“Mutt?”
“We have to call him something.”
“Well, not Mutt.”
Her pout was mulish and he wanted to kiss it off. Maybe he’d get that chance later. He started arranging crates into a makeshift fort.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a safe hiding place for us.”
“I can help.”
Together, they stacked the boxes into an L shape in the corner, using the back and side walls as support for the structure, leaving just enough room in the back to slide through. They stacked the boxes that were full on the bottom and they made sure to stack them haphazardly, so it didn’t look like anyone would be able to hide among the stacks.
After searching the basement, Sawyer found a sheet of plywood. He placed it on top of the second level of crates, then stacked more on top so if anyone came looking, it would look like a solid block of boxes. Then he cut some cardboard boxes apart and placed them on the ground for them to lie on. Once the structure was complete, he placed the bags of food and supplies, along with his backpack into their cozy cubby.
“Go ahead and climb inside. I’m going up for a few more supplies.”
Harlow reached for him. “No, Sawyer, I don’t want you to go back up.”
“I’ll be careful,” he promised. He wanted to see if there were any flashlights or lanterns. They couldn’t keep the light on and there was no telling how long they’d even have electricity. Plus, blankets would be nice.
He was careful before he entered the main part of the store, checking for any other people. It was a matter of time before the store was looted, much like what he was doing. If there were other survivors out on the streets, they would need to feed themselves. He’d spent his whole adult life upholding the law and here he was, breaking it. But desperate times, and all that.
With the glass gone, he could hear all the sounds of sirens and gunfire still ringing out. Smoke was thick and clogged the space. It made the air heavy and kept the stench of death strong. He found a shelf of lanterns and flashlights and picked up packages of batteries. There were no blankets in the store, but he discovered some in a room behind the cash register that looked like a break room for employees. And what was that propped against the wall? It looked like a sniper rifle. Maybe the owner used it to keep shoplifters in check?
He grabbed the weapon and slung it over his shoulder.
Just as he was about to leave the room, he spotted movement outside. He jerked back, praying he wasn’t spotted. He chanced a look to see a man dressed in black fatigues peering in the holes that used to be windows. The man turned and yelled something to a friend and Sawyer caught something about raiding the cash register. His only hope was to crawl along the wall and try to stay hidden.
With the bag of goods and the shotgun over his shoulder, he crouched down and crawled along the back aisle. He was almost to the door when he heard voices enter the store. Sweat coated his forehead. As quietly as possible, he crawled into the storage room, heaving a sigh of relief when no bullets were fired. He eased the basement door open, locked it back and flew down the steps.
Harlow was standing with Mutt in her arms. “We need to hide,” he told her. “There are troops inside now.”
Once Harlow and Mutt slid into their makeshift hiding place, he clicked off the overhead light, plunging the room into total darkness. His heartbeat pounded and more sweat broke out. His hand shook as he snapped on a flashlight and his legs were unsteady as he made his way inside.
“I hope Mutt can keep quiet or we’re as good as dead.”
Chapter Nine
Once Sawyer snapped off the light and they were enveloped in darkness, Deva started shaking again. Or maybe it was her. What if they were discovered? Sawyer had a gun, but it was no match against a mob armed with assault rifles.
Sawyer plopped down beside them, his flashlight illuminating the enclosed space. Though she was scared, her first thought was of him. “Are you okay with the darkness, Sawyer?”
He’d told her of his past, of having been kidnapped as a child. The Oldham Kidnapping. She remembered hearing about it years ago. He’d been forced to hunker down in a cold, dark basement for days. It would only make sense that he would be uneasy in the dark now.
He scoffed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He swiftly changed the subject. “Is that you or Mutt doing the shaking?”
Both. “It’s Deva.”
“What’s a diva?” Sawyer asked. “Is that some kind of medical condition?”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, she smiled. “The dog. I named him Deva.”
“Hate to tell you, babe, but the dog’s male. Unless you want him to have inferiority issues with other dogs, you can’t call him a diva. That’s just mean.”
“Not diva, Deva. You pronounce it like the name Dave with an ‘a’ at the end. It means male divine energy.”
She thought she heard him mutter, “you’ve got to be kidding me,” and she smiled again.
“I like it. It’s powerful. Fit for a survivor. And Deva is definitely a survivor.”
“Still a sissy name,” Sawyer grumbled. “What’s wrong with Bruiser or Rambo or Chopper?”
She rolled her eyes at him, not that he could see the gesture. The names were pure alpha. Deva was sweet. Peaceful. “Does he look like any of those to you?”
“Well he sure as hell doesn’t look like a diva.”
“Deva,” she emphasized again.
“I’m calling him Mutt.”
She opened her mouth to argue when a loud bang sounded, stunning her into silence. Sawyer swiftly arranged boxes to totally close them in and snapped off his flashlight, enveloping them in total darkness. He pulled her close to his side. They were well hidden, but she was worried Deva might inadvertently give away their hiding spot.
She needn’t have worried. With Sawyer close, Deva snuggled against him and promptly settled down. She didn’t blame him. Sawyer’s calm, competent strength calmed her, too.
They’d stacked the crates two deep but there was the smallest of cracks that provided a limited view. Somehow, a rifle had materialized and Sawyer positioned it through the hole, but back enough that it wouldn’t be spotted. He’d also placed his handgun close in case it was needed. She really, really hoped it wasn’t.
The space was small, intimate. They didn’t have enough boxes or crates to make the area too large, so there was just enough room for the two of them, Deva and the bags of supplies Sawyer had pilfered from the destroyed shop. Under different circumstances, she wouldn’t mind spending a day or seven holed up with Sawyer like this. They could eat and talk and make love for hours. Her head snapped back. What was she doing having fantasies about Sawyer naked when they were in danger?
When the door swung open and then the light blinked on, she held her breath. Sawyer rubbed his hand along her arm, comforting her. The other hand he kept trained on the trigger. She prayed he didn’t need to pull it. Seeing one dead body was one too many, in her opinion, and she’d seen more than that lying on the floor upstairs.
Heavy footsteps tromped down the stairs and then the overhead light was flicked on. Deva’s ears perked up, but he didn’t make a peep. Her dog was smart…he understood the gravity of the situation.
Her dog? She didn’t know when she began to think of him as hers, but she wasn’t abandoning him. Her apartment building in New York was very exclusive and expensive, thanks to her family connections, and it didn’t allow pets. She’d have to figure that out later. If she needed to move, she would. The apartment was luxurious and beautiful, with sweeping views of Central Park, but there was nothing tying her to it…or to the City.
She’d always loved the energy and the spirit of New York. She could get lost there, be herself instead of a member of one of the most prestigious families in the country. People left her alone and she was able to pursue her passions without hassle.
For the first time since she’d been injured, she thought about Valeria. The wom
an had pretended to be a friend and then stabbed her in the back…literally. Well, more her side, but it was close to her back. How had she not seen the woman for the snake she was? Granted, she’d only known her for about two weeks. Still, she was usually a better judge of character. To think the woman acted like a friend and then was willing to serve her up to God knows what kind of fate was a hard pill to swallow.
She was terrified for Carmen. She’d coerced her into making the trip to Coslos and then basically abandoned her to save her own neck. What was Carmen going through right now? Were they harming her? Acid burned in her gut at the thought. She needed to get in contact with her and somehow get her away.
Voices pulled her from her thoughts and she concentrated on what the men were saying in Spanish. There were at least two, one telling the other to search the space. That man saying it was nothing but an empty wine cellar. The other man’s next words had her heart race. He said to find out what was in the boxes.
Sawyer squeezed her arm, letting her know he understood what the man said and then he took his hand from the rifle and picked up his handgun. Deva was alert but silent. When the footsteps grew closer and then stopped in front of their hiding space, she closed her eyes and said a prayer.
The sound of boxes being opened and searched, crates tossed aside seemed unnaturally loud. Their hiding space was being exposed layer by layer. What would they do when they saw the plywood? And if Sawyer had to shoot, would it bring more troops running?
Sweat coated her entire body but she felt cold as ice, even with Sawyer’s body heat warming her. If something happened to him, it would be her fault. She was the reason he was here in this foreign country, risking his life.
Something wet touched her face, causing her to jerk. Deva was comforting her, the first time he’d shown any kind of affection. He was licking her tears…she hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. If this small, mistreated creature could be brave, so could she. She scratched his ears. They would get out of this. She had to believe that.
A loud smack had her muscles tensing. “Las cajas están vacías.” The boxes are empty. She jumped again when glass shattered. One of the men cursed at dropping a bottle of wine. Despite her reactions, Sawyer didn’t chastise her. He just remained the calm, competent force at her side.
After what seemed like forever, the light clicked off and the clomp, clomp of boots ascending the stairs slowly faded away.
Harlow’s entire body slumped with relief and she started shaking uncontrollably again.
Strong arms wrapped around her. “It’s okay, Harlow. They’re gone.”
“I-I know, b-but I can’t h-help it.”
“Adrenaline dump,” he told her. “But we’re safe.”
For now, she thought. What would happen when they had to leave? As her breathing evened out and her heart rate leveled off, another thought struck. “Sawyer? What if they bomb the building? We’ll be buried alive.”
“I always thought you’d be a glass half-full kind of girl.”
“I usually am.” Unless it involved his safety. And Devas.
“There would be nothing for them to gain by bombing it. It’s just a market, no government offices. I can’t imagine they are going to destroy the entire city. There would be nothing left. Right now, we don’t have much of a choice to stay here, but it won’t be for long. We’re going to have to leave, but we’ll need to try to sneak out at night.”
“Tonight?”
“No, the fighting is too new. It’s chaos out there. We’ll give it a day to settle down. Hopefully it’ll be quieter tomorrow night and we can get out of town.”
God, she hoped so.
“Sawyer? I wasn’t as worried about Carmen when I thought she had Valeria, but knowing the other woman is a traitor, I’m scared. What if they harm her? What if they already have?”
“Don’t go glass-half-empty on me again,” he warned. “We have to believe she’s okay. She has a cell?”
“Yes.”
“We can try to call her on my satellite phone. It can’t be traced.”
Hope flared in her. “Can I call her now?”
Sawyer scooted away and moved the boxes that closed them inside so he could sit with his back against the wall, the only way he could do so without banging his head on the plywood. He clicked on the lantern and dug in his backpack. Deva roused and crawled to the bag, sniffing eagerly. “You hungry, Mutt?”
“Deva,” she corrected.
“We’re gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Harlow.”
She sighed. “Fine, we’ll come up with another name.”
He powered up his phone and handed it to her. “Thank you.” Her fingers froze on the buttons and dread washed over her. “I don’t know her number.” At his look, she added, “it’s programmed into my phone, so I didn’t memorize it.”
“How did you call my phone?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. How did she admit that she’d memorized his number from staring at his business card? “It stuck with me,” she lied. “I wasn’t sure it was the right number until you picked up.” He bought the response and nodded. “What am I going to do now?”
Chapter Ten
Sawyer knew there was more to the reason she knew his number, judging by the adorable red tinge to her cheeks, but he didn’t press for an answer. He took the phone from her and punched in a number. “Hey Tyler.”
“Sawyer? Are you okay? Grant told us what’s going on.”
“We’re safe for now. I need you to get a cell number for me. Carmen…” He looked at Harlow. “Brown,” she supplied, and he relayed the information. “Do you know her address?”
“40th Street in New York City.”
“Thanks, Ty. I’ll check in again soon.” He disconnected and dialed the number Tyler rattled off before handing Harlow the phone.
She put it to her ear and frowned. “It went directly to voice mail.”
He wasn’t surprised. The phone lines often got tangled when a disaster hit. “They might’ve destroyed all the towers in the area. We can try again later.”
Just as she started to hand it back to him, it shook. She gasped and dropped it. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” He picked it up to see Grant’s name on the screen. “Grant, are you two safe?”
“Yeah, we were able to commandeer a vehicle.” That meant they stole one. “We made it to the airport and flew the plane out of the country. We’ve secured another vehicle and we’re heading back to get you.”
“Don’t get too close to the city yet. The fighting is still raging.”
“Yeah, about that, Sawyer. It’s bad. Dominar has taken over.”
“Damn. That is bad.” Dominar was one of the deadliest, most violent drug cartels in the world. Their name said it all. Dominate. They made headlines last year when they stormed a high school and lined up students, executing them while filming the bloodbath. It was a message to their rival cartel, who had children attending the school.
Dominar was known for their brutality. If they were taking over, God help the people of Coslos.
“I thought their leader was captured.”
“He was, but the minions took over. The government announced to the world their hard stance on drugs. They proclaimed they were cracking down on the cartels but word on the street is that the president was in bed with Dominar’s rival, Victor11.”
“So, while he preached to the people that he was cleansing the streets, he was really paving the way for Victor11 to take over.”
“Exactly.”
“Damn. Bad time to visit Coslos.”
“No kidding. Where are you two?”
“We’re holed up in the basement of a building right now. We’ve got supplies. We’re going to stay through tomorrow and hope the fighting dies down. We’ll venture out tomorrow night when it gets dark.”
“Keep us posted so we can arrange a place to exfil.”
“Are they safe?” Harlow asked when he disconnected.
“Yeah. They
made it to the plane and flew it out of the country. They’re heading back in a vehicle.”
“What did he say that was bad?”
He debated on how much to tell her, but she had the right to know. Her safety was at stake. “The revolt is being led by Dominar.”
A hand flew to cover her mouth. “That’s bad. I read the story the Wall Street Journal wrote about them. They’re ruthless.”
“Yeah.”
Mutt was still sniffing at his backpack, swiping an ineffectual paw at the canvas. Poor thing was starving. He should have fed him first thing. He dug in to the bags of supplies he’d filched from the store, including the combination food and water bowl. He opened a bottle of water and poured some into one of the bins. Mutt attacked it, drinking greedily, his little pink tongue lapping up water as fast as possible. He found the bag of dog food and added it to the other side. Mutt sniffed it, decided it smelled good and pounced, crunching loudly.
“Don’t eat too fast, Deva,” Harlow chastised. “You’ll get a tummy ache.”
Deva. What the hell kind of name was that for a dog? “About that name…”
“What about it?”
“You’re going to turn him into a sissy before he fills his belly.”
“Oh my gosh, no.”
At his raised eyebrow, she grumped, “Fine. We’ll each supply names until we can agree on one. I pick Deva.”
“Nix. Mutt.”
“No. Raphael.”
He played dumb. “Seriously? You want to name him after a mutant ninja turtle?”
She chuckled. “The painter.”
“Nada. Montana.”
“Oh, are you from there?”
“After one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time.”
“Oh, then no. Pablo.”
“Let me just stop this right here. If you’re going to name every painter who ever lived, I’m going to give a big blanket veto.”
She huffed adorably. “Well, if you are going to name every sports star, right back at you.”
He smiled and took a drink from the bottle of water. Would they have this much trouble when they named their kids?
Hunted Page 9
