“Bastian has a full-bird colonel behind him. We don’t know who it is, but Gladys says he wants to be the one to kill you. Bastian just wants you to suffer. There’s no better way to do that than killing Doc in front of you. We have a plan to get into the CTF. And we can track your location inside. But it’s a big place, and we don’t know how many hostiles we’ll encounter. We might not get there in time. Or be able to save you both. You need to decide, Natasha. Right now.”
The text fades away, and I slide the tablet back to Graham.
“Are you asking me for a lawyer?”
The hope in his voice breaks me. I wish I could. But there’s one thing I want—no, that I need—more than my freedom. I need to know Doc is safe. Staying here is his only chance. Rubbing my hands over my face to hide my lips, I lower my voice to a whisper. “No. If I do, Doc dies.”
Graham taps the screen a few times and turns it toward me.“We won’t give up on him. I promise.”
I lower my gaze to the table and blink back tears. “If I’m inside, there’s a better chance Doc lives. Yes or no?”
He pauses for so long, I raise my head. His green eyes are full of sorrow. “Yes.”
The door opens, and Hastings stalks back into the room. “Some asshole rammed my car in the parking lot. Now I’m going to have to fill out a fuck-ton of paperwork with my insurance company. You can go, Mr. Tempelton. I’ll take it from here.”
“Winters?” Graham stands, tucks his tablet under his arm, and meets my gaze. “I need an answer.”
Under the table, I dig my fingers into my thighs as hard as I can. “I don’t need a lawyer, Mr. Tempelton. I’m guilty of my crimes, and I intend to pay for them.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Doc
Three times since Gladys escaped,I’ve passed out. Three times, I’ve been jolted awake in the most painful ways possible. The first was when Collins and Doherty dumped me into the trunk of a car. The bright sun blinded me for all of a five seconds before they slammed the lid. I couldn’t move. They’d hogtied me and slapped a strip of duct tape over my mouth. I don’t think I’d been unconscious for long. Minutes, maybe. I could still feel the arm around my throat.
Exhaust fumes, combined with the intense heat, made it hard to focus. I thought I could turn over—maybe pull the trunk release level, but I’m a big guy, and itwasn’ta big car. Eventually, I gave up, and the motion, noise, and my own exhaustion pulled me under.
Later, someone ripped the tape from my lips and poured juice down my throat. I choked, aspirating enough of the sweet drink I can still feel it burning my lungs. After gagging me again, they turned out the light and shut the door. I wheezed around the tape, and my head hit hard porcelain.
Fucking hell. They’d dumped me in a bathtub.
I tried to get free, but all I managed to do was bang my forehead against the spout and get blood in my eyes. Eventually, I fell asleep—or passed out.
It’s the light that does it this time. And the door banging open. And Montgomery Bastian tearing the gag away so violently, my lower lip splits.
Rage twists his expression, and he grabs my arms and shakes me hard enough, whiplash is a distinct possibility.
“You had better hope the old woman knows what’s good for her,” he snarls. “I’d kill you right now if I could.”
“Do it,” I manage. “What are you waiting for?”
Bastian’s eyes darken. “Natasha. Of course. She’ll be on her way to lockup in a few hours. After lights out,herlights will go out. Forever.”
“Really?That’sthe line you’re going with? I thought criminal masterminds only used bad puns on television.” I groan, then lose my breath when he punches me in the stomach. The coughing fit sends pain snaking around my torso. Fuck. The nerve block is wearing off. But Gladys got away. Even if the earbud didn’t work, she would have gone to the police. Or called Bella. Hidden Agenda will protect her.
Bastian turns to Doherty. “He better last until tonight. The Colonel wants to be the one to put an end to Natasha. ButI’llmake her suffer. She’ll watch me carve her lover into pieces before the end.”
Fuck. He’s going to torture me in front of her. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Everything about this asshole is over the top. Pretty sure he could step right into one of those murder shows Gladys likes to watch and fit right in.
“Get him ready.” Bastian pushes his way past the other men in the small bathroom. “We leave in two hours.”
Collins and Bowen each grab one of my arms to haul me out of the bathtub. After so long in one position, my muscles scream at me. My vision blurs.
They drop me face first onto old, disgusting carpet. Cigarette smoke lingers in the air.
“Make a sound,” Bowen says, his knee pressed into my lower back, “and I’ll cut out your tongue so you can’t even say goodbye to her.”
I’ll do anything to see Natasha again. To have the chance to hold her. To tell her she saved me from my own crushing loneliness—even if it was only for a short while. And for that, I need my tongue. So I keep my mouth shut.
