Page 89 of Extracted

“Silas said she needs to be brought in alive, dummy.” The newcomer’s gaze slid down her body. “That means don’t choke the bitch out unless he asks you to.”

Dismay made her quiver. This man was definitely not someone who’d come to her rescue.

“She fucking hit me, Ash!” Perry staggered forward, wiping his nose with his forearm. His beady eyes watched her like a hawk promising to get its prey.

“Don’t be such a bitch, man.” Ash clutched her elbow and spun her around. He tore her purse from her arm then shoved her wrists together. A zipping sound reached her ears.

The material was thin and sharp. A zip tie. His hand moved back to her elbow, the grip looser this time.

“Silas is in a meeting. He’ll be happy as fuck you caught her. How’d you find her?”

“She was in the club. Probably planning her next attack,” Perry said accusingly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Bingo, Perry.

“Take her next door and search her purse.” Ash handed her bag to Perry and then shoved her into his hold. “No funny shit, all right, bro? Save it for Silas.”

Perry’s hold curdled her stomach. He pulled her away from the door and walked along the length of the building. “Send Silas over when he’s done. I want the finder’s fee.”

Perry moved swiftly down the dark parking lot that ran behind the large building. He stopped at a steel door similar to the one they’d exited a moment before. He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door then shoved her inside.

Her shoes scraped against the cement floor. The door shut behind her with a clank, enclosing them in pitch black.

“Where are we?” If she could pat herself on the back for how strong her question came out, she would have.

“Where d’ya think, genius?” Perry flicked a switch, and an industrial ceiling light blasted its fluorescent glow around the room.

She squinted as Perry grabbed her arm again, leading her across the floor. The light overhead flickered, sending creepy shadows across the barren space.

A single foldout chair sat near the far wall. Another door, probably leading to a hallway, was the only other exit. Various junk was scattered through the room, mostly renovation supplies.

He shoved her down in the chair and the metal back tipped then righted itself. He pulled another zip tie from his pocket, bent down, and fastened her ankles together.

She glared at him. “I don’t know who you think I am, but you’ve made a mistake.”

Perry’s small brown eyes sparked with amusement as he stood. With the bright light above them, she could get a better look at him. His light skin was dotted with what appeared to be cheaply done tattoos. She wasn’t an ink expert, but it looked as if a ten-year-old had done the one-dimensional, flat lines.

His head was shaved and his belly protruded over his belt buckle. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. Tapping the screen, he moved the device next to her face. “If that ain’t you, you’ve got a doppelganger.” He turned the phone toward her and the muscles in her abdomen bunched. Her passport photo. “Either way, we’ll let Silas decide.”

He returned his phone to his pocket then took a cigarette from the package he pulled from the other one. The wall separating the club from the industrial space was across from her. The entire room was only about twenty by thirty feet.

Music vibrated the cement floor and flooded in from the vents overhead. She opened and closed her fists at her back. The plastic didn’t budge. She had to keep trying.

Perry took one more long drag on his cigarette then opened the snap on her purse and rifled through the contents. He lifted the gun and knife, the cigarette dangling from his lips. “You won’t be needing these.” He laughed and dropped them back inside. Then he grabbed her encrypted phone and pulled it out.

Before panic could take hold, her brain worked at warp speed to determine what he might find.

His fat fingers moved over the device . . . then stopped. “My boss gave me 15 minutes. Please hurry,” he read.

Gemma lowered her eyelids on a breath. The room closed in around her. Pressure expanded her chest, threatening to burst.

“Yeah. Sounds like I’ve got the wrong person.” Sarcasm dripped from Perry’s words. “Who’s your boss?” he demanded.

She opened her eyes. “I—”

“Don’t fucking lie,” he spat. He pulled the knife out of his pocket. “I’m sure Silas won’t mind if I fillet your pretty face to get some answers from you.”

Her blood pumped ferociously through her veins. She had to think of something. Maybe if they knew she was with the CIA they’d abandon her and run. She’d been told that under no circumstances should she blow her cover, but dammit, she wanted to live.

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