What would’ve happened if I weren’t abducted? I suppose I would’ve told him what he wanted to know. Maybe then, when he’d amassed all he could and there was nothing left he could’ve taken from me, he would’ve finally let me go.
Yet there’s still Noah, my beautiful little boy, who he can take from me, and that’s the one thing I won’t survive. I’ll fight until my last breath. That’s who I focus on to give myself courage when terror creeps up on me again—my sweet, innocent Noah.
My surroundings don’t hold many clues as to where I am. The paint is flaking off the walls, and the room smells musty. Cardboard taped over the windows block out the light, but a few small holes let the sun rays through.
Those holes allow me to keep track of the time. It’s been two days since the men with the ski masks left me here without food or water. No one has been back. I’ve been forced to wet myself. The puddle that pooled at my feet has long since dried. Only the smell remains. From the stench in this place, I’m not the first person who’s been left here alone with nothing but my thoughts.
I wish I could shut them down—my thoughts. If I could turn off my brain, I’d be able to ignore the fear as well as the constant signals of hunger and thirst my body is sending. My arms and legs ache from the position into which they’re stretched, and my limbs burn from a lack of circulation. I want to cry with the need to move and relieve the pain.
During the night, a spider descended on a cobweb from a beam on the ceiling. I could make out the shiny thread in the light of the moon that shined like the beams of a torch through the holes in the cardboard.
The spider landed on my forehead and crawled over my face. Helpless to alleviate the tickle it left in its wake, I could only shake my head from side to side. The worst was when it walked on its hair-thin legs over my ear. I’ve never wanted to scratch an itch so badly. I tried to rub my head on my shoulder, but I couldn’t reach the right spot. So I had no choice but to bear the tickling and swallow my repulsion until the spider left to terrorize another prey or unsuspecting insect.
From time to time, I nod off only to be woken by strange noises. The scratching sound on the roof—I think it’s corrugated iron—could be a bird or, judging by how loud it is, maybe a pigeon. The faint scurrying and scraping coming from behind me could be a rat.
I occupy myself with a guessing game, trying not to think about how my stomach seems to gnaw on itself or how my tongue sticks to my parched palate behind the filthy gag in my mouth. I try not to think how difficult it is to breathe around the gag. And Noah. God, my baby. At the thought of him, more tears run over my cheeks.
No.
I have to be strong. I have to trust that Dante is taking care of him.
My mind is running in loops of terror and depressive sadness. Then I get angry again.
Why did those men take me? Are they going to leave me here to die? Is this Leander’s doing? Has my brother outsmarted Dante? I wouldn’t put that past him. Leander has always been sly. He’s a lot cleverer than he lets on.
If that’s the case, I’m done for. If the men are after the same thing Dante is, I may just have a chance of making it out of here alive, albeit a slight one.
Chapter
Six
Dante, present day
* * *
“Again.” I pace the floor of the dining room where my men are gathered around the table. I’ve put every asset at my disposal on the job. They’ve been here since we got home after the attack, working relentlessly with me on finding my missing wife. “Let’s hear it.”
Ulysses looks up from his computer screen, his cautious tone matching his serious regard. “We’ve been over this ten times.”
He thinks we’re wasting our energy, but he doesn’t give voice to that thought because he knows he may lose all his teeth if I plant my fist in his face or better yet, a bullet in his brain.
He recapitulates carefully. “Our time may be better spent on chasing other leads.”
He means well. He’s raising his honest opinion, wanting me to succeed as much as the next man in the room staring somberly at me. He doesn’t deserve to end up on my bad side for that.
I need to get a grip on myself.
I need to focus.
Tatiana’s life depends on it.
I fist my hands at my sides, fighting to rein in the anger that’s been mounting with every passing minute of our fruitless search. “We’re clearly overlooking something, or we would’ve had a clue by now.” Instead of bashing someone’s head in, which would be nothing but taking my frustration out on one of my loyal men, I pace to the window and flick my fingers at Kent. “Let’s hear it. Go over it from the start. And think hard. Maybe you left out something. I want every detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem.”
Reino leans back in his chair and presses his thumbs on his eyelids. None of us got much sleep during the last forty-eight hours. The men work in shifts, catching a couple of hours of shut eye when they can.
Only Kent looks as cool as a cucumber. He can go for days without showing any signs of fatigue, not even the bloodshot eyes most of us are sporting.
“I was holding the line in the front, covering your back.” His gaze rests steadily on mine. “When I reloaded my empty magazine, I noticed the back door was open. That’s when I realized Mrs. Teszner had run.”
