Chapter Eight

Lena Alvarez kept perfectly still on the floor of the moving vehicle.

Where the fuck was she?

Standard issue metal cuffs had replaced the usual hard leather restraints. The air was fresh compared to the sterile stink she’d come to expect upon awakening. A clean blanket enveloped her, a warm, safe cocoon, its plush weave a gentle touch to her skin. The sensation was startling after months of rough, worn fabrics. She had almost forgotten what soft felt like.

Lifting her eyelids a fraction, she looked around without moving her head, then eyed the driver of the van. He was taking her away from her prison.

The question was where was he taking her?

And, more important, what were they up to now?

This wasn’t the first time she had thought escape was eminent. It could be a trick, yet another one of Lopez’s games, as before.

No, she would not make that mistake again. For now, she dismissed the driver.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the left side window, cutting jaggedly into the belly of the vehicle. The angle told her it was early morning. They were headed east, she estimated.

Filing those bits of information for later use, she examined her surroundings more closely. It took only one scan of the bare confines of the van to come to the conclusion that the space was void of a weapon that could aid her escape. That didn’t daunt her in the least. Lena Alvarez didn’t need a weapon to control any situation.

Speculatively, her eyes returned to the driver.

Who was he?

Going back in her blurry memory she searched for a tall male with fiery, dark-red hair crowning a handsome, square face. Several images flashed through her mind, too fast to make sense of. He could have been there before Lopez had started his latest session. Remembering made her want to bare her teeth in a growl.

From her position on the floor, she thought the man looked tough and capable. He commanded the vehicle with unhurried skill, his movements deliberate and confident. Someone to reckon with mano a mano, she instinctively sensed.

Something about the wild tumble of hair—unsuitably long for a man dressed in a business suit—sparked a memory. She tried to bring into focus the days, weeks, and months that had passed in a blurry haze of chemicals.

Yes, she thought, ruthlessly digging into her mental files. A face began to take shape with the red mane of the man in the driver’s seat. A padded cell. Buddy. Doctor Lopez. Blood and pain. Hazy images, much like a slow-motion video, scrolled through her mind.

She ground her teeth. Someone was going to pay for what had been done to her.

Later, she promised, knowing that revenge was a meal best served cold. Escape was at the top of her list right now.

Vaguely, she remembered a dream she’d had of being rescued, of being carried out by strong arms, touched by gentle hands. This wasn’t the first time she’d had this dream. She dismissed it as wishful thinking and cleared her mind.

Her gaze slipped to the cuff holding her wrist. The other end was attached to a sturdy pipe bolted to the van’s floor. Unless she had tools to aid her, it wasn’t going to give.

Doctor Lopez had used many ploys to break her. What kind of sick game was he playing now? If he thought she was going to take this quietly, he was seriously mistaken.

With that firmly in mind, she resolutely clasped her left thumb and gave it a hard jerk, dislocating it. A muscle in her jaw worked, but other than that, she allowed no outward sign that would tip off the driver. Her conscious state hidden beneath long lashes, her eyes never strayed from the man.

She withdrew her hand from the cuff and, one by one, tested the usefulness of her leg and arm muscles, going carefully over each limb. Her body felt rubbery from weeks of disuse, but for once she felt relatively clear in her head. After countless days of drifting in a drug-induced, near-vegetative state, this was a vast improvement. It was going to make her escape so much easier.

Jaw locked, her fierce stare drilling holes in the driver’s back, she reset her thumb. That done, she took another quick survey of her surroundings. There was a door in the back, and one on the side. They were windowless but standard enough to come up with ways to open them on short notice.

Now all she had to do was wait for the right moment.