Water in a Time of Thirst

Chapter Seventeen

She snapped her finger again and from the darkness, two men stepped out. They cut his binds and hauled him up from the chair, but held him in place. Another man handed Zia a small metal case the size of a lunch box and she carefully opened it while her lips hugged the cigarette.

"This it?" The cigarette bobbed.

"Yes ma'am. Specifically crafted per your order."

"Good. Not what I was expecting but good." She removed the item from the box and motioned to her men. "Hold out his arms."

They did as they were told and Corbin's heartbeat quickened as Zia strapped two cuff-like mechanisms to his wrists. They were bulky and cold and made three short beeps once they were fastened, with a tiny green dot that flashed twice. Then she held up a small remote which fit in her palm.

"If you try anything sneaky like fight back or run away, then I'll press the red button, understood? Your wrists will go kaboom and your hands will no longer be of use to you. Got it?"

"Yes." Corbin nodded.

"Good. Let's get started. Shall we?"

∆∆∆

When Everleigh awoke, it was to the sting of a firm hand slapping her cheeks.

She jerked away, which only caused her eyes to flutter as she fought to focus on the blurry figure before her. The person snapped their fingers in front of her face, but when that didn't work, something with a potent odor was waved under her nose. That's when the haze cleared, revealing a bronze-skinned man.

"Smelling salts."

"What?"

"It's what I waved under your nose. Works every time," his deep, rough voice chuckled.

"Who are you?" Everleigh looked him over from head to toe.

The man's eyes were practically black and didn't blink once as he studied her. Then, he straightened and forced her to her crane her head back to look at him. Not only was he muscular, but it appeared his muscles even had muscles, and he could probably crush her with his hands if she tried anything stupid.

"Who are you?" she repeated.

"That's enough about me..."

Turning, he sauntered over to a desk and sat on the edge where he lifted a folder. As he browsed through it, he cocked a brow, and he licked a finger to turn the page with amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

"When they showed me the surveillance video of you taking out those men in the bunker, I thought, wow, how did they let this happen?" He stood up with the folder still in hand and began pacing. "What are you, a hundred pounds soaking wet? You're a string-bean. Doubt there's any muscle there so how on earth was a noodle-like you, capable of taking out my men?"

"I guess they were just weak little pus-"

"Watch it!" he snapped, then let out an airy laugh with an exaggerated head shake. "Thankfully, we have this nifty little computer program where we put your picture in the database, scan it, and then it does a search for anyone with your facial features. It took several days to finally produce something worthwhile since there are many little white girls with features like yours."

"I'm not white."

"No?" He walked forward and placed his bronze hand against her lightly tanned face. "Could have fooled me."

"I'm Latin America." She grit her teeth.

"Ah, yes, right. I knew that. Want to know how I know?"