Deep, Dark & Dangerous

by Jaid Black

  Madalyn just wanted to leave. “Who cares about the damn camera? Let’s go before they find us!”

  “I can’t get a hold of CACW,” Drake pointed out, “but eventually they will wonder why I haven’t radioed in and they will come searching for us. I need to leave something behind. Just in case…” She sighed. “You know what I’m saying.”

  Madalyn briefly closed her eyes against her sister’s words. It didn’t bode well if Drake believed it was possible for the three men to catch them again. “The third floorboard comes up. There’s a small hiding place below it, large enough to hold the camera.”

  Drake found Madalyn’s hiding place immediately. Securing the camera between a set of diamond earrings and a matching diamond tennis bracelet, she closed the floorboard and looked to Madalyn.

  “Okay. Grab the keys and let’s get out of here.”

  IT FELT LIKE IT WAS TAKING FOREVER to reach Zhitana. Worse yet, the fuel level of the snowmobile was getting dangerously low. Another fifteen minutes and they would be out of gas. Madalyn could only pray that the remote Eskimo village appeared over the horizon very soon.

  Darkness comes early to the tundra in the winter months, and December was no exception. Madalyn’s teeth chattered and there were goosebumps on her arms despite the animal furs she was enveloped in. She cast her gaze warily about, the once beautiful snow-covered mountains taking on a very sinister, ugly appearance in her mind.

  She should have paid attention when her gut instincts had told her something bad would happen out here on the isolated, rugged terrain. Drake always valued her gut instincts and Madalyn should have valued her own rather than chalking up her eerie foreboding to being a drama queen.

  There’s no point in going through the “if only’s.” What’s done is done.

  The only thing of importance now was getting to help. The only thing that mattered was surviving.

  Madalyn hadn’t prayed since she was a little girl. She decided that wasn’t a good thing. She also decided to remedy the situation at once.

  Please, God, let us make it to Zhitana. Please let Drake and me be okay. Or at least Drake. If you have to take one of us, let it be me.

  Drake would strangle her if she knew that Madalyn was asking for her sister’s life to be spared at the expense of her own. Of course, Madalyn would have strangled Drake if she knew her sister had been praying for the same thing, but in reverse.

  AGAINST ALL ODDS, they made it to Zhitana. Madalyn had never been so glad to see bartered goat milk and cheese in her life. It tasted better than nachos and piña coladas. Well, maybe not, but it was close, she decided.

  All this time later and Drake had still not managed to get a signal out. The longer they went without reaching CACW, the more they both feared there was something unfixable about the mobile phone.

  “You can stay in this hut,” an elderly Eskimo woman told Madalyn and Drake. “Nobody will know you are here except the villagers. I will send one of the boys into a nearby town to get you help.”

  “Thank you,” Madalyn gushed in relief. “We can’t thank you enough!”

  The old woman waved the praise away. “Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered, showing them into the hut. She wore an intricately knitted sweater over an animal skin dress. Her silver hair, coarse with age, fell down to her waist. Brown leather boots completed the ensemble. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  Madalyn waited for the tent door to slap shut behind the old woman before she turned to Drake. “What do you think she meant by that?” she whispered, worried.

  “Meant by what?” Drake asked over a mouthful of cheese and bread.

  “She said, ‘Don’t thank me yet.’ What did she mean by that?”

  Drake sighed. “And you call me paranoid? I’m sure she just meant not to thank her until help comes and we’re officially out of harm’s way.”

  Madalyn hoped Drake was right.

  Walking to the door flap, she opened it a tiny crack to take a quick peek through. The sight that greeted her on the other side made her pulse skyrocket. She sucked in a breath.

  There, just a few feet away, stood their three attackers. Worse yet, they were conversing with the old Inuit woman as though they were longtime friends. She saw the men hand the crone what looked to be a bag of coins, then the old woman turned and pointed toward their hut.

  Oh. My. God.

  “Drake!” she whispered, growing hysterical. “Come here. Now!”

  Drake was there in a heartbeat, peering over Madalyn’s shoulder. She gasped. “Oh no. Oh damn!”

  “What do we do?”

  “I don’t know! Let’s find a way out of here!”

  They had to be quick. The three men were already heading toward the tent at a brisk pace.

  “Let’s crawl under the back of the tent and run!” Madalyn told Drake. “It’s our only chance!”

  Scurrying toward the back of the hut, Drake picked up the hem of the tent’s skirt and held it up for Madalyn. Once through, Madalyn did the same for Drake. After both women were out, they took off running in the dark.

  Chapter

  Seven

  Go faster, Madalyn! Faster, damn you!

  Madalyn sprinted as quickly as she possibly could. The problem was, there wasn’t anywhere to go. It was dark, frigid, and there was no shelter to be had. No forests thick with trees to hide in, no boulders to dash behind.

  The sound of footsteps and male shouts caused the hair at the nape of her neck to stand up. They had been spotted!

  “Fånga dom!”

  “Låt dom inte komma undan!”

  “Keep running!” Drake yelled.

  Madalyn refused to give in to the hopelessness that threatened to swamp her. If these men meant to kill her and Drake, they would at least make sure the bastards had their work cut out for them.

  Her breathing grew labored, and perspiration broke out on her forehead and between her breasts. Ice-cold terror set in anew. She couldn’t believe this was happening. From Hollywood darling to dead woman in the blink of an eye.

  It’s not over until it’s over…

  She could hear the crunch of heavy boots on snow growing closer; she could all but feel the hot breath of her pursuer on her neck.

  He had recognized her back at the ocean. Worse yet, he had wanted her. Madalyn had seen that look in the eyes of too many male groupies to mistake it for anything other than lust.

  “Kom hit, lilla flicka,” he called, far too close for her liking.

  “Run faster!” Drake screeched. “The big one is closing in on you!”

  Madalyn braved a look over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and she whimpered. He was only about four giant steps from reaching her.

  “Noooo!” she cried out as his rough hands seized her hips from behind. She screamed as she fell to the ground, his heavy body coming down hard on top of hers.

  Madalyn tried to yell for help, but the wind had been knocked out of her. She gasped for air.

  “Let me go!” Drake bellowed, trying to get away from the other two men. This time she didn’t succeed. This time they managed to wrestle her to the ground.

  “You are fine,” a deep, heavily accented voice murmured to Madalyn. “Be still.” She could feel his erection pressed against her buttocks.

  Oh God.

  Madalyn didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or both. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be raped. Sweet God, she’d never been so frightened.

  “Shhh,” her captor said softly, shifting his weight to his knees. “You will be fine, do you just lie there and right your breathing.”

  “What do you want from us?” Madalyn rasped out.

  Weak, she cocked her head and glanced over her right shoulder as best she could. Black eyes locked with scared green ones. She felt this close to passing out.

  “What do you want?” she asked again, her voice catching.

  “I want you.”

  “IF YOU THINK WE’RE GOING DOWN EASY, think twice, bast
ards.”

  Otar ignored the vile-tongued sister of Madalyn and kept his prisoners moving. Soon they would reach the hidden door that led to the hidden world below.

  Capturing the wenches had been child’s play. Otar had tracked the vehicle’s tire impressions to a cabin, searched the dwelling, found nothing, then followed the second set of tracks into Zhitana. The rest had been easy. The only objective left was to seize and destroy their picture-taker, which Outsiders referred to as a camera.

  The picture-taker had not been in the cabin—they’d torn it apart looking for the bedamned thing. It had to be in the possession of either Madalyn or her sister. With the wenches firmly under his dominion and the camera under theirs—for now—the secret of the Underground would remain.

  Not even the wizened Inuit woman knew of the Underground; she thought his men to be fur traders. He had told her he wanted to find the two wenches because they had stolen furs from his home. A lie, mayhap, but a necessary one.

  “Wait until you’re asleep,” Drake taunted. “We’ll get you.”

  Otar turned his attention to Madalyn’s sister. Amused by her bluster, he hid a smile.

  “Oh, yes, we will get you!”

  She made a gesture that resembled a she-devil taking a pair of scissors to their man-parts. Iiro frowned, not having a care for the mental picture she conjured up in him. The “snip-snip” sound she made, followed by a demonic chuckle, apparently set fire to his temper.

  “Do you ever shut up, wench?” Iiro bellowed. “You’re easy on the eyes, but hard on the ears.”

  She blushed. A surprisingly modest affectation for one so loud.

  “I will not shut up for you,” she hissed. Her green eyes narrowed into slits. “Just wait until they find out we’ve been stolen. Oh, yes, they will find out! My sister is famous, you know. When word spreads of her disappearance, the people of this nation will not rest until she is found!”

  “Enough,” Madalyn said softly to her sister. “Don’t waste your breath on these…these…these…really bad people!”

  Otar snorted. “’Tis the best you can do?” he drawled. He was teasing her, but she didn’t yet know him well enough to discern as much. “I daresay your sister is much better at baiting.”

  That got her goat. A long, impressive string of bawdy words gushed from her rouge lips like a waterfall. He was amused, but he didn’t smile.

  Madalyn came to a halt. “What do you want with us?” she spat. “If you plan to kill us, could you at least have the decency to just do it already and end the glorious anticipation?”

  “Amen!” the she-devil chimed in.

  “Cease your prattling,” Iiro scolded Drake.

  “Why do you talk so funny?” Drake gritted out. “In case you don’t keep up with the news, bucko, the year is 2006, not 1506.”

  “Aye? So?”

  “So people don’t use words like ‘aye’ anymore! That vocabulary went the way of pirates. Extinct. Sunken ship, mates.”

  “To answer your question,” Otar said to Madalyn, ignoring Drake, “you will not be killed.” He took her by the arm and prodded her back into moving.

  “Then what do you want with us?”

  He shrugged, a seemingly unconcerned gesture. “Our people need more females.”

  Both wenches were dead quiet as they locked gazes with each other and absorbed the implication this news had to their future lives. It was Madalyn who broke the silence first.

  Her hand flew to cover her heart. “Sweet Jesus, just kill me now!”

  “Me, too!” her sister piped in. “I’d rather lie in bed with Big Brother than fuck one of you psychos!”

  “Oh my God,” Madalyn squealed, hysteria visibly engulfing her. She looked dazed. Her body appeared to tremble. Otar wondered if he would have been wise to keep his thoughts to himself until they reached Lokitown. “Please tell me this isn’t happening!”

  “You would rather fuck your brother?” Iiro asked Drake, astonished.

  Madalyn’s face went red with fury and mayhap a bit of frustration. “She—we—don’t have a brother, idiot!”

  “Do not speak to Iiro thusly, wench,” Otar calmly chided her. “Leastways, she did say she would rather—”

  “I know what she said,” Madalyn snapped. “Just never mind.” She waved him away, dismissing him, then rubbed her temples as if her head had gone to aching. “I’m too tired to deal with you.”

  Iiro and Luukas looked at Otar with round eyes. Neither man had ever heard anyone, male or female, speak to him in such an insulting manner. ’Twas a foolhardy thing to do.

  He found himself amused that wee Madalyn spoke to him in the way she wanted to. Of course, she didn’t yet know who he was to the rebels of New Sweden. But that didn’t mean he could let the slight go uncorrected.

  Otar came to a sudden stop and whirled Madalyn around to face him. Her eyes widened as she braved a look up at his face. “Do not ever speak to me like that again in front of my men. Say what you will in privacy, but watch your tongue in front of others.”

  She glanced away. He tightened his hold on her arms until she looked back up at him.

  “Okay,” she said, a hint of fear mixing with the anger in her voice. “I’m…sorry.”

  Arrogantly appeased, he forced her to walk again. “As you should be.”

  Chapter

  Eight

  It had been a long day. Madalyn couldn’t recall ever being so exhausted. She and Drake had been captured, escaped, then proceeded to flee to Zhitana, only to be recaptured. That had been enough. Walking for miles made her weariness all the more grueling.

  That wasn’t the worst of it. Finding out that these men intended to keep them as some sort of sex slaves was enough to take her mind off her fatigue and keep it honed in on their less than desirable fates.

  She couldn’t believe it. A part of Madalyn still believed this was all a bad dream from which she would soon awaken.

  Even Drake was shell-shocked. When they’d first been captured, her little sister had started out on the fiery, brave side, but the farther the group traveled, the warier she looked. She hadn’t said a word in well over an hour, which worried Madalyn. It wasn’t like Drake.

  Don’t worry, honey. If I can find a way out of this mess, I’ll get us back to civilization.

  Madalyn stole a glance at her captor, whom the other two men called Otar.

  What kind of a name was that? What language did they converse in when they didn’t want Drake and her to understand what they were saying? Madalyn had traveled the world over, but she’d never heard anyone speak quite like their captors did.

  His face had a chiseled, hawkish appearance. Everything about him looked hard. His body, his demeanor, his stoic expression—merciless.

  A chill worked down her spine. She knew he would never willingly let her go. “Defeat” was no more in his vocabulary than “aye” was in hers.

  Ironically, Otar was a ruggedly handsome man, quite striking in a rough-and-tumble sort of way. Looks-wise, he was the type of guy she’d dreamt of meeting all those lonely years back in Hollywood: tall, dark, muscular, and handsome. Why would a man like him need to steal a woman? Surely there were females aplenty who wanted him.

  He might have looked like the mega-macho version of Prince Charming, but he certainly didn’t act like him. Unless her mother had read her the wrong fairy tale, Madalyn was pretty certain that kidnapping, coercion—and possibly rape—had never entered into the story.

  She sighed, telling herself she was stupid. She should be mentally planning her and Drake’s escape, not thinking about things that couldn’t be changed.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why these men had stolen them. Madalyn had assumed they would either let them go or kill them after they retrieved the camera, but nobody had so much as mentioned the digital. She certainly wouldn’t offer any information. The hidden camera was, at present, their best hope at being found. Their only hope.

  “We are almost there,” she heard Ii
ro tell Drake. He propped her up, helping her walk. “You can rest anon.”

  Madalyn wondered where they were being taken. She could only pray it was a place where they’d find someone—anyone—who was willing to help them escape.

  “Dörren är där borta,” Iiro remarked to Otar.

  “Ja,” Otar replied. He cleared his throat, then switched to English, or his version of it, anyway. “’Tis done. We are here,” he announced.

  Madalyn frowned. She glanced around but saw nothing. Looking to Drake, she watched for her sister’s reaction. Drake appeared to be every bit as confused as she was.

  “I don’t get it,” Madalyn said. “There’s nothing here but snow…” She glanced up. “And really big mountains.”

  “You live up there?” Drake asked, disgust in her voice. “No cabins or even huts? We’re accustomed to the finer things in life, boys. This will never work.”

  Madalyn found herself snorting a semilaugh for the first time since they were captured. It was great to hear Drake running her mouth again. And it was amusing, despite the situation, that she would ever claim to be used to “the finer things in life.” Madalyn, yes, but not Drake. Her sister would choose a harsh, rural existence in an underground extremist science facility over a life of luxury, or even comfort, any day of the week.

  Glancing over at Otar, Madalyn was unnerved to find him staring at her again. There was a peculiar gleam in his eyes. It wasn’t lust, love, hate, or any other identifiable emotion.

  “You are used to the finer things in life, Madalyn?” Otar asked.

  The answer seemed important to him. How very odd. “I am,” she said simply.

  He continued to stare at her. She didn’t know what he was really asking, but she didn’t care for suspense. “Why do you ask?”

  He blinked, then looked away. “I was but curious.”

  “So,” Drake interrupted, “you live up on top of this mountain?”

  “Nay,” Otar replied, finding Madalyn’s gaze once more. “We live under them.”