A bone-jarringimpact yanks me back to awareness. The headache threatens to crush my skull, and my muscles feel like limp noodles. Something’s very wrong, but I can’t figure out what. Metal bangs from behind me. Then silence.
I was with Natasha. A sharp pinch to my arm. Fuck. Insulin shock. I try to rub my eyes, but my arms won’t move. I can’t feel my legs. Can’t feel anything, really.
“Doc? You alive?” The weak, familiar voice sounds like it’s underwater. Or I am.
I blink hard, desperate to focus, but all I can see is a single, dim light above me.
Roll over, dumbass.
Easier said than done, but with a groan, I turn onto my side. A hazy form sits against the wall. White, orange, and purple hair.
“Gladys.”
“You were supposed to protect her,” she says. “Nat’s all alone with that man now.”
Slowly, I pull my knees to my chest. “Didn’t have a choice.” I’d tell Gladys that we didn’t come to D.C. alone, but I don’t know if anyone’s listening.
She crawls over to me, moving too carefully. They hurt her. Anger gives me the strength to struggle up to sitting, though the room spins around me. At least the nerve block is keeping the pain from my broken rib at bay.
Gladys’s cheek is several shades of purple. Fingertip bruises darken around her arms. She’s not bound, thank God, but she’s favoring her right side. Her wrist is swollen. Tears shimmer in her eyes. “They’re going to kill her.”
“No. They want her to go to prison for the rest of her life.” That single hope is all I can hold onto. All I have. Hidden Agenda won’t stop until they get her out. Even if it takes days. Or weeks. With their contacts, they’ll get it done. Though we won’t be here to see it.
With a slow shake of her head, Gladys sniffles. “The asshole in charge is gonna kill her after she signs her confession. He said she’ll be arrested, and they’ll be able to get to her. That the Colonel wants to be the one to do it.”
Fuck. I have to warn West. Ryker. Someone. “Wait. Who’s the Colonel?”
She shrugs. “Some big muckety-muck. They were talkin’ to him on the plane.”
My vision has adjusted somewhat to the dim light in the room. Cinderblock walls, a metal door, and nothing else. It’s cold—despite being the middle of August. “Are we in a basement?”
“Yep. Those fuckers made me walk down a whole mess of stairs,” she says. “With my knees! And the only bathroom is on the first floor. ‘Course, they only let me use it once. Not that they’ve given me anything to eat or drink either.”
Shit.The GPS tracker won’t work through thick cement walls. Assuming it’s even still under the tape on my side. I can’t tell.But if it was transmitting up until they threw me in here, West and the team should be able to figure out where I am.
I don’t know how long I was out. I vaguely remember being rushed through the airport on a gurney. Sirens blaring. An intense pain in my chest. Oh, fuck. “Gladys, lift up my shirt.”
“Huh?” She frowns. “Are you tryin’ to come on to me?Here?”
“No. Please. Just do it.”
Her hands shake, but she raises the Henley all the way to my armpits. Fucking hell. Two burn marks. One on the right side of my chest, the other just below the bandages under my left arm. My heart stopped. And the electric shock…it’ll be a miracle if the GPS chip was transmitting after that.
“Enough,” I manage. Everything’s fucked. Up, down, and sideways.
“What did those punks do to you?” She smooths the shirt back down, and suddenly, she looks more like a frail, doting grandmother than her usual zero-fucks-to-give badass self.
“Too much.” I close my eyes, but an intense wave of dizziness almost sends me pitching over.
Gladys rubs her hands together, then blows on them as she shivers. Her thin t-shirt, pink pants, and house slippers aren’t enough to keep her warm down here.
“Come closer. Put your arms around me. You’re freezing.”
“Don’t be flirtin’ with me, Dr. Sexy Pants,” she says, a deep sadness to her tone. “You’re Nat’s man, remember?”
Despite her words, she scoots until we’re hip to hip, then winds her spindly arms around my waist.
“She won’t mind. She knows I love…fuck. I never told her. I didn’t get the chance.” The realization is too much. She almost said the words to me on the plane. And I would have said them right back. Now…will we ever have a chance?
