The Sharpshooter's Secret Son
Mallory Kane
The Sharpshooter’s Secret Son
Mallory Kane
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u1f735063-a234-575c-9010-4cbae2826ac3)
Title Page (#u79be30c5-1ce0-5822-a4b9-807b96f1b64e)
About the Author (#ua96d81d9-b1d0-5c53-b713-0c9d8184c4db)
Dedication (#u3cfee8fe-4542-57fd-85aa-5aaa72e30b10)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Mallory Kane credits her love of books to her mother, a librarian, who taught her that books are a precious resource and should be treated with loving respect. Her father and grandfather were steeped in the Southern tradition of oral history and could hold an audience spellbound for hours with their storytelling skills. Mallory aspires to be as good a storyteller as her father.
Mallory lives in Mississippi with her computer-genius husband, their two fascinating cats and, at current count, seven computers. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at mallory@mallorykane.com.
For Debbie and Lorraine
Chapter One (#u72dee234-117e-55f6-af5e-f5f06100fe15)
They called them ghost towns for a reason.
Black Hills Search and Rescue Specialist Deke Cunningham wasn’t afraid of anything. Not anymore. But the late afternoon shadows spooked him. They moved with him, reaching out like gnarled fingers across the empty, dusty main street of Cleancutt, Wyoming. He tried to shake off the feeling, but it wouldn’t shake. Probably because today he wasn’t working a routine assignment to rescue a deserving but nameless innocent.
Today he was searching for his ex-wife.
He glanced at the GPS locator built into his phone, then at the two-story building with the letters H E L barely readable above the door. The O and the T had long since faded.
This was it. The location where BHSAR computer expert Aaron Gold had finally managed to triangulate Mindy’s last cell phone transmission.
Mindy. She didn’t deserve this. She hadn’t deserved anything she’d gotten for loving him.
And he’d never deserved her.
Deke approached the two-story building, doing his damnedest not to swipe his palm across the nape of his neck, where prickles of awareness tingled. He was being watched.
No surprise there.
He even knew who was watching him. The same person who’d kidnapped his ex-wife. Well—who’d ordered her kidnapped, anyhow.
Novus Ordo. The infamous international terrorist who’d already targeted another member of the BHSAR team, Matt Parker.
We’ve got your wife, the obviously disguised voice on the cell phone had said.
Alarm bells had clanged in his head and his gut had clenched with worry. Still, he’d had to smile a little. Whoever the kidnapper was, he had no idea what he’d gotten hold of when he’d grabbed Mindy Cunningham.
“Ex-wife,” he’d muttered, working to sound bored and uninterested. “And be my guest. You can have her.”
“This is no joke, Cunningham. We’ve got her and we’ll kill her if you don’t do what we say.”
“The only thing I think you’ve got is her cell phone and a death wish.”
The kidnapper had taken the bait. He’d put Mindy on the phone.
Deke Cunningham, don’t pay them one red cent! It’s a trap—
Tough words. Exactly what he’d expected from her. But beneath her brave words he heard fear—a soul-deep terror he’d never heard in her voice before. And that, more than anything the kidnapper said, scared him to death.
Something was wrong with her. Something beyond being kidnapped. While that alone would be enough to terrify any woman, his Mindy was made of stronger stuff.
In the twenty years since he’d first spotted her hanging by her heels from the top rung of the elementary school jungle gym, he’d never seen anything she couldn’t handle.
Except him.
Her tight, strained voice, cut by static, still echoed in his head as he paused at the bottom of the dilapidated wooden steps of the only hotel in Cleancutt, Wyoming.
He’d heard about the ghost towns of Wyoming all his life. Eighty years ago, Cleancutt and other coal-mining camps had been booming towns. But by the 1950s, underground coal mining had given way to strip-mining, so today Cleancutt was a ghost, a dying piece of history located near the city of Casper.
A vibration started in his breast pocket. Damn it. His phone.
As he retrieved it, he glanced around him, in case he could catch someone watching him, waiting for him to answer. But the display read Irina Castle, his boss, not Mindy. He pressed the talk button without saying anything.
“Deke, where are you?” Irina asked.
“I’m busy,” he said quietly.
“You did it, didn’t you? You went after Mindy alone. I told you to wait until I could arrange a meeting with Aaron Schiff.”
“Irina, do not get the FBI involved in this. It’s too dangerous for Mindy. I’ll handle it. Besides, you know the drill. They threatened to hurt her if I brought backup.”
“And you know the drill. My specialists never take unnecessary risks.”
“This one was necessary.”
Irina blew out a sigh of frustration. “You told Aaron not to tell me where you are.” Her voice was accusatory.
“It’s for your own good, and Mindy’s. You can’t know. It’s too dangerous for you. Besides, there’s nobody alive who’s better trained to run a covert rescue mission than me.” He’d meant the comment to be reassuring, but it hung in the sudden silence between them.
Irina’s husband, Rook Castle, had been the best until he’d been assassinated by Novus Ordo two years ago.
“Aaron and Rafe have my projected timeline,” he continued. “They know what to do. You’ve got to trust me, Irina.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You think I do? I should have known what was going to happen as soon as Matt told me he’d been followed back here from Mahjidastan. I should have anticipated that Novus would go after Mindy.”
Novus Ordo was desperate to find out why Irina had suddenly called Matt Parker back from assignment in Mahjidastan and announced to her employees that she was ending her two-year-long search for her husband—or his body.
“It’s not your fault, Deke.”
“The hell it’s not. I should have taken care of her, put her in protective custody.” He shook off the feeling of failure. He’d let Mindy get captured. Now he had to rescue her.
“Don’t worry, Irina. I know more about Novus than anyone alive. You listen to Rafe and Aaron and Brock. They each have their instructions. Their primary mission is to keep you safe.” He paused. “And Irina, don’t leave the ranch without one of them with you. Make sure all three of them know where you’re going and who you’re going with.”
Irina sighed in frustration. “You sound like you don’t trust your own team.”
“My helicopter was sabotaged. I don’t trust anybody but you and me.”
“You mentioned your timeline. What is it?”
“I plan to be out of there with Mindy in less than twenty-four hours.”
“What’s your drop-dead time?”
“Seventy-two.” He had his timeline. He wished he knew what Novus’s was.
“Be careful, Deke.”
He hung up and started to pocket his phone, then hesitated, looking at the display.
Two days ago, the BHSAR recovery team, along with the FBI, had found the body of the man who had tried to get his hands on Matt Parker.
Papers and a prepaid cell phone found on the dead man proved his involvement in terrorist activities, with ties to Novus Ordo. It was bad enough that it took only a couple of hours for Novus to find out that Irina had recalled Matt. What made it so much worse was the ruined helicopter rotor on the floor of Deke’s hangar that proved his bird had been sabotaged. The grounded helicopter had caused Deke to miss a critical rendezvous point and had almost cost Matt Parker and Aimee Vick their lives.
There was only one explanation for those security breaches.
Both the sabotage and Novus’s intel had to have been engineered by someone who had unrestricted access to Castle Ranch. They had a traitor in BHSAR. Someone who was working for Novus.
Deke had put his most trusted specialists to guarding Irina. He just wished he could trust them without reservation.
But there was only one man in the world, other than himself, whom he could trust with Irina’s life.
Trying to ignore the fact that his fingers were shaking, Deke dialed a number he’d thought he’d never call.
Irina’s innocent action had negated everything Rook Castle had done to keep her safe.
Deke listened to the electronic message, hoping he was doing the right thing. He spoke quickly, quietly, then hung up.
It was done. Two years ago he’d made a promise to his best friend, Rook Castle. Today he’d broken it. But he’d had no choice. It was time to raise the dead.
DEKE CAREFULLY CLIMBED the crumbling steps and put his shoulder against the weathered front door of the abandoned hotel. He stopped dead in his tracks when it creaked loudly. Clutching his weapon in both hands, he listened.
Nothing. Not a scurrying rat or the buzz of a disturbed insect.
He’d expected Novus to come after him. He’d hoped the terrorist wouldn’t be savvy enough to go after his ex-wife. Hell, they’d been divorced over two years.
It disturbed him that Novus knew that much about him. Mindy was his weakness.
His only weakness.
The air force had done what nothing else ever had—it had made a man out of him. He could fly a helicopter. He could shoot a housefly off a general’s lapel at two hundred yards—hell, he could take that shot while flying a bird.
Being a Special Forces Op had taught him there was nothing he couldn’t face and conquer.
But with one disappointed look, and the sparkle of a tear, Mindy could reduce him to his pathetic, arrogant high-school self, trying to bully his way through school and drink his way through life.
He stood outside the hotel’s door and wondered what kind of traps Novus had set for him. He’d have preferred a face-to-face confrontation, but he already knew the publicity-shy Novus wouldn’t do that.
There was a reason the terrorist wore a surgical mask in every known photo. An excellent reason. And only a few people knew what that reason was.
Yeah, he was walking into a trap. But Novus had baited it with the only lure he couldn’t resist.
His ex-wife.
All those thoughts swirled through his mind in the two seconds it took for him to flex his fingers, retighten them around the grip of his Sig Sauer, and take a deep breath.
Here goes.
He nudged the door another inch and slipped through.
The hotel lobby could have been lifted out of one of the Western movies his old man had watched when he wasn’t passed out from cheap vodka.
When Deke stepped inside, eyeing the ornate desk and curved staircase, glass crunched under his boot. Shattered prisms from a broken chandelier.
Then something moved at the edge of his vision.
Startled, he swung around. His finger tightened on the trigger.
A raccoon. It scurried across the room, claws clicking on the worn hardwood floor like faraway machinegun fire.
Deke’s breath whooshed out and his trigger finger relaxed. He took another step, eyeing the dark room beyond the arched doorway. He figured it was the dining room.
What was the raccoon running from? He crossed the lobby and angled around the arch so his back stayed to the wall.
Heavy curtains revealed only slivers of the late afternoon sun. The smell of mildew and rotting wood tickled his nostrils. He held his breath, resisting the urge to sneeze as he moved silently across to the shrouded windows and reached up to push the drapes apart. Too late, he saw the flash and heard the report.
Something stung the curve of his cheek. He whirled, ready to shoot, but whirling turned out not to be such a good idea.
Things got real hazy real fast. A fuzzy shadow loomed in front of him. He aimed, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t make his fingers hold on to the gun, and he couldn’t make his legs hold him up.
As the room tilted sideways, the haze before his eyes turned to black.
DAMN, HE HATED THE WAITING. He liked to be the one making the phone calls. When he had to wait to be called, he couldn’t control who might be listening.
He paced back and forth in front of the big picture window, with its panoramic view of the Black Hills, until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He yanked the blinds shut. He despised those desolate looming mountains. He’d seen enough of them to last him the rest of his life and beyond.
The prepaid cell phone hidden in his shaving kit rang.
Finally.
“Everything’s in place here.”
“No change here.”
“There better be a change soon.”
“I’m working on it. Do you have any idea of the level of security around this place? It’s tripled since—”
“Do you have any idea of the time constraints we’re facing?”
“I think I’m close—”
“You think? You’d better know! We’ve only got one chance. I’m guessing you remember what’ll happen if you fail me.”
“Why all the mind games? It’d be a hell of a lot easier to just go in and get it over with.”
“Are you questioning my methods? Because you’re not indispensable. Nobody is.”
SOMETHING SOFT ROCKED against his side, rousing him. His mouth felt stuffed with cotton and his stomach clenched. Beneath the nauseating smell of mildew and rotten wood, he noticed a sweet, familiar scent.
He tried to push through the drowsiness, but whoever had filled his mouth with cotton had put lead weights on his eyelids. He wanted to turn over, but he was too tired.
The unmistakable supple firmness of a female body rocked against him again. “Eee!”
“Mindy, sugar,” Deke mumbled. “Move over.”
Whoa. A sharp blade of reality sliced through his mental fog. That wasn’t right—on so many levels. For one thing, his tongue wasn’t working, so all he’d managed to do was grunt unintelligibly.
“Eee, ake uk,” she retorted.
What was she saying? Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe he was.
“Okay,” he whispered, smiling drowsily to himself. “You know what happens when you don’t move over.” Anticipating her giggles and kisses, he turned—or tried to.
He couldn’t move.
He wasn’t in bed. He sure wasn’t in bed with Mindy. That hadn’t happened in a long, long time.
So where the hell was he?
More shards of reality ripped through his brain. The flash of gunpowder. The biting sting in his cheek.
He forced his eyes open. It was dark. Totally dark.
Danger! His heart rate skyrocketed and his Special Forces training kicked in.
Judging by the way his head wobbled like a bobblehead doll, he figured he’d been drugged. He clenched his jaw and worked to gather his thoughts.
The gunpowder. The sting. He’d been shot with a tranquilizer gun. Ah, hell.
He bit down on his tongue, using the pain to clear his brain. Giving in to drugs—or fatigue, or torture—in combat rescue missions could be fatal. Not only to the rescuer, but also to the innocents depending on him for their safety, their protection, their very lives.
Before he could help anyone else, he had to assess his own condition. He needed to take inventory.
Blood? No stickiness or wet warmth.
Broken bones? He shifted enough that his arms ached and his legs cramped. No.
Other injuries? Nope. Just the sting from the tranq dart. That and the drug it had delivered.
Location? Somewhere dark and damp.
Position? Tied up—arms behind his back, and gagged. He pushed his dry tongue against the cloth in his mouth. Gagged tight. Then, gingerly, he moved his legs—and nearly fell off the crate.
That explained the cramps. His ankles were tied.
Mission? Not quite as easy. What was he doing here, tied up and drugged?
“Eee!”
Mindy. Her voice ripped the haze from his brain. That was it. He’d come here to rescue her. Novus Ordo had kidnapped her to get to him.
Her soft warmth was close—way too close for comfort. Her shoulder was touching his. Judging by her restricted movements and incoherent mutterings, she was tied up and gagged, too.
He wanted to reassure her, but that would be a waste of breath with the gag in his mouth. So he spent his energy getting rid of it. He rubbed his mouth and chin against his shoulder, not easy with his hands tethered behind his back.
His neck and jaw ached like a sonofabitch, and the skin on his chin was raw by the time the cloth peeled away from his tongue and lips.
His throat was too dry to swallow. “Mindy? You all right?” he croaked.
Her answer was a frustrated growl.
“Okay, okay, just a second.” He scooted closer and twisted until he was leaning heavily against her shoulder.
Another not-so-good idea. But this time it was because he got a whiff of that tangerine bath stuff she always used. He bent his head and nuzzled her cheek, feeling for her gag with his mouth.
Soft, warm, tangerine sweetness. That solved the dry-mouth issue. Her familiar scent made his mouth water and his body tighten in immediate, familiar response. He clenched his jaw and swallowed a groan of frustration. Sex had never been the problem between them.
It sure as hell hadn’t been the solution.
Mindy stiffened at his frustrated moan, slamming his brain with a harsh reminder that this wasn’t old times, it was deadly serious.
But she didn’t lash out at him or try to move away. In fact, she angled her head to give him better access to the cloth that gagged her.
He bit and tugged at it with his teeth until it began to loosen. He tried to hold his breath, tried to ignore the soft, sensual tickle of her hair against his nose and cheek.
After a lot of tugging and nibbling and some extremely uncomfortable brushing of his mouth against her lips, cheeks and chin, he finally got her gag loose.
When he straightened, his head felt clearer, although wherever they were was dark as the cargo hold of a C-17 transport plane at midnight. The only light was pitifully dim and came from a window high above their heads.
The smell of mildew and dirt chased away Mindy’s familiar, evocative scent.
“Basement,” he muttered. They had to be in a basement.
Mindy groaned and wriggled against him.
“Min? Are you okay?” he asked, squinting in the darkness. He could barely make out the silhouette of her face. Her dark clothes blended into a pool of shadows just below her shoulders. “Did they hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Just practically broke my arms when he tied me up.” Her normally husky voice was soft and raspy.
And sexy as hell.
Deke cursed to himself. What a chump he was. After all this time, his ex-wife could still turn him on just by talking.
She coughed. “By the way, thanks for involving me in your little adventure.”
And she could still tick him off.
He took a deep breath and winced when the blast of air sent a piercing ache through his temples. “Here we go again,” he muttered.
“Don’t even try to tell me this doesn’t involve one of your rescues,” she rasped.
“You think I’d put you in danger if I could help it?”
“What I think is that you’ve gotten yourself in over your head again. You’re never going to learn that you can’t save everybody. And even if you could, it wouldn’t fill up that hole inside you.”
Deke grimaced. It was an old argument, and he’d be damned if he let her lead him down that road again.
He raised his gaze to hers and curved his lips in a confident smile, prepared to give her back a smart retort. But even in the dimness he could see the fear that darkened her olive-green eyes. The same fear he’d heard in her voice. It knocked the confidence right out of him.
“Min, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound too good.”
She focused on a point somewhere behind him and to his left. Then she arched her neck, and sonofagun if she didn’t stick the tip of her pink tongue out to moisten her lips.
Do not go there, he ordered his brain. But it went there anyhow—to all the amazing things Mindy could do with her tongue. Not the least of which was cut him down to size with a well-chosen word.
“I’m—okay,” she rasped, then coughed again.
He knew how she felt. Her throat sounded as dry and sore as his. “What the hell happened? How’d they kidnap you?”
“I got a call about some—something addressed to me that had been delivered to the wrong place.” Her voice gained a bit of strength as she talked. “When I went to pick it up, they grabbed me.”
“Damn it, how many times have I told you—don’t go to strange places alone. You know how dangerous it can be.”
“Right,” she croaked. “Because of your dangerous profession. Well, silly me. Since we’ve been divorced for two years I was kind of hoping your danger wouldn’t rub off on me anymore.” Her hand went to her throat.
“Besides, this was a young woman. She told me she was also pr—” She stopped.
“Also what?”
After a split-second pause and a brief shake of her head, she continued: “She said a store had delivered some things to her by mistake. They were addressed to me. She asked if I could pick them up because she was—ill.”
“Damn it, Min. That’s an obvious scam. I can’t believe you fell for it.”
“Would you listen to me?” she snapped. “She said the sender’s name was Irina.”
Deke’s scalp prickled. More proof that Novus had deliberately targeted Mindy. He’d expected it, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
“The girl said that?”
She nodded. “I should have been suspicious, because Irina wouldn’t know—I mean, there’s no reason she’d send me a b—a gift out of the blue.”
“What’s the matter with you? Did they drug you, too? You sound strange.”
“As soon as the door opened, somebody dragged me inside and stuck something in my neck. The next thing I knew, I woke up here.”
“Did you get a look at them?”
“No. I was blindfolded until they brought you in this morning. He took my blindfold off right before he left. I never saw him.”
“But it was a man? What did he tell you? Anything? What made you think it had anything to do with me?”
Mindy made a small, impatient noise. He knew the look she was wearing, as well as if she were standing in a spotlight. He’d seen it too many times before. It was her do not treat me like an idiot scowl.
“What made me—? Maybe because I’ve never done anything that would cause anyone to kidnap me. You, on the other hand—”
“Me what?” His evasion was automatic. He’d practiced evading the truth from the time he could talk. It was ingrained in him—part of his survival tactic.
But he knew she was right. He’d done plenty in his lifetime that might make him the target of revenge. Not the least of which had been just two years ago.
A lot of people, including Mindy, would want his head on a pike if they knew what he’d done—for and to his best friend. His only friend.
However, what a lot of people thought meant nothing. He’d do it again. That and more, for the one man who’d always believed in him—who’d trusted his life to him.
His life and his death.
I just hope your sacrifice wasn’t in vain, Rook. Because here they were battling Novus Ordo again. And this time he wasn’t going to give up.
“Okay, fine,” he snapped at Mindy. “Supposing for the moment that I’ve screwed up your life yet again. I can’t change that. But I can do my best to get us out of here. I promise, as soon as I can manage it, I’ll get you back to the normal, safe life you like so much.”
Chapter Two (#u72dee234-117e-55f6-af5e-f5f06100fe15)
If her mouth didn’t hurt so much, she’d smile at Deke’s words, Mindy thought. The normal, safe life you like so much.
She’d give anything for normal and safe right now.
But as usual when Deke was around, normal and safe had left the building.
His words were on target. She’d loved him most of her life, and loving Deke wasn’t exactly a recipe for normal. Certainly not for safe.
Loving Deke was a recipe for disaster. Not that her heart cared. Nor her body. He’d always been the sexiest thing on the planet. From his sun-streaked brown hair to his startling sea-blue eyes. From the hard line of his jaw to his broad, leanly muscled shoulders. Even his battered shearling jacket couldn’t hide the power and grace of his six-feet-plus body.
A wave of nausea reminded her that this was no time to be ogling her ex-husband. She swallowed against the queasiness that was fast overtaking her. It had plagued her ever since the moment yesterday morning when she’d rapped on the apartment door. Even before the door opened, she knew she’d made a mistake.
Deke had warned her often enough not to wander around strange places by herself. But the message had been so simple, so innocent sounding.
Hi. Mindy Cunningham? I just received a delivery from Babies First that belongs to you. It’s from an Irene or Irina Castle. I’d bring it to you, but I’m on bed rest for the last month of my pregnancy. Can you pick it up?
When she got to the address, the person who opened the door wasn’t a pregnant woman. Wasn’t even a woman. It was a man. Something about him—the expression on his face or the gleam in his eyes—confirmed that she’d screwed up.
Before she could react, he’d grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, slamming the door behind her. Then he’d shoved her up against a wall and stuck something into the back of her neck.
He’d drugged her
She was terrified that whatever he’d given her might hurt the baby. It was her worst fear—that something might happen to her little Sprout.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Sprout kicked. She rubbed her tummy and smiled sadly.
Until she’d acquired this tiny passenger that depended on her for his very life, she’d have said her worst fear was that she’d never be able to get over the man sitting next to her.
Deke Cunningham, air force veteran, sharpshooter, alcoholic, adventurer and ex-husband.
Once their divorce was final, her plan had been to never see him again. But the best-laid plans…
Just over eight months ago, he’d come to her mother’s funeral. One of about three times in his life she’d seen him in a suit. He’d been handsome as a GQ model, and more gentle, sweet and protective than he’d ever been before.
For that one night, he was the man she’d always known he could be.
At the end of the evening he was still there, at her house. Just to make sure she was okay, he’d said.
When he got up to leave, somehow she’d asked him to stay. They’d somehow ended up in the bed, and she’d somehow ended up pregnant.
So much for getting over him.
“Mindy, you’re not okay. They hurt you, didn’t they?”
His voice was controlled—barely, but that was all about him that was. His intensity and anger washed over her like scalding hot water. Anger, not at her, but on her behalf.
“No, I’m not injured. Just tired and hurting.”
He’d never understood why she hadn’t wanted him to be angry for her. He’d never realized that his anger—even when it wasn’t directed at her—still scared her.
And that was why, although he needed to know what he was up against—deserved to—she couldn’t tell him. Not until she absolutely had to.
Like the coward she was, she planned to put off that revelation as long as she possibly could, because scalding water didn’t begin to describe what Deke would throw at her when he found out she was pregnant—with his child.
“Deke, we’ve got to get out of here. The guy told me he’d be watching me. He’ll be back anytime.”
“Yeah, we do. Can you move? Turn around. Let me see your hands.”
Could she move? Hah. Not too well, she wanted to answer. Like an overloaded supply plane, she was carrying heavy on the front end.
She twisted until her back was to him, working to suppress the grunts and groans that went with everything she did these days.
By the time he said “That’s good,” she was breathing hard.
“Min, are you sure you’re okay?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “It’s the drug,” she said as evenly as she could. “It’s making me light-headed. And I’m hungry.”
He chuckled. “No surprise there.”
Mindy bit her lip against the poignant memories that bombarded her. The sweet teasing, the tickling matches, the kisses. Dear heavens, she’d missed him. It didn’t matter how many times her head reminded her heart that they were as compatible as jet fuel and an ignition source.
He twisted on the wooden crate until he was facing her back. Then he bent double to look at the ropes binding her hands.
He uttered a short burst of colorful curses. “Damn it, I can’t see anything.”
“Can you bite them like you did the gag?”
He sniffed in disdain. “My teeth aren’t that good. Stay still.”
Mindy waited. It soon became obvious that Deke was scooting around until his back was to hers. Then he shifted closer and twisted some more, until they were pressed together like bookends.
She felt his hands on hers, big, warm, protective, as they explored the ropes.
He let go a string of colorful curses. “…Those sons of bitches,” he finished.
Mindy’s pulse skittered. “What is it Deke? What’s wrong?”
“Nobody’s this stupid. Everything about this, from the moment you called, has been too easy,” he muttered. “Too pat.”
“Too easy? How is this easy?”
“They used your phone. Didn’t even bother to keep the call short. Like they were telegraphing their location. And now, these knots are just strong enough to be frustrating. If he’d wanted to, he could have used knots I’d never be able to untie.”
“That makes sense,” she rasped. “I tried to warn you that it was a trap to lure you here.”
“Trust me. I’d already figured that out.”
Deke’s hands moved over hers, touching and manipulating as he worked to loosen the knots.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. My thumb got a little twisted.”
“I’m almost done.”
She listened to his labored breathing as he worked. “Deke, why do they want you? You know who they are, don’t you?”
She winced as the knots began to loosen and the circulation increased in her fingers. “This is connected to a case, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. She had her back to him and she knew he’d done it. Was it a movement of the air, a rustle of his clothing? Or was it the connection they’d always shared? Even when they couldn’t share their dreams or their heartbreaks.
“I’m not on a case right now. I’m trying to stick close to the ranch. Irina’s not doing well. She’s stopped searching for Rook.”
“What? Oh, Deke. I can’t believe she’d ever—Did she find out something?”
“Ran out of money.” He pushed air out between his clenched teeth, a sure sign he was frustrated about something.
“She stopped because of money?”
“She either had to stop the search or fire at least two specialists and cut back on voluntary cases.”
His fingers strained against hers as he picked at one of the knots. His breath hitched and he grunted quietly.
Mindy knew what he was feeling. His arms were tied behind his back, just like hers were, and she couldn’t even imagine the pain in his wrists from working against the stiff ropes. She wanted to say something, to at least acknowledge the pain he was going through. But Deke Cunningham would never admit pain. Not pain. Not hurt. Not heartache.
“But Rook’s her husband. I can’t believe she’d quit for any reason. I’d never—” she stopped, biting her tongue—literally. Never give up was what she’d been about to say.
But she had. She’d given up on them.
“Well, she did.” Deke’s curt answer told her that he hadn’t missed what she’d almost said. His breath hissed out between his teeth again. A sure sign that he was hurting.
Not knowing what else to say, she kept talking about Irina Castle. Maybe if he got irritated enough with her, it would distract him from the pain in his wrists.
“She must be devastated. It would be bad enough to give up if she knew it was useless. But not to know, and to have to stop because of money. When did she make that decision?”
He didn’t respond, just kept working silently.
He didn’t want to tell her. Dear Lord, she knew him so well. “When, Deke?”
At that moment she felt the ropes give, releasing the strain on her shoulders, arms and wrists. Pain shot through her muscles as they relaxed. She bit her lip and tried to suppress a groan.
“Easy,” Deke muttered. “Don’t move too fast. You’ll regret it, trust me.”
It was one of the cryptic remarks that reminded her how little she knew about this man she’d loved as long as she could remember. She slowly flexed her arms and shoulders, clamping her jaw against the pain, as her brain filed that tidbit of information away with the others she’d collected over the years.
He knew how it felt to be tied up for hours—or days.
He twisted around. “Turn around this way. I need you to get my knife,” he said. “It’s in my left boot, if they didn’t strip-search me while I was out. They took my gun. Thank God I ditched my cell phone.”
She twisted awkwardly around until her shoulder bumped his. “They didn’t search you after they brought you down here. They didn’t have time. One of them got a phone call, but he obviously didn’t want to talk in front of me, so they left.” She looked down, but the tiny window didn’t provide enough light for her to see that close to the ground. Still, she knew she couldn’t bend over far enough to reach his boot.
“Good. See if you can grab my knife.”
“No,” she said flatly. “I can’t.”
“Come on, Min. It’s sticking down in the side of my left boot. You remember where I keep it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She bit her lip. She’d put off the big reveal as long as she could.
“Are you injured? Too stiff? What?”
She almost cried. He assumed she was hurting. And she let him think that. Dear heavens, she’d never realized what a coward she was.
“These knots are so slippery, I’ll bet I can loosen them.” He kicked his feet back and forth, working the ropes. “There.” He inched around.
Mindy could see his head and shoulders in the dim light. She’d already felt the comforting softness and smelled the old-leather smell of his jacket. So it was no surprise that even with the darkness leaching the color out of everything, she could see the way it bunched across his constrained shoulders. She could even see the shadow of his too-long hair on the sheepskin collar.
He straightened his leg and barely missed brushing her tummy with the side of his boot. She flexed her cramped fingers and rubbed the indentations on her wrists. Then quickly, she wrapped her right arm around his calf and got her hands behind the boot heel and tugged.
“Pull your foot backward against my hands.”
“You got it, sugar.”
Her heart twisted until she wanted to cry out. “And don’t call me sugar,” she hissed.
He pulled backward, inadvertently pushing his heel into her tummy. “Hey—” he said.
Mindy cringed. “What?” she snapped.
“Have you gained weight?”
“Deke, this is serious.”
He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. “I know it is.”
Tugging harder, she finally got a purchase on the boot heel and jerked it off his foot. His knife fell into her lap as something clattered against the crate and onto the floor.
“There,” she said, breathing hard as she pushed his foot off her lap and picked up the knife. She pressed the button that sprung the blade. It snicked into place.
Deke jumped at the sound. “Hey, careful. It’s sharp.”
“I remember that, too.” She slid the knife blade between his wrists. The blade sliced through the thick rope as if it were warm butter.
Deke carefully relaxed his shoulders and moved his arms. He grunted a couple of times.
She knew what he was going through. He hadn’t been tied up as long as she had, but she figured the kidnappers hadn’t been as careful with him as they had with her. His hands had to be on fire as the blood rushed back to them.
She handed him the knife, her heart pounding. When he leaned over to cut the ropes binding her feet, would he see why he’d gotten the impression she’d gained weight?
She held her breath while he cut the ropes. “I had a cigarette lighter in my boot with the knife. I think I heard it fall.”
Mindy felt around with her foot until she touched a small cylinder. “Here it is.” She kicked it toward him.
He grabbed it and sat up, grunting. “Whoa! I can understand why you didn’t want to bend over. I’m still kind of woozy.” He reached a hand out to the wall beside him and stood. His shadow loomed over her “Can you stand up? We need to get out of here.”
Mindy crouched there, her shoulders hunched. Right now, he couldn’t see anything. But as soon as she stood—
Dear God, please help me. When Deke sees me, I’m going to need all the courage you can spare.
He was about to find out that she was pregnant. She had no idea what he’d do.
She did remember what he’d said he’d do.
Years ago, when they were seventeen, she’d had a scare. She was late, and the pregnancy test had read positive. When she’d told Deke, his reaction had been immediate. Shock and abject terror had darkened his features.
You’re pregnant? No. No way. You gotta do something. There’s enough screwed-up Cunninghams in the world already.
She’d been stunned and frightened. But she’d understood. If she’d had the baby, Deke would be gone. But the issue was moot, because a few days later she’d started her period. They’d never spoken about it again.
Now here she was, six weeks away from bringing a Cunningham into the world. And six seconds away from Deke finding out.
“Stand up.” He held out his hand. “You’ll be woozy, but I won’t let you fall.”
Mindy sucked in a deep breath and took his hand. Struggling, bracing herself against the wall, and with a lot of grunting and groaning, she managed to push herself upright.
When their gazes met, his expression softened and his fingers tightened on her hand. “Hey, Min. It’s been a long time.” His mouth quirked.
She swallowed hard. “Long time,” she replied, with a nervous nod.
“I’m so sorry they hurt you,” he whispered. He leaned in closer, a gentle smile on his face.
Then he stopped—dead still. His gaze flickered downward.
Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t move. All she could do was stand there.
She knew what he saw. A dark wool peacoat, navy blue pants and low-heeled boots. Pretty standard wear for this weather.
But the peacoat stuck out to there, and he’d just bumped into her tummy.
Her hands moved to cradle the baby. She couldn’t stop them. It was an innate reaction, a protective instinct. Shielding her baby from what was to come.
Trembling with trepidation, she braced herself.
Deke stood frozen, his face lit by the fading beam of light from the tiny window. As wan and dim as the light was, she still saw the color drain from his face. His blue eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
Mindy cradled her belly tighter.
“Min—?” His voice broke.
She bit her lip as her heart broke.
He shook his head as if to clear it—or to deny the truth before his eyes.
Then it hit—the storm of Deke’s anger. His brows lowered until his eyes were dark and hooded. “Mindy, what the hell have you done?”
She tried to hold her own against Deke’s fiery gaze, but she couldn’t. She had to look away.
“Deke, that kidnapper is coming back anytime. It’s been hours since he checked on me.”
“I’ll deal with him when he gets here.” His voice was tight with what? Confusion? Shock? Fury? She couldn’t sort out all the emotions. For the first time since she’d known him she wasn’t sure what was behind his clipped words.
“How did you—?”
The baby kicked, probably feeling her distress. She rubbed the spot and he calmed down. “How? The usual way.”
“So who’s the lucky guy?”
And there it was. Deke Cunningham’s patented defense system. More efficient than any antimissile missile the government had ever dreamed up. It was as effective and high-tech as the Starship Enterprise’s shields, and as quick to rise to protect his heart.
Although she understood why he did it, his words still hurt. She braced herself. “You are.”
Chapter Three (#u72dee234-117e-55f6-af5e-f5f06100fe15)
Mindy sucked in a deep breath as she watched her ex-husband and waited for the explosion.
His face was still lit by that small rectangle of light. If he realized it, he’d move—cover his reaction with darkness. But right this second she had a unique opportunity to watch his face as he processed what she’d said.
His eyes widened in panic for a split second, then narrowed. His brows knit in a frown and he blew air out between his clenched teeth. “That’s impossible. We haven’t even seen each other in almost a year.”
“Eight months plus a week, to be exact,” she murmured.
“Eight—oh. Your mom’s funeral.” He shot her a look before he turned away, out of the wan spotlight. Then tightly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You know why. Look at your reaction. Now can we focus on the kidnapper, who’s going to show up any minute?”
“Fine,” he snapped. He wiped a hand down his face and around to rub the nape of his neck.
When he turned back around, his features were carefully neutral and his voice was all business. “What do you know about this place? Where’s the door?”
She ignored his curt tone and pointed behind them. “There’s a staircase back there. I hear the door open. I see light until he closes it. Then he comes down the stairs. Twelve. Twelve steps.”
Deke tried to concentrate on her words. She was absolutely right. They needed to get out of there before their captors came back.
But all he could think about was her…condition. And she was right about his reaction. Years ago she’d come to him, worried that she might be pregnant, and he’d lost it. Yelled at her.
Scared her. His heart twisted with regret for an instant, then leapt again in renewed panic.
The idea of having a kid scared him. More than anything he’d ever come up against—before or since. And he’d faced a lot.
But a baby. His mouth went dry and his chest tightened.
Damn it, he didn’t have time to be distracted by emotion. He had to focus. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to concentrate on the danger. To forget that his ex-wife was carrying his child.
He growled under his breath and looked in the direction she’d indicated. He recognized the stairs. Their shape stood out as a darker shadow ascending into blackness.
The basement was so damn dark, and the light from the window above was waning. He was pretty sure, based on his instinctive sense of direction, that the window faced east.
He’d driven in from the east, from nearby Casper.
He wasn’t sure what good that information did him, but at least he was oriented now.
“It’s getting dark out. What else have you seen? Did the man bring a light with him?”
Mindy’s hands were cradling her belly and her head was inclined. A serene expression made her face as beautiful as a Madonna. Amazingly, even in the darkness of the basement, she glowed. She was lush and beautiful. He wanted her so bad he ached.
Stop it!
She looked up, frowning. He could see her processing his words. “No. The last time, he and another guy were dragging you. I couldn’t figure out what I was hearing until you grunted.” She smiled. “No mistaking that growl. Anyhow, when they took off my blindfold I tried to take in as much as I could before they left and closed that door. I saw something over there, beyond that stack of wood. Maybe a door, or an opening of some kind.”
“Stay right there,” Deke ordered, pointing at her feet. He moved carefully toward the place she’d indicated. The entire floor was dirt, and littered with boards and logs along with pieces of broken furniture.
Within minutes it would be too dark to see, but his senses took in the shapes of the shadows and the musty smells. He figured that there was very little down here newer than fifty years old.
Finally, his outstretched hands touched the wall. Mindy was right. Complete darkness had already encroached on this end of the basement. He ran his hands over the rough-hewn boards. If there was a door, he couldn’t find it.
He rapped on the wood, listening for a hollow echo. No luck. Every place he knocked sounded solid as a rock.
Finally, as a last resort, he reached in his pocket and pulled out the disposable cigarette lighter. He shook it. Fairly full. Striking it with his thumb, he used its light to quickly examine the wall.
“Deke?”
Mindy’s scared voice, harsh with the strain of holding herself together, tore through him.
“Just a minute, sugar,” he said, studying the crevices between the boards. If there was an opening in this alcove, he couldn’t find it.
The lighter was beginning to burn his thumb, so he let go, then turned around and made his way back to her.
“Okay. I’m going upstairs and check things out. You stay here. You were right about the alcove, but I can’t find a door anywhere, and we’re almost out of light.”
“Deke, you can’t go up there. You said they wanted you to get out of the knots. That means they’ll be waiting up there to ambush you.”
“I’d be surprised if they weren’t. But I’ll deal with them. When I call you, we’ll make a run for it.”
Mindy shook her head. “No. It won’t work. You can’t—”
“Have you got a better idea? Because I don’t. Our only other choice is to wait until they come back, and I’m not going to fight them down here so close to you. You could get hurt. Now give me my knife and stop arguing. You’re wasting time. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“You don’t know that—”
“Nothing ever has.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
Deke clenched his jaw. The arguing had always come so easily. Just like the sex. Two things they’d always gotten right.
They’d learned early how to push each other’s buttons.
“My knife, Mindy.”
She handed it to him.
He closed it and stuck it in his pocket. Then he dropped the disposable lighter down inside his boot.
“Grab those ropes and sit back down. I’ll wrap them loosely around your hands and feet, so you’ll look like you’re still tied up if they—” he paused “—get past me.”
“Wait. I don’t understand.”
“If they come down here, I want you to look like you’re still tied up. That way they can’t blame you for trying to escape. Just me.”
Mindy slowly bent down, reaching a hand out to steady herself against the wall.
Deke grimaced. This was going to be harder than he could have imagined. She was so handicapped by her pregnancy that she couldn’t even bend down. He cupped her elbow.
“Okay, never mind.” He led her over to sit on the wooden crate and fetched the ropes.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
He took her hands and carefully looped the rope around them. Then, bending in front of her, he wrapped the second rope around her feet.
He straightened. “Good. In the dark, it’ll look like you’re really tied up.”
“I feel like I’m really tied up. Are you sure about this?” Her voice was edged with panic.
“Trust me, sugar.” His mouth flattened in a grimace, just like it did every time he said those words to her. She couldn’t trust him. He knew it, and she knew it. He’d let her down too many times.
“But how—”
He placed into her palm one end of the rope that was wrapped around her hands. “Hang on to that end of the rope. When you pull it the ropes will fall off. The ropes around your feet aren’t secured at all. Just kick them.”
“Deke, I don’t like this.”
He glanced at the lone window, high above their heads. Then, closing his eyes, he formed a mental blueprint of the main floor of the hotel in his brain. “If the desk is there, and the stairs are there—” he muttered, tracing the most likely route out of the building.
“Listen to me, Min. That window faces east. My car is out there. Whatever you do, keep yourself oriented. The front of the building faces south.” He pointed in that direction. “Which means these stairs are on the north side. That door probably opens into the kitchen.”
He laid his palms against her shoulders. “Relax,” he said, massaging the muscles there. “You can let your hands rest against the ropes. They won’t give unless you jerk the end you have in your fingers.”
“The dining room is through an arched doorway to the right—east—of the desk. I want you to wait down here until I call you. If you don’t hear anything within a half hour, undo the ropes and run up the stairs. If you see a clear shot to a back door, take it. Otherwise run through the dining room into the lobby and hightail it out the front door.”
“Hightailing is not so easy these days.”
Deke grabbed her arm. “Listen to me, Min. Your life and the life of—” He couldn’t say the words. “Whatever happens, you have to save yourself. Got it?”
She bit her lip and looked up at him. “Deke, I—”
“Got—it?” he bit out.
“G-got it.”
“When you get to my car, you’ll find a spare key and a cell phone under the driver’s seat.”
“Who’s supposed to be there to help—?”
“Drive like hell due east. Call Irina. Her number is first on the call list.”
Mindy stared at him, wide-eyed. On her face was a mixture of trust, fear, doubt and a shadow that didn’t come from the dim light in the room. It came from inside her. Slowly, she nodded.
He turned toward the stairs and stopped.
He was leaving Mindy undefended. Mindy and his unborn child. A strange mixture of pride and abject terror weakened his knees.
He’d saved a lot of innocent lives, and while he understood that underestimating his enemy could be fatal, he’d never once doubted his own ability.
Okay—once. Right now, he felt like a rookie who’d been handed two equally deadly choices.
For the first time in his life, he hesitated over which course to take. For the second time ever, the awful consequences of failure slammed him in the face.
There was a reason Deke Cunningham never thought about losing. Because to consider the results was unbearable.
If he went out there armed with a four-inch switchblade, he had a very good chance of succeeding—against one or two, maybe even three opponents. But if he failed—
If he failed, he left Mindy and his child vulnerable. That was unthinkable.
He turned around. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” he said, stepping over to her and bending down until his lips were next to her ear. “Keep the knife.”
She looked shocked. “But—”
“Shh.”
“But Deke,” she whispered. “That’s your—No. I mean, no, you can’t go out there with nothing.”
He held out his hands in front of her face. “I’ve got these. Now, where do you want me to put the knife? In the pocket of your coat?”
She shook her head. “Everything I put in those slanted pockets falls out. Put it in my bra.”
“Your—?”
“Shh.” She smiled wryly. “It’s not like you don’t know where it is. Do you want me to do it? And then you can retie the ropes around my hands?”
He shook his head, rubbing his face against her silky, tangerine-scented skin. “I’ll do it.” He opened her coat and unbuttoned the three buttons at the neckline of her sweater, then he pulled the knife out of his pocket.
“Okay,” he whispered, feeling like a kid about to cop his first feel. He felt that awkward, that shy, that excited.
Quickly he slid his hand down through the neckline of her sweater. When his fingers slid over the rising mounds of her breasts, he almost gasped. They were so full and round and firm.
Her body was preparing for her child. Awed and speechless, and working as fast as he could, he slid the knife between her breast and the cup of the bra.
“Does that feel okay?”
Her head inclined slightly. “It’s good,” she murmured, sounding a little breathless.
He extracted his hand and rebuttoned her sweater. Then he pulled the lapels of her coat together. When he lifted his gaze, she was looking up at him.
He wanted to kiss her so badly he ached. Not a lover’s kiss. Just a gesture of caring, a promise that he’d do anything to protect her and the child that she sheltered inside her.
But he’d made her so many promises, and he’d broken them all.
So instead, he made a vow to himself. A simple vow. Yet one more difficult to keep than any promise he’d made to her, kept or not.
He vowed that when she was safe, he’d get out of her life and stay out. He grinned as pain stabbed his heart. Leaving her meant leaving his child. Still, she and the baby would be better off if he was out of their lives. And she knew it.
She deserved a chance to make a new life with her baby. The kind of life she’d always wanted but never had with him.
A normal, safe life.
“Ready, Min?” he whispered.
She lifted her chin and her eyes drifted shut. After a second, she opened them again. “I’m ready.”
After one more tug on the lapels of her coat, he left her there and climbed the stairs. At the top, he turned around to check on her. He couldn’t see her. Everything below him was a lake of darkness.
That was good.
He nodded in her direction, knowing she could see him, then reached out toward the doorknob. His hand stilled just millimeters from the knob as qualms assailed him.
“Here we go, Min,” he whispered. “Be ready for anything.” He turned the doorknob carefully, repeating the warning to himself. Then he pushed open the door.
The room in front of him was nearly as shrouded in darkness as the basement below. He took a careful step forward as his eyes sought the source of the faint light he’d seen under the threshold. It seemed to be coming from behind the open door. Probably daylight from the dining room and lobby.
Without moving, he listened. Nothing. Still the uneasy feeling that had prickled his nape—the feeling that someone was watching—wouldn’t leave him.
He took a step forward so he could pull the door shut behind him. A blinding bright light flared in front of his face.
He squeezed his eyes shut and whirled toward the light, swinging his clasped fists like a sledgehammer, hoping to take down whoever was holding it.
Fireworks exploded inside his head, snapping it backward. He grabbed at the doorknob, but his hand barely brushed it.
He managed to get his feet under him, even though the blow still rang in his head and his eyes were still blinded. He swung his fists, seeking a target, but just as he connected sidelong with what felt like an arm, something heavy and forceful hit him in the middle of his chest.
He fell backward through the open door. He managed to grab the stair rail, but it didn’t hold. Nails screeched as the wood gave way. He heard a scream. Mindy?
His butt bumped down a couple of stairs before he managed to stop himself.
He still couldn’t see, but over the years he’d honed all his senses. Now they came to his aid as he reacted instinctively, like an animal.
He heard a heavy step on the hollow stairs, felt the swish of air that indicated movement close to him.
He scrabbled to get his feet under him and prepared to launch himself at his attacker. Before he could do more than tense his thighs to spring, a dark figure loomed in his blurry vision and swung something shiny at his head.
MINDY KNEW SCALP WOUNDS BLED a lot. That was Nursing 101, but she’d been an administrator for so long she’d forgotten a lot of the everyday side of nursing, like how bad a little bit of blood could appear.
The cut on Deke’s forehead wasn’t little. An inch-long diagonal slice was laid open above his right eyebrow, and he looked like he’d lost a fistfight with a heavyweight.
The guy standing over him wouldn’t have made middleweight soaking wet. He was medium height and skinny, and dressed as if he’d stepped out of a B Western, down to the curled-brim black hat and the red bandanna tied over his nose and mouth. He still clutched the big six-gun he’d used to coldcock Deke.
As she watched, he cautiously nudged Deke’s ribs with a silver-toed cowboy boot.
Deke stirred and groaned.
The man jerked his foot away.
Mindy held her breath, trying her best to stay still. She’d almost given herself away by jumping up when Deke tumbled down the stairs. She had screamed at him.
He’d rounded on her and warned her in a gruff, fake Texas drawl that if she didn’t shut up he’d stuff a rag in her mouth and blindfold her. She’d nodded meekly and stayed as still as her worry and agitation would let her.
“Get up, Cunningham,” the gunman growled. He stood over Deke, watching him warily, one hand pointing his gun and the other resting on what looked like a stubby billy club. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? Getting yourself untied. How come you didn’t untie your girlfriend? Oh, wait. She’s your wife, ain’t she? Or is that your ex-wife?”
Deke pushed himself up to his hands and knees and shook his head, slinging droplets of blood in a semicircle around him.
“Min?” he rasped.
At that instant the cowboy reared back and kicked him in the gut. He dropped with a pained grunt.
Despite her resolve, Mindy gasped aloud.
Deke’s grunt stretched out into a growl. He bowed his back and dropped his head.
She watched in stunned awe as he got his feet under him and sprang up like a big cat. He hurled himself at the gunman.
The gunman barely sidestepped in time to avoid being bowled over. Deke checked his lunge, twisting and falling on his shoulder.
The man turned toward Mindy, pressing the barrel of the gun into her temple. “Don’t make another move,” he yelled. “I’ll kill her. She’s disposable now that I’ve got you.”
“Stop!” Deke shouted, as he rolled and shot to his feet. His hands spread in a gesture of surrender. “What do you want? Just tell me what you want.”
Don’t, Mindy wanted to cry. Don’t give in to his scare tactics. But even if she could have spoken, she was too terrified to put up a brave front. She was terrified—for herself, yes, but more for the baby.
She closed her fist around the piece of rope in her hand, wishing she could figure out a way to surprise the gunman.
Something of what she was thinking must have shown in her face, because Deke shook his head, a subtle movement worthy of a major league pitcher refusing his catcher’s signal.
Meanwhile, the gunman thumbed his ridiculous hat up onto his forehead. His little beady eyes crinkled. The red bandanna tied around his nose and mouth stretched, suggesting a grin.
“Whadda I want?” he growled in his silly Texas accent. “I want answers—”
“Fine,” Deke broke in, spreading his hands wider. “Let Mindy go, and I’ll give you all the answers you could possibly want. Fire away.”
The man shook his head slowly from side to side. “Not yet. If I ask you now, you’ll just lie to me. I figure it’ll take a couple days to wear you down,” he drawled. “By then you’ll have tried everything you can think of to escape or get the drop on me, and you’ll fail every time. You’ll be hungry and thirsty and tired. Even better, your gal there’ll be pretty darn sick from hunger and exhaustion, seeing as how she’s that close to whelpin’ that pup. It yours?”
“That’s none of your damn business. Who the hell are you anyhow?”
“So it ain’t yours.” He chuckled nasally. “She been sleeping around on you, ain’t she?”
Deke went still. Mindy knew he was about two seconds from a firestorm.
“Deke—” she said quietly.
He shushed her with a wave of his hand and lowered his head. His dark eyes glowed dangerously. “Who are you?” he growled.
Mindy watched his fingers curl—not into fists. They curved like claws, ready to sink into the soft flesh of the man’s neck. His knees bent slightly, like a cat about to spring.
The gunman took a half step closer to Mindy’s side and pressed the gun barrel into her flesh. “I’m asking the questions here, Cunningham. You’ll find out who I am soon enough. Meanwhile, you can call me Frank James.” He chuckled. “Now it’s time for you to get a taste of what’s to come.”
“You come near me again, you’ll regret it for a long time.”
The bandanna stretched again, and the black eyes crinkled. “Don’t worry, Cunningham. I’m not planning to come near you. Not right now.”
He cocked his weapon slowly, drawing out the snick-snick of metal against metal. Mindy felt the end of the barrel scrape against her skin.
Deke’s head jerked slightly and his face drained of color. “Wait!” he snapped.
She closed her eyes involuntarily, and her shoulders tensed.
“Wanna play a game? How about Russian roulette? How about you Mrs. Ex-Cunningham?”
“Put the gun down,” Deke warned. He stepped forward, his hands still out, and still curved like claws.
Mindy pulled the end of the rope Deke had left in her hand. Just as he’d promised her, the ropes immediately loosened and dropped silently to the floor. She had no idea what having her hands loose would do for her chances. But if an opportunity presented itself, she planned to be ready.
“Don’t move!” Frank James shouted. Coward that he was, he moved behind Mindy, and put one hand against the side of her head while he pressed the barrel into her temple with the other.
Deke hadn’t taken his eyes off James since the instant he’d cocked his gun. His expression was a mask of fear and nausea. He believed Frank James would shoot her.
The realization of how afraid Deke was sent panic fluttering into her throat.
Right now they were in a standoff. Deke couldn’t rush James without fear that he’d pull the trigger. James couldn’t easily lower his gun without the fear that Deke might jump him. And she couldn’t do anything.
Or could she?
Her hands were free, and James didn’t know that. Considering his position, if she interlaced her fingers to form a double fist, she might be able to slam him in the groin and get away.
Okay, maybe not get away—not constrained by her bulk as she was. But at least she could give Deke a chance to jump him while he was doubled over with pain. Maybe Deke could even grab his gun.
Of course she could also get herself shot in the head. But at least she’d be shot trying to do something. Frank James didn’t sound like the most stable kidnapper on the planet. He could accidentally pull the trigger at any second.
Here goes. She looked up at Deke and slowly winked at him. His brows drew down slightly. He gave her another of his World Series-caliber head shakes.
But she couldn’t obey him. She had to try something. With excruciating slowness she pushed her fingers together, moving her shoulders as little as possible.
She moaned loud enough for James to hear her as she drew up carefully, until every muscle and tendon in her arms and shoulders were tense and poised, preparing for one ultimate purpose—driving her fists into Frank James’s groin.
“Shut up,” he snapped.
“But I’m hurting.” She made her voice small and hesitant. “I need to move my legs. Please?”
James made a growling sound in his throat, but he eased off the pressure of the barrel at her temple.
Mindy shifted position, using the movement to brace her feet on the floor. Then she took a long, slow breath, and sighed, as if in relief.
Deke’s body tensed expectantly. At that instant, she rammed her fists backward, putting all her weight and all her determination behind the blow.
She connected.
James squealed and dropped his gun.
Deke dove forward.
Mindy froze, staying as still as possible. She felt Deke’s hands sliding under her arms. He lifted her up off the crate and out of the way.
But by the time he’d turned back to James, the man had retrieved the short baton from his belt. He flicked his wrist and it telescoped.
Deke stopped in midlunge and backpedaled. He held up his hands, palms out, and glanced back her way.
James flicked his thumb and a faint crackling hum filled the air.
Mindy stiffened. What was that thing?
Then he lunged, as if with a fencing sword, right for Deke’s solar plexus. Deke tried to pull back, but she was too close behind him, so he took the full brunt of the attack. His spine arched sharply and he growled between clenched teeth. Then he flopped to the ground like a discarded rag doll.
Chapter Four (#u72dee234-117e-55f6-af5e-f5f06100fe15)
“Deke!” Mindy screamed, as he collapsed to the dirt floor of the basement. “What did you do to him?”
“Shut up, honey, or I’ll give you a dose of the same.”
She cradled her belly and glared at Frank James, or whatever the heck his name was. She was so damn helpless.
I love you, Sprout, but you’re crippling me.
Deke heard Mindy’s scream, but he couldn’t make sense of what she’d said. He had to get to her.
Cold dirt scraped against his cheek.
What the hell was the ground doing there?
He tried to lift a hand, but his hand wasn’t paying attention to his brain. Nor were his feet. Even his eyelids seemed stuck open.
He saw a movement in front of his eyes. Something glittery—silver? James’s damn cowboy boots. Fake and all show, just like the lowlife who was wearing them.
Kick me again, bastard, and I’ll make you regret it. At least that was what he wanted to say, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating, either.
From somewhere he smelled the aroma of tangerines, mingled with dirt, mildew and the faint odor of burnt hair.
Then, more static filled his ears, his muscles spasmed in unbelievable pain and lightning struck his head.
WHEN HE GOT BACK TO HIS ROOM it was almost midnight. The strategy meeting Irina had called had lasted a lot longer than planned, mostly because they couldn’t agree on a course of action.
He’d tried to sound helpful but neutral. Trouble was, everybody else was doing the same thing. Ultimately the only decision that was agreed upon was that Irina would not leave Castle Ranch until the threat from Novus Ordo was over.
He could see in the other guys’ eyes that they were as skeptical as he was that she’d be able to stay put that long.
He bolted his door and put the chain on, made sure the blinds were closed, then went into the bathroom and dug in his shaving kit for the miniature cell phone.
Sure enough—a missed call. Reluctantly, he pressed the callback button, wishing he had good news to report.
THE INSIDE OF DEKE’S EYELIDS screamed with pain.
It was that damn sand. It got into everything. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a narrow slit. The tent was dark, so he had a few hours before Novus’s man came to torture him again.
He came every day. Every damn day. With that laugh. That gun.
That sound.
An icy shudder of helpless terror crawled up his spine as he relived those awful few seconds. They never varied.
First, the pressure of cold steel against his temple. Then the split second of screaming panic and soulwrenching sorrow before the hammer clicked against the empty chamber.
The sound triggered a cold sweat of relief, and the casually curious question of whether he would hear that same clicking sound if the hammer impacted a live round.
Finally came the regret that he’d lived through one more day. Because that meant tomorrow he’d have to face the same fate again. The inside of his mouth turned to sand-blown desert.
Taking a deep breath and cringing against the anticipated agony of his dislocated shoulders, he moved. Pain shrieked through him, but not the pain he’d expected.
What the hell? He hurt everywhere—not just his shoulders. His hands weren’t even bound behind his back.
Something had changed. But why? He’d been in this hell called Mahjidastan so long he’d lost count of the days. The predictability, the inevitability, had become as torturous as the pain and fear.
He carefully lifted his head, which hurt like a sonofabitch. Taking a cautious breath, he coughed.
Dirt, mildew, old wood—completely different from the stink of urine and camel dung he’d expected. This wasn’t Mahjidastan, the tiny disputed province in the region where Afghanistan, Pakistan and China joined.
He opened his eyes. Not easy. They were matted with dried blood and caked with dust. Blinking and wincing as he stretched his sore neck tendons, he lifted his head again, even more cautiously this time, and looked around.
Slowly, his brain gathered up his scattered, disorganized memories.
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