by Cindy Dees
Then it came back to her. She and Mac were prisoners of Ruala’s men. They’d found her underneath the bed in the trainer’s quarters and there’d been nothing to do once they pointed a gun at her but crawl out and surrender.
A careful look around the dimly lit storeroom showed it to be square and spacious. Deserted. But then, a slight movement behind her and to her right startled her. She turned her head carefully in that direction. Her stomach heaved and she barely managed not to gag at the sight that met her eyes. Mac sagged in a chair, his head lolling on his chest. A blue bruise discolored a lump on his left temple, and a trickle of blood had dried down the side of his face.
“Mac,” she whispered.
Nothing.
“Mac!” she whispered more urgently.
He stirred infinitesimally.
“Mac, wake up,” she urged in a low voice.
His eyelids fluttered and then his eyes opened fractionally.
“We’re alone,” she murmured.
His eyes snapped open, alert and wary. “Are you all right?” he asked curtly.
She recognized that brusque tone of voice. He was in work mode. Definitely a good thing in the current situation. She answered him in as businesslike a fashion as she could muster. “Yes. I’ve got a bump on my head, but I’m fine.”
He nodded once. “Any sign of our captors?”
“Not since I’ve been conscious, which has only been a minute or two.”
“They probably didn’t have the manpower to post guards both in here and outside. That’s good news.”
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“We get out of here one way or another.”
“How?”
“The first order of business is to get our handcuffs off. Can you wiggle your wrists much in yours?”
She tried to move her hands, and her cuffs rattled musically against the frame of the chair. “No, they’re really tight.”
She saw Mac’s shoulders strain, and a similar metallic clinking sounded. “Okay. I’ve got some room to work in mine. I’ll see what I can do. Look around for any small metal object on the floor or sitting around somewhere. A paperclip or a wire, maybe.”
The light came from a single fixture overhead, and it was hard to see much. She strained to see into dark corners and crannies between boxes. “I don’t see anything like that, Mac.”
“Keep looking. I’ll keep working on these cuffs.”
For several minutes there was silence while she scanned the room and he rattled and strained against his handcuffs.
Susan’s head continued to clear and her thoughts became more logical. And more worried. “Why haven’t they killed us yet?” she asked.
“Ruala probably wants to do it himself,” Mac grunted.
Oh, God. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to do my damnedest to keep the other thugs’ attention on me for as long as possible, then I’m going to hold out as long as I can against whatever they do to me.”
“Like what?”
“Like get even for all the misery we’ve put them through the last few days.”
She felt sick to her stomach. “I’m so sorry I ran out on you and the guys like that. It never occurred to me that Ruala might come back so soon. God, I was stupid.”
He shrugged. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Hell, it didn’t occur to me, either. I shouldn’t have made love to you in the playhouse and kept you outside so long. My fault.”
“Don’t apologize for that,” she replied. “I’m going to hang on to the memory of it to keep me strong. We have to survive this! We’ve got so much to live for—”
Mac cut across her babbling sharply. “Susan.”
There was something in his tone that made her stop abruptly.
“We’re both likely to die before this night is over. Whether or not you should have left the house or we should’ve made love isn’t all that important right now.”
“But I— We— No!” she stuttered.
“Listen to me.” His gaze bored into her like steel-blue fire. “There’s a chance that Ruala won’t kill you right away. He may want to rough you up or have sex with you. Maybe film you to prove to Ferrare he caught and killed the right woman. Whatever he does, I need you to hold out as long as you can. Time is your best friend right now. The more of it we can buy Charlie Squad to find and rescue us, the better. Understood?”
“No! No, I don’t understand!” she cried.
He spoke succinctly, with terrible urgency. “Don’t give the bastard any reason to kill you. Draw out whatever he does for as long as you possibly can. Delay him. Distract him. Play dumb. Whatever. Just buy yourself more time. Your life depends on it, Susan.”
She stared back at him. She heard his words, but their import simply refused to sink in to her brain. Blankly she said, “But what about you, Mac?”
He frowned. “I’m a dead man. Just promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive. Even if that means ratting me out. If you tell them I’m Charlie Squad, that should buy you a good long reprieve. They’ll work me over until they kill me. And I’ll hold out for you as long as I can.”
Maybe it was denial of the situation they were in. Maybe it was her need to feel something other than choking terror. Or maybe it was just that she’d reached the end of her rope.
But she leaned forward in her chair, glaring daggers at him. “Mac Conlon, now you listen to me. I am not going to rat you out. Ever! How dare you believe that I would even consider such a thing!”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she kept right on going.
“Don’t you go all martyred and honorable on me! And don’t you dare tell them who you are just to buy me more time. Have you got that? You fight to stay alive, damn you!”
“It’s not about me living. It’s about you getting out of here alive—”
She cut him off. They might not have much more time together. She fought back the tears that rushed to her eyes at the thought. She was going to have her say before he went and got himself killed.
“I love you, you muscle-bound jerk. I even thought we might finally have a permanent future together. But if you can’t bend your stiff spine enough to avoid suicide in the name of protecting me, then maybe you don’t deserve me! Getting yourself killed will prove you’re stupid, not that you love me. Dammit, if you do love me, fight! Live!”
He looked completely broadsided. “Susan, I…”
A noise stopped him in midsentence. She looked up at the source of the noise.
Dear God.
The door at the top of the stairs creaked open.
Ruala was coming.
Chapter 15
S he loved him.
In spite of it all. And he’d let her down. Hell, let them down. He almost did deserve to die tonight. Here he’d been, running around, acting like a complete jackass, and she still loved him! A moment of elation soared through him. But, he reminded himself sternly, they were in very deep doo-doo at the moment. If he didn’t buckle down and concentrate, her declaration might not matter one damn bit.
Mac watched Ruala and two of his men come down the stairs. Not the ones who captured them. These guys looked tough. Casual about pain. Pros. This was going to go down so bad. He closed his eyes, steeling himself for the agony to come. He could do this. He would do this. For Susan. No matter what she said, his primary goal was still to get her out of here alive.
If Ruala recognized him as a Charlie Squad type, this would get real ugly real fast. If not, he still had a shot at buying Susan some time. He took a deep breath to clear his head. Focus. He had to empty his mind of everything but the situation at hand. He dug deep inside himself for discipline. Calm.
“So, the little birds are awake.” The guy who spoke was big and burly. Bouncer material. Wore a ridiculous little pair of wire-rimmed sunglasses that got lost in his ham-size face. Apparently it was important to look cool while beating the tar out of someone. Mac mentally labeled the thug “Crew Cut.” Probab
ly the interrogator, since he was the one who spoke first. Interesting. Ruala wasn’t going to do the grunt work himself. Not yet, at any rate. Cagey bastard. Mac wiped all expression off his face and glanced over at the talkative one. No telling at a glance what would set off Crew Cut. Better not provoke him, yet.
Big, strong-looking thug number two, “Muscles,” met and tried to hold Mac’s gaze. Mac let his slide away. Not time to tangle with that guy just yet, either.
Ruala stepped back into the shadows beside the stairs, but Mac still was able to get a decent look at him. Man, the guy looked like hell in person. Had really let his health go to pot. Probably couldn’t beat up a prisoner on his own if that sallow, soft look about him was any indication. Clearly, Ruala’s plan was to hang back, call the shots, and let his guys get their kicks before he offed him and Susan.
Crew Cut came over and put his hand under Mac’s chin. Mac didn’t resist when the guy lifted his head to look in his face.
“Who are you?” the guy asked.
Mac nodded lightly toward Susan. “The boyfriend.”
“The stupid boyfriend. The stupid, toy-soldier boyfriend.”
Mac allowed himself a mental snort. A toy soldier? If that’s what they thought of him, they were in for a surprise.
“Who do you work for?” Crew Cut barked.
“Allied Import/Export Company,” Mac answered. It was an old joke in Charlie Squad. Import Charlie Squad, export criminals in body bags.
“And where did you get all your fancy toys, soldier boy?”
“From my boss. He dabbles in, uh, exotic exports.”
Still Ruala hung back, not reacting at all. Crew Cut had to think about that answer for a second. “You mean to tell me you’re an independent?”
Mac shrugged. He let the guy’s mental wheels spin a bit.
Crew Cut continued. “Then who were the other guys with you?”
“My buddies.”
“Your soldier buddies,” Crew Cut stated.
“A couple of them,” Mac answered vaguely. He didn’t stand a chance of convincing these guys that the force they’d been up against wasn’t military.
Ruala spoke from the shadows. “He’s lying.”
Crew Cut turned to his boss as if looking for instructions.
“Get to the point, Carlos,” the ringleader said.
Mac took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. The preliminaries were over.
Crew Cut—Carlos—turned to him. “You’ve been a pain in the ass, toy soldier.”
Mac shrugged. “Sorry to inconvenience you.”
The guy’s voice rose. “Don’t get smart with me.”
The guy was working himself up into a rage where he’d enjoy beating the tar out of him. He knew techniques to diffuse the guy’s building frenzy, but tonight he had to let it roll.
Carlos slapped the cardboard box beside him. The loud smack made Susan jump. Steady, Suzie. Stay out of this. Let me handle it. Mac willed her to hear his thoughts. He knew what he had to do. He had to drive the guy over the edge into violence. It was going to get him messed up bad, but it would shift the focus away from hurting Susan and buy them crucial minutes for Charlie Squad to get here. The guys would have followed Ruala and his hostages as they left the ranch. They’d have hung back at a safe distance so Ruala didn’t kill his human shields until he stopped somewhere. He had no doubt Charlie Squad was nearby, assessing how to attack while they moved in for the kill. Because Ruala had hostages, they’d have to come in using stealth. And that took time. It all boiled down to whether or not he could buy his teammates enough time to save Susan.
“If I’m supposed to be impressed by you, I’m not,” Mac commented blandly.
Carlos tore off his sunglasses and threw them down on a box in exasperation. Nasty little pig eyes. No wonder the guy wore shades. If he could turn this into a one-on-one honor duel with Carlos, the other thug and Ruala might stay out of it long enough for Carlos to avenge the insult to his manhood.
Mac said pleasantly, “You’re not man enough to take me.”
Ruala scowled.
Muscle-bound thug number two stepped forward, blatantly flexing his biceps. Mac ignored him.
Carlos went red in the face. “You American prick!” he screamed. “I’ll show you!”
There. Now the guy was where Mac wanted him. Mad as hell and not thinking calmly. Time to push the button. He laughed.
That did it. Pulling a John Wayne act always did, in these situations. The fist came from his left. It clipped him sharply in the jaw and snapped his head back. Damn, that first hit always stung.
Another meaty fist to his eye this time. And then a solid blow to the gut. He grunted and hoped Carlos would uncuff him out of the chair and stand him up soon. He’d be able to absorb the blows better on his feet. Thankfully, it only took one more blow for Carlos to decide he’d get better results if the punching bag was vertical.
Mac assessed damage while his cuffs were rehooked to a metal water pipe running up the wall. Not bad so far. Maybe a cracked tooth. But from the look of those biceps, it was going to get worse. Much worse. At least he’d gotten free of that chair. Although it wasn’t likely he was going to get a shot at escape now.
Carlos got right in his face and snarled, “You’re going to die real slow, gringo.”
“Kiss. My. Ass,” Mac replied succinctly.
The beating continued. Time stopped for Mac, and he counted its passage only by the landing of another punishing blow to his body. He did his best to detach himself from the pain. So far, none of the damage was life threatening. There’d been one moment when he was worried, though. A vicious hit to the torso broke at least one rib, and he was unable to draw in his next breath. For a second he’d thought maybe his lung had collapsed. He might not be so lucky next time.
Random thoughts passed through his mind in slow motion. Tough. Think tough. Pain is temporary. Ride it out. Be worthy of Charlie Squad. Be worthy of Susan. Buy time for her. She loves me.
He didn’t know how long it went on. He might even have passed out briefly. But suddenly Mac was aware of Ruala stepping forward out of the shadows and moving near. He came into Mac’s limited range of vision, cocked his head sideways and looked up into Mac’s battered face.
The assassin spoke curtly, in accented English. “You’re either one stupid SOB or a hell of a smart one. Which is it?”
“Wha’?” Mac mumbled. He didn’t have to put on much of an act to sound dopey with pain.
Ruala stepped back in disgust. “Let’s go get the video camera. The boss wants pictures when we kill the woman. We’ll make the boyfriend scream before we kill him, too.”
The three men turned and filed up the stairs and out of the room. The door creaked shut behind them.
“Oh, my God, Mac. Are you all right?” Susan cried out softly. Her handcuffs rattled.
“Not ’xac’ly” he managed to force past his bloody, swollen mouth. Even thinking hurt. He fought to clear his brain. There was something important…something he’d seen that had registered subliminally….
It came back to him.
“Su, can mov’ your chair?”
“Yes, I think so.” She looked as perplexed as she sounded. At least it wiped the horrified expression off her face. He’d made sure not to look at her for most of the beating. He didn’t know if he could have borne seeing her pity.
“Carlos took off…glasses. They still on…box?” He gestured with his head and then winced as pain screamed from a dozen locations in his body.
“Yes. I see them.”
“Slide your chair…can you reach ’em?”
He waited impatiently while she inched her way across the room. They didn’t have much time.
“Hurry, swee’hear’,” he urged softly.
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
The sob in her voice broke his heart. “I know, Suz’.”
She managed to get herself turned around with her back to the box. She pushed off the floor with
her feet and arched her back up awkwardly, trying to raise her hands high enough to grasp the glasses. Mac watched in an agony of suspense. On the third try she got them. She collapsed back onto the seat with a sob of relief.
“Bring…to me.”
It was awkward, and she jostled him hard enough to wring a groan from him, but the hand-off eventually got made.
“Go back…where you were.”
While she inched back to her original position, he snapped one of the earpieces off the glasses. It wasn’t the world’s best lock pick, and he fumbled with it for several minutes, feeling for the right angle, but he got it. The handcuff fell away from his left wrist.
He hugged himself carefully, stretching out the cramps in his shoulders as he moved to Susan’s chair and knelt behind her. And unleashed a foul curse.
“What?” she cried out.
“Your cuffs hav’ differen’ lock…can’t open without real picks. Can’t get you loose.”
“That’s okay. You go get help,” she murmured urgently.
He moved around in front of her, kneeling so he could see her face. “I’m not—” he enunciated carefully “—leaving you here alone.”
“Are you nuts? Get out of here!”
“No. I promised I’d never leave you alone again, and I’m not breaking that promise.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Save yourself!”
He stood up shakily and staggered across the room.
“Mac, you’d have died if you’d been in that van with me all those years ago, and you’re going to die if you stay with me now. Climb out of that morass of guilt you’re drowning in and go get help!”
Ignoring her wrenching pleas, he put the broken pieces of the glasses back on the box where Susan had gotten them. He moved painfully back toward the pipe on the wall where he’d been cuffed before.
“Mac, what are you doing?” Susan all but sobbed. “Go! I can’t stand watching them do this to you anymore. Please!” she begged him.
His brain felt clearer by the second. Clear enough to know what he was doing was completely insane and absolutely right. “I know this is hard for you, Susan. But we’re buying a lot of time here. Hang in there a little longer. And remember what I said. After I’m done for and they turn their attention to you, hold out as long as you can.”
