They’re all on comms. Even me. The tiny earbud is barely noticeable, but works with both my phone and the encrypted system the team uses whenever they’re on mission.
Doc links our fingers. “You can do this, baby.”
Across from me, Wren gives me the signal. She’s ready to work her magic tracing the call, though she’s not sure she’ll be successful. Not with the tech power Bastian so obviously has onhis side. I always thought tracing was easy, but apparently, that’s only in the movies.
“Where is Gladys?” I ask without even saying hello. He doesn’t deserve the courtesy.
“Natasha, is that any way to greet an old friend?” His nasally voice grates along my last nerve. I’m squeezing Doc’s hand so tightly, I’m afraid I’ll hurt him.
“Fuck you. I’m not playing your games, Bastian. Let me talk to Gladys or this conversation is over.”
“Turn on your video.”
I swallow hard. We were prepared for this. But God, I don’t want to see his face. Or let him see mine. I scoot as far from Doc as I can without letting go of his hand. Wren nods, and I tap the screen.
Holy shit. She actually did it. Instead of the warehouse kitchen behind me, it looks like I’m in a cheap hotel room. Alone. Down to the garish patterned carpet and the 1970’s-era bedspread.
Bastian isn’t anywhere recognizable. Plain, cinderblock walls. Bright lights. No furniture I can see. West moves closer to the flat screen monitor on the wall that mirrors my screen.
The years haven’t been kind to my former squad leader. His black hair has started to thin. His nose looks like it’s been broken at least once, and his skin has a sallow texture that would be worrisome if I gave two shits about his health.
“I admit,” Bastian says with a sneer, “I expected Parker to have done more damage than that.” He gestures to me, and I reach up to touch the dark bruise under my left eye. “Your hand-to-hand skills always were decent…for a woman.”
“Parker talked too much. So do you. Where. Is. Gladys?”
His gaze flicks up, behind the camera, and a second later, the view switches.
Another cinder block wall, this one with part of a steel door visible at the edge of the frame. Gladys sits in a rolling desk chair, her hands clasped in her lap, wearing a pair of bright pink sweat pants, house slippers, and a shirt that says, “I sleep naked. Join me?”
She squints at the screen, frowns, then pushes to her feet. But Doherty steps into the frame and shoves her back down again, grabbing the arm of the chair to stop it from rolling halfway across the room. She narrows her gaze at him. “Your mother didn’t teach you a lick of manners, did she?”
The look Doherty gives her chills me to my core. But Gladys doesn’t seem to care, simplyharrumphsand turns back to the camera. “Baby girl, did they hurt my Bella?”
“She’s okay. She says she loves you.” My eyes start to burn, but I can’t let her—or Bastian—see me cry. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault?—”
“Hush now.Youdidn’t kidnap an old woman before she finished her first cup of coffee. The only thing you gotta be sorry for is not tellin’ me your real name. Natasha suits you a hell of a lot better thanNat.”
I choke out a laugh. “You’re my best friend, Gladys. My only friend. I love you, and I’m going to get you back home. Back to Bella.”
“That girl is going to make the most beautiful bride,” she says, her scratchy voice taking on a wistful tone. But then her expression turns fierce, and she grabs the arms of the chair and sits up straight. “Don’t you listen to these assholes for one minute!”
Doherty slaps her across the face.
“You fucking bastard!” I scream. Only Doc’s hold on my hand stops me from jumping up to pace. The tech Wren is using to mask my location won’t work if I move around too much.
The video switches back to Bastian. I can hear Gladys moaning in the background. “If you hurt her?—”
“You’ll do what? Kill me? Send me back to prison?” He scoffs. “I have too many powerful friends, Natasha. Even if you and that doctor of yours have killed three of them. I’m willing to let the old woman go, but you and the good doctor are going to do exactly what I say.”
“Leave Doc out of this.”
With a chuckle, Bastian shakes his head. “You should have let Parker kill you days ago. Then, this would all be over. But as I checked in with my parole officer the other day, I realized I was thinking too small.”
I’d roll my eyes if I didn’t think he’d hurt Gladys again to spite me. “Get to the point, will you? Those two idiots you sent after Doc showed up in the middle of the goddamn night. I’m tired.”
“I’ve fantasized about killing you every day for the past eight years,” he says. “We all have. We had a good thing going in Iraq. I was clearing a quarter million a year. Tax free.”
In my ear, West mutters, “Is this a fucking shakedown?”
