His eyes slid away from me for a moment, and then he sneered.
Shame flooded me as I realized he knew I’d had to urinate in my little cell. I hadn’t done anything wrong, or anything that I’d really had any control over, but I was still ashamed. I pushed the embarrassment down, knowing that my cheeks were still burning. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.
“When you gotta go.” I shrugged. “Maybe you should’ve given me a bucket.”
His hand flashed out, the back of it cracking against my cheek and jaw in an explosion of pain. My head snapped to the side, and I hissed out a breath of air. Fortunately, it was far from the most painful thing I’d ever experienced, and it took only seconds for my thoughts to gather again.
“How is my father planning on getting here?” I gently touched the back of my hand to my cheek. “I know he’ll want to take care of me himself.”
The man’s expression didn’t change as he reached down and grabbed the front of my shirt. He yanked me upright and slammed me against the wall. It didn’t feel great, but I wasn’t going to let it show. In fact, I couldn’t resist taunting him a bit.
“How’s it feel to have an old man yanking your leash like some–”
All the air rushed out of me as he buried his fist in my stomach. I curled forward, coughing and retching as I tried to stay on my feet. I hadn’t expected a punch to the stomach. A backhand to the face, sure, but I figured that was to let me know it was a good idea to do as I was told.
“You are a problem.”
His English was impeccable. That combined with the military haircut and the way he carried himself made me suspect U.S. military, but probably first generation from an immigrant family. My gut – aching as it was – still said something Soviet. Not that it mattered right now.
“I know.” I sounded a bit breathless, but not too bad. “My dad thought I was such a problem that he tried to kill me. It didn’t take.”
The man frowned, his forehead creasing. “Why do you keep talking about your father? I have no interest in your family. Not yet, anyway. If you continue to be problematic for my employers, they may wish to meet your father.”
Shit.
Not random. Not ransom. Not my father.
What the fuck was going on then?
I didn’t let my confusion show on my face, forcing my tone to stay light. “That might be difficult for them since he’s on the run now.”
Not a flicker. Either he’d already known about my father, or he simply didn’t care. Most likely the latter.
The man grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, giving me no choice but to look up at him. “I won’t mark your face again.”
I didn’t have to wonder what he meant by that because his fist collided with my ribcage even as the last word came out. I gasped, choked, but I couldn’t catch my breath because his hand was around my throat now, squeezing. I pushed against his chest with my bound hands, but there was no strength in me. Black spots danced in my vision, and my knees gave out, but I didn’t fall.
He was silent as he hit me again, but I couldn’t hear the impact over the blood rushing in my ears. He must have been counting, or he knew how long he could choke and beat me until it was too much, because he suddenly stopped.
I dropped to the floor, but I barely felt my knees hit. I was sure it hurt, but everything else hurt too much for me to really notice. I supposed I’d see the bruises… if I survived this first. And judging by the way I was feeling at this moment,notsurviving could be a viable option.
Except he wasn’t trying to kill me. He could have, I knew that. Even with as much pain and oxygen deprivation that my brain was trying to handle, I knew that things could have been much worse.
They could still get worse.
I had to get through the pain, figure out where I was, and how I could get out.
“Serge.”
A scrawny guy burst into the room and didn’t even look twice at me. He muttered something in another language, and the big guy – Serge, I supposed – snapped something back in that same language. Judging by the way the little guy scurried away, Serge was the top dog. Here, anyway. He’d mentioned bosses.
I sucked in another burning breath. Bosses. Who thehellin my circle of people would havebossesthat would want me beaten up?
Serge leaned over me, and a part of me wanted to kick him, hurt him the way he’d hurt me, but I knew that if I did, I’d get another beating. That one might knock me out, and if I was unconscious, I couldn’t keep working on the problem of my escape.
“If you are not a problem, we will not need to have this discussion again.” He straightened and put his hands in his pockets. “Someone will bring you food once you are well enough to eat.”
The fact that he knew that I wouldn’t be able to keep anything down until the pain dissipated told me that I wasn’t the first person he’d beaten like this.
The question I wasn’t sure I wanted answered was, how many of those people had died here?