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Keep breathing. Inhale four seconds, hold four seconds, then exhale four seconds. Grateful she had learned combat tactical breathing, courtesy of her dad, she overcame the vertigo, and her vision cleared. The knife hadn’t punctured her neck’s skin, and she pushed her feet hard against the floor to steady herself. She was alive, for now.
“I kill people, and you’re my paycheck for this week. Do you understand me, Ms. Bennett?” Yuri continued, his voice louder than before.
“Yes.” Jaw set, she faced Yuri, petrified by the complete lack of humanity in his expression. The top of her scalp tingled like pins and needles poking her. Somehow, her brain and body felt split off from each other, no longer linked.
The two gunmen reappeared and stood guard nearby.
She heard one click behind her, then another, and groaned inwardly. They’d switched off the safety latches on their rifles, which meant if she bolted for the door, she wouldn’t survive. Nothing in the embassy crisis training sessions of her youth prepared her for the actual sensation of death being so near. A binary choice remained—cooperate or die.
“My boss needs this money and code, fast. If you fail, I fail. You and more people will die, so think hard about how you’ll get Rapadon for me.”
“I told you, I don’t know what Rapadon is.” She tensed as if suddenly walking on a tightrope without a safety net. Layers of old sweat and stale smoke wafted from Yuri’s clothes, and she suppressed the urge to gag. Her stomach roiled, and she avoided inhaling any of his unwashed male odor.
“You’d better figure it out. Time’s ticking.” Extending a grubby hand, he touched a curl loose on her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. He paced back to the other side of the table, returned to his chair, and resumed glaring. “You keep thinking, Ms. Bennett. I’ll be here, sharpening my knife. Sergey and Alexi, take her back to the cell.”
The gunmen, evil twins of malice, grabbed her by the arms, rougher this time, and carried her like a statue. Unwilling to make their job any easier, she dragged her feet, but the resulting pain in her arms forced her to keep walking. They propelled her through the shed’s aluminum doors and across the yard to the barn. Once inside, they slid open the cell at the end of the hall, tossed her inside, and locked the bar across the gate.
Finally, they left.
Releasing a relieved breath, she scanned for Mark in the barren space, but he was gone. Determined not to panic, she paced back and forth in the cell. By her accounting, the expiration date Yuri had just stamped on her forehead was at least five decades premature. As the dire situation sank in, she slumped, her resilience faltering. Intent on expending her fury, she kicked a hay bale, and the fear she’d contained last night overflowed like a river. She slammed a hand against the wall and burst into gasping sobs.
Her father’s voice bellowed inside her head: Damn it, you’re a Bennett. Pull yourself together.
Determined to cry out all her fear, in hopes her courage would rebound, she allowed herself two minutes. Tears streamed down her bruised face, and her limited respite passed in a blink. Enough weakness—time to woman up and fight.
Using her shirt cuffs to dry her face, she took care not to jostle her injured cheek. Questions crowded her mind, and she leaned against the wall, trying to calm herself. What did these men want with Kingsley Tech’s code?
Her dad’s war tales from decades of protecting US diplomats rushed through her head. Analyzing his misadventures, the consistent thread weaving all her father’s anecdotes together emerged: survival. Last night’s chaos had blurred her focus, but now her mission crystallized in an instant—escape. Nothing else mattered, and answers could wait.
The outside barn door opened, shining slivers of daylight into the cell, and footsteps approached. Nerves jangling, she formed fists to protect herself.
When the door slid open, Mark entered.
Dmitry slammed the door shut and locked them back inside before turning and leaving the barn.
Once they were alone again, she checked Mark for any obvious injuries. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” He studied her carefully. “Did they harm you?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yuri threatened to cut off a finger. If they don’t obtain Kingsley’s source code in twenty-four hours, he’s going to kill me.” Despite the defiance she projected, she couldn’t stop her lower lip from trembling. A lump formed in her throat, but she choked it back down. Body taut, she stood tall and kept her back straight.
“Christ. We’ll find a way out, somehow.” Frowning, he shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m fine. I’ll survive this.” She crossed her arms and fixed her gaze on the floor, but inside, her mind spun in dizzying circles. His hand, still warm on her shoulder, comforted her in the drafty barn. “I’m fine.”
“Tess.”
Gentle but firm, his hand remained, radiating heat through her blouse, and she didn’t ask him to move. Dropping her gaze to the golden curve of his neck, she fantasized they could disappear from this nightmare.
“Helvete. We’re hostages, and you’re injured. You’re supposed to be scared. I’m scared.”
Mark’s Nordic accent and baritone voice offered soothing balm for the terror she suffered this morning. Concentration wavering, she shoved away conflicting fears and desires to regain her composure and focus. “We don’t have time to be afraid.”
“I wouldn’t think any less of you if you were. You handled the attack last night better than most of the men, despite Yuri beating you.” Mark removed his hand.
Unsure how to acknowledge the compliment, she glanced at the floor. Her father had raised her like a boy and taught her to respond to danger with toughness and grit. The only time he ever acknowledged her femininity was to preface lecturing her about the need to master extra self-defense techniques to avoid getting assaulted. She shook the thought away and wondered where Mark had been so long. “Where’d they take you?”
“One of our kidnappers, Dmitry, led me to a small cottage near here. The old man who owns this farm, Anderson Campbell, was taken hostage, too. He’s ill, and Yuri ordered me to treat him.”
