She holds fast, not letting me move as she dumps more on them. “That’s for thinking I wouldn’t notice the butter knife was gone.” She releases one hand. “Put it back on the table, or I’ll make this hurt a hell of a lot more.”
My small victory crushed, I do what she tells me. What the hell did I think I was going to accomplish with the knife? Spread butter on her toast?
Pathetic, Kat.
I return the knife to the tray, and she flips my hand over and liberally applies the peroxide to the rest of the raw marks. They don’t burn as badly, but I’m surely not looking forward to more ministrations from Nurse Hatchetface.
The rest of her movements are quick and efficient as she smears antibiotic ointment on all my wounds and wraps them up. Her expression never changes, not even when she tosses the first aid supplies back in the bag.
“Get dressed. Don’t do anything stupid. Try to stab me with a fork, and I’ll blind you in one eye. They’ll never even notice. I’ll give you five minutes.”
With that threat leveled, she picks up the tray and heads out the door.
I don’t waste any time crossing to the bed and picking up the white linen trousers and lace camisole lying there. There’s also a diaphanous white shirt that feels like it’s made mostly of air, a lacy white bra, and white-and-gold sandals. One thing is noticeably missing. Panties.
When the door swings open moments after I’m fully dressed, it isn’t April, it’s Vander.
“Finally behaving like a good little slave. I thought I’d never see it.”
I shoot eye daggers at him, hoping he’ll see defiance and rage in my gaze and not the fear that’s threatening to overtake me.
Chapter 38
Dane
From the seat across from me, Rome fills me in on everything they’ve learned.
“There’s no Vander Iman. We’re still digging into his real identity, but the trail we’re coming up with leads to South Africa with ties to the Middle East. Bad dude. Bad shit.”
Coming from Rome, that’s saying something. He’s not real big on assessing client morals when he’s taking their money, but there are lines even he won’t cross.
“Human trafficking his main business?”
“Can’t tell for sure, but it’s definitely part of it.”
“What about the boat?”
“Sure enough, it’s called Plan B. It was boarded by the US Coast Guard about two years ago and automatic weapons were seized, but no charges were ever brought. The paperwork on that gets real shady, and by shady, I mean there’s nothing left. If we had Arianna at the keyboard, we’d probably have more, but my Central American crew wasn’t able to pull anything. I need to recruit a new hacker down here. Preferably female and hot.”
Ever since Rome first told me that Arianna has been MIA, it’s been eating at me.
“You think Ari sold me out?”
From Rome’s serious expression, it’s definitely a possibility he’s already considered.
“We can’t find her, man. You know she’s got family in Israel still. I’ve got contacts there that keep eyes on them when they’ve got time, and word is her little sister is off the grid. No sign of her.”
Tanner sits up. “You think they went after Ari’s family, and you didn’t say shit?”
Rome shrugs. “Don’t know what happened, but I can’t fucking help the girl if she doesn’t ask for it.”
“She’s part of the team.”
“And if she leaked intel, she’ll face the consequences when we find her. But that shit is all for after we get DC’s woman back.”
“Do you know where they’re heading?”
Rome shakes his head. “But if I were them, I’d be going toward Cuba. Plenty of people pouring in now, and not a lot of oversight. It’d be a good choice. So that’s the course we’re following.”
“If you’re wrong, and we lose her—”
“You can shoot me yourself.”
Rome’s instincts are top-notch, which is why he started in this business way too young. Now, he’s a living legend in certain circles.
From the cockpit, Leo yells, “We got eyes on a big motherfucking yacht with a helipad on top by the name of Plan B.”
My arms go tense. It’s time.
“They got eyes on us yet?”
“Not yet. We’re coming in hot. Lock and load.”
Rome, Tanner, and I grab our weapons and get ready. This isn’t the first time we’ve landed on a boat in the middle of the ocean, but last time was a bitch. We all added a few more scars to our collection after that mission.
“Let’s do this.”
“Uh . . . they got eyes on us now. I’m gonna clear the deck.”
Loud percussion from the machine guns punches through the noise of rotors.
“Got a few, but they’re swarming like ants.”
Another round of fire.
“Clear for landing.” Concord pitches his voice like a woman as the helipad comes into view. “Please don’t bump your head when you disembark the aircraft.”
Gotta love those rich fucks who think they need helipads everywhere.
“Go! Go! Go!” Rome yells, and we’re all out of the helicopter except Leo, who stays with the bird to shoot anyone who tries to fuck with our exfil plans.
Guys in black polos and khaki pants like the ones who overran the beach come toward us.
My leg screams with pain, and I use it to fuel every step.
We clear the deck.
It’s time to find her.
Chapter 39
Kat
Vander leads me out into the hallway. I’m dreading this photo session of his, and searching everywhere for some kind of weapon.
A small fire extinguisher is mounted to the wall just ahead of us, and my brain works through whether I could grab it quick enough to bash him over the head before he noticed.
That’s when the onslaught comes. The yelling and screaming from above us can’t drown out the gunfire. It sounds like the boat has morphed into a video game.
Instinctively, I hit the deck. Please, God. Please be Dane.
Clearly, Vander’s experience in life is different from mine because he draws the gun on his hip. “No fucking way—”