2-Stroke groaned. “What is this plan?”
“I am the one who brings the guards their food. I can get some sleeping pills from Zasha’s room. She has nightmares a lot. I will dose their food, and they will be groggy, making it easier for Chry. I will saddle two horses and have them waiting for you just outside the door with provisions.”
“That sounds risky. What about you?” Chry was going to take out the guards? On her own?
“I’m scheduled to go back to that Nazi boarding school he has me enrolled in,” he said in a fierce whisper, gripping the bars just below 2-Stroke’s hands. “I’ll be leaving really early in the morning, four days from now. I’ll be gone before he even knows you’ve escaped. He’s arrogant, and his pride will blind him. He doesn’t think anyone can escape from here, and he thinks I’m loyal to him because he thinks I fear him. I’ve already printed out a map to Banja Luka, and I have some spare marks.”
“It’s not your job to risk your life for me. I don’t matter, Alek. I don’t want Chry doing this alone.”
He leaned closer. “You do matter. Everyone matters, Neo. She’s determined and she has a foolproof plan. Rest up and I will bring you as much food as I can manage.”
He watched the kid walk away, impressed with his convictions and his courage. Just as he had been of his little brother. But he had lost his life trying to get away…
2-Stroke braced his elbows on his knees and covered his eyes. Foolproof plan? What was she up to and how many things could go wrong?
God, he hated this, but he was in no position to stop Chry or Alek.
Four days. In four days, Alek and Chry would risk it all. Dropping his hands, he stared numbly into space, another rush of panic stirring in his middle. It had come to this—and he wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t know how to reconcile it in his mind. Navy SEALs didn’t allow kids and women to do the dirty work.
His insides churning, 2-Stroke clenched his jaw, the panic climbing higher. All his life he had been the ultimate realist. Even before he’d left LA, he knew what he was getting himself into. And the reality was that innocents always seemed to pay for the sins of those stronger than them. But this was a strange reality. Being locked up and having to rely on help from someone who shouldn’t have to make these decisions galled him. The new reality was that Alek was going through with the plan he’d worked out with Chry.
Suddenly unable to sit, he got up and paced back and forth, the agitation splintering into a dozen different reactions. Grateful. He was grateful that Alek would offer to give them the chance at their freedom. And he was terrified—the thought of the consequences to the boy scared him to death. And he was angry. So angry. Angry at Chry, angry over his helplessness, over having to rely on a teenager.
It wasn’t like he had an alternative, and that’s what SEALs did, think outside the box. But this was an impossible situation. He knew it. It was too damned complicated, too entangled with too many things that could go wrong. Sending his hands through his hair, he forced himself to stand still, dread beating at his chest.
He had to face the cold, hard facts.
Without Alek’s help, they would be executed. There was no way the US was going to negotiate with Zasha.
Cold to the core, he gritted his teeth. There was nothing to do but wait.
As the next few days passed, Neo kept having nightmares about the night Riley died. Sometimes it would be Alek, other times his brother’s face would haunt him even when he woke up. As the time passed, he found his anger got worse.
But inevitably, the night of their escape would come, and he’d be ready.
The night of the planned escape, Chry pulled her courage together, relying on her training from The Farm. No hesitation. When the targeted guard brought her food, she gave him a soft frown. She looked him in the eye and said, her voice soft, “It would be wonderful to have a piece of fruit. Do you think that would be possible?”
He smirked. “Not likely.”
She pressed against the bars. “I would make it worth your while.”
He stilled and looked her up and down, his eyes a bit glazed. Alek had done his job. When the guard looked over his shoulder, she knew he was committed. She was sure that Zasha had given strict orders to leave her alone. She was aware that CIA officers were capable of luring in men with their womanly wiles. But this guy had been leering at her since she got here. He was ready to cross the line.
“You give me what I want first, then you get what you want.”
She smiled and backed away from the bars, reaching for her shirt and giving him a peek at her cleavage. When the back of her legs hit the bunk, she slipped the knife Alek had given her from beneath her pillow and concealed it in the sleeve of her shirt while he was busy turning the key in the lock.
When he stepped inside, she smiled at him with her meaning clear Come on, honey. I’m all yours.
He smiled as if she were sincere and reached for her.
That’s all she needed. She grabbed his wrist, dug her thumb into the apex of his finger and thumb, and twisted hard, forcing his arm and elbow backward. He reached for her, but she slashed at him and threw her weight into her hold, lowering him toward the floor. Then she slammed her knee into the side of his head and slashed his throat. He dropped like a stone. Chry stepped back, breathing hard, her gut churning as blood pooled beneath him. Coming out of the initial shock, she reached down and grasped the keys.
“Chry?” Alek’s voice was muffled.
“It’s all right,” she whispered back.
Alek entered the cell, his face going a bit pale, but he swallowed and handed her one of two bags. He turned around as Chry stripped down and dressed. “Do the boots fit?” Alek asked. “They’re mine. L.L. Bean is the best.”
“Yes, they’re perfect. Thank you!” She’d tucked her hair up into the knit hat. “Take me to the armory.” She followed Alek down several corridors until they reached a door. Using the keys, she unlocked it and found a storehouse of weapons. Chry strapped on one of the sidearms and slipped her head through the strap of the semi-automatic, adjusting it on her small frame. She chose two more weapons for 2-Stroke. “Now to his cell. Hurry.”
“Neo,” Alek called, Chry right behind him. 2-Stroke was ready as Chry fitted the key into the lock and turned it. Alek entered the cell with a bag. “Here are warm clothes and boots. I took them from the guards. Also, an automatic rifle and a sidearm along with ammunition.” He gave him the heavy bag. “Hurry and change.”
“Neo,” Chry whispered, and he met her at the bars, covering her hands. Her eyes brightened as she took in every inch of his face.
“Hey. This kid is the real deal.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. He could hear the regret in her voice. “It’s so good to see you.” Some of his anger melted, but the leftover tight ball of it had to be subdued. He needed all his focus right now on getting out of here. He couldn’t allow Alek’s sacrifice to mean nothing.
Inside the bag were long johns, warm pants, underclothes, a flannel shirt, thick socks, waterproof boots, and a heavy sweater along with a winter coat, hat and gloves. This kid thought of everything. Layering was the best course of action when it was cold outside.