Page 83 of Stolen Faith

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan saw Izabel swallow hard. The realization that they weren’t mere minutes away from freedom had to be hitting her hard. Brennon put his arm around her.

Barry groaned, slowly coming to. Rowan motioned for everyone but him to move back, behind their captive, and positioned himself.

He and Devon shared a look, and the other man nodded.

Barry blinked and began struggling, trying to break free, a litany of muffled curses coming from beneath the gag. Rowan was able to make out the words “motherfucker” and “gonna kill you.” Fury flashing in Barry’s eyes.

Fury…and fear.

Good.

Rowan didn’t look at Barry, didn’t talk to him. He stood at ease, hands behind his back, upper body relaxed. Given Barry’s…well, everything about him…he probably glorified soldiers and military service, so he’d recognize the posture.

Barry’s curses and struggles slowly died as the minutes ticked by.

A guard passed, and Barry tried to cry out. Based on the movement of his cheeks, he was trying to spit out the gag. The felt would have absorbed his spit, all but gluing the fabric to his tongue.

The muffled sound garnered no reaction. Rowan had seen how thick the windows were, and he’d taken a calculated risk. He wanted Barry to see rescue…and watch it walk past.

Barry’s shoulders slumped when the guard was out of sight.

Another five minutes ticked by. Rowan watched Izabel’s increasing impatience. She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. She whispered something to Brennon, who smiled but shook his head. Izabel’s preferred method of interrogation definitely wouldn’t be solitude and silence. If they had to move to more direct methods to encourage answers, maybe he should offer to let Izabel do it. Was it weird to ask your future wife if she wanted to stab someone with a colored pencil?

Finally, Devon walked over. He was barefoot, but he walked heavily, making sure Barry heard him coming. Barry’s head whipped around, watching Devon.

Devon stopped beside Rowan, then raised Barry’s gun.

Barry started babbling again.

Devon popped the clip, pulling all but one bullet out and passing them to Rowan, who put them in the pocket of his extremely battered suit pants.

Devon raised the gun, pointing it at Barry’s head.

The man squealed, closed his eyes, and flinched away.

After sixty long seconds, Barry slowly opened his eyes. Devon now had the gun pointed at his gut. Barry sucked in another breath.

“You have information in that undoubtedly thick skull that I want,” Devon said quietly. “Therefore, I can’t shoot you in the head. I could shoot you in the gut. It takes a long time to die of a gut wound, and it’s incredibly painful.”

Barry mumbled into the gag, shaking his head.

“However, there’s always the chance that you’d go into shock from the pain, so that’s not an excellent option either.”

Devon nodded to Barry’s cast. “Was that you?” he asked Rowan.

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you do?”

“Dislocated his elbow. Possibly detached the biceps muscle.”

“Ah. Painful.”

Rowan nodded.

Barry was watching them with wide, horrified eyes.

“Dislocate his other elbow,” Devon said softly.

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