by Sheila Kell
Devon wiped his hand down his face, ignoring the tinge of dried blood in his hand and refocused on the wall. If he shifted on the ledge, to an area about two feet deep, there appeared to be more options for grips. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, which burned across his ribcage, he slid sideways.
Inspiration struck. The personal locator beacon he’d brought with them. “Yes!” Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out the yellow piece of equipment, glad he’d sprung for the model with attached GPS so they’d know within 200 feet instead of three miles. He activated it and set it on the ledge like he’d been instructed.
He wouldn’t just sit here and wait. He had to try to get out of his situation. Getting to Rylee—to save her—was foremost on his mind. Thinking of what they could do to her in his delay sent another rush of adrenaline crashing through his system.
Again he stepped up to find a foothold, then a hand one. With hands slick with perspiration, one slipped, jolting his senses to the severity of a mistake. His heart pounded at the desperate need to get up that wall. He was all she had and she counted on him to save her.
After a couple of deep breaths, he looked for his next handhold, unable to get the image of Rylee in the hands of that asshole out of his mind. She was a strong woman, but she didn’t have a chance against a man that large and with a gun.
Straining and stretching to reach the next handhold, he missed and slid back down the wall. No! It’d been the closest place to grab hold but had been too far. There was no damn way up the wall! He’d have to wait for rescue. Time he didn’t want to lose.
Pissed at his failure and the delay in saving Rylee, he pounded his fists against the wall in rage. Pain radiated through his head, originating at the spot where a rock had fallen and slammed into him. He reached his hand to the spot on his head, moaned at the painful touch, swayed and dropped on his ass, temporarily disoriented. Fighting nausea and an overwhelming dizziness, he leaned back against the cliff wall so he didn’t accidentally slide over the ledge.
“Rylee,” he whispered, his heart breaking at the thought that he might’ve lost her.
That was when another rock dropped, but after this one hit his head, he slumped to the side and fell into unconsciousness.
ROBERT CARVER INHALED the succulent scent of bacon and whatever else the chef was preparing for breakfast. He hadn’t had a guest in a long time, at least one who didn’t stay overnight anyway. And the timing of the call couldn’t have been more perfect.
“Mission accomplished,” Chuck informed him, and sweeter words hadn’t been heard in months.
“She’s unharmed?” Examining his manicure, what he did to remain focused, he tamped down his excitement.
“Yeah. She’s fine. I had to drug her because she fought like a woman possessed after the man she was with went over the cliff.”
He considered the impact of that action. Not only had the FBI trained her, but also, she’d just watched her husband die, medicating her was probably the best thing for everyone. He’d dry her out in time for her new home. Decision made, he ordered, “Keep her out until you get her to Belize. Go to the private airport and I’ll have a helicopter ready for you in two hours. You know the rest of the itinerary.”
“You’re gonna owe me more money. Frank died.”
Disbelief at the audacity of this menial worker flashed. “I’m sorry to hear that, but we have an agreement, and I expect you to honor it.”
“Then I’m not bringing the girl. I’ll sell her myself.”
A heavy sigh escaped him. He hated being the bad guy sometimes. “No, you won’t for two reasons. You don’t have the contacts and I’ll have you killed. Then I’ll go after that sweet piece you meet up with at the motel once a week.” At the hesitation on the other end of the line, Robert knew he’d hit a nerve. Little did Chuck know that his brother, Frank, had let that bit of information slip.
“All right. We’ll be there.”
“Good man. Two hours. Let me remind you that there is no sampling of the merchandise and there had best be zero marks on her. Do I make myself clear?”
The kitchen was quiet and he glanced at his watch. The meal would be right on schedule. One more minute here—
“It’s clear.”
He ended the call and turned to the woman sitting on his gray suede couch, a broad smile on his face. “Devon Hamilton is no more.”
“I thought you liked him,” she asked in that soft, sensual voice that made him almost forget his preference in partners.
Holding out a hand to her, he raised his brows in question. She accepted it and stood. “I did like him. However, I knew one day he’d be back. Too much of a fucking bleeding heart.” They ventured to the dining room where a large table, seating twelve, held two place settings at one end. Walking to their chairs, he inspected the crisp white tablecloth for flaws. He tolerated no errors from others. Those who had survived one of his tirades knew that. This was the chef’s job interview, so he should have heard that even presentation counted with him.
They settled into their seats and dug into the fare. Robert chewed methodically, enjoying the flavors as they burst on his tongue.
“Are we going to Belize?” his companion asked between bites.
He nodded. “Yes. I should’ve sent you already since I shipped several girls that way. I fly out in a few hours and expect you with me to take care of them like before.”
“That doesn’t give me time to pack.”
“I’ll buy you what you need when we’re there. You’ll need to buy clothes for the girls anyway.” He found having a woman do the shopping for young girls was less conspicuous than an older gentleman doing it. This woman also kept the girls in line. He didn’t even begin to examine how she could work for him with what he did, but she was his most trustworthy employee.
She shrugged. “Okay.”
That resolved, they ate in silence. As soon as she laid down her napkin, someone appeared to remove the plates and they stood.
“Do you think Devon knew about me?” his companion asked.
“Doubtful or I think we’d have had more trouble.” He smiled confidently “I don’t think you have to hide anymore, Jackie.”
SNATCHES OF A rotating noise met her ears, but she couldn’t fully wake up to explore its origin. Maybe the annoying sound would leave her be. Wait, what’s that jarring? Her heart pounded rapidly against her breastbone, tapping out her confusion and fear. Were they… flying in a helicopter?
With extreme difficulty, she lifted her eyelids a fraction and saw the interior of the bird and Chuck beside whom she presumed was the pilot because she wouldn’t believe Chuck could fly a damn thing. She slipped her lids closed again at the excruciating pain in her heart. If she was really with Chuck, it wasn’t a nightmare and that mean Devon was really…. She gulped and, against her will, her eyes watered with unshed tears. She couldn’t bring herself to even think the words.
They’d had so little time together, and every moment he’d made it count. He’d been patient with her every step of the way, even when she’d pushed back with her stupid reasons for them not being together.
His touch had done such wonderful things to her, and not just in a sexual way, although that way rocked. Everything about Devon made her feel alive and happier than she’d ever thought possible.
A tear slipped down past her temple. Her heart nearly burst from the pent-up agony welling there. He’d done everything right to make their marriage work, and she’d wasted so much time fighting it.
And then, he’d gone and done something even more special—he’d told her that he loved her. Why hadn’t she given him the same precious gift? Because it took losing him to realize what you’d been feeling was truly being in love. No longer would she have the opportunity to tell him that she loved him. She would never recover what time they’d had in Vegas, but she’d never forget a moment of their time in the Colorado Mountains.
Floating on whatever had been injected into her system, she allowed herself t
o slip into blissful oblivion where her heart wasn’t in bloody shreds, and she could dream Devon was alive and by her side.
WHEN Rylee’s eyes fluttered open next, a light smoky haze floating near her and swirled around when more joined it in a whoosh, making her wonder where she was this time. She sniffed and confirmed it was cigarette smoke. That meant Chuck must be around since his hands and clothing reeked of the scent when she’d been held up against him.
Groggily, the realization that she was flying on a plane, but not in the helicopter, hit her. She imagined since she was lying flat on her back and someone was smoking, that it wasn’t a commercial flight and crew. In the bad guy business, when was it ever?
Her head throbbed with what she assumed was an aftereffect of the drug in her system. She was so pissed she wanted to spit, but her mouth was dryer than a desert. That fucking bastard had stuck a needle into her neck at the ranch.
While wanting to extract a pound of flesh as revenge, she couldn’t dwell upon it. Escape had to be her top priority. Escape and hopefully, along the way, find the girls. Chuck would probably spill the beans if she gave him enough lead rope, and she’d know everything necessary to bring in the cavalry. The biggest piece she needed was where they were headed.
First, she had to assess her full situation. Wiggling her hands to find them unbound, a soft moan built in her throat and slipped past her lips before she could halt it.
“Ah, you’re awake,” that fucking sinister voice she’d come to loathe said. “Let me put this on speaker.”
Turning on her side, her brows knitted on their own accord. What kind of torture did he have in mind now? He’d already made sure she watched her husband die. Grief, deep and desolate, grabbed her and held on, squeezing, making her want to curl into a ball and wallow in the misery and loneliness. Tears pricked her eyes and threatened to escape. No! She strengthened her resolve, trying desperately to ignore her broken heart. Right now, I have to escape.
Closing her eyes and forming fists to control her inner turmoil, she breathed a sigh of relief when clarity rode back into her spirit. As much clarity as she could muster with remnants of the drug still in her system.
“Since we can’t sell her, grab the sister,” he said, looking directly at her. “This one owes us since her husband took Frank over the ledge.”
A snort almost escaped. She thought he didn’t care about Frank. Whoa, wait a minute, sister? Did he mean… no! Not Maddie.
“We got a problem there, boss. She’s gone.”
“Just grab her when she comes out of wherever she’s gone to, idiot.” He placed a hand over the mouthpiece area and spoke to her, “You just can’t get good help nowadays.”
Somehow she imaged Carver, or whoever was in charge, said the same thing about him. She’d feed his ego later if that worked. News on Maddie was too important to interrupt.
“I mean gone, as in disappeared. All we know is that some muscle guy came in yesterday, told me to back the fuck off, and no one has seen her since.”
“No one just fucking disappears!” he roared. “They’re just holed up. Probably someone she’s fucking.”
“I don’t think so. The concierge says she went on a trip.”
Rylee slowly pulled herself to a sitting position, a monumental task considering the dizziness that assailed her. All the while she wore a wide smile on her face. Only one thing came to mind—HIS. In her heart, she knew Kate sent someone for her sister.
Shit! Max and Angel. Taking a breath, she relaxed that thought. If Kate knew they were missing, she had to have visited the cabin and therefore would’ve fed the animals.
“Find her,” Chuck said in anger, then ended the call and took a long drag of a cigarette. “Your sister traveling somewhere?”
She snorted. Two could play twenty questions. She’d been trained to interrogate and could outmaneuver him all day long. “Where are we going?”
Narrowing his eyes, he took another hit of his cigarette. He nodded. “Okay, I give to you and you give to me.”
Slowly, she dipped her head in agreement, knowing by his going first, he had no expectation she’d gain her freedom. “Okay, where are we going?”
“Belize.” He shrugged. Pointing his finger at her, he asked the stupidest fucking question she’d ever heard, if he had any expectation of her answering truthfully. “Now, where is your sister?”
“How the fuck should I know?” She added to his ire by smiling as sweetly as she knew how. That hadn’t been her plan, but she hadn’t contained her anger at him for his part in her losing Devon.
“Why you little bitch!” He jumped from the seat and halted at the fast approach of a uniformed man. The flight attendant maybe? So, maybe they were on a charter flight and not the big boss’s plane. That could work to her benefit. She wondered what he told them about her being unconscious.
“I told you, no smoking, sir.”
“Fuck you,” Chuck tossed out but crushed his cigarette in the saucer extended in the hand of the attendant. “Now, leave us alone.”
The man, with incredibly green eyes, looked solemnly at her before returning to the front of the small jet, and discarded cigarette in hand.
“Who do you work for? Robert Carver?” she asked before he’d regained his footing.
His head whipped around to her. “Who told you?”
Yep, she was working with an idiot. She wiped the grit out of her eyes and covered a fake yawn. “I’m tired. Mind if I go back to sleep?”
An evil grin with a big splash of tobacco-stained teeth sat eerily on his face. “Oh, I’ve been told to watch out for any tricks from you. I don’t know how you got away before, but you won’t this time. You get the shot, right on schedule.” He walked to the sideboard and picked up a needle, testing it.
Her breathing hitched and panic rushed in wave after wave, flooding her senses. Okay, not a complete idiot. Her mind screamed, “No more drugs.” While she couldn’t escape from the plane while it was in the air, she needed to be prepared when it landed. Scrambling to her feet, Rylee immediately reached out to steady herself while shaking her head to clear the fog that still resided from her last dose.
If she could make it, she’d hide in the bathroom the entire trip. Anything but having a shot, but her feet weren’t cooperating. She’d played her card before her body was ready to be a part of the act.
“Bernard!” Chuck shouted.
Caught for a moment wondering who the hell this person was, she froze. A big mistake. While the flight attendant’s eyes apologized, he grabbed her and held her tight for Chuck to inject her. All she could do was slowly shake her head in disbelief. It couldn’t keep happening.
Shot administered, Bernard released her and she slid to the floor, her legs nothing but rubber. “No,” she pleaded as the effects washed through her veins, making everything blur out of focus… her vision… her mind… and, ultimately, her world.
AGONY WRACKED DEVON’S body from head to toe with every muscle aching deep down to the bone. He strained to open his eyes, trying to figure out where he was. When sunlight glinted through the tiny slits he’d created, he snapped them closed and moaned with the sharpness of the pain to his head from that brief burst of light. Reaching his hands up to hold his head, he sucked in a deep breath at the sharp twinge in his back when he shifted. What the hell had happened?
His heartbeat nearly stopped and his eyes flew open at the jolt of realization. Rylee! Good God, they had her. He had to save her.
Christ, how long had he been out? His head throbbed mercilessly. A rock. That’s right—
“Hello down there.”
He snapped his head up, crying out at the sharp pain. Someone was on the upper cliff ledge. Friend or foe? Hell, stupid ass, a foe wouldn’t call out first. At least, probably not. Staggering to his feet, he took an experimental step and bit back the cry at the sharp twinge in his ankle. It wouldn’t stop him. “Down here.” He waved an arm so the head poked over the top of the cliff could see him.
&n
bsp; “I’m with Rocky Mountain Rescue. Just hang tight while I tie a line.”
Like he could do much fucking else. After his near-death experience and then braining himself, he would let the experts get him out of this. But, when it came to Rylee, he wouldn’t wait at the command center.
“I thought you guys worked in Boulder,” he said as a chill crept into his bones.
The guy tossed a rope over the cliff, the end landing beside him. “We do. I was out here on vacation and heard the call come in and volunteered to assess for them.”
Not really knowing the workings of these groups, or the area, Devon had to take his word that things were as should be.
“Name’s Steven,” he said. “Looks like you picked one hell of a spot to view the mountains.”
Devon couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, and I’m done with it.”
“Are you injured?” Steven narrowed his eyes. “Your face looks like it took one hell of a beating. Ain’t my business how you got here.” He shrugged. “I just need to know how we’re going to get you out. Do we need a helo or can you climb? I’ll help pull you up.”
Shaking his head and holding back the wince at the pain, Devon said, “No helo. Help me up that wall and we’re good.” He didn’t need a lift for a body probably just covered in black and blue bruising.
Steven surveyed him, appearing to want to do more, but eventually deciding to just help Devon up the wall.
He made the grueling walk upward with his savior pulling the rope, all the while fighting hard not to think of what would happen if his hands slipped.
Taking a deep breath of freedom at the cliff top, Devon’s heart sped up with his need to chase after his wife. His patience wore thin at the constant chatter Steven kept up, and his slowly cleaning up his equipment. “Here’s a bottle of water. I’m sure you’re probably dehydrated.”
