Page 99 of Devious Secrets

And by the time she sleeps tonight, she will be home.

Our home.

It stinks in here.

The tower room Alexander had me locked in that first time was uninviting, but it didn’t reek of piss and blood. This jail cell I’m in now does.

My head still throbs on the left side where a large swollen knot has bloomed. Probably from when I was dumped onto this concrete floor.

“Hey. Anyone there?”

I sit up from the wall I’m leaning against. The door to the cell is made of bars and the hallway is dark. As far as I knew, I was alone down here.

“Yeah?” I hurry to the door, pressing my cheek to the bars so I can look down the corridor as far as I can.

An arm slides out into my view and her fingers wiggle. “Can you see me?”

“Your hand, yes.”

She laughs. “Oh, good. I’m really alive.”

I take a deep breath. Having someone there brings some relief to the terror I’ve been drowning in since waking up in this darkened pit.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“I hurt in a lot of places, but everything’s working. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Where is here?” I hesitate in my question, not sure I really want to know.

“I don’t know exactly. I hear trains now and then that sound like the subway, but I haven’t been outside. And they only take me upstairs when they want to…” her voice trails off into a sniffle. “I’m fine. Did they hurt you when they brought you in?”

“No. Not really.” I touch the bump on my head. It’s nothing, I think, compared to what she’s been through. “Do you know who has us?”

“Michael DeAngelo.” Her voice hardens with the name. “This is his place. He runs things here.”

“Michael?” I rest my head against the bars. “He’s related to Marco?”

“I’ve heard him talk about Marco. I think they’re brothers,” she says.

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“I doubt it.” She snorts. “I’ve been here over a week.”

“And Michael brought you here?”

“No, not him.” She yawns and I wonder what time it is. There are no windows to the outside, and it’s been dark in here since I woke up.

Something crawls over my foot, and I jump back a step. A squeak echoes against the wall and a small dark shadow runs between the bars and down the dim corridor.

“Who was it?” I remember the voice in the restaurant. It was a woman, and I can almost place it, but every time I get close to it, the throbbing in my head starts again.

“He didn’t give his name before he snatched me off the street. I was walking home from the bar; it was dark and I was alone. Never even heard him coming. The only thing I really remember about him was his voice. Really raspy and he had a thick accent, not Italian.”

My skin electrifies. “Was it Russian, you think?”

“Could be.” She sighs. “How’d you get here?”

“I was taken from a restaurant.” In the middle of the afternoon in a crowded restaurant. Someone had to have seen it. Artem must have noticed right away I didn’t come back from the bathroom.

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