Free Eye of the Storm by C. J. Lyons

setting the bar high for the rest of us. Denise is going to expect something just as spectacular come our next anniversary.” He glanced at his dirt-smeared work clothes. “We’d better get cleaned up or Tessa won’t let us in her house.”
    They returned to Drake’s apartment where Jimmy used the guest bath while Drake grabbed a quick shower and changed into jeans and a button-down shirt. He sat on the bed, one shoe in his hand, feeling as dazed as a man moving through a dream, the heat of the shower and pleasant ache from the morning’s exertion adding to the illusion. As he smoothed a wrinkle from Rosa’s quilt, a generations-old collection of faded and worn fabric, he realized he had everything he’d ever wanted from life.
    In the past, the thought would have been terrifying. Having everything meant you could just as easily lose everything. But not now.
    Now it brought a warm contentment. No pre-wedding jitters, no second thoughts. He’d gotten it right. What he had with Hart was true, more real than anything he’d ever experienced. He imagined her walking across the rooftop garden tomorrow night, a thousand lights competing with the stars above, and she’d outshine them all. Imagined the expression on her face, that smile when their gazes met—the smile he’d die for.
    After everything they’d been through, they’d more than earned their fairy tale ending. He was so very proud he could give it to her.
    A sharp knock on the door interrupted his fantasy. He hastily finished tying his shoe and stood. Jimmy opened the door without waiting. “We gotta go.”
    Drake immediately came to full alert. Jimmy’s tone, filled with worry and urgency, sent all his hopes and dreams crumbling into ashes.
    “What happened?”
     
    <<<>>>
     
    THE VAN DROVE for a few more minutes, taking what felt like random turns, until the driver said something to Kasanov in a foreign language. It sounded a bit like Rosa’s Romani, but Cassie only knew a few words of the native gypsy tongue, so wasn’t sure.
    Then they came to a stop. The driver opened the door beside Cassie and yanked her out, twisting her arm behind her and placing her in a wristlock that sent pain jolting down her arm. Kasanov joined them. This time they were inside an abandoned Quonset hut. A hanger? Cassie wondered, panic edging past her defenses. If he took her onto a plane, there was no way Drake could follow.
    They were parked beside a black Ford Focus—the kind of car no one would look twice at or remember once it passed.
    Kasanov opened the trunk and gestured to it. “Get in, Dr. Hart,” he told her with a smile.
    Cassie had the sudden feeling that Kasanov knew about her history of claustrophobia and panic attacks. She hadn’t had any problems in months; thanks to Drake, she could even ride in an elevator now.
    It was an oft-used technique with prisoners of war: first divide, then disorient, and finally conquer. That knowledge was no help as the familiar whirlpool of panic began to suck her in, stealing her breath, squeezing her chest, strangling her heart. The gaping maw of the car trunk shrank in her vision until it appeared as a suffocating small tomb. No, she couldn’t do it. If she got inside there, she would die.
    Cassie fought for control, digging her fingers into her palms until the bite of nails into flesh gave her something to focus on other than the terror that threatened to devour her.
    Kasanov jerked her arm, pulling her closer to the dark void. She pulled away and he slapped her.
    “I said, get inside.” He reached for the two-way radio. “Would you like to hear Mrs. Drake scream again?”
    “No, don’t!” Cassie pushed against the edge of the trunk. Kasanov nodded to his driver who grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back once more. He slid a pair of plastic zip ties over both wrists, pulling them so tight she felt the edges bite into her flesh.
    “Give me the radio,” she bargained. “So I know Muriel is still alive.” A