The fact that Mick had been using her phone made her think her guess was right that they probably weren’t out to sea. If he had cell service, they must still be docked somewhere.
If only she had a way of warning...
Oh my God. She did. She just prayed Mick hadn’t found it.
She felt around the front pocket of her shorts, and it was there. The burner phone Mac had given her. It had been sitting on her counter when she went to leave for work this morning. She’d stuck it in her pocket almost as an afterthought.
Thank you, Mac!Brittany owed her big-time. Although a few moments later, as she was painstakingly texting out a message using the number keys, she was wishing Mac’s supply of burners was smartphones.
But she managed a short message:Kidnapped. Being held on a ship. Tell John not to come. She sent the message and then thought again. She knew better.Tell him not to come alone.
She knew him well enough to have no doubt that he would come for her—no matter what she said. But she would do everything in her power to help him.
After pressing a couple keys, she slipped the phone back in her pocket and turned around, pretending to wake up.
She had to try to find out what Mick intended. Even if it meant drawing attention to herself.
She shivered as she saw him walking toward her, the look of cold purpose on his face almost making her reconsider.
She just prayed someone was listening.
Twenty-nine
Brittany had done everything she could. She just had to hope that it was enough.
On seeing that she was awake, Mick had her hauled up and tossed in a metal chair. Her hands had been tied behind her back and her feet were bound.
He’d then proceeded to question her about what she knew about John and his mission. When she didn’t give him an answer he liked—which was most of the time—he struck her across the face.
“Wrong answer.”
“I can’t tell you something I don’t know. John didn’t tell me anything.”
One of the four other men she’d seen going in and out of the room—the guy who was looking at her computer—came over and whispered something in Mick’s ear that caused him to hit her again. This time with his fist on her cheek with enough force to draw blood.
She’d been trying not to make a sound, conscious of people listening, but she couldn’t stop herself from crying out this time. She saw stars—or more accurately, black spots and flashes of light.
“You’re lying,” he said. “We just found the unpublished article on your computer. You know the one to which I’m referring—the one where you mention survivors. Who are they?”
Obviously, her rudimentary attempt to hide her articles hadn’t been much of a deterrent, but her paranoia hadn’t extended to this type of situation. God, what had she done?
“If you were spying on me you should know that I made that up. I lost my job because of it. Didn’t you read the paper?”
“Your boyfriend’s alive. Were you lying about that, too? Why shouldn’t I believe there were others?”
“Even if there were, do you honestly think he would have divulged information like that to me?”
“Then what reason do I have to keep you alive?”
“None.”
He laughed at her bravado. “No. There you are wrong. I suspect your boyfriend will be much more forthcoming with information when you are the one suffering for his answers.”
“He isn’t my boyfriend. If you were watching me as you say, you would know that.”
He shrugged indifferently. “Maybe not. But for your sake, I hope you are wrong or you are going to have a very long and unpleasant death.”
Brittany was doing her best to be brave, but there was nothing she could do to stave off the chill of terror at the thought of being tortured to death. But he’d just given her the opening she needed to convey to anyone who was listening the number of men she’d seen. “Are you sure it won’t be your death?” She looked around. “I hope you have an army hiding on this ship. Five men versus one SEAL aren’t very good odds.”
