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From where he stood, Yuri addressed the crowd. “You will all remain inside this room. If you open any doors or windows before six hours, the motion will set off explosives we’ve planted, and you will die. Stay where you are.” With a curt nod, Yuri faced her, with one side of his mouth curled in a snarl. “Since Kingsley isn’t here, we’ll take you.”
Dmitry stepped forward and grabbed her by the right arm, shaking her off balance.
She wrenched herself away and stood tall with both hands braced on her hips. “Wait. Tell me what you want. What are you trying to find?” She needed to buy time and make sense of the attack. Her voice sounded like a feral growl, no longer recognizable as her own.
“Quiet. No questions.”
Dmitry scampered over to Yuri’s side and pointed to one of the other gunmen several yards away. “Alexi ranen. Yemu nuzhna pomoshch,” he said in a muffled voice.
Across the room, she spotted the gunman Dmitry pointed out. Blood flowed in multiple streams from his scalp and streaked his face. A jagged row of crystal glass shards stood impaled in his forehead and ear. She shuddered and shifted away.
“One more thing.” Yuri signaled at Riku’s shooter, who stood awaiting orders with his rifle cocked. He gestured across the room at Mark, who remained ramrod straight in the line of men near Riku’s corpse, his shirt painted in a graffiti of bloodstains.
Folding his muscular arms across his chest, Mark glared at the gunmen.
“Sergey, take the doctor,” Yuri said. “Dmitry, blindfold them both, and let’s go.”
Dmitry tied a scratchy blindfold around Tess’s head, blocking her vision. A mix of terror and bile crept up her throat, and she gagged to keep it down. Hit with the bitter truth, she swallowed hard and acknowledged tonight might be her last.
Chapter Three
Taken
The night air hit Tess’s nostrils as her captors led her blindfolded out of the Cedarcliff building. Heavy boots stomped behind her, and she assumed the other gunmen were escorting Mark. Careening, she missed dips in the rolling path. She calculated when morning would arrive in the United Kingdom. How much time would elapse before someone reported them missing, and when would David learn of the attack?
In the meantime, she sucked the cold, fresh air into her lungs. Her cheekbone ached, and she channeled her father for strength. A former US Marine who became a diplomatic security expert, Danger Dad taught her countless precautions throughout her childhood. Hypervigilant but teetering on paranoid, he required she study martial arts and master basic weaponry, even fencing.
Little good that would do her now. Unarmed, blindfolded, and faced with assault rifles, she had no option except cooperation, paired with a desperate search for escape options. She dug her fingernails into her palms.
The group stopped. Metal truck doors opened, and a gunman tied her wrists behind her back with thick rope. Hands lifted her into the vehicle and slid her onto the metal flatbed. Goddamn it. Their captors intended to transport them somewhere else. She wriggled around to find a wall to lean against, but the truck bounced, and a thud sounded near her. Faint sandalwood and spice permeated the air. The doors slammed shut with a metallic clunk. She kept her voice low. “Mark?”
“Ja, I’m here.” Caution rippled through his voice.
“Eight o’clock, let’s go.” Outside, Yuri was shouting. “Dmitry, you drive. Sergey, take jeep.”
The truck sagged from the weight of the gunmen entering the cab up front. Doors slammed and gravel shuffled. Moments later, the truck’s engine roared to life, followed by a second vehicle. The jeep, she assumed. The truck lurched forward and raced over the unpaved road, tearing through the rugged terrain. To avoid the blindfold’s scratchy fabric, she shut her eyes and groaned.
“Are you okay? If we keep our voices down, they won’t hear us,” Mark said.
“I’m fine, but we’re in serious trouble now.” In a breathless rush, her words poured out.
“Like we weren’t before? I’d say not having a gun in my face is an improvement.” Angry sarcasm strained Mark’s voice.
“Once a kidnapper traps a victim in a vehicle, the victim’s odds of surviving plummet. Now we’re three times more likely to never return.”
“Helvete,” Mark swore. “Hell. What now?”
“Our chance of survival drops every minute we’re in here. When the truck slows, let’s unlock the doors and jump out.” She kicked at the metal floor with a suede boot.
“Bad plan. We can’t run away if we’re injured jumping. Got anything better?”
The road transitioned from gravel back to smooth asphalt. She needed to find a way out, now. “Let’s stand and find the door.” Wobbling and blind, she and Mark searched the truck walls together, bumping hands. Empty floor, no windows. A heavy, impenetrable metal grate formed one wall. “Does the door latch?”
“No, it’s a deadbolt lock,” he said. “I lost my phone. Do you have yours?”
“Mine’s gone too. Shit. Since we can’t call for help, we’ll need to escape from wherever we’re held captive.” Thwarted for the moment, she crouched to consider other options, desperate to chase any shred of hope.
“Why do they want David?”
