Page 45 of Jonas (Silver Team #4)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Do you prefer Amy or Derrika?” Natalie asked.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I continued my slow perusal of what would normally be nothing more than an innocent mechanic shop, complete with car lift, toolboxes, and greasy workbenches. Now, however, it was a smorgasbord of torture devices.

My discussion with Lore about pliers and tearing out fingernails immediately came to mind.

I was sure there were pliers in one of those toolboxes—hammers, too.

And I knew for a fact there were zip ties because they’d been procured from one of those boxes, then used to secure my wrists and ankles and to an old metal chair.

Well, not my wrists—those were zipped behind my back and I was ninety-nine percent sure Keith Mitchell had dislocated my shoulder when he not-so-gently wrenched my arm back while telling me, “If you kick me again, I’ll break it.

” I stopped kicking him, but not because he threatened to break my arm.

Jun De Chen pointing a gun at my head had made me stop struggling.

To his credit, Jun De didn’t go all James Bond villain and introduce himself. I knew it was him from the picture Kira had found of him and John Wu.

Keith Mitchell scared me. The MSS agent in the room scared the fuck out of me. I’d bet out of the three of my captors, Jun De knew all the best ways to torture someone, and I doubted he’d start with pliers and fingernails.

Natalie stepped closer, bent at the waist, and snarled, “Answer me.”

Go fuck yourself.

A jab to my solar plexus had me gasping for breath.

“We can do this the hard way.” Natalie swept an arm toward the toolboxes. “Or you can save us all time and start talking.”

“But either way, you’re going to kill me,” I wheezed.

“Yeah, Derrika. What the fuck did you think was going to happen when you started poking your nose into shit you should’ve stayed out of?”

Well, for starters, I didn’t think I’d find my soulmate. Neither did I think I’d only have him a few days before I died.

“You have your fuck buddy Anson to thank for that,” I pointed out.

Natalie straightened, and I heard Keith’s unhappy grunt.

Interesting.

Natalie and Keith were partners in more than just killing.

Since she wanted me to talk and I needed to waste time until Jonas found me, I started talking and maybe if I lied well enough, Jun De Chen would turn on Natalie and Keith.

“You should know, the two of you screwed up at the Petersons’.

The neighbors heard the gunshots and called it in.

But worse for you, not only did I see you leave, which means the police have the pictures I took, you didn’t erase all of the neighbors’ security footage.

You know that big brick house on the corner?

Clear shot of Keith driving and you in the passenger seat. ”

That was a lie, but Jun De didn’t know I was fibbing, and the look he shot Keith was murderous.

“You’re so full of shit,” Natalie accused.

“Am I? So it wasn’t you carrying a black duffle out of the Petersons’ house?”

I struck a chord, just not the one I wanted to pluck. Keith moved lightning-quick, and with superhuman strength, his hand latched around my throat and he picked me and the chair clean up off the cement floor.

Not only was my oxygen cut off but it felt like my neck was going to snap any second. With a bone-jarring thud, Keith dropped me. The chair listed to the side, but before I could tip over, he used my hair to prevent the fall. The pain in my scalp barely registered over the burn in my lungs.

“What does Zane Lewis know?” Keith calmly asked like he hadn’t almost dislocated my head from the rest of my body.

“Everything.”

“Specifically, what does he know?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

Keith’s hand came up. I braced for what I was sure would be a power punch that broke my jaw.

But at the last second, he opened his fist and slapped me across the face.

So, that was better than a broken jaw but no less painful.

It took less than a second for the stinging to turn into a deep throb.

I’d been slapped hundreds of times, but never that hard.

Never had the pain penetrated in a way that I felt it in my skull.

“What’d Anson tell you?” Natalie rejoined.

“You mean to tell me that my employment at Delcon wasn’t part of your pillow talk after his little blue wore off?”

Natalie’s punch was nowhere near as effective as Keith’s slap, but the contact served to intensify the agony.

“What the fuck did he tell you?” she repeated.

“Why does it matter? He’s dead, and you’re fucked.

Both of you. There’s no place you can hide, nowhere you’ll be safe.

You were already dead before you took me, just like with Anson, Lou, Karen, you’re disposable.

But that was before you took me. Now, your death won’t be quick like Anson’s and Lou’s. Now it will be painful.”

“You think you mean that much to Zane Lewis?” Natalie huffed. “Girl, he’s too busy chasing his tail to worry about you.”

Zane would take my death as a personal attack.

But Jonas…that short leash he had on his humanity would snap.

He’d be filled with guilt. He’d blame himself.

My death would emancipate him from the last of his civility, and he’d rain hellfire.

Poor Kira was probably feverishly searching for me.

She, too, would feel guilty if she couldn’t find me in time.

But I had to hope.

I was tied to a chair with no hope of escaping. I couldn’t save myself, but I could buy myself time.

Confusion.

Distraction.

Misdirection.

Chaos.

Kira was smart. She’d find a way, and as soon as she did, Jonas would come.

We had memories to make.

A life to start.

“There’s your problem, Natalie. Or should I call you Cherri, or does cunt work for you?

” Natalie’s eyes flashed when I mentioned Cherri.

“You’re not as smart as you think you are.

You might’ve pulled one over on me because I was focused on Anson’s problems. But you didn’t outsmart Zane.

Neither of you did. If you don’t think Zane has it all figured out—you’re just not very smart, you’re stupid.

You’re playing in the minor leagues, running around playing at spy games while Zane is so far above your pay grade it’s laughable.

Bottom line—you’re all fucked. You want to know specifically what that means?

You want to know what Zane knows, go find him and ask. I fucking dare you.”

“Do you know who I am?” Jun De Chen asked.

Oh, fuck.

Damn .

The MSS agent entering the conversation couldn’t be good.

I was out of time.

“No.”

“You’re lying,” he called me out.

“Do you work at Delcon?—”

“You’ve done so well thus far, Miss Layne. There’s no reason for you to start lying now.”

He was right, thus far I’d done a good job keeping my fear at bay. Letting my anger outweigh the reality of my situation, locking down the terror that was pressing against my chest, withstanding the hostile battle between the morbid truth and any hope I had left of being saved.

The funny thing about denial was, as soon as there was a crack, you could no longer disassociate.

The truth rushed in like a tidal wave. Unwelcome thoughts bombarded; I was never going to get to fully experience what it felt like to be loved by Jonas.

I was never going to get to dance with Jonas in the rain.

I was never going to see him smile or hear his laugh again.

There would be no more kisses. No more teasing. No anniversaries. No babies. Nothing.

Just nothing.

I’d be a memory.

A blip on the timeline of his life.

Fuck these people.

Fuck Jun De Chen.

Fuck Natalie the cunt .

Fuck Keith whatever his real name was .

“Untie me from the chair,” I demanded.

No one moved, but Jun De grinned.

I glanced among the three of them, pleased to see Natalie no longer looked like the smug bitch she’d been when I was first dragged into the room. Keith’s expression was stoic, the stiffness in his frame expressed alertness. Since the boss had entered the exchange, they were going to defer to him.

Not surprising—they were indeed just pawns.

I transferred my stare back to Jun De and insisted, “If you’re going to kill me, the least you can do is untie me so I can die on my feet.”

“Cut her feet loose.”

Like a chump, Keith immediately moved in to do the big boss’s bidding.

As soon as Keith knelt before me, I whispered, “When he finds you, I hope he kills you slowly.”

Keith sliced through the plastic of the first tie, making sure to cut through my jeans and nick my ankle. I jolted and bit down on my molars to stop my scream of pain.

He moved to my other foot, repeated the process, including cutting my flesh.

“Did that make you feel like a big man? I hope you know he’s going to enjoy carving out your insides.”

Keith roughly yanked me up, and with a vicious shake, he snarled, “Keep running your mouth, and I’ll add that bitch Kira to my list.” I clamped my mouth closed. “That’s what I thought.”

Keith stepped away. Jun De stepped closer. Natalie stayed where she was but looked nervous.

“I’ll ask again, do you know who I am?”

“Yes. She told Anson about you and your brother.” I jerked my head toward Natalie. “And Anson told me.”

“Shut the?—”

“My brother?”

“Yeah, your brother Bolin.”

I saw the slightest tic in Jun De’s cheek.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Natalie seethed.

“I’m talking about you blabbing to your boyfriend Anson about Bolin and SimpCo. That’s why Anson went to the OFAC,” I lied.

“I didn’t?—”

The crack of Jun De’s gun going off made me jump. First, because I didn’t see him pull it, second, because a gun blast in a small room equals earsplitting, third, because someone standing close to me was shot in the face.

In. The. Face.

I didn’t like the woman. Actually, I hated her seeing as I was fairly certain I’d be shot in the face next and Jun De had a clear shot of me because of her, but still, I didn’t want to witness her death.