He twists the blade harder, and she screams again. "Tell me!"
"Never!" I snap, the first words I've spoken since he entered.
He yanks the knife free, and blood wells from the hole in her thigh, trails down her calf to form a growing puddle on the floor.
"Dammit," he snarls. "The clock is ticking, now."
I hear something—a low sound, distant, hard to make out over the throb of the engines and the woman's dull sobbing.
In between sobs, I hear it again, and I have to suppress a grin of glee.
It's a helicopter.
They're here.
They've come.
I have to distract Rafael, now. Give them time.
The woman is limp and weak from exhaustion, agony, and blood loss. She's beyond fighting. Rafael turns to me, pricking my throat with the tip of the blade. "Tell…me…where…he…is."
"Somewhere even you can't reach him," I whisper. "You will never have him. He will never know your name. You will never see his face."
With a wordless shout of anger, he whirls, and slams the knife back down into the same wound in her thigh, twisting again. "Son of a bitch!" he shouts. "TELL ME! Tell me where he is!"
"Fuck you!" I shout back at the top of my voice, to cover the muffled thumping. "Eat shit."
"Tell me," he snarls, twisting the knife again, harder now, drawing another weak scream.
I hear the crackle of automatics, and I have to fight to keep the currents of energy from showing on my face. "He's with the president of Brazil. They adopted him."
"Lies!" he snaps.
One of the men cocks his head, finally hearing the noise topside. "Uh, chief? You hear that?"
Rafael leaves the knife buried in her thigh and straightens, eying the ceiling, listening. "Oh, yes, now I do. The boys are shooting at birds, I suppose. Go see."
Rafael turns to watch his men exit, and that's when I make my move. Long since having tightened the zipties to the point of pain, I slam my wrists down against my upward-driving knee. The first blow, nothing happens. I try again, and a third time, and on the third attempt, the plastic snaps, freeing my hands.
Rafael hears, whirls, sees me with my hands free, and springs at me.
I roll to my back and lash out with both feet, catching him mid-jump. My kick flings him backward to slam against the side of the door, momentarily dazed.
I roll forward, toppling to my knees in the slick pool of blood, grabbing at the knife hilt. I yank it free. The woman's eyes meet mine, faint and weak. "Kill me."
I snick the blade through the plastic binding my feet. Rafael groans, stirs, rolls to his hands and knees, shaking his head, and then glares at me. "I don't think so, bitch."
He lunges. The fact that he slips in the blood is the only thing that gives me enough time for my act of mercy.
I drive the blade up under her ribs and into her heart. Her eyes fly wide, locked on mine. "I'm sorry," I whisper again, as the light fades from her eyes.
Rafael slams into me in a flying tackle. The wind is knocked out of me, and I crack my head against the floor. Stars whirl behind my eyes as Rafael clambers atop me, his greater weight pinning me to the floor. His hands wrap around my throat, and he starts squeezing. The dancing stars grow larger, obscuring my vision with whirling white spots. I hear gunfire, closer now. Feet on stairs. A familiar voice. A three-round burst.
Just before the white spots threaten to pull me into nothingness, I kick upward, hook my leg around Rafael's throat, twist and roll like a crocodile with his thrashing body clamped in the unforgiving vise of my thighs. Blood is tacky and cold under me. Gunfire rattles. The helicopter thumps. Rafael gurgles,thrashes helplessly, his hands pawing at my leg, heels kicking in the blood.
Something heavy smashes against the door, which flies open with a loud slam.
Ren.
