Page 51 of Lethal Vengeance
My eyes narrow. “What are you still doing here?”
He tilts his head to the side. “I’m curious as to who wants to hold me here and why. Someone went to a lot of trouble to capture me. When I have the answers, maybe I will leave.” Fingers slide through mine. “Or maybe I’ll stay until you decide to leave.”
A noise comes from the hallway.
“Go, get some sleep. If I’m lucky, you’ll dream about kissing me again,” he says with a chuckle.
I roll my eyes, but the guard is closing in on us, so I can’t say anything in return.
Making it back to my hard cot isn’t difficult. Neither is falling asleep. Dreaming about something pleasant is nearly impossible. Nightmares invade until it’s better to wake and find the sun.
The other girls eye me with curiosity, but none approach. The guards shepherd us into the showers, and on to breakfast. We move like sheep in the direction they wish us to go, rarely speaking a word to each other.
At the end of the first day, a girl around twenty approaches me. “We don’t know who you are or where Margot went, but we hope you’re not here to cause trouble. The cartel’s visiting tomorrow, and if we step out of line, Armando has promised to kill us on sight.” She twists her hands nervously. “Please do not do anything to upset him or ruin the visit. We beg you. Things can get really bad around here if he’s not happy. No food. No blankets. No leash on the guards.” Her voice drops to a whisper with the last phrase.
I blink. Part of me wants to reach out and slap her until she fights back, but the other half understands her need to keep the little safety and comfort she’s been given. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
She squints at me, as if my answer makes her nervous, but bobs her head and disappears. Whispers from the corner of the room reach me, but I don’t turn to look.
My presence is the one thing guaranteed to make the visit go smoothly but explaining to anyone that my stay is both voluntary and temporary is moot. And I doubt Armando will punish them when I “disappear” because he’ll be too busy dealing with me. My stomach tightens with the thought, not in fear, but in anticipation. I need to see the monster inside him. The one he shows to everyone but me—the face Sophia saw when he killed her.
Soon, I whisper to her, but it’s so hard to believe. It’s been almost three years since her death. One way or another, I need to finish. She needs closure.
When everyone is asleep, I get up to use the restroom. Standing in the stall, I listen for any footfalls. Nothing. I stretch up toward the ceiling and pull open the vent to get my guard uniform and earpiece.
The annex is quiet when I enter, but something feels different, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. Instead of heading directly to the cells, I slip into the small bathroom and wait. Boots stride by. Quiet Spanish drifts into the air, but I can’t make out the words. Keys jingle. Grunts. The cell door slams shut.
Armando’s voice is clear when he states his intent to wash his hands and orders the guard to stand by the door. Panicking, I look around. The shower beckons. I keep looking. At the last second, I open another door and slip inside.
Fluorescent light floods the crack. Water turns on full blast and runs for several minutes. I’m beginning to think he’s never going to finish washing his hands when it shuts off. There’s a rustling noise, a pause, and the light blinks out. I don’t move. Boots stride away, but in the opposite direction—toward the side entrance—the same one we used that night to rescue Aria and Samantha. Whoever it is just left the facility. I pray it was Armando.
I open the door a crack to listen. It’s quiet, and the unsettling feeling is gone, too. With a huge sigh of relief, I crawl out of the tiny linen closet, my body cracking and protesting the cramped position I forced it to hold. With a twist, I crack my back one way, then the other.
I’m starting to think I should have chosen the shower to hide in, but when I look over at it, the curtain is open. A chill runs down my spine. It had been closed when I entered the closet.
Thank you, I murmur to Sophia, firmly believing it was her guidance that led me to a better hiding place.
It doesn’t take long to reach Raider’s cell, but when I see him lying on the floor, I rush the final few feet. Shirtless, his back is covered with dark splotches that will almost certainly turn to ugly bruises in the next couple of days. I curse silently, adding this grievance to Armando’s long list. Why, though?
“Raider,” I whisper loudly. He doesn’t stir.
“Raider,” I murmur. Nothing. Damn it.
I eye the lock on the cell door. Could I pick it? It’s not my best skill, but it couldn’t hurt to try. With a quick swivel, I run back to the restroom and search through the linen closet until I find several options—a metal nail file, bobby pins, and tweezers—then rush back.
An hour later, I throw down the tweezers in frustration. It’s useless. I’m useless. A noise down the hall startles me.
Shit.
With a mad dash, I scramble for the tools on the ground. Tweezers. Where are the tweezers? My eyes scan every inch of the ground, but nothing pointy jumps out. Giving up, I run back to the restroom and my little linen closet. My heart’s beating out of my chest when I crouch under the bottom shelf, and pull the door shut.
Someone comes into pee. I clamp my hands over my ears, not wanting to hear it. Unlike Armando, they wash their hands quickly, and leave.
I wait until it’s all quiet before making my way back to the cells. As I near them, the light catches on a glint of metal near the adjoining cell. It’s the tweezers. I grab them and put them in my pocket. Like the night of the rescue, this cell is empty. I pivot to return to the other one when I see it. A key in the lock. I yank it out and rush over to Raider’s cell. It slides in with ease and with a quick turn, the door opens.
I slide to the cold floor to get a good look at his face. His eyes are closed. One lid is swollen almost shut, and blood is seeping from his nose and a cut on his bottom lip. He looks rough.
Biting my lip, I contemplate the best way to wake him. With a man like Raider, distance is probably best. I reach out and tap him on the hand. He doesn’t move. I repeat it a few more times. Nothing.
