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  Even at full strength, he wouldn’t have been able to break the legs from the floor or the wooden base of the cot apart. Then the other object—a disgusting bucket and with the aroma of past use, it’d been their bathroom. Not having a handle for an easy hold or any weight to make a difference, only the smell or actual contents would aid them momentarily.

  A small chuckle slipped out and he cursed himself for not remembering the pain in his chest when he did that. At least he felt certain the ribs weren’t broken. Maybe a couple might have small fractures, but mostly bruising. Although not having heavy damage hadn’t been for lack of their trying.

  Painful breathing would follow him on escape, but he’d suffer through it like a champion. The leg though….

  Where had his thoughts been? Oh yeah, the bathroom bucket. At first, Sam had refused to use it, but she’d caved after a full bladder. But not before making sure he not only turned his back, but he’d covered his ears.

  After she’d left with Beverly and Jose—he really hated that man and hoped to get his revenge—he removed the small earpiece from the hiding space. More than ever he realized, that’d been the right idea to keep it out of both their ears. He didn’t know what Beverly would’ve done if she’d found it. Alejandro and Beverly’s goons hadn’t used the microphones yet, and he hoped they didn’t figure out the frustration they could cause the team’s members monitoring the station in case Ken or Sam broadcast. Not that the team would be fooled with mindless chatter from their captors, but it’d clog up the airway.

  “Velma.” Ken closed his eyes in relief. Franks had come up with a plan. Based on the few code words used, three men—as he’d suspected—were watching. One at each gate and Doc in the middle to play his role of Shaggy. Instead of leading the tangos to a trap, Doc would protect his and Sam’s six and lead the hired guns astray. That was assuming that he and Sam could escape. What he really wanted to hear, although he doubted he would today, was “Freddie.” That meant he could expect the cavalry.

  His hackles rose and his heart leapt into his throat when he heard Sam’s distressed voice calling out for help. What the hell had happened? He’d figured that Sam would stay with Beverly and hopefully get him released. Instead one of his fears had come true. It appeared Beverly had gone off the deep end—deeper than before—and since she couldn’t bring Sam around to her way of thinking, she’d kept her as a prisoner.

  “No,” Sam shouted, “I won’t go back in there.” Then louder, she screamed, “Bev, you can’t do this. I thought you were my friend.”

  Shaking the bars in an effort to push his way through and effectively throttle the man holding Sam against her will, a deep-down rage exploded within him. His entire body shook with the effort to keep himself from snapping and hurtling over the edge and attacking the guard, which could make matters worse for them. Being utterly helpless behind the bars, he held it all back. And being damn helpless hurt not only his chance of survival, but Sam’s too.

  He’d promised Lance he’d take care of Sam. Yet he found himself in a situation where he had no ability to meet that promise, and it cut him deep.

  He blocked the despair that tried to push its way forward in his mind and heart. “Never give up” was a well-known motto for military special operators, and he wouldn’t. There had to be a way. Had to.

  Since it appeared Beverly didn’t plan to use Sam to follow through on whatever lunacy she’d planned, he hoped Sam had been able to extract something that would aid them. Even if Beverly hadn’t told her specifically, Sam would’ve uncovered something. He believed in her abilities.

  With his limited vision since the bars held him back, he couldn’t see Sam, but he could tell by the shuffling and grunting noises, she struggled with her captor. Her pleading calls to Beverly went unanswered.

  As a gentleman and man of honor, he’d never struck a woman. He’d taken some down and had to use some strength. But if Beverly harmed Sam, he’d rethink his honor that held to not harming women. She’d messed with Sam, who held his heart, that meant she’d messed with him.

  Somehow, Beverly would pay. HIS would ensure it. If only they could take care of it now, he’d appreciate it.

  Coming into sight from his left, Jose, with a tight hold on Sam’s forearm, propelled her forward. She fought every step of the way, digging in her heels, attempting to wrench her arm away, and stumbling into the man….

  A smile broke across Ken’s face and he ignored the pain of the stretching of his skin on the bruises, burns, swelling, and abrasions. Good woman. He hoped she could make it to the cell now with the blade she’d just lifted from Jose. She flipped it, and with the handle in her free hand, hid the blade inside her shirtsleeve so it wouldn’t be detected. In fact, she’d lifted her knife. She’d been upset at being parted from it, and that brought a smile to his heart.

  In one of his weaker moments, he’d gifted her that knife. The three of them—he, Lance, and Sam—had browsed a weapons’ store. He and Lance were always on the lookout for something new and lethal. Sam admired a knife. Not just any knife, but a smaller one that would’ve been perfect for her. When they’d departed the store, the boot-size blade, remained in the locked glass case. She hadn’t said a thing, but he’d seen her longing look.

  Since he had no say in her choice of career, all he could think of was how to help keep her safe—on and off duty. For her birthday that year, he’d presented her the knife as a gift. Lance hadn’t been too happy, but in the end he’d relented. The way Sam’s face had lit up with joy, he’d have happily pissed off his friend all the way around the world.

  “Back,” Jose directed.

  To remove Sam from Jose’s touch—that surely bruised her—Ken didn’t fight the request, even though he longed to give the asshole a taste of his own medicine. Backing to the wall, which took only a few steps, he then collapsed to the ground and bit back his curses and exaggerated groan of pain. Knowing the trouble he’d have rising from his current position, he remained on the floor, challenging his nemesis with a lethal glare.

  He’d considered rushing the man and the two of them making a run for it. Using the common-sense God had gifted him with and acknowledging his physical limitations, he’d recognized that leaving in daylight would likely be a death sentence for them. He’d never put Sam in more danger than he already had because he hadn’t been able to get away with that damn limp of his.

  Sam must’ve realized the same because they had a great opportunity when Jose opened the door. She could’ve shoved her knife into Jose’s heart and the two escaping, but she passed up the opportunity. Although, he wished she’d stab the motherfucker for what he’d done to him.

  She hadn’t even seen the worst of it on his upper torso. The heat still flowed under the skin on each mark with his salty sweat gliding over the marks. Ten in all. He’d not relished it, but they’d have to come up with worse torture than that. Even then, he wouldn’t give them what they wanted. Not Jesse.

  As Jose shoved her into the room, Sam winked at him, then turned back to her guard and continued making a ruckus.

  Something lifted inside him. Her smile told him they had hope.

  20

  With an indignant grunt, Jose slammed their cell door, then departed the area without a word. Sam might’ve figured out something that could help them, but he definitely couldn’t tell by her behavior. The woman cursed like a sailor and had even kicked the bars with her boot. He held back the smile at her reaction.

  Once quiet, she turned to him and mouthed, “Trust me.”

  He nodded and immediately the woman started caterwauling again. He awkwardly, and with some serious discomfort, stood on this own. Sweat dotted his forehead from the effort and he knew in doing it himself took too much out of him. He’d have to suck it up, having her assist him up if he wanted to walk.

  Her next words jolted him—in a good way. Her melodrama brought a chuckle from him, but he bi
t it back and played the game Sam had started.

  “Oh, Ken, hold me.” She launched herself into his arms, squeezing him around his waist. At his sharp indrawn breath of pain, she loosened her hold but didn’t pull away. This, he liked. Her body snug against his. No matter the injuries pulsing in his body, the heat between them sprang up to a roaring blaze that would one day soon be extinguished with the two of them naked and well loved. Even then, he imagined things would smolder between them until they made love again.

  “I can’t believe how she treated me.”

  Automatically, Ken stiffened at her words. What had Beverly done to make Sam go on this much? Sure, he’d figured she’d been playacting for Jose, but he didn’t know if she did now. Sam didn’t appear injured, but he could’ve missed something. Or, it could’ve all been mental.

  Then, the best thing happened. In between her pretend whining and sobbing, she lightly kissed his neck. Enough to tell him she still playacted. She must suspect someone down the hall listening. He wanted it over, because even knowing her emotions weren’t real, it sliced into him that she could be that pained by a woman she’d called friend.

  Taking advantage of her sham outburst, he reached down, cupped each cheek of her butt, and pulled her close. Before she could extricate herself, he leaned toward her ear and whispered, “How much longer are you going to behave like a crazy woman and not the superior warrior you are?”

  When she leaned back, leaving little space between them, and narrowed her eyes, he silently acknowledged that’d been an unfair question if she still played a part. She unwound the weaponless arm and lifted a finger to his lips for silence. He, of course, sucked the slender digit into his mouth. What else was a guy to do in that situation? Her need for him to be quiet had been evident, but she could’ve just as easily put the finger to her lips. He liked her choice better.

  Her gaze softened and, to his satisfaction, an eager hunger clouded them. He itched to kiss her, taste her, and show her his love and desire. Without anything tangible to validate it, he knew it’d be the next best thing to heaven to be inside her. That day couldn’t get here fast enough. He’d endure any amount of pain to make her his.

  Instead of acting on his desire, Ken kept eye contact with her and focused on listening to their surroundings. Sure enough, the echo of footfalls disappeared down the hallway. Before he had a moment to speak and ask anything, she snatched her finger back, then cupped her hands behind his head, leaned up and covered his mouth with hers. Not just a peck on the lips, a deep, hungry kiss that gave him more than he could imagine.

  A low, guttural growl escaped him. That act, and not just the actual meshing of lips, had his body humming with a pent-up desire that he would unleash on her one day.

  He brought his right hand up and cupped the left side of her face with his thumb under her chin. With a moan, he pushed his tongue between her soft lips and searched hers out. The warmth and sweet taste of her nearly undid him. Their lips tangled and he took mere seconds between each stroke to fully taste her. Pain be damned.

  He had no idea if she realized how she affected him. If she had any sense—and he knew she did—she’d feel his physical need for her growing. She wasn’t a blushing virgin, so, unless she chose to remain oblivious, she’d know. Well, hell, he’d already told her so it shouldn’t matter.

  With his left hand still cupping a perfectly rounded butt cheek, he tugged her snuggly back into him, and her pleasure-filled moan sent his pulse skyrocketing.

  She wasn’t a complacent participant in the kiss. No, she brought heat and lifted onto the balls of her feet to meld them closer. When her tongue dominated his, the heat shooting to his groin, raced.

  Even though he tried to remain aware of his surroundings, this woman took everything from him without asking. Their bodies snug against the other and their lips fused together drove his anticipation, dreaming of the time they would be able to continue without an audience.

  Audience. He jerked his senses back to their surroundings. His chest heaving and his heart racing faster than a race car in the Daytona 500, he pulled away from their kiss and dropped his forehead to hers. Seeing her delicious breasts heave, he pressed a light kiss to her temple, took a deep breath, looked up, and prayed for the strength needed to see them escape alive.

  Falling into a loose embrace, they didn’t speak right away. After longer than he’d have wanted to wait, he asked, “Are you okay?” He’d wanted to run his hand through the strands of her hair, but she’d obviously been provided a brush to restrain her hair in a ponytail holder again, and based on the minty taste of her mouth a toothbrush to freshen up. Why then did Beverly send her back?

  “I’m fine.” Her eyes misted and that had him stiffening. Was that a woman’s “I’m fine” that men had to be concerned about? “I’m so sorry.”

  Her statements didn’t get better as she said them. In fact, concern laced its way through his thoughts. Cautiously, he asked, “Sorry for what?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t see this coming from Bev.”

  One notch of his stress level reduced. “Let’s sit down and talk.”

  She nodded, keeping her gaze averted. He’d rectify her guilty feelings. In no way would he hold her responsible for that maniac’s behavior.

  As they shuffled to the cot then sat facing each other, she nodded to his food tray which lay on the ground near the door. “You didn’t eat much or drink your water?” she asked. “You know we need to stay hydrated. I drank as much as I could with Bev.”

  If it’d only been that easy for him. He needed fluids—badly. That bottle would not touch his lips. “Drugged.”

  As she indelicately dropped back on the cot they’d somehow managed to squeeze on together to sleep, she shoved the knife into a boot sheath and focused her gaze on him. “What?” Her disbelief once again validated that he could trust her.

  Nodding, he managed to sit without collapsing in a heap beside her. “Pinprick hole near the top of the bottle.”

  “That bastard.”

  Bastard? Not bitch? He had to have missed something because her vehement response left no doubt in her statement. “What?”

  “Alejandro,” she spat out. Reaching over, she took his left hand into her soft right one. Absently stroking the back of it with her other hand, she continued. “He oversaw your meal prep. I thought he’d been gone as long as he had to give Bev and me time. Now, I see that hadn’t been the case.” She squinted at the tray mostly full of food. “What did you eat?”

  The only thing he thought safe. “The tortillas. After the water, I wasn’t too trusting.”

  “Hopefully tonight,” she started, “it’ll be better.”

  He squeezed her hand. “How can you say that?”

  Gazing at each other, warmth flooded him at the glow that overtook her face. Her excitement and triumph were there for the world to see. “Bev and I came to an understanding.” She reached into her pants pocket and extracted a bronze key that looked similar to the cell door key.

  Quick as lightning, he swooped in and gave her a light kiss. It took all his will to pull back and keep the important conversation on track. He wanted nothing more than to devour her lips and make her his. He needed to escape to do just that. “You’re amazing.”

  He reached out for the key, but her next words froze his movement and his optimism. “She’ll keep hurting you until you give up Jesse because she wants the two of you here at the same time to torture then kill. I assured her that no matter what, you wouldn’t bring Jesse into danger. So, I agreed to get that information from you.”

  His hand froze, his heart stuttering a beat.

  She quickly added, “It’s a ruse.”

  He searched her gaze, only finding warmth. “Okay. Tell me.”

  “We’re escaping tonight.”

  21

  “Tonight?” Ken asked. Hope laced his voice, but leeriness
reigned. Then he shook his head. “It’ll be too dark in the jungle. With all the overgrowth, little to no moonlight shows through. Remember we used NVGs and a GPS on the way in. Beverly’s goons confiscated all of it. We’d be flying blind in the pitch-black.”

  Biting the corner of her lower lip, Sam silently agreed. She’d been so caught up in their chance to be free, she hadn’t considered the risk of leaving at night. She’d only thought that the darkness would allow them to slip by the tower guard unnoticed. But if they did and ran into a predator—two- or four-legged, or even slithering—while unarmed, they might not make it home.

  “Before we talk about escape,” Ken said, “tell me how you managed to get a key. I saw you lift your boot knife from the guard, but he’d have noticed if the key had gone missing since he needed it to lock the door.”

  She smiled with pride since she’d caught something he’d missed. Not that he wouldn’t have caught it eventually, but she did first. “Haven’t you noticed that the door has an automatic lock? They only need the key to open it. It locks automatically when closed.”

  He furrowed his brow as if searching his memory to substantiate her claim. The look on his face tickled something in her stomach. He exuded strength and hard resolve. Yet she knew he also had a softer side that drew her. The man with the combined attributes, plus the warrior with the willingness to extend mercy to those who deserved it, made up one hell of a man.

  How had she ever even considered that he could’ve acted so maliciously? Like when Lance had been his subordinate, the HIS agents were under his command. If one of them died in the line of duty, she wouldn’t blame him. She’d blame those who killed the man or woman she’d come to respect.

  Seeing what that hate and misplaced blame had done to her friend, Sam was glad she’d wised up before it’d been too late. Watching Bev and the ugliness that had resided inside her for so long made her heart ache for her friend.