Saving Liberty (Kissing #6) by Helena Newbury

Author:Helena Newbury [Newbury, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01GPAI4W4
Publisher: Foster & Black
Published: 2016-06-05T23:00:00+00:00

Emily

Slow breath in. Slow breath out.

I kept repeating it in my head like a mantra. If I breathed fast, the black cloth bag sucked against my lips and smothered me and, with my hands bound behind my back with what felt like a zip-tie, I couldn’t push it away again. It made me panic and that made me breathe faster, a cruel vicious cycle. Already, I’d nearly passed out twice and each time I’d heard the men either side of me laugh. There was an air of victory in the car.

The SUV was still moving. I had no way to guess the time but I was sure we’d been driving for at least fifteen minutes: we could be anywhere. I’d long ago lost track of all the turns we’d taken and, even if I’d known, the phone Kian had given me was gone, lost somewhere in the mad dash from the motel.

At last, we started to slow. With my eyes covered, my ears strained for any clue as to where we might be. I could still hear traffic in the distance, so we were still inside the city. But when I was bundled out of the car I could feel a cold wind whip across my bare arms, as if I was standing on a wide open plain. That made no sense.

I was pushed from behind and staggered forward. Walking with the bag over my head was terrifying, every step a potential plunge into nothingness. That cruel laughter returned, as they saw how scared I was. Then we were inside and I was shoved into a hard wooden chair.

The bag was pulled from over my head, leaving me spluttering and blinking. As my eyes adjusted, I gaped at my surroundings.

It looked like a ballroom, the kind you get in very old, very fancy hotels. It seemed insane but that’s what it appeared to be. And the place was falling apart: the long red velvet drapes around the edges of the room were worn paper-thin and full of moth holes. The wood paneling was coated in graffiti and a huge chandelier overhead didn’t have a single functioning bulb. When I breathed in, I nearly choked on the combination of dust and sharp, dank mold.

Powell walked around in front of me. “Hello, Emily,” he said. “Time to talk.”

My heart started thudding against my ribs. I kept my mouth shut.

“Our boss wants to know everything you do,” he told me. “And who you’ve told it to. Any recordings you’ve made or pictures you’ve taken.” He squatted so that we were eye-to-eye. “You’re going to tell me all about it.”

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