Dancing with Fire

by Susan Kearney

  Asad sneered. “We need him to interpret the data.”

  “You don’t need her. Release her, and I’ll help you,” Sawyer insisted as Asad’s men picked him up from the floor, looping their arms through his bent elbows.

  “You’ll help us anyway. And she’s our insurance.” Asad smacked her once again across the cheek, then glared at Sawyer as one of the men freed him from the chair, then recuffed his hands behind his back. “With your woman in danger, you will work harder for us. Now no more talking. We go.”

  So Asad would threaten her safety to keep Sawyer in line. The rage apparent in Sawyer’s eyes convinced her that Asad’s tactic would work.

  She prayed Asad would take Sawyer’s cell phone with him so the sheriff’s office could trace their location, but Asad tossed the phone into the garbage. “Move out. We haven’t much time.”

  Damn. They wanted the data interpreted. But it was all fabricated. And if they found out, they would no longer have a use for either of them, since they didn’t have the real data.

  Face burning from Asad’s slaps, she wobbled to her feet. His man grabbed her, thrust her into the corridor and out the back door onto a side street. Ybor City’s main streets were well lit for club goers and tourists, but many restaurants backed up to dark alleys that reeked of old beer, garbage, and trash.

  No one appeared to notice as the men pushed them into the van. They rode east for several minutes. Then the van stopped in a warehouse parking lot. At this time of night, the area was deserted.

  The men jerked them out of the van, and within moments a helicopter landed, and they forced her and Sawyer onto the floor of the chopper. Sawyer bent his head to hers, and she hoped the others couldn’t hear them as the rotors cut the night air, and the engines roared during takeoff.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  No. “Yeah,” she lied. Her cheeks were on fire, her neck ached, and she’d never been more scared in her life.

  She reached back to one of his cuffed wrists and slipped her hand into his, taking comfort in the contact. These men with their cold eyes and stares frightened her. They had no right to steal her father’s work. No right to kidnap her sister. And now Kaylin and Sawyer.

  “Any idea where they’re taking us?”

  “Let’s hope it’s not out of the country.”

  God . . . If they transferred to a plane, and these men took them all the way to the Middle East, they would stand little chance of ever coming home.

  Kaylin tried to look on the positive side. Lia was free, and Kaylin wasn’t alone. She had Sawyer, and she couldn’t imagine facing her captors alone. Couldn’t imagine how she would have handled this whole situation without Sawyer’s calm strength to support her. She’d never had anyone to rely on before, not since her mother had died, anyway. She’d been the one that her family looked to for support. But now Sawyer had stepped in . . . and she liked him beside her, liked that he’d helped her when her actions had placed them all at risk. His precautionary measures had alerted Deputy Bryant to their difficulties. Her cell phone’s GPS system would confirm their last location.

  But Kaylin couldn’t ignore the clammy fear in her gut. They’d brought her along to coerce Sawyer into giving up information—information he didn’t have. That meant he couldn’t stop them from hurting her.

  As a dancer, Kaylin was intimately acquainted with pain. She’d danced in toe shoes with bleeding feet, blisters, and open sores. She’d learned to stretch her muscles to the max, push her mind and body harder than she’d thought possible. But torture . . . the idea made her mouth go dry. For a moment she thought she might heave up lunch. But she swallowed hard.

  Told herself she was no use to them dead. They would keep her alive—if only to force Sawyer to give up the secrets they thought he knew. But she didn’t know which was worse, thinking they’d keep her alive when she wanted to die, or the possibility of them killing her when she wanted to live.

  Her entire body trembled, and a bitter taste filled her mouth. Kaylin had imagined her life going in many directions, but not once, not ever, had she thought she’d be held hostage with a man she’d come to care about.

  “Easy.” Sawyer squeezed her hand. “Trust me a little. I’ll keep us safe.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll escape and go home.”

  “They have guns. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “We have brains.”

  She pictured their brains splattered against a wall and shuddered.

  “We’re going to make it. You have to believe that.”

  She didn’t believe a word he said. And yet, the coaxing softness of his voice calmed her. Just a little.

  She’d known dancers who practiced and trained for years, then got stage fright. They forgot their choreography, froze, burst into tears. Sometimes a positive mindset helped to make a reality. If a dancer thought she was good, she jumped higher, lifted her arms with confidence, cued into the music better. A positive attitude might be exactly what she needed to get through this.

  “I’m going to make myself believe.” She spoke in a fierce whisper. One of the men eyed her bare shoulders, and Kaylin wished she had a cover-up. Reminding herself that her costume showed no more bare flesh than a bikini top and yoga pants, she raised her chin.

  “That’s the spirit,” Sawyer said with an approving nod.

  “No talking.” One of the men shoved Sawyer, who banged his head against the door. The wound on his forehead reopened and bled, but he nodded to Kaylin, reassuring her he was okay.

  He remained with his back propped against the door, and they could no longer hold hands. But she took comfort in his presence, and his glances bolstered her courage. She suspected she’d need plenty in the upcoming hours.

  It was one thing to tell herself to be brave. It was quite another to act brave.

  When the chopper set down, she had no idea where they were. She heard no city sounds. Saw no car lights. They seemed to be in the middle of a farm. Maybe a tomato or strawberry farm in Plant City or Ruskin or even Pasco County. She estimated their air time had been between ten and twenty minutes, so they hadn’t gone far.

  But when she spied the runway and small plane waiting for them, her fears almost spun out of control again. Telling herself the plane was too small to fly across the ocean didn’t help. They might take them to Mexico or South America—if they stopped to refuel.

  And even if they got away, she had no passport, no identification, no money. Her purse was back with her clothes at the restaurant.

  She had to think positive. Maybe Sawyer had his driver’s license and some cash in his wallet. And all they needed was to make it to a phone to call for help.

  Besides, maybe the plane wasn’t for them. Maybe Asad and his men intended to take off and leave them behind. From here, she and Sawyer would have a long walk back to civilization, but she’d pick a hike through farmland over whatever Asad might have planned. She prayed that he and his men would climb into the plane and leave Sawyer and her behind.

  No such luck.

  Asad’s men pushed Sawyer and her toward the runway. The plane, a twin engine, could easily seat six passengers, plus a pilot and copilot. Asad’s goons stuffed her between two men on the rear bench. Sawyer sat in front of her, beside an armed guard.

  Before liftoff, the men placed blindfolds over their eyes. Kaylin didn’t dare try to rip it off. If they’d forgotten her hands were free, maybe she’d get an opportunity to grab a gun—not that she knew how to shoot it. But how hard could it be?

  But the blindfolds told her Asad had been prepared to take her and Sawyer. She suspected that if he hadn’t grabbed her at Pasha’s, he would have come to her. She’d just made his job easier. But she’d gained Lia’s freedom, so something good had come from her actions tonight.

  Judging time with her eyes cl
osed and no visible landmarks wasn’t easy. But she figured they had flown for close to two hours before the plane bumped down on a runway. The door opened, and she smelled the ocean, heard seagulls call and waves crash on a not-so-distant shore.

  Were they in the Florida Keys? The Bahamas? Or someplace off the Georgia or Alabama coast?

  Without knowing which direction they’d flown, she had no idea of their location. And as they kept the blindfold over her eyes, she stumbled enough times to recognize sand and rough grass beneath her feet.

  Whatever their location, she didn’t hear the sounds of civilization, except one steady machine that purred louder than a car engine. A generator? After a hurricane, she’d heard many of them powering up her neighbors’ homes. But this one sounded more powerful.

  If this location required a generator, that meant they were somewhere isolated. Someplace Deputy Bryant wouldn’t easily find them.

  Kaylin stumbled and flung her hand out for balance. The men laughed at her. Hoping the movement appeared natural, she used her shoulder to nudge the blindfold up a bit.

  In the dark, she couldn’t see much but a sliver of sand and weeds along a stone path. Like that was helpful. Okay, what did she expect, a mat that said Welcome to the Bahamas?

  The good news was they hadn’t flown to the Middle East. And this climate seemed similar to Florida. Maybe a bit breezier, but that might be due to their proximity to the water. The salty tang and the sound of palm fronds rustling led her to believe they’d flown south or east, not north or west.

  That probably narrowed their location down to the Caribbean and Bahamas, or islands off the Florida coast. If Kaylin and Sawyer kept working at it, perhaps they’d learn more. Every clue was important, but she didn’t have time to see more before their guards shoved her into a room with Sawyer and slammed the door shut, leaving them alone.

  Kaylin removed her blindfold. “Your hands are still cuffed?” She untied his blindfold.

  “Yeah. I didn’t think it wise to inform them of the oversight.”

  She didn’t blame him. With a few exceptions, pretty much every comment they’d made to their captors had been answered with painful blows to her face and devastating punches to his head.

  She looked around but couldn’t see much in the dark. “I don’t think we have windows.” She felt with her hands. “Actually, there are windows, but they’ve bolted shutters over them—from the outside.”

  She bumped into a table. On top she found a kerosene lantern and a pack of matches. Quickly, she struck a match, lit the wick, and turned up the lantern. “Let there be light,” she joked.

  Their quarters could have been worse. Much worse. The room was about twelve feet by twelve feet. The floor was concrete, the walls the same. The furnishings consisted of a single bed with clean sheets, a working bathroom with a sink, toilet and shower, a table and two chairs. Above the table was a cabinet with canned food. She saw no can opener. No knives, spoons, forks. No tools or weapons.

  Sawyer, still bound, managed to shake the broken chair leg from his shirt sleeve and shove it under the mattress while she took inventory. There were no electric light switches, and she doubted the room had ever been wired for electricity. In the darkness, she’d missed spotting some open windows near the ceiling, which she could now see in the lantern light. The windows set up a cross breeze and made the temperature comfortable. But even if they could lift themselves high enough to squeeze through, a closer look revealed metal bars over the openings.

  She searched the cabinets, looking for anything that might be useful but came back empty handed. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but this room isn’t it.”

  She’d been bracing herself for torture. A long, slow death. And although those possibilities might still arise, she had a reprieve, a badly needed one. Too much fear had caused a knot in her gut that wouldn’t go away, a gnawing hollow ache that she hated to acknowledge.

  Sawyer pulled out the chair next to her with his foot and sat down. “You hungry?”

  She shook her head. The idea of food made her nauseous. Her hands trembled, and she twisted them together, trying to hide her reaction, but Sawyer noticed. “Hey. Come here.”

  She bit her lower lip. “What?”

  “Come sit on my lap.”

  How did he know how alone she felt? How the fear ate at her? Kaylin didn’t hesitate; she moved to Sawyer’s lap, placed her cheek against his chest, listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

  “This is so much better,” she admitted, snuggling against him, taking comfort in his broad chest and his powerful shoulders. But best of all was knowing that if intelligence could get them out of there, Sawyer would find a way. And meanwhile, he was good company. Not once had he criticized her for dancing at Pasha’s or said I told you so. Instead, he’d been solid. There for her.

  “Don’t give up on me.” He nuzzled her neck, whispered into her ear.

  “I should be telling you not to give up on me,” she replied, her voice shaky. “I’m scared.”

  “I know. If my hands were free, I’d knead the tightness out of your muscles.”

  As his heat seeped into her, she slowly relaxed. “I’m not scared of death. It’s the dying part. Dying painfully.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” He spoke with conviction, in a tone she’d never heard him use before.

  She tilted back her head to look up at him. “For such a man of science, you sure don’t have any evidence to back up that claim.”

  “Actually, I do.” His calm gaze twinkled as if he knew a secret. “I know what I’m capable of. Believe me.” He ducked his head, and his warm breath whispered into her ear. “We need to look around for bugs.”

  The room seemed clean enough to her. She frowned at him. “You’re worried about bugs?”

  “Not the cockroach kind. Listening devices,” he whispered again.

  She whispered back. “And what would those bugs look like?”

  “A round shiny button. Or a bit of circuitry. Extra wires protruding from nowhere.”

  Kaylin didn’t want to climb from his lap. But his strength and warmth had refueled her courage. Besides, Sawyer was brilliant. He’d already surprised her once by alerting Deputy Bryant and ensuring Lia’s freedom by thinking ahead. Perhaps she should give him a real chance, rely on him like she’d never relied on anyone before.

  He nodded. “Let’s go check out the shower and see if we have hot water.”

  Kaylin noted the way his gaze followed her around the room. Sawyer had known she was scared, but he hadn’t patronized her, hadn’t told her her fears were groundless. Instead, he’d asked her to believe in him.

  Sawyer might be a dreamer, but he was reliable, steady, and if she had to be here, there was no one she’d rather be with than him. If anyone could find a way out, Sawyer would do it. If anyone could protect her, it would be Sawyer. And if this was her last night on Earth, she wanted to spend it with Sawyer.

  Her hopes lifted, she searched under the table and bed, on top of the cabinet, and inside the bathroom. She found nothing suspicious but kept her voice very low. “Could bugs be in the pipes?”

  He followed her into the bathroom. After she turned on the sink’s faucet, he whispered, “Don’t say anything you don’t want them to hear.”

  She placed her palm on his cheek, trailed her fingers along his jaw line. “You have a beautiful face.”

  “I do?”

  She traced his features. “Strong cheekbones, intense eyes, a kind smile. But you have a soft heart—”

  “Hey, no need to insult me.”

  “And you always seem to know what I need.”

  “I wish I could do more.”

  “You’ve done plenty. You’ve given me comfort and hope. Then distracted me with your sexy body.”

  He grinned.
“Ah, so my plan is working?”

  “You really think they’re listening?”

  “Probably not. But we aren’t taking any chances.”

  She turned her back to him, shut off the water, and winked at his reflection. “I don’t have any secrets.”

  “Every woman has secrets,” he teased, and she really appreciated his efforts to keep the mood light. A heavy conversation wasn’t what she needed right now—especially if they could be overheard.

  “You want to know my secret desire?” she teased right back.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I’d like a hot shower. You think it’s safe?”

  “Probably not. But we should take one anyway.” He grinned, a sexy grin that indicated he wasn’t the least bit concerned about tomorrow. He was in the moment. More than willing to share a shower with her.

  “We?” She turned around, and he was so close, if she’d leaned forward an inch, she could have kissed him. He might be a tad sweaty, but he smelled all male, hot and sultry. And very, very interested.

  His eyes glinted with heat. “I can’t wash myself with my hands cuffed. I’ll need some help.”

  “That could be arranged.” In fact, all kinds of possibilities leaped into her mind. Sensual possibilities. Sexy possibilities. Talk about a last-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  She didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her. She should be thinking about escape. Planning how to defy their captors.

  And yet . . . she couldn’t deny herself, or him, in that moment. Besides, for all she knew, they wouldn’t make it through tomorrow. Why not live for tonight?

  With a provocative swing of her bottom, she opened the shower door. “Follow me.”

  “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

  She looked back over her shoulder. “It had better be the only offer you’ve had all day.”

  He chuckled and nuzzled her neck. “If you say so.”

  Sawyer stood with his shoulders lodged in the threshold, casually leaning against one wall. His skin bronzed, a five o’clock shadow on his jaw, he couldn’t have looked more sexy.