He scoffed in a good-natured way. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. In either case, he looked me up and down, assessing me, and, without another word, stepped aside.

I walked into the basement, and he closed the door behind me.

++++

“Well?” Blake said to Sasha. “What’s it going to be—you or Agent Greer?”

Sasha considered all of her options. Blake was out of reach, so if she went for the gun, he and his men would undoubtedly kill both her and Greer. She had no idea where they were keeping Greer, so there was no way of getting to him even if she was able to overpower Blake—which she doubted she would be able to do.

You cannot let him die.

From what she’d seen earlier of Mannie and from all she knew about him, he at least seemed to have a conscience.

Then why is he helping Blake with this? Is he just going along to make it look like they’re serious? Would he really go through with it and kill Greer?

She doubted it.

“You’re bluffing,” she said to Blake.

“I don’t bluff.”

In the end, even if Mannie wouldn’t do it, that didn’t mean that Blake’s other men wouldn’t kill Greer.

And her.

Her only hope was to trust that Greer had gotten word out about her location and that backup was coming.

“Time’s up,” Blake said.

The only chance she had at resolving this favorably was drawing things out as long as possible.

And that meant she would have to put the bag over her head.

“Alright.” She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

58

In addition to the guy with no nose, there were three other men and one woman in the room.

All of them, apart from a man standing in the middle, who appeared to be calling the shots, were seated at computer keyboards. The guy who was on his feet was probably about my age but looked like he spent a lot more time at the snack machine than on the treadmill.

He turned and eyed me.

“Are you the Matchmaker?” I asked him.

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Patrick Bowers. I’m with the FBI.”

He smirked slightly, and the man who’d greeted me at the door snickered.

“FBI, huh?”

“That’s right.”

He didn’t bother to ask me for my ID but simply said, “We’re not doing anything illegal here.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I invited some of my coworkers over to have a look around. We can all have a little—”

“It’s a spectator sport. That’s all.”

“A spectator sport.” I felt my temperature rising. “Watching people die?”