Change of Heart - By S.E. Edwards Page 0,27

the side, still holding that silent smile, and lets his companion through.

The second man is a hulking, thickset thug with the face and body of a bear. His lumbering bulk shifts heavily as he moves, and his deep, wide chest speaks of slabs of muscle underneath. A black beard obscures half his face, a sharp contrast to the clean-shaven, bald appearance of the first man.

The two seem polar opposites. Whereas the man with the smile clearly takes care in the precision of his dress, this one does not. He looks as disheveled as if he’d just stumbled out of the woods. His black, leather jacket is rumpled, his jeans plain and threadbare, and his army boots worn and caked with mud. Could he be the one who broke down Rich’s door?

He grunts as he walks into the room, then chuckles and crosses his arms. “So,” he says as the door closes behind him. “It looks like the sister is up, yes?”

I can’t quite place his accent. It’s thick and heavy, just like the rest of him. What had he call me? “The sister?” Why?

I open my mouth to speak, but when I try to form the words, I realize that my tongue is still wooden from the sedative. The noise I make comes out as a pitiful mumble.

This seems to amuse the bigger man. He grins at his friend, and steps toward me. As he nears, I smell the mix of cheap beer and tobacco wafting from his body. It’s revolting.

“Let’s see what the little bird has to say, yes?” He kneels down beside me, so his face is level with mine. The stench of his breath is sickening. He cocks his head to one side, a crude smile on his face. “Are you scared, little girl?”

I try to respond. The words come out in an incoherent gurgle. He smiles again, and brings one hand up to brush hairy knuckles against my cheek. I squirm away in disgust, but his other hand darts up to catch the roots of my hair. He forces my face toward his.

“You are scared, yes,” he says in his deep bass. He looks me up and down like an insect specimen on a display board. I struggle against his grip, but that only makes him hold me tighter.

All my calm abandons me as I understand the futility of my predicament. I’m strapped to a chair, only semi-coherent from whatever drug is in my system. I’m alone in a cold room with two terrifying men. I can’t even do so much as scream. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on or why I’m here. I don’t know what these men want or why Rich has betrayed me. All I know is fear. Horrible, gut-wrenching fear.

My breathing becomes fast again. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. I’m no idiot. I know a hopeless situation when I see one. This is like being dropped into a cage with two starving wolves—with raw venison steaks tied to your body. I start shaking, whether from the cold, or from the fear, I can’t say. There is no fucking room in my mind for calm anymore!

“Oh, there, there. Hush, hush.” The man runs the back of his fingers along the side of my jaw. “We’re not going to do anything to you. Not as long as you play along, yes? All you have to tell us is—”

“Victor.”

The soft voice cuts through the air. The man in front of me whips his head back, offering me blessed relief from his revolting breath. “What?” he demands roughly.

“You are frightening the child.” The suited-man’s voice is soft and slithery, like an eel. He speaks in the hushed tone of someone used to being in command. His voice makes my skin crawl. “That is no way to treat our guest. Come, now.” He motions to the door. “We will return again when she is fully lucid.”

The big man—Victor—turns back to me. He does not let go of my hair. “She looks fully lucid to me,” he says gruffly. He looks me in the eye. “You know exactly what is going on, yes?” He forces my head forward and back in a cruel, makeshift nod. Then he laughs. “You see? She is—”

I mumble something, cutting him off.

“What was that?”

I try again. The words don’t come out. Victor brings his face close to mine. “She is trying to say something, yes?” He smiles through his beard. “Go on, little mouse. Say what you