Page 35 of Captive

“We can. Stay behind me as we leave. We’re going around the side.”

Her lower lip quivering, she gave me a single nod.

I was surprised when she snagged my shirt, holding on as I walked us around the side of the building. Maybe now she fully understood that her life was in just as much danger as mine. I stopped at the other end of the building, darting my head around the side, fully prepared to fire if necessary. Fortunately, in the early morning light, I was able to scan the perimeter of the area with ease.

“Okay, come on.” We headed for the car, the slight beep as I unlocked it the only sound that could be heard. Once inside, I wasted no time starting the engine, keeping watch as I rolled toward the road. Sighing, I took a few seconds to look at my phone. I’d planned a new route, the town we passed through hopefully large enough in order to make a swift transaction on a vehicle.

As we headed into an even more rural part of the countryside, her breathing continued to be ragged. She remained quiet for almost twenty minutes.

“When are you going to tell me about your real life?”

Huffing, I darted a glance in her direction. “Don’t ask questions unless you really want to know.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know? Are you afraid I’m too fragile to learn the truth?”

I thought about her question. “I’ve spent several years attempting to bury that side of my life. I’ve enjoyed the kind of freedom that most Americans take for granted.”

“But were you ever really free?”

“Perhaps not in the way you’re thinking, but I was allowed to do something I enjoyed, choosing where I went to dinner and who I spent time with.”

“From what I could tell, you didn’t do much socializing. What kind of life is that?”

Her words hit me hard because they were the truth. Had I been living freely or simply allowing myself to be placed in another cage? “I don’t think you can understand.”

“From what you taught in your class, Professor, life in Russia was always difficult, although less so in the last forty years. If you were Bratva, considered royalty amongst a certain portion of the Russian people, I doubt you had to endure times without food or entertainment.” She snorted and looked away, muttering under her breath.

“As I said. Do not ask if you don’t want to know the truth.” There was no reason for her questions and comments to rile me, but they did. I kept my grip on the steering wheel firm, constantly looking in the rearview mirror.

And the drive remained silent for another two hours until the sign for the small town came into view. While it was still early, it was possible that a few businesses were open. At least luck was with us if only to a point. A small dealership appeared on the main road, a fast food restaurant beside it.

When I pulled in, she gave me another hard look.

“You’re really getting rid of your car?”

“A necessity. I’m going to make the transaction. Then we’ll grab some food. Get whatever you want. We’ll have several hours ahead of us.”

“What about clothes? I don’t even know where we’re going. You won’t tell me anything.” The tremor in her voice was palpable.

“We’re going to a safe location, a cabin. There is a local store where we can purchase everything that we need prior to getting there.”

“You think of everything. Don’t you?” This time her question was laced with more defiance. A criticism.

As a man approached, I bristled, immediately reaching for the gun.

“That’s so sad, Nikolai, or whatever your real name is. That’s some local-yokel salesman who might try to help you, but only if you don’t shove a gun in his mouth then blast his head off. How in the hell can you live that way?” She yanked off the seatbelt, folding her arms and scooting as far away from me as possible.

“If you haven’t learned already, Chloe, I’m a trained soldier. While you don’t seem to understand the importance of that fact, you will learn to respect me one way or the other.”

“What if I don’t?”

I wasn’t certain she would like the answer.

* * *

While the SUV wasn’t something I’d normally purchase, the trade was the only one possible on the dingy lot. While the salesman had likely shafted me on the price, I didn’t have the luxury of bickering with him. At least the next two hours had occurred without incident. By keeping off the main roads, we’d been able to make good time.

Derby Line, Vermont was literally steps away from the Canadian border, the area only separated by a series of flowerpots. I almost laughed at the idea. Seeing the sign for Newport, the locality suggested by Travis, I took a deep breath.