Page 17 of Devil's Retribution
He started wailing—shaking and crying in my arms, while I held him tight.
“Shush, baby, it’s okay, we’re going to survive this, it’s gonna be okay.” I was telling myself this as much as I was telling him, but he sure didn’t need to know that.
“Why’d they steal us?” he sobbed. “Why’d they steal us?”
“It’s money, sweetie. It has to be. They’re clearly planning to keep us here and not hurt us. They just want money from Uncle Charles.”
He sniffled and looked up at me, cheeks wet and eyes huge. “So, they’ll pay money, and we’ll get to go home?”
“That’s how it works, sweetie. I know it’s scary, but it’s gonna be okay. Seriously. This kind of thing is just business to some people.”
“They did it cuz Uncle Charles is rich, huh?” He pressed his lips together, eyes welling up again.
“Yeah. That’s right. That’s why he has guards and stuff.”
“I wish we had guards and stuff,” he mumbled into my neck.
I sighed into his hair. He was right. A security system, a good neighborhood, bars on the windows, steel core doors—none of it had helped. Maybe a bunch of guys with guns would have made the difference.
Or maybe not. I still didn’t know who we were dealing with. And until I knew that, I had no idea how much trouble we were actually in.
***
It took Nick a while to calm down. I got us both cleaned up and changed, avoiding trying to get the attention of our captors. I had to force myself not to bang on the door and demand they talk to us. I wanted that confrontation very much, but I had to think about how much it would affect Nick. So instead, I waited. Watched. Hoped that soon, I would learn more about our captors.
Nick stuck very close to me. He didn’t whine, and he’d only cried twice, but I could tell he was scared. I wanted to be strong for him, but when I saw the fear in his blue eyes, I felt like crying myself. But I just couldn’t allow it, he was looking at me for strength, and if I appeared in control and not scared witless about the situation then he would remain calm.
Be strong, I told myself over and over again. For him, you have to.
Finally, Nick stirred where he’d been leaning on my shoulder and said softly, “I’m getting hungry.”
A chill went down my spine. What if they decided not to give us food? What if they did and it was drugged? Or poisoned? Then again, if they wanted to drug or poison us, they could have dne it at any time. They did do it, that’s how we got here.
“Me too, sweetie. I’m trying to figure out what to do about that.” I glanced up into the impassive black eye of the security camera, tempted to yell at whoever was sitting watching us on the monitor and try and get someone to come to the door. But I was wary. The peace and quiet of this room felt like it could shatter if I did anything to disturb it.
But my boy was hungry, and God damn it, that was more important than my fears. I got up, walked toward the door to our pretty little cell, and stared up at the camera, hands on hips.
I was opening my mouth to speak when I finally heard something outside. Very faint. A door opening, and then brisk but heavy footsteps coming down a long hallway toward us.
I backed away from the door, instinctively getting between it and Nick. Seconds later, I heard the turn of a key in the hidden lock, and the door swung open.
My heart leaped into my throat. “You!”
It was Viktor.
He looked taller and more imposing now than he had on the street, he filled that doorway so thoroughly that I could barely catch glimpses of the dim, featureless hallway beyond. He was wearing another of his dark suits, and he had a couple of bulging takeout bags in one hand.
He shut the door behind him and hit a button on his black keyring. I heard the deadbolt clunk back into place.
“Yes,” he said, “Me. Regrettably, I find myself in a position where this had to be done.”
“What do you mean had to be done?” Nick was trying to peek around me at the newcomer. I tried to stay between them, not knowing why I bothered. I wasn’t helpless, but Viktor could have simply picked me up and moved me with ease. “What is this about? And why involve a five-year-old boy?”
“Unfinished business with your uncle, I’m afraid.” He set the bag of food on the table, the smell of hamburgers got my mouth watering. “The only reason that the two of you are involved at all, is that he insists on hiding in his penthouse and will not face me.”
I frowned. “Unfinished business” implied that Viktor and Uncle Charles knew each other. But I knew that wasn’t true. Otherwise, my uncle would have recognized him. So that’s one lie I’ve caught you in. “You’re holding us for ransom, then.”
“Your uncle owes me a great debt, yes, one he is reluctant to repay. I exhausted other options in trying to resolve this situation. Ultimately, I was required to use you as leverage.”