The Espionage Effect(80)
A low chuckle came from somewhere above me. “Go easy. You inhaled a horse’s dose of our party drug. My guards said you put up an impressive fight.”
My guards…his voice…
Escobar.
Lucent thoughts gradually began to coalesce around relevant facts.
Using the couch I’d apparently tumbled from as leverage, I planted my hands on the cushions and pushed myself onto my feet. My bare feet. My hand went to my throbbing knee and I felt the joint through the gauzy pants I’d worn dancing. Taking stock of my condition as awareness solidified, I bent the knee by lifting my heel up forty-five degrees, confirming it hadn’t dislocated. With no increasing pain, it likely hadn’t fractured either.
Buying time, maintaining whatever negligible control I had in my clearly unbound state, I leaned on one arm and rotated my body, falling into a seated position on the firm velvet cushion.
My eyes remained downcast as I assessed my surroundings with every sense at my disposal. Polished dark travertine flooring peeked out from a plush Turkish rug that spanned from just off my toes toward the opposite wall. Iron sconces mounted high on the ivory plaster cast soft pools of light onto the stone tiles edging the rug.
Black combat boots came into view from the right, soundless with each step on the expensive rug. “Do take your time, Miss Hill. Or do you prefer Devin? We were introduced to be friends, after all.”
Bullshit. A deep breath filled my lungs as I bit back the sharp retort dangling on the tip of my tongue. No chance in hell.
But how to bide my time? Do I sidle up to the snake? Not yet. Too obvious.
Information. I needed to know where I’d been taken. Where Anna was. Only then could I begin to formulate a plan.
After another deep breath that did little to calm me, but at least cleared the last lingering cobwebs from my chemically dampened brain, I pushed up from the couch, hoping my knees held my weight. My legs wobbled a little, but I tensed my thighs, forcing them to obey.
Determined to face whatever awaited me, I scanned upward and met Escobar’s piercing gaze. He stood in the middle of the large rug, his stance casual. He wore dark brown-and-olive camouflage fatigues and a black baseball hat pulled low on his head. His eyes peered at me from just under the curving brim.
“Glad you could join us for the festivities, Devin. The entertainment is about to commence.”
Behind Escobar, and going deeper into an office filled with heavy furniture, treasured objects displayed on pedestals, and a semiprecious-stone-inlaid globe the size of a beach ball, other men stood in the same camouflage uniforms. Although I couldn’t determine an accurate headcount with my view partially blocked by a large carved-wood bookcase that jutted from the wall to my right, at least a dozen soldiers stood in the room.
But my attention froze on one in particular.
Nearest Escobar, over his right shoulder and standing at relaxed attention with his arms clasped behind his back, stood Alec. His expression was stone. When we locked gazes for a fraction of a second, I fought my reaction, narrowing my eyes the slightest degree when instinctual impulse nearly widened them.
In warning, he gave a nearly imperceptible headshake, nothing more.
Escobar glanced over his shoulder, then smiled. “Ah, you see your lover. A good man. Alec’s been invaluable to me. More so than to you, I’d say.”
This time I couldn’t hide my confusion. My brows drew together, and my gaze met Escobar’s as he faced me again.
“How much do you know?” He quirked a brow. “Not much, I think.”
Before I knew it, he lunged forward and grasped my elbow. Repulsed at his unexpected touch, I yanked back. But his grip held firm. “Come. I’ve something to show you.”
Curious, yet distrustful of everything and everyone, I let him lead me to a desk on the other side of the bookcase. A bank of three shiny black monitors were mounted onto the ivory plaster wall, black against white. He depressed a silver button on a desktop keyboard and images appeared on all three screens. Within seconds, I made out the prison cells that I’d witnessed down in his underground-river dungeon. Each monitor showed split-screen images of the five separate enclosures: the college students slumped against the walls, crumpled on the floors behind the iron bars.
On the far right, one enclosure held a bright flash of turquoise. I blinked and leaned closer, staring at the monitor. Black, silky straight hair flew sideways as the woman threw her head back, bashing it purposely against the wall.
“Anna,” I whispered.
“Yes. Your beloved Anna. Your best friend, no?”
I firmed my lips into a hard line, thinking about Alec, Anna. I didn’t give a shit what this madman taunted me with, had no idea where the truth of anything lay, but I wouldn’t give up any secrets. I could handle physical torture. Tested every other way possible, surviving one kidnapping only to fall prey to another thirteen years later, if those college students could endure, then so would I. For my sister, for Anna, for them all.
“Don’t worry. You don’t need to confess to anything. Your ‘so-called’ best friend already did.”
Incredulous, a derisive snort escaped my nose. “What are you babbling on about, Escobar? There’s nothing to confess.”
The man was delusional. What had she coughed up? My catastrophic past? Not a weakness. Not anymore.
“EtherSphere One. Ring any bells?” he asked.