Chapter 11

Emma

Uncle Charles had abandoned us.

Six, seven, eight hours into the night since my desperate message to my uncle. Eight hours of silence, of no change. It was sinking in now, making the situation I was in feel that much more nightmarish.

I’d gone through a whole emotional journey while waiting and trying to hide it all from Nick. First there was fear, then a stubborn clinging to hope. Worry for Uncle Charles, had something happened to prevent him from helping? Then Confusion. Sadness, shot through with lava tubes of helpless rage. Then a bout of disbelief and denial. Trying to still believe in my childhood hero. As a psychiatrist, I knew essentially what I was going through was like the stages of grief. Any traumatic event causes an onslaught of conflicting emotions, but knowing the science behind it, didn’t make it any easier to bear.

My guts were in knots as I lay on my side, one arm thrown over Nick as he snoozed away peacefully. That kid could literally sleep anywhere, thank God.

I wondered what was going to happen to us now, as the fear prickled through me. If we were no longer of use to them and could testify against them in court, wouldn’t Viktor or his men just decide to kill us?

I set my jaw, drawing my hand gently away from Nick so my trembling wouldn’t wake him. I wrapped my arms around myself instead.

It was looking more and more like Uncle Charles wasn’t the person I thought he was. But was it as bad as Viktor claimed? Or was something else happening?

I was so scared right now, but weeping and caving in to fear wouldn’t be a damn thing to help either of us. I had to find the strength, for Nick’s sake if not my own.

Suddenly I heard a sound outside and sat up, a second before a familiar tapping on the door. A few moments later, it unlocked, and Viktor walked in.

His eyes were sunken and burned with intensity. His hands were empty, and there were a few droplets of rain on his shoulders. Out there in the outside world, beyond the twilight of our completely isolated room, it was storming again. Wet streets and traffic accidents. Air that I could actually breathe. I suddenly, desperately, wanted to be out in it. I wanted to see the sky, hear the traffic, look at people besides him and his assistant.

“It’s very early,” I murmured as I drew near, trying not to wake up Nick. “What is it?”

“The situation has changed,” he said quietly, and then held out a bundle of clothes to me. “Please get dressed. I need to speak to you alone. This is not a conversation to be had in front of children.”

I took the clothes and clutched them to my breasts, feeling the bulk of an overcoat folded around them. The hard lumps of shoes. He means to take me outside somewhere.

I hesitated, looking back at Nick. “I can’t leave him—”

“The boy will be safe,” he sighed. “You have my word, I am a man of honor. But I must speak to you about things that would not be comfortable for him should he overhear.”

I nodded and turned to walk into the bathroom to get changed.

The clothes weren’t exactly my style. I usually went for understated and feminine in calm earthtones. This was a slim leather skirt and a chic sleeveless turtleneck, low-heel walkers, and a knee-length raincoat—all in shades of indigo. He had even included a small makeup bag. Are we going on a date?

I pushed aside the strange thought and hurried to get ready, wondering why in the world he was dragging me out before dawn. Was he planning to separate me from Nick permanently? Harm me? Maybe traffic me? He was a crime lord. He probably did things like that all the time.

But hearing him out might open up the opportunity for us to finally get the hell out of this situation. And I couldn’t afford to pass up that chance.

He blinked in pleased surprise as he saw me, then nodded and opened the door. “We will not be gone long. I know you do not wish the boy to wake and find himself alone.”

“Not after everything, though.”

“My apologies for that.” His voice was so smooth and even that I couldn’t tell if he was just being cordial again, or was genuinely regretful. “Your uncle’s behavior surprised me as well.”

I stepped out past him, blinking at the strange bare corridor with its single door at the far end. I looked back at Nick, but he was still sound asleep, thank God.

Please let me be making the right decision.

Then Viktor stepped out and the door closed. He locked it, pocketed the key with its little remote, and strode ahead to lead me down the hall.

“I can understand your shock. Every single bit of information we had on your uncle and his behavior indicated that this would be an open and shut matter. Had he cooperated, you would be back at work tomorrow.”

“But he didn’t.” I felt a fresh shudder of apprehension. “So now what?”

“Your uncle has fled the area. First by helicopter, then by private plane. We are doing all that we can to track him, but we need options. Information on him. Where he might have gone, what allies he might turn to.”

He held the outer door for me, and I stepped out—to discover the whole structure had been built inside a giant, decommissioned sound stage. Armed men in dark suits, tracksuits or workmen’s uniforms milled around, guarding the place, tending to the collection of classic cars that occupied most of the floor space, or chatting with each other in Russian.

Right next to the structure we had just left was a standard-issue office portable. He led me inside, and closed and locked the door behind us.

“I have to ask you something,” I said as firmly as I could manage.

He looked at me quizzically as we sat down at opposite sides of the big desk that took up a quarter of the room. “And what is that?”

“If what you say is true, and Uncle Charles abandoned us and ran, what is going to happen to Nick? Or me?”

He considered me, fiercely bright eyes reading my face before his gaze slid over the rest of me briefly. “I want your help with finding your uncle. Once he is in our hands, you and the child will walk free.”

I hesitated. “You want me to give him up to you?”

It was one thing to be a helpless hostage who was being used to draw Uncle Charles in. It was quite another, to aid and abet the people who had a vendetta against him. The very ones who had kidnapped us.

“It may seem like a betrayal, Doctor, but consider that he betrayed you and your boy first.”

“I couldn’t forget that.” Not ever. I felt anger prickling at my insides again, making my face hot.

“Do you still have a passkey and access to his penthouse?” he asked me, his voice still damnably calm. “Can you get us in?”

“I do. If you want in, I can get you in. But I’ll have to do it in person. His security includes a retinal scan.” I forced myself to meet his gaze firmly as he stared at me.

“Fine. That holding cell is no place for you to stay long-term anyway, let alone you and the boy. We’ll bring you back there, and in return, you will find out everything you can about where your uncle may have gone.”

I pursed my lips, staring at him. “What’s the catch?”

He smiled faintly, a little wryly. “The catch is, until we have what we need to lay hands on your uncle, I will be staying there too.”

I stared at him for a few beats. Of course we would be guarded. Of course my progress at tracking my uncle would be watched. In an environment they didn’t control like this one, they would need someone to be watching me like a hawk.

To be back at the penthouse right now still sounded amazing, even with the conditions. Having Nick back somewhere familiar. Being able to have more control over what I did, who I contacted, what I wore and ate. Grocery deliveries. A drink of top-shelf Scotch that I very much needed right now. And if I had to, more opportunities to escape with Nick, or get my hands on a weapon.

It wasn’t freedom, but it was a chance.

“All right,” I said finally. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

The whole time, I was praying that I was making the right decision.