Seichan looked to the door. It had gone silent again, which was more worrisome than ever.
She set off again across the cell—then flinched to a stop with a sharp inhaled gasp. She hunched down, bracing an arm on one knee. The cramp racked her belly. She breathed through it as best she could until it faded.
Yeah, definitely not fighting my way out.
After a few more exhalations, she straightened and resumed her pacing, slower now, stepping more gingerly. Over the past day, the cramping had been getting worse. She had resorted to wearing only her panties. Even the elastic band of her maternity pants was too uncomfortable to endure any longer.
A heavy tramping of boots sounded from beyond the door.
Here we go.
Seichan moved in front of Harriet. “Stay there, hon.”
The door was unbarred and opened. Two men entered first, flanking to either side. She had named them Cattle Prod and Lurch. The former came bearing his usual weapon, the end of it snapping brightly with threat. Lurch had traded his tranquilizer gun for a Magnum-caliber Desert Eagle. It seemed the time for nonlethal weaponry was over.
Behind them, Valya stalked through the door, her fur-lined jacket open, flaring out. She carried a steel hatchet in one hand.
Seichan’s breathing sharpened, her eyes narrowed. She locked gazes with Valya. Those ice-blue eyes flicked toward Harriet, then back to Seichan.
That told her who that ax was intended for.
“You’re not taking her,” Seichan said.
Valya’s expression did not change, her features frozen, clearly still furious. And she wanted someone to hurt. “Take the girl,” she ordered Cattle Prod.
Seichan moved to block him.
Before she could take a step, the mother of all cramps tore through her. She cried out, fell to her knees. Hot blood gushed out, soaking through her panties, pouring down the sides of her legs. She felt the room spin and fell on her side. Her eyes rolled backward.
She heard Valya snap with irritation. “Get her out of the way.”
Cattle Prod came forward and grabbed her by the arm.
No . . .
And Seichan meant it.
She snapped out a tucked leg, her heel contacting his knee. The joint broke backward. Cattle Prod fell toward her. She rolled out of the way, while reaching up to relieve him of his weapon.
She continued to roll—directly toward Lurch.
Once close enough, she jabbed her stolen weapon into his crotch.
Blue sparks exploded.
He bellowed like an electro-ejaculated bull.
Valya came at her with the hatchet.
Seichan parried it aside with the rod. The blade sparked against the stone floor near her hip. She ignored the threat and fumbled for the Desert Eagle as Lurch dropped the weapon, falling backward, his crotch smoking.
Valya knew Seichan’s skill and lunged toward the door.
Seichan firmed her grip and fired at her from the floor. Valya stumbled a step, twisting slightly, clearly grazed. Seichan fired again but the round missed as Valya flared her jacket wide, making it hard to judge where her body was. Valya reached the stairs and dove up them.
Seichan hopped to her feet. “Harriet, come—”
The girl was not stupid. She dashed to Seichan’s hip.
Seichan pointed her weapon at Lurch’s nose as Cattle Prod mewled over his broken leg. “Keys.”
Lurch sneered.
Seichan swung her gun at Cattle Prod, pushed Harriet the other way, and fired.
The moaning stopped.
She never stopped looking at Lurch as she returned the pistol toward him, now pointed at his smoking crotch. “I’ll finish the job.”
He held up a palm and clawed at a jacket pocket. He pulled out a set of keys and tossed them to her. She caught it one-handed, noting the Ducati symbol on the fob, and swept to the door with Harriet. Before stepping out, she pointed her weapon back into the cell and fired.
Lurch’s ankle exploded.
Seichan then rushed to the stairs and headed up without pausing. While securing the keys, she had heard only one set of footsteps pounding across the floorboards overhead. At the top of the stairs, she burst out of a trapdoor into a large empty barn.
She looked around, realizing their cell must have been an old root cellar.
Ahead, out an open door, she spotted a farmhouse across a yard. A trail of smoke climbed into an overcast sky. Snow threatened, but that was not what worried her. As Seichan had popped out of the cellar, a side door of the farmhouse had clapped shut.
Valya.
Shouts rose from over there as the bitch roused reinforcements.
Seichan searched and spotted a row of motorcycles, each garaged in one of the horse stalls. Luckily only one was a Ducati. She rushed over to it, pulled Harriet one-armed into its seat, then climbed behind her.
It took two attempts for her to mount the bike.
She was pregnant.
Fortunately, besides that condition, she was fine.
The first spotting of blood in the toilet had given her the idea to take advantage of her pregnancy. It hadn’t been hard to feign cramps. To make it more dramatic, she had used the broken tine of a plastic fork to poke tender flesh, while pretending to wipe herself. The hardest part was leaning on her months of Kegel exercises to hold that measure of blood inside her, releasing it when she wanted to for the best effect. Then, with Valya’s deadline fast approaching, she had pretended to use the bathroom and freshened the punctures, so they would bleed more strongly for better effect.
It was painful, but she imagined it would be nothing compared to when she gave birth. Kat had explained all about episiotomies, with an almost sadistic glee.
So, this was nothing.
From the very beginning, she had known she could never escape this box by fighting or talking alone. Her only hope was to outwit the Snow Queen. To accomplish that, Seichan had to believe in her own distress. Valya would have sniffed out anything less real. So she had to both feign and believe, holding both thoughts in her head at the same time. To help her, she channeled her very real fear for her child.
Free now, she gunned the motorcycle’s engine, leaned over Harriet, and sped out of the stall. She made a sharp turn and flew out the open barn door. Spotting a road to the right, she opened the throttle to a scream and raced toward the snowy forest.
Other engines roared to life behind her.
Viewed through the rearview mirror, another cycle and two Jeeps tore around the far side of the farmhouse. She spotted the flap of a silver, fur-lined coat behind the cyclist.
Valya did not intend to lose her prize.
A barrage of gunfire confirmed this. Rounds sparked from the icy pavement, tore bark from tree trunks. Snowdrifts puffed with impacts.
Then Seichan reached a bend in the road and zipped around it, momentarily losing sight of her pursuers. Harriet hugged the hump of the seat, her fingers digging into the leather. Seichan stayed low, pressing her torso over the girl, keeping her knees and elbows locked to either side of her. Not only to shield and protect the child, but Harriet’s body was a steamy little heater between her bare thighs.
Maybe fleeing in a sweater and panties in the middle of winter wasn’t the best idea. They needed to reach civilization, but she had no idea where she was. She searched ahead, looking for any telltale sign of a town or village.
Nothing but woods and more woods.
The road curved back and forth, rolling gently up and down, allowing her to keep ahead of the pack.
Then the skies opened up and fat, heavy flakes began to fall. Within minutes, the world whited out. She had to slow as the roads grew icy and slick, visibility dropped to yards. She cocked an ear, heard the roar of the other engines. The Jeeps had four-wheel drive and would not slow down. Plus, the throaty whine of the cycle sounded like it was closing in. Valya did not have to worry about balancing a child between her knees.
Fearing this, Seichan sped up. The road ahead was coated with only a half inch of snow. Unfortunately, around another corner, a hidden patch of black ice betrayed her tires’ grip on the road. The cycle waggled. She fought to steady the heavy bike—then out of the falling snow, another sharp curve appeared.
Never make it.
Accepting this, she hugged Harriet and catapulted out of the seat. She aimed for a snowbank, hit it, and rolled across its top and down the far side. She curled around the girl and her belly until she stopped.
“Up!” she ordered Harriet.
She hiked away from the road and into the forest. She knew she could never reach the bike and get it upright and moving before the hunters fell upon them. The only hope was to keep ahead of the enemy, to use the snowfall to keep out of sight.
This plan, of course, had two flaws.
Seichan was half-naked, while Harriet wore only footie pajamas.
Plus . . .
She glanced back at the clear trail through the snow.
Not good.
Still, she had no other options. She gripped Harriet’s hand and hurried deeper into the woods, holding one prayer in her heart.
Dear God, please let somebody know where we are.
12:32 P.M.