me,” I say, “justdoit already.”
“We do not wish to kill you, Mr. Basher.” Peña smiles, takes another sip of coffee, and folds his hands on the table. Reyes rights the chair, grabs the waistband of my Dockers, and shoves me back into the seat. Before he returns to his favorite spot, he punches me in the side.
Wheezing, I grab the bar welded to the table to keep from sliding back down to the floor. “Without me,” I manage, “Manuel Cortez would be dead.”
Peña throws his paper cup against the wall, the last of the coffee dripping down to the floor. “Without you, I would be asleep in my bed right now. You brought a loaded gun through security to a presidential rally, Mr. Basher. For that alone, you will go to jail for many years. Threatening members of the International Protection Service? Attempting to assassinate the Vice President of Panama? You will never see daylight again.”
“I saved his fucking life. Your people didn’t see the sniper. I did.” My voice is fading, and the split lip Reyes gave me hours ago burns with every word.
Peña arches a brow. “If you will not talk to spare your own life, maybe you want to keep your lover out of prison.”
I sit up straighter, ignoring the throbbing pain in my back. “What have you done to Domina?”
“We have done nothing to her, Mr. Basher. But the National Police are preparing to bring charges against her. Helping a terrorist smuggle weapons into a secure location is a very serious crime.” He smiles, and if I weren’t locked to this goddamn table, I’d snap his neck.
“She’s innocent, you fucking bastard.” Desperation has me yanking on the cuffs, and blood slicks my wrists. “If you hurt her…”
“You will do what? And how? You are handcuffed to a table, in a locked room, somewhere no one will ever find you. Iownyou, Mr. Basher.” Peña nods to Reyes. The bigger man ambles over to the door and punches a long string of numbers into a keypad. The locks disengage, and he retrieves a bucket from the hall and hands it to his partner.
“By morning, perhaps you will be more…talkative.” Peña drops the bucket next to me, then follows Reyes from the room. “I would tell you to get some rest, but we both know that will not happen.”
The locks engage, and I scream obscenities until my voice fades away completely. The way I feel now, I’ll be completely fucked by morning. The only chance I have? Zephyr. She’ll know something’s happened to me. Maybe she’ll tell Trevor. Or Austin.
And what the hell are they going to do?
At least when Trev was taken, we knew where the fuck he was. This place is a black site. Minimal staff—I think I’ve only seen one other person besides my two interrogators—thick walls, probably several stories below ground. They’ll never find me.
But they can help Domina. As long as she’s safe, I don’t care what happens to me.
