Friday. Unknown. Kiev, Ukraine.
FELECIA'S HEAD WAS SPINNING despite sitting down.
She was free. To an extent. She doubted these men would let her just walk out of here wherever here was. They clearly wanted something from her father. Who didn't?
They also didn't know she spoke English.
It hadn't been an intentional move on her part, least not in the beginning. She'd been so shocked when the door opened and strange men walked in. Her father rarely brought people to the workshop. It was both to protect the workspace and to keep her a secret. By the time she'd regained her balance, they'd begun talking about her and she'd listened.
They were Americans. That much was obvious even if they hadn't admitted it. The accents alone betrayed them.
What did they want with her father?
A nagging suspicion bit at the back of her mind.
She hoped she was wrong.