Give Me War - Kate McCarthy Page 0,10
huge mountain and thick metal bars. I spin around, looking for something that could help me out of here. Anything. My eyes scan the room and come up empty. There’s nothing but a mattress ensemble and sheets. I look up. A camera sits in the top right corner of the room.
Those bastards are watching me. My jaw sets with anger. I’m about to push the bed against the wall so I can stand on it and rip the damn thing out when the door opens.
I’m expecting Renny but instead it’s a woman. Her head is tilted down like she’s trying to avoid my gaze. She’s my height, and maybe my age, it’s hard to tell without seeing her face properly. Her denim shorts are tiny and frayed at the hem, her tee shirt plain and black, the sleeves rolled to her shoulders. The cotton is thin and tight and rides up at the waist, exposing a fair expense of belly. She turns and I notice it’s tied at the small of her back, the knot almost hidden amongst the long tangle of white-blonde waves.
The skimpy outfit exposes a tattoo that winds around her hip and waist. A viper. Its head rests on her hipbone, its eyes dark and malevolent.
A shiver trips down my spine.
She carries a tray of food in her hands, and she bends and sets it on the bed. Coffee rises up and tickles my senses, but my attention is caught by the unguarded open door.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Her voice is a little stilted and low, but it’s not malicious. It’s serious, her tone grave. It’s enough to make me rethink my mad dash for escape. Leaving the tray, she straightens and turns, looking at me, her face lifting almost reluctantly.
I suck in a breath.
Her eyes are the purest blue I’ve ever seen, like deep arctic ice, yet somehow they’re full of fire. Her skin is flawless, her tattoo seeming out of place amongst so much perfection. She’s a puzzle with pieces that don’t seem to fit, like the game ‘one of these things is not like the other.’ She doesn’t make sense.
She shifts under my stare and I realise she’s somehow familiar. I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her somewhere before.
It niggles at me as I ask the question. “Why?”
“It’s safer in here.” Her voice lowers further. “You’re safer in here.”
“Where is here?”
She shakes her head. “You’re better off not knowing.”
I grab her by the wrist when she turns to leave and she snaps to a halt. “Help me.” I’m not above begging. “I need to get out of here.”
Her eyes shift to the camera in the corner and back to me. A subtle reminder that I’m being watched. I don’t care. I need to leave. I need to wrap my arms around my baby. I need my husband. I need to tell him I was stupid. I kept my grief invisible. I didn’t want him to know I was hurting, but he was hurting too, and we should have been hurting together, dammit. Why is it so easy to see now, here in this godforsaken place with some woman who looks like an angel from heaven and speaks with a shrewd and knowing tone of Gandalf the Grey?
My eyes begin to burn and my nose fizzes. I swallow, my voice a pathetic whisper. “Please.”
“I can’t just walk you out of here,” she hisses, jerking her arm free of my grasp. She goes to leave and hesitates. “You need to pull yourself together. If they see weakness in you they’ll exploit it until you’ll wish you were dead.”
Terror floods my throat, thick and cloying like molasses. This isn’t Jimmy all over again. This is something altogether worse. Why would Renny do this? Why would this beautiful, snowy goddamn white owl align herself with such evil? “Why am I here?”
Her jaw works as if she’s debating telling me.
“Why am I here, dammit?”
“You’re married to a Valentine,” she replies as if that’s all the answer I need. And maybe it is. The Valentine brothers are a force to be reckoned with. But they’ve pissed off a lot of people. They’ve brought down a lot of wealthy, influential criminals. Their presence alone has thwarted all manner of corrupt and devious activity.
But kidnapping me? That doesn’t make sense. What do they want? Money?
The woman in front of me shakes her head as if hearing my thoughts. “War.”
“What?” I can’t seem to catch my breath. “Did you just