Wrath's Storm: A Masters' Admiralty Novel by Mari Carr (desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

twenty degrees colder. Or maybe that was shock as blood started to soak the sleeve of Jakob’s shirt.

“Where is the key?” Leonid asked quietly.

Ava shook her head, eyes filling with tears. “Please leave. You’re not allowing me to do this properly.”

“I have never hit a woman before.” Leonid’s words hung heavy, punctuated by the rasping breath of his still-caged sister. Then he drew back his arm and backhanded Ava across the face. “But you are not a woman. You are a monster.”

Maxim released Ava, who crumpled to the ground, utterly silent and with a faraway look in her eyes. Leonid’s man returned, holding a bottle of water and a crowbar.

Vadisk hung up the phone, and then came over to Jakob. Without a word, he hooked his arms under Jakob’s. Jakob tightened his hold on the spear to make sure it didn’t shift, then nodded that he was ready.

Vadisk hauled him to his feet.

Jakob ground his teeth together, swore a blue streak in the silence of his head. Out loud, he said, “Ouch.”

“Your doctor is on his way. Actually, both of them. Maybe Dr. Fischer can figure out…her.” Vadisk took the knife from the holster at Jakob’s back and cut away the heavy-duty tape that bound Ava’s weapon to the end of the pole. Jakob blew out air in relief as the weight and pressure of the pole torqueing the knife was eliminated.

Jakob glanced at Ava, who was statue-still. In person she didn’t look like either of the women they’d seen on video. She was pale-skinned with large blue eyes and thin lips, pretty, but not so much that anyone would ever look twice at her.

Leonid had managed to use the crowbar to pop open the door of the cage. He dropped to his knees and hauled his sister out, wrapping her in his arms. She hugged him back, still holding the knife she’d somehow gotten ahold of. Even when her brother gave her the bottle of water, she didn’t let go of the weapon, instead taking the water with her free hand and desperately chugging it down, only to start retching a moment later.

Looking away to give her some privacy, however illusory it might be, Jakob caught sight of what Vadisk had been looking at in the corner.

Ten square feet of the room had been carefully tarped in plastic. Scalpels, butcher’s blades, and a small saw were laid out on a stainless steel tray. Heavy, black webbed straps and cuffs hung down from the ceiling.

Jakob looked back to where Zasha now clung to her brother, shaking, and he was grateful they’d made it in time. Saved Zasha from the same gruesome fate that had taken Josephine and Alicja.

If only they could have been there to save those women as well.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Annalise smiled and leaned forward, lowering her voice and using a you-can-tell-me-a-secret tone. “What’s your favorite food?”

Ava blinked, but returned the smile. It was the first time Annalise had managed to get her to react with anything other than frustrated tears or icy silence.

“Scones,” Ava said softly. “A fresh, warm scone with nice jam, maybe a bit of cream.”

“You’re making me hungry,” Annalise laughed softly. “A fresh scone sounds delicious. Mine is a really nice spinach salad. I know it’s boring, but I love a salad with walnuts and cranberries, maybe some cheese, onions. Well, a nice salad and Kartoffelpuffer—German potato pancakes.” Annalise leaned back in her chair, sighing a little. “My grandmother made the best kartoffelpuffer.”

Everything Annalise said was true. It was dangerous to lie to someone with a complex psychosis because often they were far better at spotting lies than a normal person would be. It was also dangerous to share personal information with them, but that was a risk she was willing to take.

“One of my family’s empregadas would make xima.”

The word sounded like “chi-mah”. Annalise nodded as if she understood, trusting the small concealed mic she wore would pick up the word.

“Comfort food,” Ava said softly. Then she raised her chin, and her whole demeanor changed. She went from soft and sad to bold and ruthless with nothing more than the way she held her shoulders and the angle of her chin.

The hairs on the back of Annalise’s neck rose, a primitive and instinctive response to being in the presence of an unpredictable predator. Outwardly, she made sure her expression didn’t change. Inwardly, she reminded herself that Jakob and Walt were in a room not far away, watching everything that was happening on a video feed and listening through the hidden mic she wore.

“I wasn’t raised to think things like chips and fried fish were comfort food. My parents were better than that.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

Annalise faked a grimace. “In Germany, there is too much fried food also. It is good that your parents protected you.” The choice of the word protect was a calculated risk. One that paid off.

Ava jerked and seemed to fold in on herself once more. “My parents did protect me.” She’d lowered her voice, ostensibly so that no one else would hear her.

Annalise had been very deliberate in how she’d set up the small room. A camcorder sat on the long built-in counter desk along one side of the as-yet-unfinished safe room. A small folding table and two chairs had been brought in, the tools and materials the construction crew was using hauled out.

They’d started out handcuffing Ava to the table, but Annalise had stopped them, demanding that she instead be cuffed to the chair with a chain that was long enough for plenty of slack. It wouldn’t do much to slow Ava down if she decided to attack, but seeing Ava shackled to the table had made Annalise have a flashback to the caravan, to being at Axel’s mercy.

Everyone had objected to that—what if Ava picked up the chair and started beating her with it—but there was a guard stationed just outside the door, and having someone in the room would destroy the trust she needed to build.

It