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MY HEAD HURT RIGHT where that asshole had hit me. The last thing I remembered was seeing Theo go down. He’d hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, completely devoid of consciousness. Then there was the shot.
Theo’s handler from MI6 stood over his fallen body and fired down into my boyfriend’s chest. There was no reaction, but I could see blood leap through the fibers of his shirt, proving that the wound was deep.
“Nooo!” I shouted, launching myself at the madman.
But instead of the superior, coordinated attack I’d planned, my game was off. My emotions were in control, and I didn’t see the guy behind me. Before I could reach the man who’d nearly murdered my lover, I felt a solid impact to the back of my skull.
Light burst upon the scene, eclipsing everything in the room. I tumbled to my knees and then to my stomach. My last thought was that at least neither of us were going to die alone. If I had to outlive another boyfriend, I might just go crazy. If you live by the sword, you die by the sword, and I could think of worse ways to go out.
I stretched a hand out to grasp Theo’s, feeling the warm ridges in his palm before losing touch entirely. The next thing I knew, I was in some kind of moving vehicle, my shoulder pressed to the floor, my mouth bound with tape.
So they hadn’t killed me.
That was the only rational thought that surfaced before I sank back into unconsciousness. A moment later, I was lying on a different surface, half upright, stuffed into an airplane seat. I couldn’t tell if there was anyone else around me. Though there wasn’t any blindfold, the only information I could force from my tired eyes was light and shadow. Then I passed out again.
My next hint came when I woke in a metal room. I lay on a cot that had been nailed to the floor. There was another cot above me, identifying the room as some kind of crew quarters. A set of metal handcuffs attached me to the bed, allowing only basic movement.
I could sense that I was alone, and while that didn’t mean I was safe, it did afford me some time to get my bearings. I had sustained quite a head injury. A sharp headache pulsed from behind my eyes, but for the time being, I could see.
I rose to a sitting position, glancing around as much as I could. The door was about three feet from my bed, almost close enough to reach. There was a single window in it, making me reevaluate my assumption that I was in a berth somewhere. It seemed more like a prison cell.
As I was struggling to come up with a theory that made sense, the floor bucked beneath me. There was nothing in the room that wasn’t nailed down except for me. I slid up to the pillow on my ass, knocking one shoulder against the wall.
A boat. I was on a boat.
Without knowing my destination or when I had come aboard, I had no idea how to reconnect with Theo. If he was even still alive. First things first: If I wanted to escape, I had to get out of the handcuffs. With the right tools, I could make quick work of the restraints, but the problem was that I had left the safe house with only the clothes on my back. In fact, I didn’t even have that many clothes.
I wore one of Theo’s shirts and a pair of underwear. Thankfully I’d managed to put that much one before I’d gone to investigate the disturbance in the kitchen. If I’d gone with my first instinct, I might have been sitting there naked.
After a quick sweep of my cell, I decided that one of the screws binding the cot to the floor was probably my best bet. I slid off the cot and onto the floor, using my free hand to work at the Phillips head.
It wasn’t designed to release its hold without power tools. No matter how many times I tried, or what angle I managed to approach, the screws wouldn’t give up. I pressed my thumbnail into the groove and twisted to the best of my ability. That only tore my thumb up and caused a thin stream of blood to coat the metal.
The door swung open as I worked, and a man I’d never seen before stepped in. “Get up on the bed,” he demanded in a thick accent.
I tried to place it, feeling like the man’s origin might give me some clues as to where I had been taken. It was faintly Asian, but not from one of the mainland countries. If I had to guess, I would have said Vietnamese or Indonesian.
I complied, not wanting to create more problems for myself. He waved a knife at me, threatening to cut me if I gave him any trouble. I wasn’t impressed. He moved to the bedside and unlocked my cuffs, clearly intending to take me somewhere. But as soon as my wrists were free, I launched into action.
Batting his knife away like the plaything that it was, I twisted his arm behind his back, slamming his head into the wall. He dropped like a stone. I helped myself to both his pants and his weapon before I snuck out into the hall.
The ship was still, and I assumed that since the unconscious soldier had been sent to collect me, that we were docked. Possibly the shudder that I had felt earlier was the final connection of the boat with the port. The hallway was narrow, and while there were rooms on either side, I could see the exit quite clearly.
I bulldozed my way to the stairs, managing to make it out on deck before I was stopped. Three guards with automatic weapons were waiting to greet me, as if they had expected me to make a break for it.
They circled me with their weapons drawn, cutting off my options. If I attacked one, the other two would still have clear shots. If I managed to take down two before I was murdered, the third would seal my fate.
I dropped the knife and put my hands on top of my head. Though I desperately wanted to get free and find my way back to Theo, I wasn’t going to do anything stupid. I couldn’t help Theo from beyond the grave. If he was still alive, then my first obligation was to keep my heart beating so that I could eventually find him.
“March,” one of the men growled in that same unfamiliar Asian accent.
I looked around, seeing that I had been right about the dock. We were on a medium-sized yacht attached by rope to a wooden deck. I considered dropping off the side of the ship and making a run for it. But there wasn’t a lot of cover unless I dove into the ocean.
As if reading my mind, one of my captors came up behind me and pulled a bag over my head. I was effectively cut off from the light and dependent on them for direction. While I could still hear the wash of the waves hitting the hull, I was no longer sure that I could get away unscathed.
They pushed me toward the edge and helped me off into the arms of another marauder. The guard twisted my arm behind me, not bothering with handcuffs this time. He had some kind of formal training dealing with prisoners. The way he held my arm eliminated all of my advantages. I wouldn’t be able to escape without twisting violently, and since he had all the leverage, he wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
I was pushed down the length of the dock to a car. Shoved into the backseat, I had a moment to myself before the enemy climbed in beside me. I took the time to yank the blindfold off. We were near a jungle, the first line of trees encroaching on the parking lot.
My captor responded by slamming the butt of his machine gun into my forehead. Pain raced from my eyeballs to the back of my skull before settling in my jaw. I closed my eyes and slept through the last leg of my journey.
When I woke next, I was in a cage. There were no restraints and no blindfold, indicating that the place they had taken me was so remote they didn’t need to bother. The air settled thick and hot on my skin, beading droplets of sweat across my chest and the back of my neck. It was difficult to breathe, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the injuries I’d sustained or the tropical climate.
I climbed to my feet, mentally checking all of my vital systems for damage. There was still some pain behind my eyes, but it wasn’t debilitating. My arms and legs felt solid, and my heartbeat was steady. It looked like I would live.
Outside of the cage, I could see one guard sitting on a plastic chair. There was an automatic rifle in his lap, but he wasn’t paying close attention to it. Instead, he was smoking a cheap cigarette, flicking ash between his legs.
I turned away. Neither he nor I were particularly interested in each other. Once I got free, it would be another story. But for now, I was trapped, and he could care less. I wandered around the enclosure, about five feet square in the middle of the jungle.
One wall was made of corrugated steel, blocking my view of whatever lay behind me. I knew from experience that was probably the weakest part of the entire cage. If I could manage to create a hole, it would be a simple thing to peel it back far enough for me to climb out. I just needed some kind of tool to help me get started.
There was nothing inside the cage except a dog’s water bowl. I picked it up, realizing how thirsty I was. Sipping nearly the entire amount, I forced myself to stop. There was no telling when they would come back to refill it, and I needed to prepare for the worst. Although the dog bowl and the cage were both good signs in a way. They meant that my captors intended to keep me alive at least for a little while. Long enough for me to get away, I hoped.
I paced the floor for nearly an hour. It felt good to stretch my legs, and I was hoping to get the guard used to seeing me move around. That way, when I finally attempted to break free, he wouldn’t suspect anything until it was too late.
I wasn’t prepared for another three guards to appear. They were dragging an American man with them, blindfolded and cuffed. I stood back mutely as they opened the door to my cell and tossed him in. I noted the key they used and who held it. Not that I planned to need it, but it was always good to have a plan B.
One of the guards stayed to make lewd hand gestures. I flipped him off, not caring if the middle finger meant the same thing in this part of the world. He got the gist. With a sloppy smile, he wandered off, grabbing at his crotch. I narrowed my eyes at his retreating form, determined to shoot him in the head if I was ever afforded the chance.
I glanced down at the man who had just been deposited into my circle. I wasn’t ready to trust him yet. Just because he was allegedly in the same situation as I was didn’t mean he wasn’t an enemy. He could be working with my captors, or even worse, the American government.
“Hey,” I said, reaching out to poke him with my toe.
He batted my foot away, rolling over to sit down against the far wall. He glared at me, trying to decide whether I was worth spending breath on. This was going to be a short relationship if he clammed up. Not that I cared. The only person who was important to me was Theo, and the only thing that mattered was getting back to him. If he was dead, heaven help the person who put him in the ground. I would have my revenge.
“Lincoln, service number 88,” the newcomer growled.
“CIA?” I asked.
He stuck his chin out, refusing to cooperate.
“So am I,” I replied, crouching to be on his level. “Clark, service number 40.”
“What are you doing here, Clark?” Lincoln asked.
“Same as you, I suppose,” I replied, not wanting to show my hand too soon.
“It looks like the solid wall is the best bet,” Lincoln drawled, a faint Southern accent breaking through the bureaucratic speech.
He didn’t look at the wall or make any indication that he had come to the same conclusion I did. It was a tossup as to whether our single remaining guard spoke English. If by some miracle, he didn’t, then Lincoln wasn’t going to give him any visual clues to our conversation.
“I agree,” I said evenly.
“I’ll get his attention, and you see if you can go out the back,” Lincoln suggested.
“It may be the point of least resistance, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy to get open without a can opener,” I explained.
Now he did look around, scouring the ground for an implement we could use to pry a hole in the wall. There was nothing beyond a few clumps of grass and a rotted board. Lincoln kicked the board with one foot, either testing it or pointing it out to me as a potential fulcrum.
I did the math in my head, calculating the amount of force it would take to pry the wall loose from the bars. It was unlikely that the board would hold up. It was falling apart in the middle and looked as if it had weathered a thousand storms.
“I don’t know,” I hesitated, not making a move to pick it up.
“It’s worth a try,” he encouraged me.
I narrowed my eyes at the other prisoner, wondering if I could trust him. What if we did manage to break free and I took him with me to find Theo? Was that his endgame? Did he want to prove himself a solid ally by sharing a cell with me? Who was behind this little meet-cute, and did I trust them?
“How did you end up here?” I asked, needing more information before trying my luck with the guard.
“I was in the middle of an operation,” Lincoln said. “Don’t ask me for specifics.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“And I was captured. Long story short.”
“Why should I trust that you haven’t been planted here to follow me?” I declared, watching him carefully for any signs of deceit.
“Sure,” he said sullenly. “This is all about you.”
I grimaced. It was sort of egotistical of me to assume that he was only in the cage on my account. Maybe he really was an operative on an entirely separate mission. But if that was the case, why had he captured the attention of the same bandits who wanted my life? There had to be a connection.
“Are you with Dark Sparrow?” I asked suddenly.
He looked up, shocked out of his poker face. I read it clearly then. He was involved with Dark Sparrow, though I couldn’t tell to what extent. How far did Lukas’s network go? I was surprised to learn that there were other Americans involved, though it was clear that he had operatives working across Europe.
“How do you know Dark Sparrow?” Lincoln asked, realizing his mistake.
“I was tracking them down,” I admitted. “Until I realized I was chasing the wrong people.”
“So you’re friendly?” he asked hopefully.
“Assuming you really are Dark Sparrow,” I quantified my answer. “Then yes.”
Lincoln exhaled slowly. “We have to get out of here.”
“Do you even know where ‘here’ is?” I asked, finding myself warming up to him despite my earlier misgivings.
“Sorry,” he responded.
I sighed. It might not matter in terms of prying open our cage, but our geographical location would be very important the moment we broke free. I knew I’d arrived on a boat. That meant we were on an island. And judging from the dialect and the appearance of our captors, I guessed we were somewhere in Southeast Asia. But that entire region was made up of islands, and the particular country mattered. If we were being held in a country that was friendly to American interests, we might be able to leverage our corporate identities to find a way out.
It was a long shot, but I decided it was worth it. Giving Lincoln a meaningful look, I picked up the board and prepared to do my part.
