Page 91 of Savage Obsession

CHAPTER 22

Julia

I flop, boneless and spent, into the seat on the chopper. Baz leans forward to fasten my seat belt and offers me a pair of headphones. I tug them down over my ears, though I’m in no mood for conversation.

I should be relieved to be rescued. Elated. Instead, I’m simply numb.

Beside me, Rosa is shaking. Baz helps her to belt up, too, but no headphones.

Kris Kaminski barks a command to the pilot. The engine roars. We take to the air and circle the clearing below. I catch sight of the carnage for the first time.

I count three bodies, presumably Adan’s guards, dragged without ceremony into a pile beside an open-backed truck. Other men, in battle fatigues, rush around, becoming smaller and smaller as we ascend into the clouds. I assume these to be the Kaminski forces, engaged in the cleanup operation.

Adan is nowhere to be seen. He must already be on his way to… what did Kris say? The kill room?

I shudder and drape my arm around Rosa’s thin shoulders. For all that she was clearly afraid of him, they had some sort of a relationship. He was kind to her, polite, considerate. For her sake, I’m glad he’s not dead, but I can’t help wondering if an even worse fate awaits.

Apart from me, Rosa, Baz, and Kris, the other seats in the helicopter are occupied by guards, one of them the medic who attended to me. They are all kitted out with headphones, too, and converse softly between one another in their native Polish.

“How do you feel?” Baz’s expression is one of concern. “Any headache? Dizziness?”

“No,” I reply. “But I’m not so sure about Rosa. She’s in shock.”

He scowls, but, “Krzysztof, take a look, would you?”

The guard unbuckles his seat belt and moves to crouch in front of us. He does a quick examination, shines his torch in her eyes, checks her pulse, her temperature. “She really should be lying down, but there’s no room in here. Do we have a blanket?”

One is produced from underneath a seat, and he drapes it around her. “That’ll have to do for now.” He offers her a sip of water, but she refuses.

“I’m fine,” she whispers. “Really.” But she hugs the edges of the blanket close.

Krzysztof returns to his seat.

Kris is watching her, eyes keen. And suspicious.

“I know you from somewhere,” he announces, in English. “Have we met before?”

She meets his gaze, blankly.

“Get her some phones,” he snaps.

One of the guards passes her his, and she puts them on.

Kris repeats his question.

She hesitates, then nods. “I was there, in Puerto de la Cruz. Club Luz Violeta. When you… came for Mateo and Alejandro…”

His brow furrows. “Where…?”

“I was with Alejandro when your guard burst in and shot him. I was sure he was going to kill me, too, but you came in and told him to take me downstairs. I was tied up in the room behind the bar, with two other women. Cleaners, I think. There was a lot of noise. Banging, gunfire, footsteps. Men shouting. But eventually it went quiet. We were there for ages, hours, until we managed to free ourselves. The other women fled. I think they went home. I didn’t know what to do. I had nowhere to go, then I remembered the safe houses.”

His gaze sharpens. “Safe houses?”

“There were three or four I knew of. I went to one, an apartment in the city. I walked there…”

“I’ll be needing the details for these safe houses,” Kris growls.

Rosa nods.

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