“No!” Simone threw her body against Alexei.
The gun fired, and the eruption of the bullet sounded just like thunder.
She drove her fist into Alexei’s stomach. Then into his face. In response, he threw her against the side of the van.
There was a loud roar. She was pretty sure it came from Ryan.
Alexei was preparing to fire again. She surged from the van and jumped on his back. Her wet dress whipped around them both. He struggled, trying to throw her off, but she just clung tighter.
Ryan ripped the gun out of Alexei’s hand. Simone actually thought that might be the moment when they won the fight. Maybe they could even race away to safety.
But then the other guards swarmed. At least ten other guards. And Simone realized that they were not, in fact, getting away.
Five minutes later, she and Ryan had been tied up, gagged, and tossed into the back of the waiting van.
Ten minutes later, she’d managed to yank her hands out of the ropes and free her ankles. Simone bounded toward the rear of the van. Unfortunately, about twenty seconds after her scramble for freedom, Alexei caught her. He shoved a foul-smelling cloth over her face, the world spun, her body went limp, and her mind went absolutely dark.
The blast of thunder—or of a gunshot—was the last sound she heard.
“OhmyGod.” Simone gagged. “What is that awful smell?” Because she could smell before she could see. It was the terrible stench that had her jolting to wakefulness. Her eyes flew open and?—
Ryan sat across from her. As in, about five feet away from her. He was in a wooden chair, with ropes around his body. His chest. His upper arms. His hands appeared tied behind his back. His ankles were tied to the chair legs.
And he had a strip of duct tape over his mouth.
She lunged toward him.
Only to realize that she was tied up, too. Not her chest and upper arms. But her hands were tied behind her back as thick rope bit into her wrists. Her ankles were tied to the chair legs, too, just like Ryan’s. Luckily, she didn’t have duct tape over her mouth. “You’re alive!” Simone frowned, remembering a blast. “I was afraid that Alexei had shot you!”
He said something. Ryan’s face twisted with fury as he fired off something, but all she heard were grunts and mumbles.
“Huh. Yeah. Not getting that.” Her head turned to the right. She sniffed again. “I swear, I smell shit.”
More grunts and mumbles. But she didn’t look back at him, not yet. Simone was too busy surveying the area and being glad that they were both still alive. She was super glad to be breathing. Super glad he was breathing, too.
Light trickled through the wooden slats around them. Slats on the walls to the left and right of them. Slats above them. And… “Straw on the ground.” Great. She had allergies. She’d probably start sneezing any moment.
In fact?—
Something neighed.
Her head turned toward the sound. A series of stalls waited to the right. “Horses.” A nod. “Right. That would explain the straw and the shit. We’re in a barn. No, wait, stables? We’re in stables?” Now she looked back at Ryan.
He glared at her.
“Uh, oh.” Focused now, she studied him a little more closely. “That is one killer black eye you have going on there. Want to tell me who gave it to you?”
Grunts. Snarls.
She nodded. “Alexei. Figures.”
Surprise had Ryan’s dark eyes widening.
“Yeah, no.” She rocked forward, testing her chair because she had an idea. “I didn’t actually understand your words. I just made a wild guess.” She pulled in a deep breath. “That guy always gave me the creeps. Got the instinct that he was bad. My instincts are usually dead-on target.” She tightened her arms around the back of the chair, or, tried to tighten them. “Okay, I’m coming toward you.” Maybe.
He grunted.
She…hopped. Sort of. She’d lifted the chair and hopped forward with her desperate movement. Simone tried a second time. A third. And, yes, she was actually moving her chair. A bit. Slowly. Forward, toward him. It was just hard as hell. Panting, she shook hair out of her eyes and told him, “You could help, you know. Did you even try hopping toward me?” Why was she having to do all the work? She’d been the one who was unconscious.
