Target on Our Backs
Page 65

He has to.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Just fucking breathe.
My eyelids are heavy from exhaustion. My body is screaming for me to lie down, for me to go to sleep. The offensive smell keeps haunting me, surrounding me, like it's seeping from my pores the same way it clung to him.
Him.
He continues to pace, muttering to himself. I don't know the man's name. Not that it matters, really. I probably wouldn't recognize it, just like I don't know the face. He's a stranger to me. He's in over his head, and I think he knows it, with the way his eyes keep darting toward the windows, with the way he seems to be jumping out of his own skin. I wonder if he's second-guessing this plan of his, if he's realizing just how stupid going after Naz is. I wonder if it's not too late to try to convince him that letting me go is still an option.
I wonder.
I wonder.
I fucking wonder.
But there's nothing I can do about it.
Because my mouth is dry, my throat is burning, and if I try to speak, I know I'm going to lose it. I'm going to lose the last shred of my composure, and he's going to know he's got me. He's going to know he broke me. He'd love nothing more than to hear me beg again, and I just can't give him that.
Don't let him win.
I don't know how much time passes. I blink and blink. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. I think I pass out, because a second later I'm lying down, startled by a loud bang… loud enough to vibrate the concrete floor beneath me. There's a commotion outside. Someone shouts. There's rustling around the building, frantic enough that the chaos creeps through the cracks in the concrete, and I know it then.
I know it.
Naz is here.
My breath catches. I've got to keep breathing, but at the moment, I can't. Terror freezes the blood in my veins, everything blurry when I sit back up and stare at the door. The man does the same, stopping a few feet to the right of me, so still in the darkness it's like he's ceased to exist from the weight of this whole thing. I count in my head; I don't know what number I get to… I keep fucking it up as I stare and stare and stare.
The door swings open, and I nearly black out from the shock of adrenaline surging through me. My eyes meet Naz through the darkness as he calmly, casually, steps inside.
The fucker just walks right in.
A few seconds pass. I expect the chaos to follow him, but it doesn't.
Nothing follows him.
No one.
I don't know what that means; I don't know what the hell happened outside or what's about to happen in here. All I know is Naz is in front of me.
Naz.
My Naz.
Oh God.
He's holding a knife, fisting the handle of it, the tip pointing to the floor. I catch a gleam of the metal. I exhale sharply, a worried cry, as I stare at him. The noise catches Naz's attention, his eyes seeking me out. It sets my captor into motion as he darts my direction, yanking me off the ground.
I almost do it again. I almost black out. It's only a few seconds, as I slump in the man's arms, damn near hitting the floor. He grips me tightly, though, and grunts as he forces me onto my feet, shaking me like that'll keep me conscious, but it only aggravates my queasiness.
A massive arm is snaked around me, forcing me on my tiptoes. Naz doesn't look at the man right away, his eyes on me, studying me, making sure I'm okay.
Am I okay?
I see it as Naz's nose twitches, his posture stiffening, his grip on his knife tightening. Maybe I'm not. After a moment, he glances past me, above me, looking at the man for the first time.
Something suddenly sets Naz off, almost like he's in a panic. He takes a few steps toward us, his expression darkening, when the man reaches into his pocket, pulling something out. At first I think it's a knife as I catch a gleam of metal, but as I cut my eyes that direction, I see it's a lighter.
A silver Zippo.
The man flips it open and holds it up in front of me, his thumb on the wheel. Naz pauses suddenly. It's like he hit a brick wall. Something flashes in his eyes, something I'm not used to seeing on him.
Fear.
The darkness seems to melt away as his eyes seek me out again. This isn't the cold, calculating monster the man wanted to draw here. In front of me stands a terrified man. I can tell it from the look on his face.
I see him breaking right in front of me.
Naz's voice is low, threatening, as he says, "You wouldn't dare."
The man responds right away. "Try me."
I expect Naz to do just that, but he doesn't move an inch. He does nothing. Nothing. He stands there, clutching the knife, staring at me, desperation shining through. Holy fuck, he's seriously scared. What the hell is happening?
"Let her go," Naz says.
"Drop the knife and I'll think about it."
I almost fucking laugh. Yeah, right. Like Naz is going to do that. But all at once, without a second of hesitation, he opens his hand and the knife clatters to the concrete.
He listens.
He drops the goddamn knife.
Whatever is making me foggy must be seriously fucking with me, because none of this is adding up.
Why would he do that?
"Kick it over here," the man orders, and again, Naz listens. He kicks the knife right at us. It comes to a stop by my feet.
"Let her go," Naz repeats, his voice borderline pleading. "You want me, you got me. Just leave her out of this."
"Naz," I whisper. "What's happening?"
Naz looks at me but he doesn't answer my question.
My captor, on the other hand, is eager to chime in. He pulls me tighter to him, waving the lighter in front of my face. "Do you smell it? I know Vitale does. It's on me, and on you, and since he walked in, it's probably on him now, too. It's all over the room, it's in the air, and it's clinging to our clothes, but especially yours. You're coated in it, little girl. I made sure of that. And all it needs is one little spark, one flick of my thumb, and you'll go right up. Whoosh."
Do I smell it?
I do.
I've smelled it since the second I saw him.
"What is it?" I ask, the words coming out as a strangled cry. Holy shit, he's going to burn me. He's going to burn me alive.
"Ether."
It's Naz that answers that time.
Ether.
I've taken enough chemistry in school to recognize that word. I couldn't tell you what it's used for, but I know without a shadow of a doubt, ether is highly flammable.
"No… I just... No! You can't!" I start to struggle as tears start streaming from my eyes. "It's on you, too. You can't do it. You'll go up in flames."
The man leans down, closer to my ear, as he whispers, "So?"
Jesus Christ, he doesn't care.
No wonder he was so anxious.
It's a suicide mission.
"Let her go," Naz says for the third time, his voice louder, more threatening.
"Why should I?" the man asks.
"Because she's pregnant."
The man laughs at that. He laughs, like it's amusing. Like me being pregnant makes this all the more entertaining. And I know it then. I know he's not going to let me go. He's not going to just let me walk out of here. Maybe there was some second-guessing, but it was never about me. It was just self-preservation. But it's too late for that now. He wants to kill Naz but more importantly, he's here to torture him.