Page 57 of Call Sign: King
He’d been ruthless and deadly years ago. Ryder couldn’t even comprehend how dangerous the man would be after spending four years suffering through burn treatments. Four years to plot his revenge on his biggest enemy — Nicolai Romanovski, the man responsible for the death of his father and two brothers.
Without warning, Ryder’s empty stomach heaved. Just in the nick of time, he turned in time to spew the bile rising up in his throat onto the carpeted floor of the Condor.
I’m so sorry, Princess. I didn’t protect you from the big bad wolf and now that he’s got you, he’s gonna make you pay for all of my sins.
Chapter Seventeen
KHLOE
The plane’s bumpy landing jarred Khloe from a fitful sleep. For the briefest of seconds, she wondered why Trevor hadn’t woke her up before they landed like usual.
Then she tried to move, and the nightmare she was living engulfed her, bringing back the panic her sheer exhaustion had temporarily been able to silence.
Her heart ached thinking about Trevor and Ricky. Snapshots of their last minutes together at the Hyatt flashed in her brain. She may be scared shitless, but at least she was alive. The guilt of knowing her friends had literally put their lives on the line to protect her was crushing.
Please God, let them both be safe.
As the pilot applied the brakes hard, Khloe almost rolled off the loveseat her captors had finally allowed her to lie on several hours into the flight. She had no delusion that they’d done it because they were nice. They’d just tired of her complaining about how the way they’d tied her was cutting off her circulation. They may have loosened the ropes, but they hadn’t removed them, making it super hard for her to push herself into a sitting position.
Taking stock of her injuries, she realized her worst complaint at the moment was her throbbing headache, a sure sign she was getting dehydrated. The irony of finding herself hungry as well wasn’t lost on her. Over the years, she’d made skipping meals an art form but even she knew when she was pushing her body too far.
If it were just herself, she wouldn’t care, but the smallest possibility that she might be pregnant had her asking for help.
“Any chance I can get a drink of water or maybe a small snack?” she asked.
“You will need to earn such luxuries. The opportunity to do so can wait until we get you secured.”
“Can I at least use the restroom?” she asked as her bladder made itself known once she was sitting up.
“I give you the same answer.”
What an asshole.
Defiance flared. He didn’t want to let her use the bathroom, then fine. She didn’t mind leaving more of her DNA behind… all over their executive plane’s furniture and carpeting.
It took a few seconds for her captor to realize she was peeing. Unbuckling from his own seat, he pushed to his feet, cursing at her in Russian.
“Maybe if you’d given me some clothes or a blanket, I might not have wanted to get them wet, but since you didn’t give me the courtesy of providing my basic needs, I see no reason I need to worry about your plane,” she said calmly. “Too bad you don’t have leather seats. I bet that’s gonna soak into the fabric.”
The man’s grip on her left bicep felt like an iron clamp as he yanked her to her feet. Ignoring the warm wetness running down her leg, Khloe stepped closer, making sure several drops landed on the asshole’s shoes.
His backhand across her cheek felt like a high price to pay for her offense, particularly since it was now the third strike in the exact same place. Her face throbbed, and for the briefest of moments, she worried bruising would make filming difficult. That’s when she realized she may never step in front of another camera again.
Her abductor stepped close enough to smell his stale breath.
“I suggest you learn not to antagonize me. You are in enough trouble already without adding fuel to the fire,” the man groused before barking orders to his two accomplices in Russian.
Finally on her feet, Khloe took the opportunity to stretch as much as the ropes holding her wrists behind her back would allow. The raw scrapes on her knees had scabbed over, but the wound where they’d cut the GPS tracker out of her body was still seeping. Long lines of dried blood streaked down her left thigh.
Determined to slow things down, Khloe asked. “Where are we?”
“That’s not important.”
Oh yes it was. Ryder had teams all across the globe. She clung to the knowledge that if there was anyone who could find her, it was her husband and his BSO team.
She tried again.
“Are we getting off the plane here or just refueling?”
