Page 72 of Sacred Vow

“I know where they’re going.” I rush from the room.

“Wait! Don’t leave me here!” Douglas yells after me.

I turn back to him. “If I get her back safe, you’ll be let go.”

He swallows. “If my father…” He doesn’t bother finishing the question when his eyes meet mine. “Hurry. Go!” he urges me.

“I’ll have a man posted down here. Where are we going?” Viktor hurries behind me.

Is she scared? Has she remembered yet?

I touch my hand to the Glock in my holster.

She needs to be all right.

She will be all right.

I will kill everyone to make sure she’s all right.

“Andrei! Where are we going?” Viktor snaps at me when we’re all piled into the Navigator.

“Fulton and Sacramento.” I open the glove compartment and pull out a second magazine for my gun.

“What’s there?” Nico presses.

I insert the new magazine, pushing it in with the heel of my palm.

“A scrap metal yard.” I lay the gun in my lap and stare straight out at the traffic.

“Why would he take her to a scrap metal yard?”

“Craig was murdered there.”

Twisting metal screeches around me. The stench of oil and gasoline fills my nostrils, dragging me from a light sleep.

Slowly, I open my eyes, blinking until they focus on the area around me. The brightness of the sun makes my head ache, but I force myself to check out where I am.

An empty car lot? I push up from my spot in the dirt, using every ounce of energy I have to get to my feet.

My head swirls with the movement.

I lean against an old Volkswagen that’s more rust than car. Rubbing my temples soothes some of the ache, but I can’t get my vision to clear enough to really see where I am.

A junkyard maybe? A mechanic?

“I’m sorry, Izzy. I fucked up big time.”

Craig’s voice comes from far away. I spin, looking for it. Nothing but a new wave of ache from the fast movement. My ankle hurts. When I try to inspect the injury, I find cuffs wrapped around each ankle and a short, rusty chain between them. My hands are cuffed as well.

Fear races through my bloodstream as partial images flash in my mind.

We were in the trunk of a car. Our hands bound behind us.

The carpeting of the trunk was wet and stunk of oil.

I was crying.

“Izzy, listen. I’m gonna get you out of this.”

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