Page 3 of Hell to Pay

One bolt on the back right of one of the nightstands.

I wouldn’t call it loose exactly, but I was almost positive there was a little give, which was why I’d spent the last hour trying to loosen it, first with my bare hands and then, when my fingers had started to bleed, with the piece of my sock I’d ripped off with my teeth. If I could get rid of the bolt, I might be able to get to the screw.

And if I could get to the screw, I would have a weapon.

The sock slipped and my hand smacked against the teak floor. I gasped in pain — my hand was already tender and swollen from working with the bolt — and sat back on the floor as I blinked back tears.

I told myself it was because of my hand and the throbbing at the back of my neck, both because I didn’t want to admit I was terrified and because I didn’t want to admit the more embarrassing thing: that I longed for the Bastards. Sure, it was just me, myself, and I in the room, but that didn’t mean I wanted to cop to the fact that alone on a boat to who-knew-where at the hands of who-knew-who, it was Nolan and Jude I wanted most.

And okay, even Rafe, if only because I knew he was the scariest, meanest motherfucker around.

I thought about the guns they kept in the mountain house, the work they’d done with the SEALs, the way they owned every room they entered, afraid of nothing, and wanted them with a force that took my breath away.

The other embarrassing thing: I’d committed a too-stupid-to-live sin, the kind that made moviegoers scream at the big screen. I’d been so consumed with my need to find out what was happening to the missing girls — girls like me — that I’d taken the bait sent to my phone by Imperium Fratrum.

My reasons might have been understandable, but that didn’t make them good. I should have gone to the Bastards with the text, should have told them exactly where I was going at the very least.

Now they had no way of knowing that I hadn’t disappeared on land but at sea. That I was, at this very moment, potentially hundreds of miles away from the island of Folegandros where I would either be killed and dumped into the ocean or worse.

And yeah, in my book, there were definitely worse things than death, and being trafficked, being used by a bunch of sick fucks like Mr. Suit, was one of them.

All of which was why I was willing to take my chances with an attempted escape. Maybe I’d end up over the side of the boat, but at least I’d die running (or swimming, I guess). At least I’d die fighting for the life I was only just beginning to see was worth something.

I froze as more footsteps sounded in the hall, then scrambled onto the bed as they paused outside my door. There was the jangle of keys and then the door swung open to reveal the German woman who’d ferried me from the island to the boat.

“Good morning.” She entered the room with a tray holding a plate covered with a silver dome, a glass of juice, a cup of coffee, and a bottle of water. She wore the same pristine white uniform she’d worn when she arrived at the dock to ferry me to the boat, her gray hair in the same tight bun.

I glanced behind her and felt my heart sink when one of the black-clad guards — since regaining consciousness, I’d learned there were several — entered behind her, weapon in his hands.

I’d only been visited by the woman once, the night before, when she’d brought me soup, bread, and improbably, aspirin, like I was convalescing at some kind of private hospital instead of being held prisoner. There had been a guard then too, but I’d been hoping it was a one-off, that maybe she wouldn’t always be accompanied by a guard.

I wasn’t foolish enough to assume I could take her — she was hard and wiry, with features like etched granite — but I liked my chances with her alone better than my chances with one of the huge gun-wielding guards.

“You can’t hold me prisoner,” I said as she set the tray on the nightstand. “There are people who will look for me.”

Even as I said it, I wasn’t sure it was true. Would the Bastards come looking for me? Or would they consider my disappearance a welcome opportunity to get rid of me? It wasn’t like they were good guys, not the way most people would mean anyway.

The German woman clasped her hands in front of her. “Did you or did you not request entry to the online portal?”

I thought about the Imperium Fratrum website, the pink door, the invitation code. “I did, but I didn’t consent to being drugged and thrown in a locked room.”

“You said you had questions,” she said curtly. “We are merely attempting to provide the answers you seek.”

“I changed my mind.” I hated the desperation in my voice, the way it sounded like I was pleading instead of making an announcement. “I demand you release me.”

The woman pressed her lips together to form a hard line. “I’m afraid that is now impossible. The other boat will be here soon. Then all your questions will be answered.”

“The other…”

But she was already walking away, propelling herself briskly toward the door. She was followed by the guard, who shut it behind them. A moment later, I heard the lock engage.

My shoulders sagged. The other boat? What the fuck did that mean?

My heart raced as I imagined myself transferred to another boat, taken even farther from Folegandros.

Farther from Nolan, Jude, and Rafe.

I exhaled slowly, willing my heart rate to slow, trying not to think about the medication I’d left at the house on the island, the fact that I was already twelve hours late taking my next dose.

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