The guys were coming, and hopefully Terry Richards had taken her straight to Dr. Gardner. Blade and the others had talked through every scenario with her, and she knew that they’d been hoping that Dr. Gardner would be there when she met with the cop, but they didn't think it was likely. Instead, it was more probable that she would be transported to a secondary location. They would be following her every move, waiting for confirmation that the doctor was there before moving in.
If Dr. Gardner never showed, they would move in anyway, extract her, and take whoever they could prisoner to try to get intel out of them on where her former boss had squirreled himself away.
It had seemed like a solid plan, one she’d been one hundred percent committed to, but now that she was there, in the middle of it, it suddenly seemed like a whole lot of things could go wrong.
No wonder Blade hadn't wanted her to do this.
“You told him you could do this, so you have to,” she reminded herself. “Besides, it’s not like you have a choice. You're committed now, you have to endure whatever is coming next.”
She’d said she could do this, and she wasn't going to let anyone down.
Especially herself.
Okay, so she had to think about this logically. Maybe fighting wasn't her skill set, but logic was. Solving problems was. Assess her situation, weigh up all her options, and then formulate a plan.
Step one, assess.
It took Whitney a moment to figure out if the room she was in was just pitch black or if her eyes were closed. It wasn't until she blinked them several times that she concluded they were, in fact, open, and this room was so dark she couldn’t tell the difference.
Fine tremors wracked her body in a constant stream, and now that she focused on it, she could tell it wasn't all fear. It was cold in there. Freezing in fact. Enough that she felt it even though she was wearing jeans, a sweater, a coat, gloves, and a scarf.
Wasn't she?
Panic chased away the cold, and she bolted upright, ignoring the still lingering nausea, and began to run her hands over her body. If someone had taken off her clothes, there was every chance that wasn't all they’d done to her.
The gloves were no longer on her hands, and she couldn’t feel the scarf, but when she felt down to her chest, Whitney noted the soft cashmere of the sweater she’d put on for the meeting with the cop. No coat, but it seemed like her other clothes were in place.
Except for her shoes and socks. Because when she got to her feet, she found them bare and cold to the touch.
“At least you're not naked,” she reminded herself, although it did little to calm her rising panic.
Maybe she hadn't been raped yet, and maybe it wouldn't happen, but until the guys came for her, the people holding her could do whatever they wanted to her. Dr. Gardner wanted her back, and Terry Richards had already told her that she was going to be punished for her betrayal.
What if it took too long for Blade to come?
What if by the time he got there, she’d already been hurt?
Scrambling up onto her knees, determined to find a way out, or at least something to defend herself with, Whitney swayed slightly as she pushed to her feet, but she ignored it. The drugs would soon be out of her system, and she needed to be prepared.
Blade was coming, he’d promised her, told her they were bound by blood now. Chances were, he was somewhere close by right now, every bit as anxious to get to her as she was to get tohim. But he was also trusting her to have it together, stick with the plan. All the guys were, Rose and Cassandra, too. And any other victims still being held prisoner and tested on.
Beneath her bare feet, the floor was cold and hard. It didn't feel like a regular floor, not floorboards, or even concrete. It almost felt like some sort of metal. Maybe something like a shipping container?
With her hands out in front of her, Whitney walked until she touched something. A whole five steps. Five small, timid steps. Sidestepping along to her left, she made it another three before she found a corner. Ten steps made it to the other side, and then thirty along until she felt the next corner. Those dimensions could definitely fit with a shipping container, but as far as she knew, Dr. Gardner didn't have any connections with a shipping yard or dock.
Then again, what did she know about the crazed scientist other than what she saw when he was in the lab with her? Maybe he did have connections she didn't know about. After all, she was his prisoner not his friend, not a colleague, not an equal in any way.
The sound of clunking had her scrambling backward away from what she was sure was the door to the shipping container that she was far too close to. In her hurry, she tripped over her feet and went down hard, pain spiking up her spine and her hands, which had taken the brunt of the fall.
Blinding light suddenly flooded inside her dark cage, and she had no choice but to squeeze her eyes shut, even knowing it made her that much more vulnerable.
“Ah, the baby genius is awake,” Terry Richards’ voice rang out, and she curled in on herself.
The man terrified her, and even knowing that Blade was coming for her didn't erase the fear of what would happen to her before he arrived.
“We’ve always had a special connection, haven’t we, little one?” Terry asked.
“What?” Her eyes snapped open at the ridiculous statement. They’d had no connection whatsoever as far as she was concerned. She was forced to work for their boss, and he seemed to be there by choice. He was old enough to be her father, and she’d been scared of him from the beginning.
