ES_ebook_8.2.19 Page 14

  Surely their captors would bring them water as a minimum. Without thought, her hand moved to his head where she softly rubbed it. His dark-blond hair had fallen from the band at the base of his neck. It had been an odd thing to see the long hair on Ken after so long with military-short hair. She scrunched her brow.

  “What’d you see?” he asked, soft enough she had to lean over him.

  She described their trip from capture to cell. He asked a question or two to clarify but asked if she saw cameras in their cell. In surveying the room, none appeared, but that didn’t mean listening devices weren’t somewhere she’d missed.

  Listening! Hope surged through her. She reached back to her low ponytail and hoped the object hadn’t fallen. When she’d tightened her hair in the holder before capture, she’d shoved the earpiece between the elastic band holding back her hair and secured it as best she could. She hadn’t been jostled enough for it to have fallen loose.

  Her spirit lifting, she grasped and removed the tiny mechanism. In case she missed cameras or they were overhead, she reached out her hand to his and leaned down. “Here,” she said in a low voice, hoping he’d understand why she spoke as she did and not blurt out a response.

  He opened his eyes and felt for the object she held. Eyes brightening, he whispered back, “I hadn’t thought of hiding it like that.” When he closed his eyes again and clenched his jaw, she knew he hid from her the real level of his pain. She ached for him, wishing she could make everything right with a kiss. It worked in cartoons. She barely held back a strained laugh.

  Acting as if she hadn’t noticed his battle, she tried to not make him feel foolish for not considering to hide his. “I don’t think it would’ve worked for you.” His hair didn’t have the full length of hers, but most importantly, he didn’t have the volume that she used to lose the tiny mechanism.

  His ability to toss out a brief smile warmed her soul. Yet he handed back the earpiece. All of a sudden she remembered two things. First, for her to listen, the other part of her comm system had to be near, in working order, and activated. Which could be possible, depending on where the men who’d captured them deposited the equipment they’d gathered. Second, the team had been sent to another channel. Thankfully, she hadn’t changed her radio to the new station assuming she’d been about to lose it to some hostiles. But that also left her with the inability to listen to the new comm.

  Something akin to a nod from him played across her lap. “This is a good thing for us. Go ahead now, but be prepared to put it back quickly. After they take me, bring it back out and listen, but always hide it again before they come. They won’t see it unless they’re looking, but we can’t take the chance.”

  Her heart raced, and she hated to admit that a slice of fear ran through her. “What do you mean take you?” Had her voice betrayed that he meant something to her? That hadn’t been her intent, but his one raised eyebrow made her wonder how he took it.

  Took. Take.

  That sinking feeling rose in waves. If they took him, she couldn’t protect him. And with his injury, he needed her protection. While she was sure he’d never admit that, especially on ops, she didn’t think him so foolish to deny support. He was a good leader, and part of leading meant knowing when to ask for help.

  He reached up with an open hand. Without hesitation, she placed her palm on his. His warmth radiated through her, leaving her wanting to cuddle with him. Cuddle? Yes, so she could hold him through the pain. Everything before this moment slipped away. Her blinders were off. Ken was her future and she wouldn’t let what they had go.

  He squeezed her hand and didn’t let go. “I understood enough of the Spanish I overheard. They’re going to question me.”

  Something tightened inside her. Question to what extent? And, why not her? Maybe they planned to offer him medical attention if he talked. She, on the other hand, had nothing for them to bargain. Except Ken’s life. Christ, they couldn’t do that to Ken. Offer her life for Cody’s.

  “Why do you think he wants Cody so badly?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think this is about Cody. Yeah, he wants him, but why did he give him up so easily before? He had all those men available and most didn’t engage. And Bev….” He trailed off before outright accusing her friend.

  She absently nibbled on her lower lip. Ken had an excellent point. But if not for Cody, then what? Had HIS wronged this man in the past? They didn’t seem to know who Alejandro was, so it had to have been an unintentional act if that were even the case.

  She’d ponder that later. Right now, she had to stay the course. “I’ll get us out of here.” Her tone radiated assurance. She would. Somehow. She’d have to figure out how. Maybe when they brought food, she could overpower whomever it happened to be. They might be several meals away before she handled that. Would they drug or poison the food though?

  “I don’t doubt you will. Listen in, and remember, someone will always be monitoring the channel, but they’ll only speak every half hour with our set code words.”

  “Right,” she said with a nod, her mind flipping back through their hastily drafted op plan. “Scooby-Doo.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, Rylee picked that as one of our sets, and we happened to draw it for this op. We’ll create some of our own now that we’re split. When we have more time to plan, we’ll create different ones per op.”

  Standard code words were utilized on every op. Things like capture required a change of code words and they pulled from a few or the team leader created new ones. Ken had already used a standard one to let them know they were in a serious pickle. Making them switch channels at such a crucial time in the op only emphasized the depth of that trouble to the team. A team she’d come to trust and depend upon as brothers in arms when needed. But Jesse and what she’d almost allowed….

  Full of restless energy and wanting to reassess their cell, she lifted his head, gently placed Ken’s head on a pillow, and stood. As she paced to the cell door, she placed the earpiece in her ear and, as expected, heard silence. Trying to peek down the hallways through the bars, she jumped back in surprise when a Hispanic man who looked like a thug approached. Too late to remove her earpiece, she tilted her head to cover that side.

  In the briefest of moments, she ascertained his friend or foe status and without hesitation deemed him a threat. Not just because he was in the house since someone could be there to free them. But with his size, a big knife on his side, and a pistol on the other, she couldn’t overpower him in her present situation. Unless she fought dirty. A smile twitched at her lips at what Kate and Rylee had shown her—and she would do just that to get Ken and herself out of this prison. But then, she’d have to get Ken out quickly.

  Not hearing him approach didn’t bode well for the two of them sneaking out, though. Sure, their footfalls would be quiet, but so would any pursuers’. She had to get a peek outside the cell since she hadn’t paid enough attention to their path on the way inside. While she remembered parts of it, her worry for Ken had overshadowed the cataloging she should’ve been doing.

  With a grunt, the man issued clipped orders. “You”—he pointed at her—“back.”

  Keeping her eyes on him, she slowly stepped backward. After her butt hit the wall, the thug unlocked and opened the door. Had he really thought her a threat? That almost brought a smile to her face because she could be, but he didn’t need to believe that—just yet.

  Another man slipped into the room and went straight for Ken. An emotional pain attacking all her senses whirled through her. On impulse, she stepped over to Ken, attempting to position herself between him and the new man, sure something bad would happen. Her heart and mind told her that.

  As the man placed an arm under Ken’s and helped him stand, Ken called back to her, “It’s okay… Sugar.”

  As he half-walked while being half-dragged from the room, in her ear she heard, “Daphne.” Thei
r code word for the team regrouping. A burdened sigh of relief escaped her.

  “Thank the Lord,” she whispered. If Ken came out of this unscathed, she’d allow him the chance to finish unfastening the love in her heart. She’d been a fool to believe—even if only half-heartedly—that he would’ve intentionally harmed her husband.

  So, if Bev lied, why?

  16

  After Ken endured several excruciatingly painful hours of interrogation, Alejandro Ramirez flicked his wrist in dismissal. “Take him back.”

  Even though almost every inch of his body throbbed painfully, Ken would handle whatever they gave him provided they didn’t touch Sam. He’d endure any physical or emotional harm to protect her. But Cody and his teammates also needed protecting.

  “Let him think about his answer. We’ll continue later,” Alejandro told the guard.

  The implied threat did nothing to Ken. He curled into the shell needed to survive while ensuring he had enough will and ability to escape. And whether it be by escape or rescue, he and Sam would leave—whole.

  “Jose,” his host said to his goon, “don’t touch the girl.”

  Ken wanted to ask if he meant don’t touch her now or at all, but he didn’t want to bring attention to the fact he cared about her. All special operators were trained on how to protect the op, including watching a teammate die to protect what they must. Said operators would take their last breath at the hands of a captor if it came to that.

  In all his years, he’d never imagined someone like Sam—who held his heart whether she wanted it or not—could be the teammate in front of him with a knife to her throat. After the questions he’d been asked, their op had to change. He didn’t know how to get that information out to the team. The team itself didn’t understand that the risk to the team had turned a new corner.

  Even though he knew he couldn’t move tonight unless HIS came in and dragged him out, he wouldn’t stop trying to figure out a way to gain their freedom. That didn’t involve providing Alejandro with the information he desired because first, he wouldn’t do that ever, and second, and most importantly, he didn’t believe the man would actually free them.

  Dragged from the room where he’d been tied, questioned, and beaten, he acted more injured than his true condition to appear less of a threat. In his current state, threatening didn’t define him so he had no need to pretend worse. However, something gnawing in his gut told him to play the game.

  Knowing every nook and cranny of the hallway would benefit their escape. The team—should they be able to rescue them—would already know this, but he and Sam had to be prepared to escape and not wait for rescue. Since the team had to regroup and make a successful plan with the small number remaining, it could be tomorrow before rescue arrived. Nighttime would be to their benefit this time.

  If he had more days like today, or they took Sam back, one of them could be seriously injured. Like the searing, painful gunshot wound to your thigh. His heart pounded, not at his wound, but the possibility of what they could do to Sam. If they hurt her, he’d find a way to kill them all.

  Who was he kidding? He couldn’t even walk by himself. That wouldn’t make for a strong exit, with or without support. The term “liability” fit him and he hated it. He shouldn’t have joined the op. Sam would’ve outrun them and been safe.

  When two men tossed his battered body into the cell, he fell into a crumpled mess and—at Sam’s gasp—changed from overly wounded to hiding what pained him beyond all reason. He’d wanted to protect her, the woman he loved, but he couldn’t, and that tore at his heart more than anything.

  “Ken,” she gasped, dropping to the floor. “Oh my God.” Her quavering voice struck at his heart.

  “I’m okay,” he assured her with his bold-faced lie. He probably should’ve saved his breath because she wouldn’t fall for that. His condition was obvious. “Just help me to the cot.”

  The swelling in his left eye grew, and he feared it might close his eye completely, hindering his vision. He’d do what it took without it, but with it would be better. If he’d been untied—bad leg or no—he’d have kicked the shit out of the guy who’d used him for a punching bag.

  “Are you sure you should move?”

  Not really, but he didn’t want to remain on the floor that had housed who knew what. “Just help me.”

  When she complied, he looked at her, and the tear that slid down her face startled him. First, because her toughness and ability to focus on an op wouldn’t have allowed for tears. Second, she’d turned cold toward him after they’d last kissed. Not wanting to know the true reason, he didn’t ask why she cried.

  “Why did they beat you?” She strained to help him as he used her body and strength to stand.

  The leg hadn’t felt so bad when he’d been questioned quietly. When his torturer arrived and kicked him on his wound right off the bat, he’d crumpled to the floor. After that, for every question he’d refused to answer or not given the answer they desired, the man’s fists found a place to pound. While he’d prefer not to endure the beating again, they’d have to bring a whole helluva lot more down on him. Even then, he wouldn’t break. His teammates knew this so they wouldn’t have to rush in blind. A solid plan could be formulated. But Sam… what if their captors…?

  His woman held him up strong. He nearly halted in his limping tracks. His woman? Thinking they might not see another day, he’d told her his deepest feelings for her. Although not expecting her to respond in kind, he’d wished for something. They’d had months to rebuild their friendship and grow close. He’d felt it, lived for it. Yet when he’d finally built the courage and kissed her, she’d turned him away.

  Barely free of her hold, he dropped on the cot and rolled onto his back. He tossed his arm over his eyes to block out the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Pain radiated up and down his torso, and he worked to push away what discomfort he could. He wouldn’t be any more of a liability than he already was on this op. He’d become mobile come hell or high water. A Ranger didn’t know when to quit, no matter the obstacles. That philosophy had carried over to the agents of HIS.

  Ignoring her question, he asked, “Anything?”

  Since she didn’t wear perfume out in the field, it took her warm breath on his cheek before he realized her closeness. An enticing womanly scent clung to her, though only obvious at close range. “Just Daphne.” Her soft voice soothed him, and a sigh escaped his lips as he relaxed a fraction.

  They were regrouping, which he’d have expected at this point. If they followed the plan, there’d only be three of them available to rescue or cover them. Not good odds since he and Sam would not have weapons and he’d handicap their escape.

  He’d completely forgotten. “What are they saying at the top of the hour?” They needed to know the next open extraction point in case they could find their way out of this miserable place.

  Before she leaned away from him, she whispered, “Bravo.”

  Remaining quiet while she jostled him enough for her to sit and place his head on her lap, took a monumental effort. Once there, it was worth every ache and pain.

  When her fingertips glided lightly over the swelling of his eye and where he expected a bruise, it drew out another of those relieved sighs as temporary shivers of pleasure overrode the pain. If only he’d get the same relief from his other wounds.

  “Where else are you injured?”

  From the hitch in her voice when he’d first been tossed back in their cell, he’d known she wanted to check him for each and every wound. It had to be killing her to just wait for him to expound.

  “I think they missed my little toe.”

  “This little piggy went wee-wee-wee all the way home,” she said with light humor to match his.

  Laughter lifted inside him, but pain kept him from releasing it.

  “Is it bad? How’re your ribs? Your wound?”


  He’d purposefully kept an arm across his chest and belly, and she must’ve realized that. However, he’d only answer what she asked. No sense worrying her any further. “The ribs hurt, but I don’t think they’re broken. The wound opened up again but didn’t bleed much as far as I could tell.”

  “And your face?” Her fingers whispered, featherlike, across his cheek.

  With some pain, he formed a smile. “Would it make you think me more of a man if I said it was twenty big-ass bikers plus a couple of grizzlies?” Drinking in her light chuckle, he didn’t care whether she answered or just kept stroking his face and hair.

  “Hmm. Men and their exaggerations. I’d give you a grizzly who’d been madder than a hornet’s nest but not more than that.”

  That felt like what he’d run into already. He just needed a short rest and he’d be good as new. Or about as new as he’d been when he’d arrived.

  “Did you find out why he wanted Cody so badly?” She fingered a strand of his hair and his mind began that drop into blissful sleep.

  Turning over a couple of things that nagged at him that he couldn’t let go of. He should’ve addressed both of them before and cleared up what his mind had conjured before they’d departed. Now appeared the appropriate time to start. “Sam, why did you hold back that shot?”

  Her breath caught, and he noticed a subtle change in her. She closed herself off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She substantiated this with a furrowed brow and a questioning look.

  True, he hadn’t been specific, so maybe she didn’t understand. “You didn’t shoot the man aiming his weapon at Jesse when I first told you. It’s the only shot that you didn’t make within the span of a heartbeat.”

  “Oh, that shot.” She acted innocent, but he didn’t believe her for a second. “I just didn’t see who you meant right away.”

  He may love this woman, but that didn’t mean he’d blindly follow her words and deeds. Yet something about this entire scenario eluded him. Not sure he’d get a different answer, he tabled that topic until a better time.