“You didn’t know her, Kate. Nat wasn’t a spy. I was going to fucking ask her to marry me, for Christ’s sake.”
He was fighting, but she could tell his certainty was wavering. One coincidence could maybe be explained, but not two.
Kate’s heart went out to him. She knew better than anyone what it was like to have the person you thought you loved betray you. “I’m sorry, Scott. But you need to warn John. Brittany might not be out of danger if this guy is who we think he is.”
Scott swore. “He left a while ago to find her. Hold on a sec. I’ll try to call him from another phone.” He was back on a few moments later. “He’s not answering. I left a text as well, but I’m going after him.”
She knew better than to try to talk him out of it, but John was going to need some help.
Twenty-eight
John was in a cab when the call came through. Recognizing the number, he heaved a sigh of relief. He should have gotten rid of his phone after he left Brittany’s apartment, but he was damned glad he’d followed his gut and not protocol.
“Brit,” he said, answering. “Thank God. Where are you? I need to talk to you.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. I knew you wouldn’t get rid of the phone. Good thing for her I was right. Sloppy, Donovan. But I guess even SEALs have weak spots. Good thing I found yours.”
John went cold at the man’s words. He processed instantly what had happened. Brittany had been taken, and whoever had done so knew who he was. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” John said.
It wasn’t a threat; it was a promise.
“You aren’t exactly in a position to be bargaining right now. I hold all the cards—or the only card that matters.” He laughed. “And I owe you for my broken wrist. Maybe I’ll fuck her when you get here so you can watch. Again.”
Oh God. John’s chest twisted. Every bone in his body ached at the thought of her being hurt like that.
She was alive; he had to focus on that.
John didn’t know whether the guy was telling the truth or trying to get to him, but he wasn’t going to show how much he had. “That was you in Norway,” he said. “I should have killed you.”
“You should have,” the guy agreed. “But you didn’t finish the job. You were more concerned with making sure she was okay. You can be assured that’s not a mistake I will make.”
“What do you want?”
“Simple. An exchange. Your life for hers.”
The irony wasn’t lost on him. Brittany was bait again, but this time he was the fish. “Where?” John asked.
The guy gave him an address of a warehouse near the docks. “I don’t have to tell you to come alone. I won’t be—I’ll be well covered—but I bet you figured that out. Be here in thirty minutes.”
The call disconnected.
John had figured it out, all right. Whoever was holding her didn’t have any intention of letting either of them walk away. And thirty minutes wasn’t enough time to get anything in place. Not that he was going to take the chance.
But then his phone buzzed again. He didn’t recognize the number but took a chance and answered.
•••
Brittany woke to the sound of distant voices. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton and her mouth was dry. She blinked, but it took her eyes a while to focus. She was lying on the ground in a damp, dank-smelling room. It was dark—lit only by what remained of the daylight streaming through a small oval window on the wall opposite her. The walls and floors appeared to be made of steel.
There was a banging sound above her that echoed strangely, and she knew at once where she was. They weren’t moving, but she was sure she was on a ship.
All of a sudden it came back to her. Mick—Mikhail—had stuck her with something and taken her. His was one of the voices she was hearing. Her back was to the men speaking on the other side of the room behind her, and she dared not turn and alert them to her consciousness. But it took everything she had not to cry out when she realized whom Mick was calling—and what he intended to do.
He must have taken her phone from her bag. She looked around on the ground before her and saw the contents of the messenger bag spread out on the floor in front of her. Her computer and the files she had in her bag were gone as well.
Panic raced through her, but she knew she had to do something. Mick knew who John was. He must have recognized him from the picture she’d posted in the paper when he’d seen him with her in Norway. She wished she’d never published it, but she couldn’t have imagined something like this.
She also knew that she couldn’t let John walk in here and sacrifice himself for her.
