Dangerous Deception (Dangerous Creatures 2)

This Tunnel wasn’t one of them.

As his boots splashed through the rancid water, rats scurried through the watery sludge. Nox was grateful the Tunnel wasn’t well lit. Though he didn’t spend a lot of time hanging out in sewage tunnels, this probably wasn’t far off—which was a depressing thought, considering that the place he was going was far worse.

CHAPTER 4: RIDLEY

Dreaming Neon Black

You remember every second of your death. At least, that was the way it was for Ridley.

If she was dead.

She wasn’t sure. That part was a little foggy.

First came the guitar solo, crackling through the radio. Then sounds and images flooded her mind.

The black truck speeding toward the Beater—

The tires screeching and metal buckling—

Screams ringing in my ears. Link shouting my name—

And smoke, and heat, and flames—

Ridley opened her eyes slowly. She was lying on her back, and her head was fuzzy. Everything was coated in a hazy film like she was looking through a camera lens smeared with Vaseline. A terrifying thought ran through her mind.

Please don’t let me be in a coffin. Seriously. I had epic plans for my funeral.

She blinked hard until she could make out what resembled a blurry bedroom ceiling above her.

Thank god.

She patted around her body and felt a stiff mattress beneath her.

Where am I? And how long have I been here?

And more importantly, where was Link?

She tried to remember the details of the crash, but after the flames and the smoke, there was nothing.

If he’s dead … after all we’ve been through, I’ll kill him myself.

That would be just my luck.

To finally lose my heart to a guy right before his stops beating.

She swiped at her face with her free hand, rubbing away a few stray tears. She hadn’t even felt them coming, but the sudden movement sent a shock wave of pain tearing up her back. Her body felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. Her neck was so tender that it hurt every time she took a breath. Her arms were covered in yellowish-purple bruises, and if the way her shoulders and back felt was any indication, they probably were, too.

“Make sure you let me know when she wakes up,” a man said from somewhere in the distance. “It should be soon.”

Ridley turned her head to the side, wincing from the pain, as she struggled to fight her way out of the haze. She took in her surroundings in broad strokes. An ornate chandelier dripping with crystals provided the only light, and an expensive-looking Persian kilim covered the concrete floor. The stone walls had been whitewashed a pale gray in an unsuccessful attempt to make the room look less like a prison, but the barred door ruined the effect.

I’m locked up in a cell someone decorated like a psychotic B and B. This is Silence of the Lambs territory. Any minute now, some whack-job serial killer will be standing on the other side of those bars, deciding what kind of coat to make out of my skin.

Another man’s voice, harsher than the first, echoed beyond the bars. “You need to figure out where that hybrid went, or it’s your ass. I’m not taking the blame for this. Are we clear?”

Hybrid.

They’re talking about Link.

Maybe there’s still a chance he’s alive.

“You already lost one of them,” the second voice continued. “A mistake he’ll make us both pay for when this situation is under control. Find the hybrid, or I’m throwing you under a lot more than a bus. Understand?” The guy sounded Southern, like Link’s neighbors in Gatlin.

The conversation dissolved into a string of mumbling as the fog wrapped itself around her once more.

Breathe. Close your eyes and focus. Even if it hurts.

It took a few moments before the muffled words began to make sense again.

“You really think the Siren will tell us anything?” the guy who’d taken a tongue-lashing asked.

The Southern guy laughed. “By the time he’s finished with her, she’ll tell him everything. That’s when the real fun starts.”

Ridley pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, trying to clear her head. If their voices weren’t echoing and vibrating like she was inside a carnival fun house, maybe she could figure out who she was dealing with.

What the hell did they give me?

Horse tranquilizers?

“So he juices her up. What then? Think he’s gonna sell her?” the first guy asked. “I bet there are dozens of Casters in the Syndicate who’d love to have a hot little Siren like her.”

Ridley’s breath caught in her throat.

Sell me?

Who are these psychos? And how am I going to get out of here and find Link?

She didn’t let herself consider the other possibility—the chance that there was no one left to find.

The guy in charge was silent for a moment, which didn’t seem like a great sign. “He might keep this one for himself. He doesn’t have a Siren, and the good ones are hard to find.”

Who are they talking about?

Footfalls echoed against the concrete floor, growing quieter with every step. Ridley took a deep breath, hoping the two men were leaving.

As the echoes grew fainter, she heard the Southern guy one last time. “She’ll make a perfect addition to the Menagerie.”

Ridley had no idea what he was talking about, but she had the feeling it was a lot worse than being locked in a gilded birdcage. She’d been in enough trouble in her life to recognize the kind she was in right now.

It was the kind that started with being kidnapped and drugged by a man she didn’t know and ended with her wishing she were dead.

“Hey? Are you okay in there, Pink?” A girl’s voice pulled Ridley out of the fog she couldn’t seem to fight her way through.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but someone had left a tray with a bowl of cloudy, pee-colored soup and a glass of water on top of the mirrored nightstand beside her bed.

How did someone come in here without me knowing?

Ridley tried to sit up, but she didn’t have the strength. Her legs were cold, and she realized she was wearing what felt like a hospital gown—something as shapeless as a sack of rice, and about as rough and cheap. Nothing like the silk geisha robe she normally wore when she lounged in bed. And she wasn’t about to touch her hair. She shuddered.

Excellent. Why didn’t they just kill me and get it over with?

Ridley reached for the glass of water on the table beside her. She misjudged the distance, and it crashed to the floor.

Who am I kidding?

She had trouble moving, like she was trying to swim through a pool of Jell-O. A few hours ago, she probably wouldn’t have heard it if a train had come through here. But now her head was clearing, and she shivered, realizing the person must have been right next to her bed if they’d left the tray there.

She reached out again, more carefully this time, and stuck her finger in the questionable bowl of soup on the tray. It was still warm.

Then she noticed the Binding Ring on her finger. It was lifeless, no color at all. As if the power was gone, along with whatever it was that had kept her Bound to her friends.

To Link.

She could feel the tears begin to well again.

“Hey, Pink? I just wanna know if you’re all right.” It was the same girl’s voice, barely above a whisper. “They were kind of rough on you.”

Ridley managed to push herself up and leaned against the headboard. Her arms were heavy, as if she was pulling them out of wet cement every time she moved. But that was nothing compared to the throbbing in her head.

They must have given me something stronger.

Do they make elephant tranquilizers?

Someone had drugged her for sure, and whatever they had given her was bad news. Sirens had a high tolerance for drugs and alcohol, and this was unlike anything Ridley had ever expe

rienced.

Still, she managed to slide down from the bed and crawl across the floor, determined to find out who the voice belonged to, and if she could see where they were.

By the time Ridley made it over to the bars, she was feeling better and worse. Her thoughts were less jumbled, and her coordination was returning. But now waves of nausea racked her body with every breath.

Ridley laddered her hands up the bars until she was standing, even if her legs were shaking. “Who’s there?” she whispered. “Get me out of here.”

“I can’t. I’m locked up, too.” The voice sounded as low as she felt.

The words sent a jolt through Ridley; at that moment, her instinct for self-preservation was more powerful than any drug. “How long have you been here?” she asked.

“Months,” the girl said. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Nine months,” a second girl, with a German accent, muttered from somewhere in the hallway. It was so quiet Ridley had to strain to make out the words. “Drew’s been here nine months. She came in after me. My name is Katarina.”

This is a bad dream, Ridley thought. Or a drug-induced hallucination.

Either way, it’s not real. It can’t be.

“Who locked us up like this?” she asked. It wasn’t her first time in a cage, but she’d never imagined it would happen again.