Page 10 of Song of Sparrows and Sorrow

The other men laughed and Eden had to resist the urge to fight against them. It was best to make them think she was weak so she had the advantage of surprise later.

The door slid open noisily, on rails that were in desperate need of oiling, and she felt the rush of air across her skin as it whooshed past. The smell of rotten fish over an underlying odor of motor oil and decaying meat had the gorge rising in the back of her throat, and she had to take a moment to breathe in shallow pants through her mouth.

“Go,” he said, shoving her through the opening. The door slid closed behind her with an ominous clank that sent sweat snaking down her spine.

Footsteps crunched over the broken concrete floor and they pushed her farther inside—another thirty steps. They untied her hands and she flexed them to get the blood flowing again and then hands unzipped her jacket and stripped it down her arms. She was left in the long-sleeved black thermal top, but without the jacket there was a noticeable difference in the temperature.

Multiple hands patted her down, taking the weapon at the small of her back, the knife sheathed at her wrist, and the other knife in her boot. They turned her around and shoved her again so the backs of her legs hit something hard, and at the same time hands pushed down on her shoulders so she was sitting in a chair.

Her arms were jerked back, straining the muscles in her shoulders, and they retied her hands. Whoever was tying them wasn’t as experienced as the last person because she was able to get her hands in a position where there’d be extra room to maneuver. They bound each of her ankles to a chair leg, and then the bag was jerked off her head.

Eden blinked a couple of times as her eyesight adjusted, and then felt a sharp sting against her face as one of the men backhanded her, snapping her head back. She tasted blood from where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek and she spat it out at his feet.

“Kozyol,” he said.

She smiled at the Russian insult and relaxed back against the chair. The ropes that banded her wrists together burned as she worked at them.

She took note of her surroundings, calculating the best route of escape. The warehouse was large, obviously abandoned, and the only light coming in was from the sun shining through broken-out windows and leaving grotesque shadows on the floors.

Old boat parts littered the space and it didn’t take her long to find the cause of the awful smell. Whale carcasses were in different stages of decomposition along the side of the warehouse. Natives were allowed to legally hunt and kill a certain number of whales per year for the meat and oil, but the practice was illegal to anyone else. It looked like someone was using the warehouse to hide the contraband.

Windows were spaced evenly on one side, and even though most of the glass was broken out, they were covered by chicken wire and wouldn’t be a viable means of escape. There was only one door in and out that she could see. Things were not looking good.

“You’ve gotten in our way, Ms. Kane,” said a man from the back of the pack. She recognized his voice as the one who’d told the others to stop playing with her. The others moved to either side of her, leaving a direct line of sight between her and the man in charge.

Eden continued to stare at him but didn’t say anything. She was as curious for information as they were. He was older than the others and clearly the leader. The scruff on his face was silver, and a black watch cap was pulled low over his head. He’d stripped off his jacket and gloves so he only wore a black T-shirt and cargo pants, which was never a good sign. It meant things were probably going to get messy.

“I’ve studied you. I know of your past with the man Jonah Salt and that you are hunting him now. Why?”

She continued to stare at him and he smiled before wrapping her hair around his fist and yanking her head back. A knife pricked at her throat and she smelled the coppery tang of blood as the blade bit into her skin.

“I could slit your throat,” he whispered, his face so close his whiskers scratched her cheek.

“It would be hard for me to talk if you did,” she answered in Russian, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze.

He nodded in what she thought might be approval and moved the knife away slowly. “Yes, well, maybe we should start with other parts of the body. But I’ve been known to play nice. For instance, my name is Alexsei.” He let go of her hair and backed away a step, but he didn’t put the knife away. “It is good for a captive to know her captor, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It certainly makes it more convenient to track you down later,” she said dryly.

He ignored her attempt at humor and began cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his knife. “We’ve been looking for Jonah Salt for a while now. It was only by chance that we stumbled across you trying to do the same.”

Eden arched a brow. What would the Russians want with Jonah? If she voiced the question, she’d owe them an answer. And they’d still probably try to kill her.

“If you’re hunting him as well, what does it matter who catches him as long as he’s dead?”

“That’s the problem. We’re not trying to kill him. Jonah Salt’s death would be catastrophic for everyone.”

“Maybe we’re talking about a different Jonah Salt, because from where I’m standing his death could only be good.”

The man smiled again and something about it had her blood chilling and her fingers working quicker at the ropes tying her hands.

“I’m telling you now to stop your hunt or you will die here today.”

She saw the lie in his eyes. They planned for her to die no matter what she agreed to. It was time to test them, to see what they really wanted with Jonah.

“I guess it’s too bad I got a shot off just before you and your goons decided to kidnap me.”

“You lie,” he spat. Anger and something close to terror crossed his face.

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