The Mistaken (39 page)

“Hannah! Go...run and hide.
Go, go, go!
”

She scrambled along the wall to a doorway and passed
through. Men streamed all around her, jostling her about. I feared
she might fall since her hands were still fastened behind her back.
I lost sight of her as she was swept along in the human current and
enveloped into the darkness of the warehouse.

Satisfied she had escaped, I turned back to settle
the score with Dmitri. He was dutifully protected by a small group
of his disciples. In a fury blind to all else, I swung my club at
the closest attendant. He crumpled to my feet, but locked his arms
around my ankles. I stumbled, off balance, and was grabbed from
behind and lifted off the ground, my arms pinned to my sides. The
anchor at my feet gave way, and I kicked out, connecting with the
man’s throat in a grotesque yelp. I flung my head back and felt my
captor’s nose crush beneath the back of my skull. He released me,
his hands reaching for his bloody face. Rotating in his direction,
I wheeled my weapon with everything I had. The impact left a deep
impression in the side of his head. I pulled hard, repulsed by the
wet sucking sound as the bar came free from the yawning groove.

I made similar work of the man still at my feet, as
well as two more of Dmitri’s men. No one was left to challenge me.
With the immediate danger gone, I scanned the gallery and spied
Alexi’s back as he fled with Dmitri a short distance ahead.

I caught Alexi first and cracked my weapon along the
back of his head. He fell forward onto the ground. With a dazed
look, he peered back at me over his shoulder. Terror had erased all
evidence of his usual grin, and his mouth grew wide in fear. I was
glad he knew he was about to die at my hands. I sneered in
vindictive delight and heard Alexi’s frightened shriek in response.
As he scrambled away on his hands and knees, I rammed the metal rod
into his back like a sword. He wanted a gladiator, and I was only
too happy to oblige.

Without even waiting for him to die, I pulled the
bar from Alexi’s twitching body and ran after Dmitri. Two more of
his thugs advanced on me, but neither could open fire with the
handful of people still surrounding us in curiosity. One raised the
butt of his pistol and whacked me over the head. I fell onto my
back, blinded for a moment by my own blood, but even from the
ground I kept fighting. I swept the bar along the floor and felt it
crack against the man’s ankle. He fell beside me, crippled with
pain, cursing and screaming. I swung the rod in the direction of
his voice and made contact with his skull. Lights out. With a quick
swipe of my arm, I cleared the blood from my eyes then looked up.
The second man stumbled over his accomplice, arms flailing for
balance. As he fell towards me, I aimed the rod up underneath his
chin, embedding it deep into his skull.

Panting and covered in blood, I pulled myself out
from underneath their bodies then pushed through the few who
remained on the walkway. With the bloody metal rod still in my
hand, I scrambled down the stairs, three at a time, in search of
Dmitri. I ran through the darkened warehouse, roaring his name,
pushing myself through the crowd as they fled through the exit.
Tires screeched as cars sped away.

Finally, I spied Dmitri twenty yards ahead. He was
being assisted by one of his few remaining men, the same man who’d
been waiting outside the Tea House. He and Dmitri sprinted for the
Mercedes, or at least as fast as a nearly three-hundred-pound man
could sprint. He clambered frantically into the car and locked the
doors as his driver revved the engine to life. I reached the
vehicle just as it started to move. I gave chase and bashed
ineffectively at the windows before it sped out of reach.

I stared after the vanishing car, stomping in rage,
deeply disappointed to have missed my opportunity to snuff the
worthless life out of Dmitri Chernov. Breathless and bleeding, I
dropped the metal bar and leaned over, resting my hands on my
knees, my heart thrashing within my chest. I took a moment to catch
my breath, and promised myself I wouldn’t rest until I had settled
the score with Dmitri.

My priority now was to find Hannah. I prayed that
she’d found someplace safe to hide within the warehouse. I picked
the metal rod up off the pavement and ran back into the building.
There were a few men still walking around the expansive space. I
raised my weapon as I approached them. I must have presented a
frightful specter: half naked, covered in blood and gore, a
bloodied weapon in my hand, and a fierce rage in my eye. Their eyes
grew wide and their hands flew up, backing away before turning and
running.

When I saw no one else in the building, I called out
Hannah’s name and searched through the warehouse racks and pallets.
I wanted to scream for her, but I was afraid to draw attention from
anyone who might still remain unseen. I moved as far away from the
arena cages as possible, hoping Hannah would have thought to do the
same. All around me were tall racks that held large mechanical
parts. I hissed Hannah’s name over and over, praying she would
recognize my voice and reveal herself.

I thought I heard some shuffling and low sobbing. I
stopped and held myself still, listening in concentrated focus for
the source of the noise. Advancing slowly, I made my way through
the maze of shelves until I found Hannah crouched in a dark corner,
shivering. I covered my face in relief and hurried to her side. She
shrieked in terror and turned away.

“Hannah, it’s okay. Shhh, it’s just me.”

I leaned down and knelt next to her. She sobbed
uncontrollably, and her entire body shook. With great care, I
folded her into my arms.

“You’re safe now, Hannah. You’re safe. No one will
ever hurt you again. I promise. Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

I held her for a long time, until her sobs eased and
the tension in her body lessened. When she was finally quiet, I
pulled back and looked into her eyes. I smoothed her tangled hair
back from her face and placed a few chaste kisses along her
forehead.

“Hannah, let me untie your hands, okay?”

She nodded and turned so I could assist her. I
worked at her binding, but the knot was pulled too tight.

“I need to cut it off, all right? Wait here.”

I searched around until I found something sharp
enough to cut through while still small enough to slip under the
rope, close to her wrists. It took several minutes, but when I
finally sawed through the bindings and freed her arms, Hannah
immediately wrapped them around my neck. Mine found their way
around her trembling body, holding her tight against me. My fingers
entwined themselves into her hair, and I rested my face in the
crook of her neck and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Hannah. I didn’t know. I never should
have let you go.”

Hannah nodded, selflessly offering me absolution yet
again. I leaned back and searched her eyes to see if she really
meant it. I put my hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead,
then her cheek, and lastly, her mouth, very tenderly. When I pulled
back, my hands slid to her neck where the offensive collar still
rested.

“Hannah, can I cut this thing off you?”

She nodded again. I made short work of it and threw
it aside as if it burned me. She gave me a tentative smile.

“All right now, we need to get the hell out of here,
but...” I found it difficult to say the words. “They killed Nick,
Hannah. They took him away. I can’t just leave him here. I have to
find his body.”

She bowed her head, her eyes sad. “I know. They
threw him into the van as they were bringing me out,” she said.
“I’m so sorry, Ty. I know how hard you tried to save him.”

I nodded. “I should go see if the van is still
here.”

I helped her stand, and we ran to the rear door,
back near the cages. The white van was still parked there. We
peeked in through the passenger side window and spied the keys in
the ignition. Looking at each other, we had the same thought.

“Get in,” I urged.

As Hannah jumped in through the passenger door, she
turned and glanced into the back where Nick’s body lay cold and
still. Hannah and I shared a long, sad look before I started the
vehicle and sped away.

Chapter Forty
-
Three

Hannah

By some miracle, some grace of God, I was saved. I
released a shaky sigh, laid my face in my hands, and cried. My fate
had changed so abruptly, and in such a short span of time, I
scarcely knew what to believe. From the relative safety of Ty’s
protection, to the living hell of captivity, and back again in mere
hours, I survived what I felt sure was to be a lifetime of sexual
servitude.

It hadn’t taken me very long to realize I was not
being driven to the airport, as Tyler had planned. Terror filled me
as I was delivered to the sadistic Mr. Sergeyev instead, his gaze
silently assessing. I glared back at the man who considered me his
personal property—bought and paid for—to do with as he wanted.
There was no hope for me. I was condemned.

I was thrown into an empty utility room with nothing
but a dim light overhead to illuminate the blood-stained mattress
lying on the floor at my feet. They left me there by myself for
nearly an hour while I imagined all the horrible things that
awaited me. I cried, huddled in the corner, terrified and sick to
my stomach.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and the monster,
Sergeyev, stood silhouetted in the harsh light pouring in from
behind him. He was eager to assert his authority. I wasn’t prepared
for what he did. I endured it, as much as I wished I could simply
curl up and die. He purposely tried to rip my humanity from me,
making me beg for mercy then refusing to grant it. Fighting only
served to further arouse him, so I learned to submit quietly. But
this, in itself, enraged him, so I found a place in between.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, determined to
banish the humiliating memory of my submittal, of thinking that Ty
had played some part in my kidnapping. He saved me…again. Tears of
relief streamed down my face.

From out of nowhere, sirens began to wail, and the
lights of squad cars flashed in the night before us as Tyler and I
raced to escape the carnage of the warehouse. Dozens of police cars
stormed along the waterfront and poured onto the wharf.

“Bloody hell,” Ty bellowed. “Who called the
cops?”

We passed the regiment of police cars and turned
westward into The City. Tyler kept his worried eyes alert to the
rear view mirror, and ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced
over at me for the first time since we’d left, scanning my
appearance in the undulating streetlight. He tipped my chin up with
his finger and swallowed hard. I tugged at my meager clothing,
trying my best to cover up. His lips, split with bleeding cuts,
tensed into a thin line as he surveyed the dried blood, scrapes,
and bruises that covered me from head to toe.

“Good God, Hannah. You need to go to the
hospital.”

I shook my head. “No, please, not yet! I need some
time.” I looked away, shame washing over me as the excitement of
our narrow escape receded. But I felt his eyes on me.

“Hannah—”

“No, Ty, please,” I pleaded, turning back. “Just a
little while longer. I’m begging you.”

He nodded reluctantly and turned back to the road.
“Fine. For now,” he said. “We can go to my place. Get cleaned up.
I’ll find you something to wear. It’ll give me some time to figure
out what to do about Nick.”

He remained quiet for several minutes, though his
lips moved as he silently debated our next move. Finally he sighed
and met my gaze.

“Hannah, I don’t think there’s any way we can keep
the police out of this now. I’m going to have to tell them about
Nick. About Alexi and Dmitri, and my own involvement in all of
this. There’s just no way around it now.”

His eyes swept over me, studying my injuries. “You
will
need to go to the hospital, and when they realize the…”
He stopped abruptly and shook his head, his jaw ticking in angry
frustration. “…extent of your injuries, they’ll call the
authorities. They’ll want to know what happened.” He turned back to
the road when the traffic light turned green. “Eventually, the
police will link us together with all that’s happened since that
first night in Oregon. We’ve left a long trail, easily followed:
the ATM, your credit card, our trashed motel room, and Dmitri’s
dead man. It all leads back to us. And now…all this.”

We stopped at another light, and he glanced back at
me again. “They’ll put it all together, Hannah. You need to figure
out what you want to tell them, how much you want them to know,” he
said, his tone very serious, “especially about me,” he added. “I’m
willing to confess my part in all this, and suffer the
consequences.”

I shook my head hard. “No, Ty, please. I don’t want
them to know. Please.”

“Hannah, we can’t hide the evidence at your house.
They’ll make assumptions. They
will
figure it out.”

“No! We…we can…make the evidence appear to support
something else. They’ll already know about Dmitri’s man at the
motel, right?” I didn’t wait for his response. “Well, then, we…we
can say that you came to my home to see me, thinking I was Erin,
but I explained everything to you, showed you the PI report and
photographs proving I wasn’t and…and when you were leaving,
Dmitri’s man burst in and…and attacked us both. We’ll tell them we
managed to escape in my car. They can think he was after you
because of Nick, that he followed you to my place.”

I rambled on, frantically trying to mold the
evidence to support my story.

“Ty, you have a history of rescuing Nick and…and he
has a history with Dmitri and Alexi. They sent that man there to
find Nick, and you and I were collateral damage. That guy is dead.
They’ll never know the difference. Never!”