Shay whipped around the desk and opened the drawer to find something to cut Rick free. Kemp had taken the knife he’d used to cut her ties off.
“Never mind—I hear someone coming. Get over here. Shay. Now.”
She glanced up to see the alarm in his eyes, along with overwhelming concern for her. “If I can just grab something to free—”
The door swung open and in walked Kemp. When he saw where she stood, his face took on a whole new look that made Shay wish she’d done as Rick had asked. He glared at Shay. She stood frozen, her hand on his open desk drawer. She couldn’t move under his visual assault.
“See, now, this is what I’m talking about. I thought we had an agreement.” He stomped around the desk and yanked her arm away from the drawer.
She let it go with a yelp.
“Leave her alone.” Rick’s voice was a low growl. “I asked her to untie me. Thought you’d forgotten about me, that’s all.”
Shay got the sense that he was ready to pounce over the top of the desk and take the man down, even with his wrists still bound, if Kemp tried to hurt her.
Kemp must have sensed it, too, because he released her. “I’ll untie you as soon as I march you out to see what I meant when I said tensions are running high. Either of you got any medical experience? Know how to stop a man from bleeding to death?”
At the mention of blood, Shay felt hers drain from her face. She watched Rick’s features pale as well, and not because he hadn’t seen enough blood in his life. Probably because he didn’t like to see those he wanted to protect—her and Aiden—caught in the middle of this.
Kemp waved Rick’s gun at them. “Let’s go.”
Someone had been shot. Rick probably knew what to do, considering his military training. But would he help these people?
Shay trudged around the desk and opened the door for Rick. When he passed her, all she could think was that if he were alone, and she wasn’t here to stand in his way or rein him in, he’d probably have made his way free already and found Aiden. He’d be willing to risk getting shot. But as it stood, he was biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to get them out before this whole situation turned on them. Shay didn’t believe the desperate, crazy man who wasn’t really in charge. She doubted Rick believed the man, either. He wouldn’t simply let them walk away.
The fact was obvious considering his own plans didn’t include walking away. No. He planned to fly out of this and leave them all behind. Kemp kept the firearm at his side pointed at the earth as he walked next to them, and the other two, Joey and his partner, accompanied them as they followed Kemp through the mining camp.
She counted five buildings in all. A main house, which might or might not have a kitchen and bedrooms. What looked like a bunkhouse, a storage building and two more buildings, one that could pass for a cabin with living quarters. That was her best guess without seeing inside.
Not a large operation, but not a recreational mining camp either, as far as she could tell. She knew little about modern-day gold mining. But one thing she did know, these men meant to dig up gold. What she couldn’t figure was why. If what Kemp said was true and he owed someone money, the camp itself was worth a small fortune if you counted the equipment. Add to that the gold that had already been found and the potential of more to come. Why not sell it?
Maybe he’d already tried.
As they approached the building next to the bunkhouse, a man’s screams and moans could be heard. The sound wrapped around her guts and squeezed. Soon enough, two men appeared from behind the building dragging another injured man, blood oozing from a gunshot wound in his leg.
“What happened?” Rick asked.
“A couple of the men have been at odds since we arrived. I guess they were playing Russian roulette or chicken. I don’t know.” Kemp’s voice was strained. “All I know is that we’re shorthanded on men already and can’t spare this one, even if he is an idiot to play around with loaded guns. We need to get at the gold before the weather turns bad in more ways than one.”
He eyed Rick. “Your brother told me you both served in the U.S. Marines. Can you help? Know what to do here?”
Rick flinched. “He needs a doctor.”
“He won’t get one in time. Not out here. You gonna watch him die?”
“Are you telling me you’ve got all this firepower around and you don’t have anyone who knows how to treat wounds? Not to mention other potential accidents?”
“Not anymore.” Kemp’s eyes went brutal.
What did that mean? Had someone escaped or been killed?
“And no one else who might have a clue about what they’re doing is willing to step up to the plate,” Kemp added. “Stand out in the crowd.”
Shaking his head, Rick held up his wrists. “Not much I can do like this.”
“You have a point.” Kemp pulled out the knife and cut the ties.
“I need your medical kit. Survival kit. Something. Tell me you at least have one of those.”
“Of course we do.” Kemp yelled at one of his guards to take the injured man inside and find the kit.
Shay followed Kemp and Rick inside, where they shoved a couple of tables together and laid the man on the hard surface. The room was messy with boxes and supplies and smelled like tobacco smoke and booze. Like a place where the men hung out to play cards.
The injured man continued to moan, his face losing color. Blood was quickly spreading along the table and onto the floor. Shay shrank into a dark corner—this was out of her league, not to mention that the sight of the blood made her weak and dizzy. She could serve Rick better by staying out of the way and out of trouble.
While waiting on the medical kit, Rick tied off the guy’s leg with a tourniquet, then ripped his pants to expose the wound. A man who looked a little too young to be in with this brutal group held the briefcase-size kit out to Rick. He searched through until he found what he needed.
Shay couldn’t stand to look, so she shut her eyes. That only seemed to magnify the man’s grunts of pain and curses as Rick worked. She wished Kemp would let her leave. But this was meant to be seared into her thoughts so she’d remember what could happen to her should she try to leave.
What if the man didn’t survive? Would Rick pay the price?
With that, Shay realized her own predicament—what if she couldn’t fix the plane? What if there was more wrong than could be fixed with a simple part replacement?
Any direction her thoughts turned only led her to every death-defying risk they faced. Shay forced her eyes open and watched Rick press gauze over the wound and tape it in place.
“The Combat Gauze will control the bleeding,” he said, “until you can get him to a doctor, which I am not. He needs an IV with fluids. Could need a blood transfusion, too.”
Kemp argued with the other men in the room about what to do with the injured man and the one who shot him. Rick eased back and away from the quarrel. His gaze slid to Shay. At that moment she knew he’d never lost track of her—even with all the chaos, he’d somehow always known where she was. That awareness sent warmth through her and an insane sense of security. She could almost imagine that he’d always been in control. That he was in control even now.
But she wouldn’t lie to herself.
Still, the way he’d handled treating the wounded man under the pressure spiked her admiration. The urge to run to him, hoping he’d wrap her in his arms, engulfed her. But she didn’t want to feel the pain that came with counting on someone. Trusting someone. She couldn’t let herself feel this way about anyone—especially him.
Remember…remember when he almost killed you, his finger against the trigger guard before he realized what he was doing.
Shay stepped back, deeper into the corner.
Hurt skated across his dark gunmetal grays.
*
Funny how the small, subtle step back she’d taken pierced like shrapnel. What was that about? Why’d she do it? Why’d he care? She made him think she didn�
�t look at him any differently than she viewed the rest of them here, the herd of thugs in the room.
What are you doing, man?
He couldn’t let her get to him like that. Not if he wanted to protect her. Get her to safety. He needed to keep his thoughts on target.
The shouting grew louder. If this turned nasty, he needed a way out, and fast.
Rick clenched his fists, squeezing them until they hurt. While these men were distracted by the injured one—a man Rick figured would die sooner rather than later if they didn’t get him more intensive medical attention—he could catch them off guard. Take one of their weapons…but he knew all too well the fight that would then ensue.
The guarantee of more to be injured, including Shay.
Even if they made it out alive, where was his brother being kept? He needed to rescue him, too.
Clench fist. Relax. Clench. Relax.
Shay suddenly started toward him, gliding across the room in stealth mode. His hopes that no one would notice her were quickly dashed. The shouting fell silent. Kemp, startled by Shay moving to Rick’s side, acted as if he finally remembered he had guests. Or prisoners.
“Deal with it,” he said to the others, gesturing to the wounded man, who had fallen unconscious.
Rick sent up a silent prayer for the man. He had been trained to deal with this and had done the best he could with what he’d been given. That and prayer were all he had to give.
When Shay bumped up against Rick, he wanted to slip his arm around her waist and tug her close to reassure her. Or maybe, if he was honest, to reassure himself.
But not with Kemp watching.
The man left the others to take care of their wounded and focused on Rick and Shay. But before he could speak, Shay took a step toward him. “We haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. If we’re going to stay and work, can we get some sleep and something to eat?”
Really? Rick should have thought of that, but he didn’t much feel like negotiating with this man or even suggesting that he had any intention of agreeing to his deal. On the other hand, Kemp would more likely acquiesce to Shay’s request, coming from her, even though Rick had demonstrated he was willing to cooperate by showing these men how to use their simple medical kit. Or had that been simply a test? More than likely it had been.
Confirming Rick’s thought, Kemp cut a sliver-eyed gaze Rick’s way. “Let’s go.”
Before he made a move, though, he headed for the table and grabbed the abandoned submachine gun. He glanced at the other men to see who it belonged to, then scowled and took the weapon for his own, slinging it across his shoulder. He thrust Rick’s gun into his pocket, then turned his attention on Rick.
Rick got the message loud and clear. Mess with me and I’ll kill you myself.
Rick finally decided how to read Kemp. He had put on a subtle but warm and friendly demeanor in his office, making sure to season that with warnings about the other men—the men he’d promised to keep in check if Rick and Shay would do their parts—but it was all for show. He was really a brute himself, just like the rest of these guys, or else he couldn’t hope to have any measure of control over them. With their accents and mannerisms, they reminded Rick of mobsters. He wondered if he’d eventually hear mention of a familiar crime-family name. Gambini, Stefazzi, Feroli?
“You coming?”
A cool blast of air accompanied Kemp’s voice and yanked Rick from his thoughts. Kemp stood in the jamb of the opened door, staring at Rick. Waiting on Shay, who hadn’t left his side.
Rick and Shay followed him through the door, leaving behind the unconscious gunshot victim. Guilt threaded his thoughts. He’d already assessed the situation. He’d prayed. Other than that, it was out of his hands.
As they stepped outside again, Rick noted that the temperature had warmed up a little with the sun. Depending on what sort of labor he was made to do, he might even work up a sweat. He could probably go without a coat for a few hours. But he wondered how long it would last. If they made an escape, they needed the weather to cooperate. Interior Alaska wasn’t the place to get caught unprepared, and they were already in the middle of autumn. Could probably expect a few prewinter warning storms. If they were going to get away, their timing would have to be perfect. And they had to get away as soon as possible.
They were caught in the middle of a battle between the ranks over an unproved gold claim. Was there really enough gold here to satisfy these greedy, murderous men? Rick considered what it might feel like to discover gold in whatever form—dust or nuggets. Unbidden, a chill of anticipation ran through him.
Hinting at much cooler weather to come, a gusty breeze slapped across Rick’s face, startling him. Realization gripped his insides. What was he thinking? He wasn’t here for the gold. He shook off the craziness. He couldn’t possibly succumb to the frenzy of finding gold.
The group approached another building and Kemp shoved through the door, followed by Shay and Rick and a weapon-toting guard dog. If they had to live like this—followed around by men carrying deadly weapons—it wouldn’t be much of an existence. But he had no intention of staying that long.
Kemp escorted them into another building. “This is our mess hall, as we call it. But the cook’s out for the moment.” Kemp’s eyes crinkled around the corners when he looked at Shay.
Rick’s gut burned at the reference to this place as the mess hall—a term usually used to denote the meal space used by military men, police officers or firemen. Heroes.
These men at the mining camp were anything but that. Nor did Rick like the warm fuzzy looks that Kemp had given Shay so far, though she pretended not to notice.
“Have a seat and I’ll see what I can find for you to eat. I don’t want to cook anything I don’t have to. We need to conserve our energy.” Kemp opened the pantry and stared inside.
Rick’s guard dog stood near the door and didn’t take his eyes off Rick. Shay slipped out of her coat and sat in a folding chair at the long table. Kemp’s grandfather had a decent setup here, or had Kemp brought all this in for these men? But while everything seemed well situated, Rick’s doubt grew that Kemp would be able to deliver on his repayment plan, considering the cost to run this operation—it would take a whole lot of gold to see any sort of profit.
Especially at a few ounces at a time.
“How about a can of chili? Quicker than frozen burritos.”
“Sounds good,” Shay said.
Sitting across from Rick, she slid her hand over the table, then stopped just before reaching his. Rick found himself wishing she’d gone the whole distance. Though he wasn’t sure why, since he couldn’t find it in himself to meet her halfway.
“Is he going to be all right? The man who got shot?” Though she whispered the question, it was easily heard in the quiet room, only big enough to seat twenty or so people comfortably at the long tables.
Rick shook his head and frowned. He’d done all he could, but the man needed the kind of medical attention he could get from a doctor with more equipment at hand. Rick held on to hope they would send the wounded man to a hospital but knew that that would raise questions. Unfortunately, that was the exact reason they probably wouldn’t get the man help.
Kemp served bowls of chili and glasses of water. Oddly enough, he remained at the other end of the table looking over papers that someone had brought in to him. Next to him rested a case containing a satellite phone. His posture spoke of a man who had work to do and couldn’t waste any more time on them. If Rick had his way, Kemp would simply forget about them. By biding their time, avoiding attention and persuading Kemp and his men they were anxious to see gold, too, they might gain their greatest chance of escape. Rick would have time to learn where his brother was being kept, as well. He hoped.
A myriad of thoughts and emotions coursing through him, he and Shay finished up the meal in silence. From the other end of the table, Kemp suddenly stood, his chair scraping the floor.
“I haven’t figured out where to put you in
the workflow yet.” He looked at the guard and nodded.
The man standing like a sentinel at the door moved toward Rick. “Come with me.”
Reluctantly, Rick stood. “Where are we going?”
“He’s taking you to your quarters, where you can wait until called upon. Get some rest while you’re there. Don’t forget you need to prove that you’re an asset worth keeping alive to more than just me.”
Shay stood, too.
“No, you stay with me,” Kemp said.
TEN
Her gaze locked with Rick’s. When her mouth dropped open in silent protest, Rick filled in, “No, she doesn’t.”
Heart pounding in her ears, she scraped her chair across the floor as she rushed to Rick’s side. “Please, we need to stay together.”
Kemp gathered the papers on the table before he answered. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safer with me than with him. Plus, I don’t need you two making big escape plans together.”
Rick grabbed Shay’s hand and stepped in front of her to face off with Kemp as he approached them. “Look, I don’t intend to leave without my brother. Per your proposal, if we help you, then we get to leave with Aiden when all of this is over. Why would I make any plans that would put that at risk? And if it’s all the same to you, I’ll be the one who’s protecting her.”
The way he said those words, and his protective stance, almost made Shay’s fear melt away. Big strong Rick, standing up for her. She could almost believe he felt something for her. But she was afraid for him, too. What would Kemp do to him for facing off with him like this?
“I don’t have time to argue. If you’re going to be a problem, I’ll just lock you away from the light of day until this is over. But you can’t protect her without a weapon, and you’re not getting your hands on one.”
The fact that the bad guy was discussing with Rick how best to protect the lone woman in a mining camp full of criminals dawned on Shay. Her breaths started coming too fast.
Calm. Down.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“I could dispose of them for you,” the silent sentinel said, throwing in his opinion.
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