The group parted, forming a circle around me, giving me a wide berth. Nobody else wanted to get kicked in the face.
I climbed to my feet and glared at the masked men.
I was indeed in an old warehouse. The cavernous space was dark, and shafts of moonlight filtered through the windows.
Mr. X shined a flashlight on me. The bright beam squinted my eyes. "If you're done roughhousing, I'd like to give you your gift.”
“The toughest prison to escape from is the one you don’t know you’re in.” Mr. X removed the beam from my eyes and pointed the flashlight at the floor. He walked across the room to another door, then looked back over his shoulder at me. "Are you coming?”
I gave another uncertain glance around at his underlings, then followed him.
He pulled open the door and held it for me, motioning inside. He used the beam of the flashlight to illuminate the way.
I gave him a cautious look, then peered into the room. It was another empty, cavernous space. In the center of the room there was another man tied to a chair with a black bag over his face.
"Go ahead, he doesn't bite. Well, not at the moment.”
I stepped into the room with caution.
Mr. X followed behind me.
"Who is that?" I asked.
31
Mr. X handed me a black balaclava. "You might want to put this on.”
I gave him a look, but the precaution was obvious. I pulled on the face covering as Mr. X stepped to the other hostage. Once I had concealed my identity, he pulled the black bag off the man's head to reveal Carter Wallace.
He was unconscious and had clearly suffered a beating. Crusted blood clung to his cheeks and his split lips.
Mr. X slapped Carter in the face a few times.
Carter groaned and stirred.
"You'll have to excuse him,” X said. “He's been sedated.”
Carter peeled open his eyes and tried to focus on the group of shadowy figures around him.
"What's he doing here?” I asked.
"You have questions. He has answers.” Mr. X patted Carter on the shoulder. "Isn't that right?”
A flood of emotions rushed through me—anger, sorrow, hatred, joy. I stepped in front of the scumbag and stared at him for a long moment.
"Go ahead, ask your questions," Mr. X said in an encouraging tone.
"You killed Dr. Grayson Mitchell,” I said. "Why?”
"I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Don't worry," X said. "He'll talk. If he knows what's good for him.”
"Why did you kill Grayson?” I asked again.
"I didn't do shit. You got the wrong guy, lady.”
"Tell the lady what she wants to know,” Mr. X said.” You don't want to make me angry again, do you?”