Her thought was, if she were somehow able to get free, she’d have it as proof of who she was. It was a shot that was beyond long, but she was in a foreign country known for its hostile treatment toward Americans.
If—and that was a big damn if—she was somehow able to escape, Kat knew she’d need to find someone to take her someplace safe. Preferably, the nearest U.S. military base.
Iran destroyed the U.S. Embassy back in the late seventies, but she remembered hearing about how the country was pretty much surrounded by United States military bases. If she could get out and somehow convince someone to drive her to the border, shemay have a chance.
Her stomach threatened to revolt from the fear. As a woman of science Kat was used to dealing with facts. Relying on maybes and ifs to stay alive was real damn hard for her to swallow. But she had no choice.
Cleaning up the evidence and continuing on with her ‘work’, Kat prayed her stall tactics would buy her enough time to escape. Or be rescued.
They can’t rescue you if they don’t know where you are.
She ignored the negative thought. Matt and the rest of R.I.S.C. were the best at what they did. If anyone could find her, they could. In the meantime, she’d bide her time and keep up the pretense of following Bukhari’s orders.
Walker had been bringing her something small to eat halfway through the day. At night, he’d escort her back to her dark, empty room.
Any time she had to use the restroom while working, Kat had to knock on the door to be let out. Walker would open the door, pat her down, and take her down the hallway to the bathroom.
The bathroom had a small, single window. It was up high, next to the ceiling, and much too small for her to fit through. Escaping through the room may not be an option, but it was the best place she could think of to hide the syringe.
It had to be somewhere outside the lab. Since the door to the lab was always locked—whether she was in it or not—Kat needed to hide it in a spot outside this room. If she were to have a chance to escape, it wouldn’t be while she was in here.
It was too dangerous to keep it on her person, and there was nowhere for her to conceal it in the room where she slept. That left only one other place she had access to.
Doing her best to control her racing heart, Kat pounded on the door. When Walker opened it, he looked down at her with that same, guarded expression he always seemed to wear.
“Yes?”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
With a small nod, he said, “You know the drill. Hold your hands out.”
Terrified of getting caught, she did her best to act normal. With her hands held straight out, she stood perfectly still while Walker began to check her for anything, she may have on her.
Starting with her shoulders, he slowly ran his hands over her short sleeves before moving them beneath her arms and down her ribs. Normally, he kept going, but for some reason Walker stopped.
With his hands rested against her ribs and under her breasts, he frowned. “Your heart is racing.” He slid a glance to her forehead. “And you’re sweating. Do you feel ill?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly. “Wouldn’t you if you were constantly being felt up by the man who murdered your father?”
His face went flat, and he slowly dropped his hands. “I’m supposed to search you every time you leave. You know that.”
“What do you think I’m going to do, try to kill you with a petri dish?” When the man gave her a look, she sighed loudly and asked, “Are you going to take me to the bathroom or not?”
Walker studied her a second longer before stepping to the side. “After you.”
Kat walked past him, holding her breath and praying he didn’t change his mind and continue the search.
When they reached the tiny room at the end of the hall, he said, “Make it quick.”
“Always do,” she quipped before shutting the door in his face.
Taking a minute to calm her dizzying nerves, Kat immediately went to work. Turning the faucet on to cover the sound, she quickly removed the lid from the back of the toilet.
Dipping her hand into the clear, cool water, she placed the syringe behind the toilet’s small pump, hiding it as best she could before setting the ceramic lid back in its place.
After flushing the toilet to go along with her ruse, she rushed to wash her hands and face, grabbing a paper towel from the roll on the sink to pat her skin dry. Drawing in a few, deep breaths, she prayed no one would find it and opened the door.
Only Walker wasn’t the one waiting for her when she walked out. It was Bukhari. And he looked pissed.
