Stray
Page 92
I dropped the chicken breast back into the bag, almost untouched. “Come on, Ryan, if you don’t want to tel me, just say so. But don’t lie.”
He bristled. “I’m not lying. I don’t know. Miguel won’t tel me.”
“Why not?” My stomach clenched, unhappy not with the food I’d sent its way, but with the gut feeling raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I was about to get bad news. I’d known Ryan long enough to recognize his body language. He knew something terrible and he was about to say it.
“I think he won’t tell me because he’s planning to kill me.”
Careful not to use my injured left arm, I stood and stepped up to the bars. “I thought you were useful,” I said, glancing at Abby. She was watching my brother through red-rimmed eyes, as if her life depended on his answer. Maybe it did.
Maybe mine did, too.
Ryan stood up in front of me, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Once he’s out of the council’s reach, he won’t need me, and I’m sure I won’t live an hour past that point.” He ran a hand through sandy hair and met my eyes. “See, you’re not the only one with problems.”
Biting my lip, I declined to point out that he could always run. He could leave while Miguel was gone, and be out of the country before they even realized he’d left the house.
I didn’t say it because I was afraid he’d take my suggestion if he thought it was possible. I was afraid he’d leave us, and as furious as I was at him, he was better company than Miguel. And Eric. And Sean, if I wanted to be honest. Sean sounded like he might crack up at any moment, and the only thing more dangerous than an angry cat was a crazy one.
“Why would he be out of the council’s reach, Ryan?” My voice was low and dangerous. I heard it but I couldn’t help it.
His face fil ed with scorn, and I blinked. That was new. “Oh, come on, Faythe.
Did you real y think he was going to keep you here forever? You’re smart. Surely you knew this was only temporary.” In fact, I had, but I bit my tongue and stared at him, hoping for more information. “He has a buyer, Faythe. Some Amazon Alpha who wants a mate and is wil ing to pay big.”
My hands fell into my lap, ice cold, while my brain raced fast enough to give me an instant headache. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. It was my worst nightmare.
Literal y. And in that moment I realized something important: I knew more about Miguel’s plans than Ryan did.
My brother was right about one thing: he real y had been forced into working for Miguel, at least according to his own skewed perspective. Ryan didn’t have the mind of a criminal. A lazy, naive coward, yes. But not a criminal. That bad-guy handicap had kept him from seeing the truth about Miguel’s scheme.
Miguel didn’t just have one buyer waiting in South America. Catching us was too much trouble for anything on that smal a scale. He had to have at least two buyers, and maybe three or four. He’d used Sean to go after Sara, not because he wanted Sara in particular, but because Sean did, and Miguel needed help. But he never planned to let Sean keep her. Sara had been bought and paid for before Miguel ever crossed the U.S. border. So had Abby, and the third girl. And so had I.
If I was right, Miguel would use Ryan, Eric and Sean to get us to Brazil. Then he would kil them, probably with the aid of the buyers and their loyal tomcats, assuming they had any. And I was inclined to assume they did, because they would have to be pretty powerful to convince Miguel to kidnap several American tabbies.
Either that, or Miguel was stupid. And I already knew he wasn’t stupid.
So, what did it say about me that I understood the way Miguel’s mind worked?
Nothing I wanted to think about, not that I could keep from it. The obvious possibility was that I shared some kind of depraved thought process with him. But more frightening for me was the probability that Marc and my father had been right: without even realizing it, I had been trained to lead the Pride. Somehow I’d developed the ability to think like the enemy, a definite advantage for any leader to have. The only problem? I didn’t want to be a leader. I just wanted to be a survivor.
But both of those roles were out of the question, if I couldn’t get out of this damn cage.
In one corner of the basement, water dripped from a leaky pipe, dropping into a growing puddle on the ground. The drips seemed to count the seconds of anxious silence as they passed, urging me to say something. To find out the rest of what I needed to know.
“When is he leaving, Ryan?” I asked, trying not to frighten him with the strength of my stare and the intensity of my voice. I gripped the bars so tight I could almost hear them groan, although realistical y my fingers would snap long before solid metal bars would. I stared at Ryan, trying to slow my pulse and keep panic out of my eyes. Of course, he chose that moment to clam up completely. But who could blame him?
“When?” I shouted, and he jumped, eyes wide. I hadn’t meant to scream at him, but I couldn’t help it. If I could have reached him in that moment, I’d have squeezed his throat until his eyes popped out of his head, for being such an idiot.
He glanced at the stairs, obviously listening for footsteps. “They’re leaving in the morning, and plan to make the grab sometime after dark. They’l be back the next morning, and we’re al leaving that night.”
I did the math in my head. Two days. I had approximately forty-eight hours to get us out of there, or make contact with the council. But how? I needed Miguel to take another shot at me. I needed to get him to open my cage, or at least come near me with the key. But according to Ryan, he wouldn’t come back downstairs until he had the new girl. I couldn’t afford to wait that long.
He bristled. “I’m not lying. I don’t know. Miguel won’t tel me.”
“Why not?” My stomach clenched, unhappy not with the food I’d sent its way, but with the gut feeling raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I was about to get bad news. I’d known Ryan long enough to recognize his body language. He knew something terrible and he was about to say it.
“I think he won’t tell me because he’s planning to kill me.”
Careful not to use my injured left arm, I stood and stepped up to the bars. “I thought you were useful,” I said, glancing at Abby. She was watching my brother through red-rimmed eyes, as if her life depended on his answer. Maybe it did.
Maybe mine did, too.
Ryan stood up in front of me, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Once he’s out of the council’s reach, he won’t need me, and I’m sure I won’t live an hour past that point.” He ran a hand through sandy hair and met my eyes. “See, you’re not the only one with problems.”
Biting my lip, I declined to point out that he could always run. He could leave while Miguel was gone, and be out of the country before they even realized he’d left the house.
I didn’t say it because I was afraid he’d take my suggestion if he thought it was possible. I was afraid he’d leave us, and as furious as I was at him, he was better company than Miguel. And Eric. And Sean, if I wanted to be honest. Sean sounded like he might crack up at any moment, and the only thing more dangerous than an angry cat was a crazy one.
“Why would he be out of the council’s reach, Ryan?” My voice was low and dangerous. I heard it but I couldn’t help it.
His face fil ed with scorn, and I blinked. That was new. “Oh, come on, Faythe.
Did you real y think he was going to keep you here forever? You’re smart. Surely you knew this was only temporary.” In fact, I had, but I bit my tongue and stared at him, hoping for more information. “He has a buyer, Faythe. Some Amazon Alpha who wants a mate and is wil ing to pay big.”
My hands fell into my lap, ice cold, while my brain raced fast enough to give me an instant headache. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. It was my worst nightmare.
Literal y. And in that moment I realized something important: I knew more about Miguel’s plans than Ryan did.
My brother was right about one thing: he real y had been forced into working for Miguel, at least according to his own skewed perspective. Ryan didn’t have the mind of a criminal. A lazy, naive coward, yes. But not a criminal. That bad-guy handicap had kept him from seeing the truth about Miguel’s scheme.
Miguel didn’t just have one buyer waiting in South America. Catching us was too much trouble for anything on that smal a scale. He had to have at least two buyers, and maybe three or four. He’d used Sean to go after Sara, not because he wanted Sara in particular, but because Sean did, and Miguel needed help. But he never planned to let Sean keep her. Sara had been bought and paid for before Miguel ever crossed the U.S. border. So had Abby, and the third girl. And so had I.
If I was right, Miguel would use Ryan, Eric and Sean to get us to Brazil. Then he would kil them, probably with the aid of the buyers and their loyal tomcats, assuming they had any. And I was inclined to assume they did, because they would have to be pretty powerful to convince Miguel to kidnap several American tabbies.
Either that, or Miguel was stupid. And I already knew he wasn’t stupid.
So, what did it say about me that I understood the way Miguel’s mind worked?
Nothing I wanted to think about, not that I could keep from it. The obvious possibility was that I shared some kind of depraved thought process with him. But more frightening for me was the probability that Marc and my father had been right: without even realizing it, I had been trained to lead the Pride. Somehow I’d developed the ability to think like the enemy, a definite advantage for any leader to have. The only problem? I didn’t want to be a leader. I just wanted to be a survivor.
But both of those roles were out of the question, if I couldn’t get out of this damn cage.
In one corner of the basement, water dripped from a leaky pipe, dropping into a growing puddle on the ground. The drips seemed to count the seconds of anxious silence as they passed, urging me to say something. To find out the rest of what I needed to know.
“When is he leaving, Ryan?” I asked, trying not to frighten him with the strength of my stare and the intensity of my voice. I gripped the bars so tight I could almost hear them groan, although realistical y my fingers would snap long before solid metal bars would. I stared at Ryan, trying to slow my pulse and keep panic out of my eyes. Of course, he chose that moment to clam up completely. But who could blame him?
“When?” I shouted, and he jumped, eyes wide. I hadn’t meant to scream at him, but I couldn’t help it. If I could have reached him in that moment, I’d have squeezed his throat until his eyes popped out of his head, for being such an idiot.
He glanced at the stairs, obviously listening for footsteps. “They’re leaving in the morning, and plan to make the grab sometime after dark. They’l be back the next morning, and we’re al leaving that night.”
I did the math in my head. Two days. I had approximately forty-eight hours to get us out of there, or make contact with the council. But how? I needed Miguel to take another shot at me. I needed to get him to open my cage, or at least come near me with the key. But according to Ryan, he wouldn’t come back downstairs until he had the new girl. I couldn’t afford to wait that long.
