The Blood Code Read Online Free PDF

upper body was a beautiful sculpture…muscles moving with fluid grace as he shoved the chair into the corner. Anya hugged the sweater, breathing in the scent of male mixed with sweat and deodorant. She should have been scared and yet Ryan’s simple presence calmed her. Even under the circumstances, he appeared calm, cool, and in control. He’d helped her before. He was about to do it again.
    Maybe she owed him a little more trust. Maybe he could handle one or two of her secrets.
    Unless the cops arrested her before she could share them.
    He sent a glance her way before giving more instructions to Truman. “Blindfold her once she’s down there. Tell the others, including Del, to stay quiet and be ready to move on my signal.”
    With that, he was gone.
    Truman turned his back while Anya dropped the blanket and slid the sweater over her head. The soft cotton fisherman’s weave engulfed her, as did Ryan’s scent. The bottom edge of the sweater hung down over her butt and for that she was grateful.
    Truman tossed the blanket on the bed, snatched up Anya’s passport, and motioned for her to follow. They moved quickly through a living room outfitted with worn upholstered chairs, an old TV with rabbit ears, and a wood-burning stove that looked like it had been around since the last World War. The other man she’d seen when she arrived stood with his side pressed against the wall, a large, black handgun pointed up as he drew back the curtains a fraction. He gave her one slight tip of his chin in acknowledgement.
    A left turn took them into the kitchen. Outside the windows, the bleak Russian night was dark and foreboding. A weak fluorescent light over the sink threw shadows on dirty dishes, scarred cabinets, and a table with a card game in progress. Another man, also armed, stood at the back door watching the outside.
    Ryan had put on a T-shirt and was leaning down by a trap door, talking to someone below. “How soon, Del?”
    A sharp rap on the front door made Ryan’s head snap up.
    “Um, like, now?” a voice, sounding young and scared, whom Anya presumed to be Del, answered.
    Ryan rose, his gaze giving her a critical once-over as he handed a bandanna to Truman.
    “Why do I need to be blind…”
    One hand went over her mouth, the other behind her head. “One more word,” he whispered, his eyes pools of determination. “And I will throw you to the wolves at the door. Understand?”
    Trapped in the vise of his hands, nose to nose and anger radiating off him, Anya’s heart thudded hard against her rib cage. Deep down, she wasn’t frightened. Okay, maybe a little. More than that, she was hypnotized by his commanding force.
    She nodded her head—not easy to do, his grip on her so strong.
    Ryan released her head, spun her around, and pushed her toward the opening, not intentionally rough, just hurried. A ladder extended into the bunker and four pairs of male eyes looked up at her. Four pairs of very curious eyes.
    Bad enough Ryan had seen her naked. She was about to provide a peep show for the four men in the bunker. This day was just too much.
    She turned to say so to Ryan, only to have him snap his fingers at the men below. The men’s gazes cut to him, all of them looking like they’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He made a whirling motion with his finger and all four turned their backs on the ladder.
    Anya started to say thank you, but the second she opened her mouth, he placed a hand over her mouth. Ignoring the way her heart thumped again at his touch, she sighed, gave him a nod of understanding, and started down the ladder.
    Truman followed. At the bottom, Anya barely had a chance to make out the collection of screens, keyboards, and what were probably hard drives, before Truman blindfolded her with the bandanna. One hand on her upper arm guided her to a chair and pushed her into it.
    With her sight gone, her other senses went into overdrive. Above her, the trapdoor closed with a suffocating