I nod, unable to find the energy or breath to speak.
Returning the acknowledgment, he stands up, making his way to Peter. Without a single warning, Blake lands a blow across the man’s face, and his body slumps to the dusty floor. His limp hand slides from his wound, and Blake grabs hold of it, twisting him over to apprehend him in the same manner as Brady.
“Holy shit, Diana—you are either the dumbest person I know, or the bravest. What in the hell were you thinking? How did you even find us?” Blake says, shaking his head and dragging Peter’s limp body closer to Brady’s.
Sitting, up, my gaze strays past him to the group of girls hiding in the shadows.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head and point to the girls.
I don’t have it in me yet to talk. Besides, the priority should be the girls now—it’s what we came here for, after all.
Blake’s eyes linger on me for a moment, concern and conflict creeping across his features.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
“No not really. But I’ll be okay. Go help the girls,” I whisper, my voice scratchy and labored.
Nodding, he shoots a quick glance at the apprehended men and walks off down the cavern tunnel. Shining his flashlight toward the girls, they tentatively step out into the light.
“Are you…are you here to save us?” a redheaded girl no more than ten says, clutching to the arm of the brunette next to her.
Blake stands his ground, not chancing going any further, as he bends down on one knee.
“Yeah, Diana and I—we’ve come a long way to make sure you’re all safe,” he says, his tone soft and gentle, pointing my direction when he says my name. “Are any of you hurt?”
Each of their faces flit through a series of emotions as they each try to decide what to respond with. Their pain isn’t necessarily anything that can be seen, but none of them are 100% okay with how the past few weeks have transpired.
A blonde girl in the back raises a pointer finger to the men beyond and says, “They’re not the ones in charge. There’s another man—”
“Lester, right?” I say, edging myself to an awkward stand. The words tumble out, as my body screams from the movement.
The blonde girl nods.
Blake throws a glance over his shoulder, his eyes bright and curious.
“Well, we need to get outta here before Lester comes looking,” he says, walking to me and holding an arm out to grab onto. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, just had the wind knocked out of me. I’ll be fine in a bit,” I say, forcing air deeper into my lungs.
Turning back to the girls, Blake says, “I’m going to get you all out of these restraints, okay?”
He lets go of my arm gently, waiting for me to grab hold of the cavern wall. Once I’ve steadied myself, he walks to the grouping of girls, and takes out a small pocket knife.
“So, what’s everyone’s name?” he says, keeping his voice calm and gentle as he cuts through the duct tape binding them all together. “Mine is Blake.”
The small redhead is the first to speak, “I’m Torie.”
Her hand waves quickly in front of her body.
“I’m Haley,” the blonde says.
“Rebecca,” the brunette says, rubbing at her newly freed wrists.
The last one, a tall, dark-skinned, dark-haired girl steps out of the shadows. She doesn’t say a word, but instead, embraces Blake in a full-on hug.
“That’s Kaylee,” Torie says.
Blake waits a moment, allowing Kaylee to feel safe and calm. He rests his hand on the back of her head, holding her close.
“It’s really nice to meet you all. This is my—uh, this is Diana,” Blake says, waving a hand to draw me closer to the group. “I wish we were all meeting under better circumstances, though.”
“How’s everyone feeling?” I ask, walking closer. Breathing is much easier, but it’s still hard to get words out.
“I’m starving—” Haley says, her eyebrows tugging in.
“It’s been almost a day since we ate,” Torie says, nodding as her tummy rumbles.
Blake tips his head in acknowledgement, “Reinforcements are on their way, but we need to get outta here. As soon as we’re out, I’m sure food will be a top priority. Is everyone able to walk?”
They all nod in tandem with one another.
“Allow me to lead the way. I know the way out,” I say, taking my time to step out front.
I turn my own flashlight back on and take my time, allowing insights to flood into my awareness so I know exactly the right way to take. I push my mind further—going into the future so I know we’ll be safe in whatever pathway we choose.
Light extends out in front of me, acting like our virtual GPS as I follow its lead to bring the girls out of the cavern and to safety.
For a long while, none of us talk—we simply walk in silence, each circling the recent events in our minds and hoping for the best. Blake’s thoughts encompass a myriad of topics—the safety of the girls, wondering how I found him, wondering where I was in the first place—the phone call to Interpol—then flashing back to our kiss. Some of his thoughts are garbled, as he tries to parse them out and I take a step out of his mind to give him some privacy.
Each of the girl’s minds flit back and forth between recent days and wondering what it will be like to go home. They’d all resigned themselves to the horrors awaiting them, so this change in direction is a welcome one.
“Your parents will be so relieved to have you back,” I offer, responding to their thoughts.
Kaylee’s eyes brim with tears, but she flares her nostrils and nods with resolve. The other girls link arms, tugging each other tightly. This was by no means a good circumstance, but the sisterhood they’ve developed between the four of them is strong. I can already tell it will last through their entire lifetime.
“Is it very much further?” Haley asks, her eyebrows furrowing.
I stop walking so I can close my eyes and get a better reading on the distance before we’re out of the tunnel. From what I sense, the walk isn’t much further—another twenty minutes or so. I open myself up, searching for details on when or if the Interpol Agents will find us.
Luckily, it seems at least one has entered the cavern in search for us.
“We’re very close,” I say aloud, picking up the pace.
I can’t wait for this horrifying life experience to finally be over for them—so they can move on with their lives.
Not to mention, I can move on with mine. Whatever that’s about to entail.
The girls stay close at my heels, with Blake taking up the rear. I sense his alertness as he makes a mental map on how to get back to the two men, while simultaneously being alert for danger. He doesn’t need to do it, I can easily get him back to the location—but he wouldn’t be the man I know and love if he didn’t.
As we reach the last bend out of the tunnel, I take a tentative look around, trying to get a gauge on where we’re about to exit. The location is different from the main mouth of the Korykion entrance. More to the side, this opening is obscure, but easier to escape and be found by the authorities.
The light from my flashlight ceases as it finds the opening of the cave and shines out into the wilderness beyond. A man dressed in field gear steps into the light just as we’re reaching the end.
His flashlight shines up beside his head and he calls out, “Interpol—don’t move.”
The girls and I stop, waiting for the signal we’re all clear. Blake, on the other hand, steps forward, dropping his flashlight to the ground and raising his other hand.
“Blake Wilson—United States, ex-Special Forces. I’m the guy who called,” he says, making his way to the front of the group.
“Glad to see you, Mr. Wilson,” the man says, keeping his flashlight beside his head. “I see you located the girls. Everyone get out okay?”
“Yeah, We got ‘em out. The two guys are back—”
Seconds too late,
I realize my guard was down just enough. I was too focused on those around me and not focused enough on the legitimacy of the man in front of me.
I lift my gaze, just in time to see the glint of the gun and receive the insight from my gifts—this Interpol Agent is legit, but he’s also Lester.
20
HEAT RISES FROM SOMEWHERE INSIDE ME as Lester raises his gun, pointing it directly at Blake. Nothing about how this is about to play out is good, and I curse myself for being such a gullible nitwit to let my guard down.
I should have known better. People are still people after all. They mostly still suck.
“So glad I’m the one who found you first,” Lester says, with a slight lilt to his voice. “I’d hoped to head you off before you reached the others, but I had contingencies just in case. I have to admit, this is so much better.”
Recognition dawns on Blake and he doesn’t hesitate. He reaches behind his back to garnish his own weapon—the gun confiscated from the other men.
Neither of them is the kind to take long pauses to think things through. They both share the “kill or be killed” mentality.
Suddenly, my gifts flash me forward—though the insight is almost instantaneous, it sure did take its sweet ass time to kick in.
Though both men pull the trigger—Lester is a split second faster, having already had his weapon ready. Racing toward their intended targets, Blake’s bullet grazes Lester’s ear. Lester’s bullet makes accurate impact—lodging itself directly into Blake’s heart. Blood gushes out of the wound, staining his grey dress shirt as it streams down his torso. Before I can will my feet to move, I watch in horror as my soul mate drops to the ground, his mouth contorted in a large-O of surprise.
I don’t follow the vision any longer—instead, I blink it away, and spring into action.
“Get down,” I command to the girls, throwing my arm out and pointing to the ground.
Their eyes are wide as screams of surprise escape their lips, but they hit the floor without needing to be asked twice. Before I have time to truly think about it, I step out in front of Blake just as the bullet leaves Lester’s gun. With my arms splayed wide, I jump in the way, putting my body between Blake and the bullet.
The impact as it rips through my torso is enough to slow my momentum and force me backward instead of continuing on my sideways trajectory. My body slams against Blake, but his strong arms encircle me as we drop.
Blake’s bullet flies wildly off course, thanks to my fall, and it lodges itself in the rocky cavern wall.
Instead of Blake’s shirt stained crimson, it’s my own. As I hit the ground, my hands instantly fly to my wound, trying to keep the blood inside my body as pain sears through me. Blake’s nostrils flare wide and his lips press into a thin line. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he lays me down gently and returns his focus to Lester.
His mind is a whirling cyclone of fury, worry, and what if’s—but he also knows he can’t dwell there. Not yet.
Standing up, he picks up his fallen weapon, then clutches the gun tightly in his hands.
I grope at the place where the metal invaded my body, mesmerized by the way the dark liquid is warm as it rushes through my fingers, just below my rib cage. The bullet is still lodged somewhere inside, and I can feel the entire trajectory it took as it ripped apart my insides.
Dizziness takes hold of my consciousness, yet I still catch the split-second surprise in Lester’s eyes as they then slide into a satisfied glint when he realizes his bullet still hit a mark.
He feels this worked out more in his favor anyway because it will make Blake weak—fearful. Or perhaps, sadness and devastation will make him easier to overcome.
Another shot fires and this time, Lester’s gun drops from his left hand as the bullet strikes the place just under his left collar bone. Blake steps forward, hovering just over Lester’s body—his mind is consumed with thoughts of rage and revenge.
His lips are pressed into a thin line and his nostrils flare as he begins to squeeze the trigger again—this time, to end it.
I’m flooded with the vision of things going sideways—of us being detained and big problems arising because this is an Interpol agent, not just some random kidnapping mastermind.
“Blake—don’t do it. I know you want to, but please, we need him alive,” I sputter, blood leaking from my mouth. Shaking, I wipe it away and the deep crimson smears across the dirty flesh on the back of my hand.
Blake turns his head to look at me, pain and despair clinging to his unguarded eyes.
Lester tries to scramble backward as he clutches his shoulder, his eyes trained on Blake. Without a word, Blake returns his gaze to Lester and lowers his gun. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, he shoots Lester through the fleshy part of his right thigh.
The man screams, clutching the new wound with already bloody fingers.
Behind me, the girls squeal, but I feel one small hand suddenly rest on my shoulder.
“Does it hurt?” Kaylee asks, her dark hand contrasting against my shirt’s light-colored fabric.
“A helluva lot,” I say, trying to force a grin.
Before I realize it, Blake is at my side.
“How bad is it Diana?” he asks, kneeling down.
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Kaylee whispers.
I glance down at the ground beneath me…and she's right. The puddle is growing fast.
Flipping open his phone, Blake dials someone on his keypad.
“Please, we need some help. A civilian—she's been shot and I have the culprit in custody. Interpol should be nearby. Can you get a fix on my coordinates?” he says, not even trying to hide the panic fraying at the edges of his voice. “We need a medic immediately.”
Voices the size of ants chatter in his ear, but I have no idea what they're saying. I concentrate, instead, on the place where his hand gently rests on my arm. It's warm and pulses against my skin like a metronome.
My eyelids are heavy, and it's a struggle to keep them open. Commotion beyond my periphery tries to stir me from the black abyss encircling me, but I can't find the will to focus on it.
If I just close my eyes, maybe I can…
Darkness beckons me and instead of lingering here, I slip into its comforting embrace.
“I think she might be coming around,” a voice says somewhere in the vicinity of my head.
Everything is so heavy. Like I fell asleep when I shouldn’t have—or I used my gifts and pushed them too far again.
My eyes pop open and I bolt upright. Pain shoots through my abdomen and I clutch at it, trying to claw the pain out.
“That sonofabitch shot me—” I say, more to myself than anyone who might be nearby.
I grip at my torso, my fingers searching for the point of entry. Instead, I find a new shirt has been put on and my wound has already begun its accelerated healing process. The gaping hole is now much smaller, thanks in part to the new set of stitches.
“Lay back down for chrissakes,” Blake says, his hands suddenly on my shoulders and easing me backward.
As my back touches the bedsheets, I cock an eyebrow and try not to snicker to myself. It would take a helluva lot more than a bullet to keep me down.
A rush of emotions suddenly wells up, kicking me right in the gut as I stare into the wells of his dark, concerned eyes. I fight off the tears as they brim to the surface, making my eyes sting and my stomach clench.
He’s alive—I’m alive.
Blake takes a seat beside me, scooting his chair in closer so he can take my right hand. His thumb caresses the back of my hand, comforting me in more ways than I can even express.
“She sure is a fighter,” a nurse says to my left, her face buried in my medical chart.
Without a word, he nods. Instead, his eyebrows crumple inward, then flick up in the middle.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his words soft.
I don’t know how to tell him I feel fine—that in a couple of days it will be like nothing ever
happened at all. It’s not the sorta thing you talk about—especially with the nurse standing by.
“I’ve been better,” I say, my lips curving upward in a slow smirk.
“I bet,” he says, nodding. His thumb continues its siren song on my body—both relaxing me and making me hyper-aware of where his body touches mine.
The nurse sets down her chart and says, “I’ll be back in a minute. Are you hungry for anything, dear?”
I shake my head. “No, not yet. My stomach feels a little queasy.”
The nurse nods, turning on her heel to walk out of the room.
Turning back to Blake, I search his eyes for details.
“How are the girls? They okay?” I ask.
“They’re all fine—safe. Lester’s been apprehended as well.”
“Good, I hope he rots,” I say, fire spitting from my lips. Not only for being the disgusting kind of human that traffics children in multiple countries—which in and of itself is horrifying. But also for shooting me—and aiming for Blake.
Blake’s eyes fall to our hands, his lips curving slightly—but not enough to force his dimples out of hiding.
“What about you?” I say, waiting for him to return eye contact with me.
“What about me?”
“Are you okay?” I say, raising an eyebrow again.
He takes a long, deep inhalation and leans back slightly in his chair. For the longest time, I take in his mannerisms, trying hard not to invade his mind—but his thoughts begin to tumble out at me easily.
He’s been beside himself with worry. With the amount of blood I’d lost, he doesn’t understand how I could even be alive. Much less as healed as I appear and even talking with him now. He has his own questions and he has no idea how to ask any of them.
I watch as he finally licks his lower lip and nods.
“Yeah, I’ve been better, too. I was worried—everything was very touch and go for a while. I was worried you weren’t going to stick around to have that cup of coffee you promised.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily. You should know that by now,” I say, smirking.
Oracle: A Diana Hawthorne Psychic Mystery Book Page 20
