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The older man snapped, “Leave.”
The goons moved much faster than when they’d walked into the room. Within seconds, they were gone, and she was left with the creepy old guy, who was still smiling at her as if he knew her. He was acting friendly, but his light brown eyes were cold and emotionless.
“You still look quite pale, but I want to assure you that you’re going to be fine,” he said. “The doctor thought you might have a slight concussion. That, along with the drugs my men were forced to give you, is causing your sickness. For your own good, you’ll be confined to this room for the next few days until you recover.”
Forced to give her drugs? Confined for her own good?
This guy apparently just liked to hear himself speak, because there was no way she was buying this crap.
When she still didn’t respond, a flash of anger crossed his face. “I must say, your refusal to talk is quite troubling. Obedience will be the cornerstone of our relationship. However, as you are likely still in pain, I will forgive the slight for right now.”
She couldn’t argue with that since her head felt as though someone were hammering on her brain. Until she felt better, there was no point in attempting escape. When she did try, she knew she’d get only one chance. She had to make the most of it. Since it didn’t appear he meant her any immediate harm, she would lie low and play the obedient patient.
“You were quite adept at defending yourself. Wherever did you learn those skills?”
When she continued to just stare at him, the smile disappeared, and his face matched the coldness in his eyes. “I was also told you had weapons on you. A gun and a knife. That’s quite impressive for a little girl. Do you know how to use them?”
If she hadn’t felt so awful, she might’ve laughed. The guy knew she wasn’t going to answer, but he kept on asking questions as if one of them would spark her interest.
The man huffed out a breath, all pretense of politeness gone. “I will return soon, my dear, and you will be required to speak. Until then, rest up.”
He stopped at the door and then turned, giving her that smarmy smile again. “I look forward to talking with you soon, Jasmine. Or do you still prefer Jazz?”
She couldn’t prevent her gasp, and triumph gleamed in his eyes. He gave her a small, satisfied nod and walked out the door. The clicking of the lock barely registered as she absorbed the information he’d purposely revealed.
He knew her real name.
How? She never carried her real identification with her on a job.
The reason she’d been taken became an even more bizarre mystery.
Covering her face with her hands, Jazz drew in a shaky breath. She was in trouble. Because she’d taken a leave of absence, no one knew she had been taken.
Kate had once told her that her independence and recklessness would one day come back to bite her. Apparently, that day was today.
Jazz forced herself to her feet. She had to get out of this bed and get more intel. There was no telling how much time she had before someone came back. Not knowing her location left her at a huge disadvantage. She needed to know as much as possible, as quickly as possible.
Her head pounded with every step, and nausea swirled within her, bringing bile to her throat. She swallowed and, grinding her teeth, forced herself to the large window across the room. The first glimpse of the view outside gave her a location. She knew the skyline well. She was in Chicago.
Letting that knowledge rattle around in her brain for a moment, Jazz shuffled to the bathroom to take care of her immediate needs.
She splashed her face with water, feeling somewhat more awake. She drew in shaky breaths and took in her appearance. A large bruise covered half her right jaw, and another one bloomed on her chin. She remembered both hits well. The swelling on the back of her head was sore, and her fingers came away with a bit of blood when she gingerly touched the knot.
The rest of her body felt achy and sore, but nothing was broken or sprained. All in all, other than the monstrous headache, nausea, and severe weakness, she’d gotten off fairly lightly.
Jazz returned to the bedroom and peered out the window again. There would be no escape from here. She was easily on the tenth floor, if not higher.
Who were these people, and what did they want with her?
He knew her real name, so this was no random abduction. She had been taken for a specific purpose.
Even though she’d been working secret ops for several years now, none of them would have put a target on Jasmine McAlister. She never used her real name with anyone other than her OZ family.
Her thoughts were fuzzy and too vague to focus.
Stumbling back to the bed, she sat and rubbed her head. This made no sense. She was no one…not really. She had no value to anyone other than her friends. Why would anyone want her?
Could this somehow be related to Brody? Had he gotten involved in something, and her captor was going to use her as leverage?