Page 49 of Wild Temple (Tyson Wild Thriller #84)

“ S o glad you could join us, Deputy Wild.”

It was a voice I didn’t expect to ever hear again. After our last encounter, he wasn’t too happy with me. Everything became clear to me. The disgraced Russian general was trying to save face and get back into the good graces of the regime.

“General Orlov,” I replied. “I’m surprised you still remember me.” I wasn’t.

“How could I forget?” he said in that thick Russian accent. “You’re responsible for a massive security breach at the Kremlin and the destruction of my otherwise unblemished reputation.”

Unblemished was a stretch. The guy was a creep.

“It seems the tables have turned,” Orlov continued. “If you want to see Isabella alive, you’ll put down your weapons and come out peacefully. If not, we can do this the hard way. You’ll die. She’ll die. ”

“You’re going to kill us either way,” I shouted back.

“You underestimate my generosity. I intend to keep you both alive for a very long time.”

Yeah, in a Russian gulag.

“You both have immeasurable value.”

The Russian government would love to have us as political prisoners. It was Orlov’s ticket back into respectable society.

"Well, it's nice to see that someone recognizes that," I snarked.

Orlov wasn't amused. "I'm going to give you the count of three. Put your weapons down and come out with your hands up."

JD and I shared a look.

"Three…

“Two..

“One…”

I wanted to tell him to come and get us. I wanted to unleash every bullet I had. But he could easily have put a bullet into Isabella’s brain, if he hadn't already.

"Alright," I said, letting my weapon fall to the ground. "We’re coming out.”

JD and I slowly rose from behind the crates with our hands in the air as Orlov's goons flooded into the room, weapons shouldered.

The general strutted in after them, triumphant. "You made the right decision. "

"I want to see Isabella.”

Orlov laughed. "You're in no position to demand anything.”

His men surrounded us with twitchy barrels. They frisked us, took my pistol, my backup, and my tactical knife.

When I’d been rendered safe, Orlov put a heavy fist into my belly.

I tightened my abs and gritted my teeth. I think it hurt his fist more than it hurt my stomach. It just pissed him off, and he punched me again in the jaw.

That didn't feel good.

It twisted my head aside, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. I looked back at him and stared him down, unphased.

His face filled with frustration, and he punched me again.

I spit a mix of blood and saliva onto the concrete.

"We can play this game all night long,” Orlov said.

I figured we were going to play it anyway. Why give him even an ounce of satisfaction?

Orlov punched me again and again until his knuckles bled.

I figured he’d get tired of it eventually, and he did. I know I was tired of it.

When he had his fill, they marched us out of the storage room and down a long hallway to a small holding cell.

They shoved us inside the tiny space .

In the corner of the room, barefoot and still wearing only a hospital gown, Isabella sat curled into a ball.

The soles of her feet were dirty, and her hair was a rat’s nest. She had bruises on her arms and face.

Her eyes were black, blue, puffy, and swollen.

She squinted as the flashlight shined the narrow slits of her eyes.

Her lip was split, and her face was scuffed with abrasions.

Orlov and his men had taken turns beating her.

Rage boiled in my veins. I wanted to kill the guy.

I didn’t know how much of the damage done to Isabella was from her motorcycle accident or these scumbags. She had cuts and scrapes on her elbows, forearms, and knees.

With the light in her eyes, all she could see were silhouettes. At first, she had no idea JD and I were in the room.

"I brought you some friends to keep you company,” Orlov said.

Isabella's lip curled with disdain.

The general said to me, "You see, I'm running into a bit of a problem with her.

She has developed amnesia, or she has an incredible will.

She doesn't seem to recall anything and admits to nothing. That poses a bit of a problem for me. As you're aware, both of you possess a vast amount of relevant information that my government would love to have. It’s only fair after what you stole from us. She can obviously tell me far more than you can, but I figure you might offer the proper motivation to get her to talk.”

Orlov placed his pistol against my head and wrapped his finger tight around the trigger. He shined his flashlight on my face so Isabella could see who I was .

The question remained, had she recovered from her head injury? Would she even recognize me?