Maybe the girlfriend was wrong after all.
Peter closed the door and Catriona heard a bolt slide into place. The combination lock rattled and snapped shut.
Catriona stared at the closed door and then jumped up and down to get her blood moving, stretching her back with deep side bends.
It’s now or never.
She couldn’t keep hoping her chance would arise. She needed to create an opportunity. She’d be a fool to count on Alain coming through. And twice the fool to believe Volkov would let them go, even if Alain did everything he asked.
She picked one of the paper plates off the ground and smelled the sandwich, lifting the bread to inspect the contents. One piece of baloney split two slices of bright white bread. She didn’t smell anything suspicious, but there were plenty of drugs and poisons undetectable by smell. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.
She put down the food. Better not to chance it.
The water seemed safer. The caps were tight and untampered with. She couldn’t find any sign of leaking, or any hole possibly caused by an inserted syringe. No sign they might have resealed the cap. She cracked open the bottle, sniffed it and took a swig.
Tastes like water.
She gulped down the rest of the bottle. She could go longer without food but it would be unwise to grow dehydrated.
“Get back.”
The door rattled again and Mo entered looking more relaxed. She’d taken the time to clear the mascara streaks from her cheeks, though her eyes remained swollen and red. She glanced at Catriona, but didn’t appear to possess any new information.
As she passed, Catriona whispered to her. “Anyone else out there?”
Mo appeared frightened to be asked. She slid to her seat in the corner and shook her head without looking at Catriona again.
“Let’s go,” said Peter, motioning to Catriona. The look on his face struck her as odd. No longer perturbed over the reveal of his name, now he looked at her with...pity?
He looked away. As if it pained him to consider her.
Catriona swallowed.
What does he know? Does he know why they’re keeping me?
The moment Peter turned his head, his gun began to lower. Panic growing, Catriona pushed away the fear by kicking the weapon from his hand.
She hadn’t planned it.
The gun clattered against the wall and skid somewhere behind the open door.
Mo screamed, covering her head.
Peter jerked back his hand, grimacing in pain, and then moved for the gun. Though she’d caught herself off-guard by kicking at the gun, Catriona had counted on him diving for the weapon. Only sheer will kept her from doing the same thing.
She remained standing, arms quivering at her sides with restraint.
As Peter’s head dipped, she kicked him hard in the face.
Peter straightened like a bloom searching for the sun and then stumbled back against the wall, his nose streaming blood. His eyes locked on hers. Springing off the wall like a spider, he roared, charging at her. He led with his fist and Catriona used his momentum to deflect the punch. He caught only the edge of her arm and flattened against the wall, catching himself with his other arm before his head could hit.
Jumping on his back, Catriona wrapped her arms around his throat. Leaning back, she put the full weight of her body on his windpipe as he thrashed to break free, bouncing, pinball-like off the walls.
Mo squealed, doing her best to stay out of the way as they crashed around the room. Peter slammed Catriona against every wall, growing increasingly desperate to dislodge her. She clung to him like a bronco rider.
“Get out. Run!” Catriona screamed as her spine struck another wall and the wind pushed from her lungs.
Mo tried to move to the door, but Peter crossed her path, blocking her. As Catriona and her captor twirled like copulating dogs in the opposite direction, Peter finally fell to his knees. He hovered there a moment and then face-planted to the floor, unconscious.
Catriona held on a little longer. She could feel Mo in the room beside her and turned her head to confirm it. Catriona grimaced. She wanted the woman out before she let Peter loose, just in case he was playing possum.
“Go—”
She looked up and saw Mo staring at something in the doorway. Catriona followed her attention to the hard man who had done all the talking at the warehouse.
The man who had cornered them in the Chinese kitchen.
Volkov.
Volkov reached out and grabbed Mo by her hair. She yelped and held up her hands, begging him to let go as he pulled her head down and towards him. With his other hand, he raised a gun to Mo’s temple, glaring at Catriona, a maniacal glint in his eye.
“You like to fight?”
Catriona jerked against Peter’s throat. “I’ll kill your man.”
Volkov laughed. “I don’t even know his name. Plus, I’ll shoot her and you before you can finish him.”
Catriona grimaced. Her leverage on Peter’s throat was the only leverage she had, and it was no advantage over Volkov’s weapon. The gun behind the door was too far away to be of any help.
She slid her arm out from under Peter and sat up, still straddling his lower back. “Don’t take it out on her. I was the one. She didn’t do anything.”
Volkov smiled. “I love your fire.”
Unnerved by Volkov’s wolfish leer, Catriona stood. Volkov motioned to her with the gun.
“Move to the corner.”
She did as she was told. Volkov dragged a whimpering Mo closer to Peter’s still form and kicked the boy in the
