Chapter Thirty-One

Natasha

The clock on the wall ticks loudly. They've let me stew here for more than two hours. No water, no coffee, nothing but four beige walls, a dark wood table, and hard metal chairs.

At least they took the cuffs off. But my butt aches from sitting for so long. I'm not willing to risk pacing. Someone might decide I need to be restrained.

The door lock buzzes, and I stifle my yelp. Shit.

I'm not ready. I'll never be ready.

"Natasha Winters. I'm Warrant Officer Hastings."

"Sir." I know better than to stand and salute, though the urge is still there.

Hastings sets a laptop down on the table, pulls out his chair, and unbuttons his suit jacket. "I've been reviewing your testimony from eight years ago. Sergeant First Class Chris Bowers corroborated your story back then. Some reason he would do that?"

"He…he was in on the whole thing. His wife had cancer. He needed the money." My eyes burn. Marisol made a full recovery. If the Army wanted to, they could cut off his death benefits now. She needs them. But no one would believe I did everything alone. Bastian is going to ruin Chris's memory along with my life.

"You disappeared after the verdict against Montgomery Bastian, Allan Collins, Dylan Sutton, Ethan Doherty, and Robert Bowen. You haven't renewed your driver's license or passport since. You haven't collected a single pension check. No parking tickets, credit cards, or student loans. So…why come in at all? Why not stay gone?"

I fiddle with the hem of my tank top. Bastian's instructions didn't cover this.

"I couldn't live with myself any longer. The nightmares. What I did to Sarge and the others. They didn't deserve any of it." A single tear slips down my cheek.

No, they deserved all of it. And more.

Hastings leans back in his chair. "Start from the beginning."

There's a sip or two of soda left. But the candy is gone. So are the heart palpitations. The pounding headache. I'm still weak, but we're running out of time.

Across from me, Gladys sits against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her lips took on more color after she had some of the soda. Her hands don't shake so badly.

I manage to get to my knees, and when the room only spins for a moment, try standing. So far, so good. But that was the easy part.

This is going to hurt. I bend over partway, ball my hands into fists, and raise my arms as high as I can before slamming them down against my ass. The plastic bites into my skin.

It takes me three tries before the zip tie snaps in half and my hands are free.

"Fuck, that stings." My fingers are nothing but pins and needles.

"You could have done that the whole time?" Gladys asks. "You've been holding out on me, Dr. Sexy Pants."

"My blood sugar still isn't stable. I'll crash again before the insulin's out of my system. But those assholes upstairs know it. They'll be back. And we can use that. Did you see anything when they brought you in here? Is this a business? A house?"

"I saw a whole room full of computers behind some thick glass doors. Must've been hundreds of them. People too."

Shit. Are there people upstairs right now? If so, could we make enough noise for them to hear us?

"What time was it? Do you remember?"

"It was still light outside. Hot enough sweat was pourin' off my tits. The big one—the one in charge—told me if I made trouble, I'd regret it. That's when he gave me this." She points to her cheek.

I was already planning on killing Bastian for what he did to Natasha—if I ever get out of here. But hitting Gladys too? I hope I get the chance to make him suffer.

"They're taking a serious chance keeping us somewhere with people. Why?" I press my ear to the door, but I can't hear shit.

"The guy with the soda? What's his name?"

"Doherty."

"His brother owns this place. He said no one would hear me ‘cause of the big air conditioners they needed to cool down all those computers. But the big one wasn't so sure."

"Well, we are now. You can yell with the best of them, Gladys."

Her chest puffs up, which only serves to highlight the fact that she's not wearing a bra.

"Donald always said he could hear me halfway across the island."

"Your husband was a wise man. But if there were so many people up there, how did they get me in without someone noticing?"

Gladys snorts. "Shitcicles, Doc. They had you stuffed in a damn suitcase."

No wonder my back hurts like hell.

Some of the sensation has started to return to my fingers. I drop to one knee and reach in to my boot. The comms unit won't work if it can't get a signal from my phone. But West said it could also connect to any unsecured wi-fi network. Though it would default to broadcast only mode. Would it work all the way down here?

I shove the tiny device into my ear and tap it. Nothing. No reassuring beep. Only the dull hiss of static. I'm not surprised. Either we're too far underground, or there's a signal dampener somewhere.

"What are you doing?" Gladys shuffles closer. The soda and candy bar did her some good. She's steadier on her feet than she was.

I drape my arm around her shoulders and lead her over to the wall next to the door. "Sometime in the next hour, at least one of those assholes is going to come down here to check on me. Hopefully with another soda."

I pop the earbud free and show it to her.

"You got some music on that thing?" she asks. "Might help pass the time."

I chuckle. "Nope. But on the other end of this little device, there are a whole bunch of people trying to find us. And save Natasha. If you can get out of here, you can contact them."

"And how do you think I'm gonna do that?" She snorts. "In case you haven't noticed, Dr. Sexy Pants, that door is locked up tight. And I got bad knees. I ain't runnin' nowhere."

"If we're lucky, all you'll need is a fast shuffle. Do you remember how to get out of here? Once you're up the stairs, can you find the door?"

"Well, duh. It's only one hallway, then out to the parking lot. I'm old, Doc. Not stupid."

"Gladys, you're not old or stupid. If you do this, you're a super hero."

"You know what to say?" With every passing minute, I'm afraid we'll run out of time. Thank fuck my blood sugar seems to be stable, but that could still change, and after this stunt, there's no way I'll get another soda or candy bar before the end.

"Tell them where I am, that they're gonna kill Natasha once she's arrested, and the word ‘firefly.'"

"Good. Make sure you stay in public. Stand in the middle of the goddamn street if you have to. Flash your tits. Stop traffic. And if those fuckers come near you, tell anyone who will listen that they kidnapped you and you want to call your nephew. What's his name?"

Another snort, and she shakes her head. "My memory is sharp as a tack. Two tacks even. Dax Holloway with Second Sight in Boston."

I frame her face with my hands so I can press a kiss to her forehead. "Good girl."

"Bet you say that to all the ladies." Her brown eyes shimmer. "I don't like leavin' you down here. They're gonna beat the shit out of you and I don't think you can take much more."

I gather her against me, holding her tightly. I'm not sure I can either. But this is our only option.

After a few seconds, she sighs. "Knew you'd be a good hugger. Nat is damn lucky you didn't give up on her."

I chuckle, then ease her back. "Okay. Stand right here. As soon as they go for me, you get up those stairs as fast as you can. Put the earbud in once you're clear of the building. It'll beep when it finds a signal. You hear that, you start talking and don't stop until someone talks back or comes for you with that codeword."

"I got it, Hot Doc. Don't die."

I offer her a weak smile. "Yes, ma'am. I'll do my best."

Those assholes are late. I could be dead down here for all they know. Gladys has been sitting for at least half an hour—she needed to conserve her strength—and I can feel my blood sugar dropping again.

"This is taking too long," I mutter. There's still a little soda left, so I drain the warm, flat liquid in a single swallow. "It's now or never, Gladys. Want to try out your acting skills again?"

She lifts her hand, and I help her to her feet. "If it'll get me warm, I'll strip naked and do a hand stand."

"Fucking hell. I did not need that visual." Moving all the way across the room, I sink down onto my side and tuck my hands behind my back. "Make them believe I just had a seizure. If they think I'm dying, they'll try to resuscitate me, and we might have a better chance at this."

With a nod, Gladys shuffles over to the door. "Help! Oh, God! Doc's dyin'! Get your asses down here!" She keeps up her cries until the lock thunks. Doherty and Collins burst into the room. I keep my eyes mostly closed. Just enough so I can see her grab onto Doherty's arm.

"You have to help him! He started floppin' around and moanin' just a minute ago, and now he won't wake up!"

He shakes off her hold, and the two of them rush over to me. Gladys slips out of the room. Thank fuck.

Collins crouches next to me. As soon as he reaches down to check my pulse, I slam my fist into his jaw. His ass hits the ground, and I'm on top of him in a heartbeat. My knee lands on his dick. He yowls, and I hit him again, then kick my leg out to catch Doherty in the ankle.

"Shit!" Doherty growls. His phone skids across the concrete floor. My fingers tighten around Collins's throat. His eyes bulge. Lifting him halfway up, I grin, then slam him back down.

Before I can spin around, pain explodes across the back of my head. My grip loosens. Desperate, I throw myself toward where I think Doherty is, but find nothing but air.

A boot slams down on my lower back. With a pop, my left leg goes numb. Fuck.

I'm not out of this fight yet. I can't be. Straining, I reach back, find denim, and pull with all I have in me.

Doherty stumbles. The intense pressure lifts. But I can't get to my feet. Rolling, I grab for the soda can one of them dropped and lob it at Doherty's head.

He ducks easily. The gun slams into the side of my skull. An arm bands around my throat from behind.

Everything turns soft and fuzzy. My body bucks, muscles straining for the smallest bit of air.

"Where's the old woman?" Doherty's voice sounds so far away.

They're not letting go. This…this is it. I'm going to die. A warm, quiet peace settles over me.

Gladys got out. She'll be okay.

"Holy shitsicles!" The bright sunlight blinds me. A wall of heat makes it hard to breathe. Or that could be my heart pounding.

Those two jackwagons didn't pay me a single mind after Doc started wailing on them. I had to pull myself up those damn stairs by the handrail, but I made it out the back door.

"Make sure you stay in public."

This parking lot ain't public. But that big street at the far end sure is. Ignoring the pops and cracks from my knees, hips, and ankles, I stumble around the half a dozen cars until I reach the sidewalk.

The earbud is too damn small, and my fingers ain't working right. But I get it into my ear and tap it like Doc said to do—all while shuffling toward the corner.

The stoplight turns green as I get there. Where should I go? Nothing much to the left. A couple of folks coming out of a restaurant with a doggie bag. Damn. I'm starving.

Up ahead, a big neon sign announces the grand opening of the "Fairfax Shopping MegaPlex." A whole mess of balloons sways in the breeze, and the bright lights promise hourly giveaways, big sales, and "more." There have to be people there.

The beep in my ear is so loud, I almost trip over my own damn feet as I start to cross. Halle-fucking-lujah!

"Hello? This is Gladys Henshaw. Those fuckers are gonna kill Natasha tonight. You lot better come get me before they find me too. I'm on Center Parkway headin' toward the Fairfax Shopping MegaPlex. Oh, and Doc said to say ‘firefly.'"

I'm out of breath by the time I get all that out. The light at the next corner is red, and I check behind me. Shitsicles. The dark-haired one—Doherty—runs out of the parking lot and scans the street. When he sees me, I wave and smile.

A group of handsome men in suits come out of a restaurant between us and hide him from view. They're walking toward me. Maybe I should flash my tits like the Doc said. But then the light chirps, and it's the second best sound I've heard all day. Right behind those damn beeps in my ear.

"Did you hear me, firefly people? Doc said you were the cavalry, and that mall won't keep me safe very long if you don't find me. The Colonel's gonna kill Nat tonight at the prison."

"Holy fuck. Gladys?" The rough, deep voice in my ear scares the shit out of me. I yelp, and a mom pushing a stroller looks at me like I'm two sandwiches short of a picnic. But I shuffle through the big automatic doors. A blast of cold air hits me square in the face.

"Yep. Who the hell are you and how long do I need to wait for you to get here? Doc's in a building two blocks away with a whole mess of computers. In the basement. If they didn't kill him for what he did to get me out of there, he needs savin'."

I wonder if any of Dr. Sexy Pants's friends are as hot as he is? And single. It's been a long time since I had anything nice to look at.

"We're on our way," the voice says, interrupting my fantasy. "Ten minutes. Are you safe?"

"As safe as I can be. But you ain't said the code word."

"Goddam—goldilocks."

"That ain't it, sonny." I look around for the best place to wait. The food court is packed, so I shuffle over and sink down at one of the few available tables. My stomach rumbles. I wonder if any of these people would take pity on an old woman and buy her some french fries?

"Firefly, Gladys. The code is firefly." He lowers his voice and adds, "She called me ‘sonny.'"

"Well, now I'm satisfied. I'm sittin' in the food court. You get to Doc first, young man. Then come find me. I'll be waitin'."