Heart & Soul: A Guitar Girl Contemporary Inspirational Romance (A Guitar Girl Romance Book 3)

by Hope Franke

  Callum wondered where Agent Rebani was and if he was aware of Callum’s predicament.

  He could feel Gabriele’s pulse in her wrist race as Aban Vaziri grew nearer. He didn’t speak, but held out something in his hand. A bottle. Water.

  “Can you untie us?” Callum said.

  Aban Vaziri responded by shoving the bottle in his mouth. Callum opened wide and gulped the tepid water. Aban Vaziri moved to Gabriele’s side and Callum could hear her taking long gulps.

  Aban Vaziri didn’t stay to chat. He tugged the string on the bulb, plunging them back into darkness. He used the light from his phone to guide himself out. Callum heard the click of the door lock when he left.

  “They must need us to survive the night,” Gabriele said.

  “We might wish we hadn’t.”

  It was a morbid thing to say, and Callum wished he could take the words back.

  Her voice filled the small space once again. “Tell me about Iraq.”

  He wasn’t surprised that she was asking him about that. It was something he hated to talk about, but since it looked like this was a night meant to cleanse the soul, he would make an exception.

  “I was only there for eleven months before all British troops were pulled out. I don’t have those horror stories some do of getting shot at or watching a mate die. Ironically, I hadn’t been shot until I left the army and joined MI5.

  “But I saw the effect of the war on the people. Civilians with missing limbs. Children without parents. Dead eyes, sunken from lack of water and nourishment. We tried to help the villages we passed through by handing out water and energy bars. Sometimes they cheered because we were there, and sometimes they booed and pretended to shoot with fingers folded in the shape of a gun.”

  Callum sighed. “Did we do any good by being there? I don’t know.”

  He leaned his head back so Gabriele could rest hers against his. Touching, even in this very limited way, soothed him. He felt a connection to Gabriele Baumann that went beyond his brother. It wasn’t something he could explain. It was just there, had been from the moment he’d met her if he was being honest. All the while he was trying to push her away, something else was calling her to him.

  Callum’s body sagged with exhaustion. What he wouldn’t give to be able to lie down. He craved sleep. He drifted off into shallow unconsciousness. Somewhere in the murkiness, he thought he heard an angel sing.

  Ride on a jet stream

  Fly like a kite on a string

  Drift on a daydream

  High like a bird on the wing,

  Where time doesn’t mean a thing

  ‘cause you’re lifting me high

  High above the wind and the rain

  When I need a place to go

  To free my soul

  You lift me up again

  GABRIELE’S VOICE filled the empty room, an ethereal essence lighting it with life and hope. Callum latched on to each word, soaking in the beauty of her voice, letting it caress and embrace him.

  Sooner or Later

  I feel the weight of the world on my soul

  But your love is greater

  And like gravity, it never let’s go

  Of me

  I can’t lose for trying

  ‘cause you’re lifting me high

  High above the wind and the rain

  But I need a place to go

  Lord, to free my soul

  Then you lift me up again

  THE SILENCE that descended when she stopped singing blanketed the room with something thick and warm as if a presence had entered with Gabriele’s voice. Callum’s skin broke out in bumps.

  He whispered, “That was beautiful.”

  She was beautiful. He wished he could see her face. He brought his memory of her to his mind’s eye, hoping, praying he’d get to see it once again.

  “Did you write that?” he asked.

  “No,” she said softly. “It’s my sister’s song. She went through a few dark years after her accident. Music is the Baumann family way of coping with deep pain.”

  Callum knew Gabriele was speaking from experience. “It’s good that you have that,” he said.

  “We can’t give up, Callum. There has to be a way out.”

  Callum glanced up to where the light bulb hung from the ceiling. “Maybe there is.”

  THE DOOR CREAKED open and the light snapped on. Aban Vaziri returned and this time he had company. Gabriele’s heart seized. She’d seen the scruffy face of the new guy on the news. Yameen Jabour. He wielded power in Al Qaeda. Whatever he wanted with them couldn’t be good.

  He stood in between them so she and Callum could turn their heads and see him. His piercing dark gaze zeroed in on Callum’s face. “Welcome, Mr. Jones.”

  Callum didn’t return his greeting.

  “I don’t have a lot of time, so if you’d kindly give me the information I need, we can see to your release.”

  Gabriele felt Callum stiffen behind her, but he said nothing.

  “What I need to know, Mr. Jones, is the flight details for our friend from Israel. We know he’ll be traveling on a private jet. I need to know which airport, flight number and departure time.”

  Gabriele’s breath hitched. The Prime Minister from Israel’s meeting in London was to end tomorrow. His plane was their target.

  “I don’t know,” Callum said with a low voice.

  Yameen Jabour nodded to Aban Vaziri who stepped out of Gabriele’s line of sight. A sickening crack rang out as Callum’s head flicked back sharply. A groan.

  “Callum!”

  “Let’s try this again, Agent Jones,” Yameen Jabour said calmly.

  This time Aban Vaziri produced a gun. He held it to Callum’s temple and Gabriele whimpered.

  “Still nothing?” Yameen Jabour asked. “So brave. How about this?” He nodded to Aban Vaziri who moved the barrel of the gun several centimetres and pressed it against Gabriele’s head. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Her pulse thundered loudly in her ears. Sweat broke out over her lip.

  “Are you ready to say good-bye to your girlfriend? Or rather, should I say, your sister-in-law?”

  Yameen Jabour had confirmed that they knew who Gabriele was and that she hadn’t been collateral damage in their capture of an MI5 agent.

  Aban cocked the gun.

  “Stop!” Callum said. “I’ll talk. Just put the gun down.”

  Aban took his cue from Yameen and lowered his weapon to his side.

  Callum sighed. He should resign himself to their deaths and not let the words escape his mouth. But he couldn’t let her die. “Flight 106, 16:00, Gatwick.”

  Yameen Jabour’s full lips pulled up into a humourless smile. “I hope you are telling the truth, Mr. Jones. Otherwise, the outcome will not be good for Ms. Baumann or yourself.”

  They left, plunging Gabriele and Callum into darkness.

  “Are you okay?” Callum asked.

  She let out a small, “Yes.” She was better than Callum who suffered with a wounded shoulder and a blow to the face.

  Her eyes had re-adjusted to the darkness, which was lit with only the moonlight from the window. They were in a cellar of some kind. In front of her was a row of empty shelves. She could see ring marks on the lower boards where jars of canned fruit and vegetables had once been stored.

  “If we could break that light bulb somehow,” Callum said in a whisper, “we could use the glass to cut the tape. Though I don’t know how we can reach that.”

  Gabriele glanced up. “I don’t think we can, but there’s something else we can use.” Callum faced away from the shelves so he couldn’t see what she saw, a forgotten jar of fruit at the end of one of the lower shelves. It was pushed to the back and in the corner and easy to miss. She spotted it only because of her sitting position.

  “There are shelves in front of me, Callum, and a jar. If we can reach it and break it…”

  She felt him nod. “We have to move quietly. There might be someone nearby on the other side
of that door.”

  It took a few tries before they found a rhythm, shuffling their two chairs awkwardly and slowly, back and forth, moving centimetres at a time. Gabriele broke into a sweat, and her head ached, and she could only imagine how hard it was for Callum. She at least hadn’t been shot. It felt like eternity before they reached the shelves.

  “I think I can knock it off with my feet,” Gabriele said.

  It took a huge effort to lift both of her feet to the shelf a half metre off the ground while tied to a chair. Her stomach muscles screamed as she worked to get a toe behind the jar. Its sugary juices had created an adhesive and the jar was stubbornly stuck. She kicked at it to loosen it. The jar toppled over. All she had to do now was push it over the edge.

  It rolled and landed on the cement floor with a thick thwack. Gabriele froze. She listened intently for the sound of steps approaching from the other side of the door and breathed out in relief when none came. She lowered her feet to the ground and wished she could pat out the muscle cramp in her stomach.

  The broken jar lay at her feet. The sweet scent of plums wafted up, and she breathed it in. Her stomach rolled in response. Too bad the fruit was ruined by splintered glass.

  “Bad news, Callum. They’re plums.”

  “As long as I don’t eat any, I’m fine.”

  “How are we going to get the glass?”

  “We have to tip ourselves over,” Callum said. “But first we need to situate ourselves so our hands can reach it once we’re down.”

  “That sounds unpleasant.”

  “I promise you it will be.”

  With every shuffle Gabriele’s head felt like it would explode. She grit her teeth and willed herself to do what had to be done. They had turned until they were perpendicular to the jar.

  “Ready?” Callum asked.

  “Yes.”

  They began a rocking motion that catapulted them over to their sides. Gabriele’s head smacked against the cement, and she couldn’t help but cry out a little. Callum moaned. The cold from the cement leached through her blouse and she shivered.

  Callum spoke, “We have to shift down a couple inches”

  They worked the toppled chairs toward the shelves.

  “Let me reach for the glass,” Callum said. “I’ll do the cutting.”

  Gabriele’s head pounded, and she didn’t have the strength to argue.

  “I got a piece.”

  Gabriele felt the tape tighten as Callum twisted to work the glass shard back and forth. She winced when the glass nicked her hand but kept silent. Quite suddenly the tape loosened. Gabriele’s heart leapt. It was working!

  Callum pulled the tape off their hands and they worked rapidly stripping off the tape that bound their chests and their ankles. Callum picked up the chair with his good arm and carried it to the window. He hoisted himself up and fiddled with the lock. The window didn’t budge.

  “It’s locked.”

  Gabriele felt a new wave of fear. If Aban Vaziri came back and found them like this, they’d be dead for sure.

  Callum removed a shoe and put his fist in it. Then he punched the window, breaking the glass. He broke away as many of the jagged edges as he could with the sole of the shoe before reaching down and putting it back on.

  He eased off the chair. “You first.”

  Gabriele climbed up. She counted on Callum to boost her so she wouldn’t have to put her bare hands on the window edge. There was so much glass. There was no way she could get out unscathed, but there was no time to worry about that. She held back a yelp as her skin tore, but she made it through. She turned to help Callum. The window was so small, he could barely squeeze his shoulders through. His face twisted with the pain of pushing through the sharp edges of the hole. Gabriele took his good hand and pulled. Callum landed on the ground with a huff.

  Gabriele grabbed his left hand, and they started running. They were in a rural area with a grassy meadow that extended for many kilometres. The house behind them was the only one she could see in the dim moonlight. Ahead was a forested area. If they could make it to the trees, they could hide.

  They were almost there when she heard the first shot fire. Callum yelled out and collapsed beside her, pulling her down with him.

  Gabriele grabbed at Callum’s face. Was he breathing? Was he alive? “Callum!”

  He groaned, and she whimpered with relief. “What happened?”

  “My leg.”

  Gabriele could make out the dark stain growing on Callum’s leg. She ripped off her blouse and quickly tied a tourniquet above the injury. Callum winced as she tightened it. “They’re coming, Callum. We have to keep going!”

  Gabriele helped Callum to his feet, propping herself under his arm as he limped towards the woods. Another shot was fired and Gabriele flinched.

  “Go, Gabriele! I’m slowing you down.”

  “No! I’m not leaving you. Now shut up. We don’t have time to argue.”

  They reached the trees as a third shot went off.

  She yelled, “We have to find a place to hide.”

  The forest was thick and the overlapping branches created an umbrella that blocked out the moonlight. They stumbled over exposed roots and Callum grunted with an effort to keep from shouting out in pain.

  They forged ahead blindly. Gabriele kept an arm stretched out, moving branches out of the way, making sure they didn’t get clotheslined. Her skin burned as branches scraped against her exposed midriff. She didn’t have time to think about the fact that she wore only a bra on top and had the weight of Callum’s body pressed against her. They just had to keep ahead of their pursuers.

  The ground gave way suddenly, and they tumbled down an incline. Their bodies twisted in the wet, leaf-lined forest floor. Gabriele held her breath, clinging to Callum. When they landed with a thud at the bottom, Gabriele couldn’t breathe. Leaves fell on her head and she waved at them frantically.

  Callum moaned. “Are you okay?”

  Gabriele inhaled sharply. “Yeah. Just had the wind knocked out of me.”

  “I think we’re in a hole.”

  Gabriele groped the darkness. Damp earth encircled them, beneath and on all sides. They must’ve landed in an abandoned fox lair.

  She heard voices in the distance and quickly covered the opening of the hole above with fallen leaves and twigs. As long as the men didn’t step directly on top of them they might escape detection.

  She felt Callum’s arm snake around her shoulders, pulling her close. She curled up against him, with her cheek on his chest. His breathing was shallow and labored. Her chest tightened with worry. He needed a doctor.

  The voices grew louder. The wind had picked up and a rustle through the trees covered the sound of their breathing. She spotted a beam of light through the blanket of leaves. The men were close.

  She held her breath.

  One of the men spoke. “They have to be here somewhere.”

  The beam of light grew brighter, cutting the darkness with swift strokes.

  Another voice responded. “He’s injured. They couldn’t have gone far.”

  The crunching of their footsteps grew dimmer as the men continued their search, farther on. Gabriele exhaled.

  “We need to keep going.” Callum’s voice was labored and so quiet, Gabriele almost missed it. “I have to warn my team. Tell them about the new target.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” she said. “They’re still out there, looking. They’d hear us. We have to wait.”

  But Gabriele agreed they couldn’t wait long. She worried about Callum’s injuries, especially his leg. “You need a doctor.” She was afraid he might bleed out, but if they left now, they’d be discovered and dead for sure.

  Callum’s fingers ran along her face. “It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll live.”

  Gabriele snuggled in closer in an effort to keep warm and wrapped a leg over Callum’s body. “Soon it will be dawn so we can at least see where we’re going.”

  They were broken, hungry a
nd cold, but they were alive. And exhausted. Gabriele couldn’t remember ever being so tired.

  SHE AWOKE to the raucous chirping of birds and a major kink in her neck. Callum mumbled something.

  “Are you awake?” she asked, lifting herself up. She brushed away the leaves that rested on her and stood up carefully to peek out of the hole.

  “Unfortunately.” Callum groaned and pulled himself up into a sitting position. “I had hoped I’d just had an extremely vivid bad dream and would awake in the comfort of my own bed.”

  “How’s your leg?”

  “Excruciating.”

  Gabriele reached for his arm, helping him to a standing position. They stood facing each other waist deep in autumn foliage. Callum’s face had darkened with more beard growth, though his skin had grown pale. Grey circles deepened under dark eyes that scrutinized her.

  Gabriele blushed and crossed her arms, feeling weirdly modest.

  Callum blinked repeatedly. “Where’s your blouse?”

  “It’s tied around your leg.”

  She scurried out of the hole and extended her hand. Callum accepted it and she hoisted him out.

  “Man, that hurts.”

  “You’ve been shot twice. I expect that it does hurt.”

  Gabriele had her own aches and pains. She rubbed the tender lump that remained on her head from the blow that knocked her out. Her skin was scratched from broken glass and sharp branches. Red lines crossed her belly and arms. Her palms felt shredded.

  And she was cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “We should find a road and wave down help.”

  Callum removed his shirt and Gabriele gaped. “What are you doing?”

  He handed it to her. “It’s a bloody mess, but it’ll keep you warm.”

  “What about you?”

  He grinned. “I guess you’ll have to keep me warm.”

  She couldn’t believe he was flirting at a time like this. She accepted the shirt though, despite its crusty, smelly condition.

  Gabriele’s throat scratched as she swallowed, feeling like it was going to close up if she didn’t get something to drink soon. She plucked a leaf off a tree and tipped it into her mouth, letting the dew dribble in. It wasn’t much, but it helped. She handed one to Callum and picked another for herself.