“Help me!” Her native European accent thickened as an age-old fear seized the opportunity to resurrect itself.
She dashed for the stairs but was jerked to a sudden halt that toppled her off her feet. The hard landing jarred her hands and triggered a jolting reminder of her battered knees. But the pain didn’t frighten her half as much as the ominous clank of metal scraping against metal behind her. Ellie rolled over onto her bottom and yanked up the hem of her skirt.
“No.” She tapped her fingers at her temple, nervously pushing at her nonexistent glasses. “No!”
A steel band had been cuffed around her left ankle. And a shiny new chain of stainless steel had been padlocked to the cuff. She traced the path of interlocking links, each the size of a golf ball, to a steel O-bolt anchored into the center of the concrete floor.
Chained to the floor like one of the elephants she’d seen at the Korosol Royal Circus last year.
Ellie climbed to her feet and, like that sorry animal, paced as far as the chain allowed.
Whoever had put her here had measured the trap carefully. Even at its fullest length, with her leg stretched out behind and her body tilted forward as far as she could go, she was still a good two feet from the bottom of the stairs. The windows hovered above the reach of her outstretched hand. The only thing within her grasp was the broken-down furnace and a knee-high wooden stool.
“All the comforts of home,” she whispered. If one was a condemned prisoner on death row.
Ellie sank down onto the stool and hugged herself, refusing to surrender to futile tears.
“You’ll think of a way out of this, Ellie.” She tried another pep talk, but the echo of her voice did little to encourage her. She’d made it all the way from her mountain home to the capital city of Korosol la Vella. She’d made it across the ocean to America. She’d made the harrowing journey through crosstown traffic into the heart of New York City.
“I’ll make it out of here, too.”
The question was—how?
Her jewelry was gone, along with her purse and her stole.
And her shoes.
Anything that might be used as a weapon had been taken from her. The tiny canister of pepper spray in her bag. The house key attached to it. The heels of her shoes.
Ellie sat up a little straighter as she latched on to one hopeful thought.
If they’d disarmed her, that meant her kidnappers were coming back. They hadn’t abandoned her. Yet. They’d prepped her for their return.
As if the thought of her abductors had the power to summon, she heard a key turn in the lock at the top of the stairs. Ellie shot to her feet and moved behind the stool, putting the one available obstacle between her and her visitor.
The door opened and a single, bare lightbulb switched on over the bottom of the stairs, bathing her in an austere circle of light and creating a translucent wall of dust motes in the heavy air. The tread of footsteps on the stairs told her it was a man, one who was balanced and sure on his feet, despite his bulky silhouette.
Ellie squinted to see who had come to visit her in her prison cell, but the lightbulb created shadows that hid the man’s face. He moved through the curtain of dust and she could see that better illumination wouldn’t help her identify him. He wore a black knit stocking cap that covered everything but his eyes.
Just like the men last night.
Ellie shivered as he walked toward her. He seemed to grow larger and suck up more of the breathable air with each step. She jumped back, needing space, needing room to run. “Don’t come any closer.”
He stopped. Though she couldn’t see his eyes in the play of light and shadow, she felt his stare. Her skin crawled as if his hands and not his assessing gaze were touching her.
“What do you want with me?” Her voice sounded as shaky as her backbone.
No answer.
His hefty shape had been deceptive, as well. She curled her toes into the cold concrete as he set a blanket, a canteen and a handful of silvery foil envelopes on the floor in front of her.
“What are those?” she asked, looking at the items that had been piled like an altar offering before her.
In answer, he picked up one of the silver packages, straightened and tossed it to her. Ellie caught it out of pure reflex. “That wasn’t a difficult question, was it?”
The man said nothing.
Like one of the questionable souvenirs from her brother Nicky’s mercenary days, she recognized the markings on the bag as a military field ration. Applesauce.
“I suppose you want me to eat this?”
He nodded.
Damn, the man’s silence was unnerving. It distracted her from thinking. She could only react.
“Is this how you killed Paulo?” The man’s head jerked up. “Did you poison him?”
The only sound she could hear was her heart pounding.
Just when she thought she might scream from the tension in the air pulling at her, the man took the packet from her hands and tore it open. He stuck his finger inside, scooped out a dollop of beige paste and lifted his mask high enough so she could see him eat it.
She caught a flash of inky black beard stubble, but nothing more. Even before the image registered, he’d covered his chin and handed her the packet.
She’d barely touched her dinner the night before because of nervous anticipation of the ball and had slept through any other meal since. Food might help her headache. And she’d need sustenance of some kind to keep up her strength and keep herself mentally sharp.
Her companion’s watchful stillness made her think she’d need every ounce of strength and intelligence she could muster in order to survive this…this…
“Why have I been kidnapped?” she demanded, tilting her chin up with an authority she didn’t really feel.
His shoulders lifted with a cocky bit of “don’t care,” but he gave no answer.
“Why won’t you say anything?”
She dipped her finger into the packet and scooped out a bit of the dry paste. Tentatively she carried it to her mouth and tested it with her tongue. If she used her imagination, she could taste something that reminded her of apples and sawdust. But it was hard to imagine anything with her keeper standing so utterly still just a few feet away.
The goose bumps that had assailed her earlier pricked her skin again at his eerie silence. “You know, it’s very rude not to talk.”
And nerve-racking and frightening and out-and-out intimidating.
Ellie had never been one to complain. She’d been raised to make the best of things. To solve her own problems. To endure.
But the words came tumbling out now. “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t have much money. The jewels you took don’t even belong to me.” The man was made of stone. “I can’t help you if I don’t know why I’m here!”
Her little outburst left her feeling flushed and useless. And, damn it all, she had always found a way to make herself feel useful. She so desperately hated feeling helpless and unnecessary.
Expendable.
“Are you going to kill me, too?”
For a moment she thought he might actually speak. She heard a sound from behind his mask, a quick intake of breath. Ellie caught her own breath and held it, waiting for his answer. But…
Nothing.