by Linda Turner
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Chapter 9
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Trapped in a darkness that seemed to have no beginning or end, Katie returned slowly, awkwardly, to consciousness. She didn't catch the sounds of silence that engulfed her until they echoed in her ears, didn't feel the heaviness that weighted her limbs until she tried to move and couldn't find the strength. Forcing her eyes to open, she stared in puzzlement at the dirt floor her cheek rested against. Its damp, musty scent filled her nostrils. A fine line of confusion furrowed her brow as her gaze skimmed over the floor to the unpainted, rough wall she lay facing. Where was she? She couldn't seem to remember anything except the swamp and Grant…
Images played against the darkness that still tried to cloud her mind. The swamp … a camp carved out of the wilderness … Grant leaving her to get a better look, then … nothing. Only a sudden horrible ache at the back of her head and blackness.
She'd been knocked out. With the realization came the fear, cold, enervating, insidious, pushing her to panic. Where was she? Where was Grant? She had to get to him, to warn him! Her heart thundered in her ears as she gathered her strength to push herself up off the floor. The minute she moved, a white-hot stab of pain set fire to the base of her skull. Moaning, she collapsed back to the ground.
Suddenly Grant was beside her, leaning over to push her hair back from her face. "Easy," he murmured. "Take it easy, sweetheart. You took quite a hit."
"Grant!" She launched herself into his arms despite the throbbing of her head. She clung there, muffling a sob against his chest as she buried her face against him. "Thank God!"
His arms tightened around her, molding her to him. His blue eyes glinted with a fury held barely in check. When they got out of there, he was going to get the bastard who'd hit her and make him pay. "How's the head?" he asked gruffly, peering down at her ashen face.
"Pounding. What happened? Did you see anything?"
"Not until it was too late," he said in disgust. "I heard the dogs and was just turning to warn you when I saw you being knocked out. Before I could get to you to help, someone sneaked-up behind me, too." He gingerly felt the back of his neck. "Feels like they hit me with a two-by-four. The next thing I knew, I woke up in here."
Her fingers moved to cover his. "Are you all right?"
He grimaced ruefully and captured her hand in his. "Don't worry about me. It'll take more than a bash on the back of the head to do me in."
A chill rippled over Katie's skin. She pushed herself out of his arms. "This guy you saw, how big was he?"
He shrugged. "Around five seven. Maybe a hundred and forty pounds. Looked like the type who enjoys torturing cats."
"And anything else weaker than him," she replied hollowly, suddenly sick with certainty. "Fabian Cantu. It had to be him. God, we've got to get out of here!"
She scrambled up, cursing the pain in her head, and glanced around wildly. The building was little more than a six-by-ten-foot shed. It was empty but for the two of them. There were no windows, and the only light came from a bare light bulb hanging from a wire. The only way out was through the steel door set incongruously in one rickety wall.
"I've already tried it," Grant told her, his eyes following hers to the door. "It's locked. This shack may look like it'd blow away in a good stiff wind, but it's tighter than a bank vault."
"No!" she cried. "There's got to be a way out!"
Her protest was cut off by the sound of a key in the lock. Behind her, Katie heard Grant quickly rise to his feet, but her attention was fixed on the door, her heart thudding heavily. She didn't even look at Grant when he came to stand beside her, his arm slipping protectively around her shoulders. She braced herself for the danger she knew was coming through the door.
She should have known it would be Cantu. Dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, holding an Uzi as carelessly as if it were a BB gun, he stepped into the shack like a jailer anticipating torture. When he saw that Katie and Grant were conscious, his eyes narrowed and a sneer slid across his mouth. "So you're awake. Too bad. I was looking forward to bringing you around."
Katie kept her face carefully devoid of every emotion except contempt. "What do you want?"
"As much as I can get," he taunted. Pointing the machine gun at Grant's heart, he ordered coldly, "Get away from her. Me and her are going for a little walk, and we don't need no boyfriend to chaperon."
Grant felt Katie tense. He didn't budge. "No."
The gang leader's eyes glinted dangerously. The nose of the Uzi came up ever so slightly, threateningly. "What was that? I don't think I heard you right."
Had Grant lost his mind? Katie wondered. Cantu would kill him and laugh while he did it! She struggled out from under his arm. "I'll go."
"Katie, for God's sake—"
He made a move to stop her, but before he could even take a step, Cantu had the blunt end of the gun resting against his chest. "Come on, give me a reason to shoot you," he goaded softly. "Just one, that's all I need."
Katie caught her breath. For the longest moment, Grant didn't move, the fury in his eyes wild and uncontrollable. He was going to do it, she thought, terrified. He was going to go for Cantu's throat and damn the consequences!
"No," he said suddenly. But even then, he didn't back down. "If you haven't got the guts to pull the trigger on your own, I'm sure as hell not going to help you. But if you hurt her," he growled, "I'll find a way to come after you. And when I do, you'll wish you'd never been born."
The younger man's black eyes flared at the threat, but his only answer was to shove Katie outside, slam the door in Grant's face, and lock it. Gesturing with the Uzi, he motioned to another building across the compound. "Over there. Let's go."
He didn't even give her a chance to take a step before he prodded her in the back with the gun. She jumped, then could have kicked herself because he laughed sinisterly. If she let him, he would feed off her fear like a vulture devouring its prey. She had to get hold of herself!
Closing her mind to the cold metal that occasionally nuzzled her back, she walked forward across the compound, her lowered eyes taking a quick but thorough inspection of the camp. There were no barriers between it and the swamp, no barbed wire or fences to stop an escape. But barricades weren't needed when more than a dozen men walked around carrying Uzis as casually as Cantu. Her heart sank as she recognized a few of them. Barracudas. Young, some of them barely old enough to shave. But their faces were nonetheless calloused, their eyes impervious to her plight as they watched her move across the compound.
Cantu laughed softly as if he was reading her mind. "If you're thinking of making a run for it, you'd better think again. The guys are a little bored. They wouldn't mind a little target practice."
She sent him a withering glance and didn't even bother to answer.
His eyes turned icy. "Inside," he snarled as they reached the other building and he pushed her through the door.
The building he'd brought her to was better constructed than the others and was obviously camp headquarters. But Katie had only a moment before she noticed the man seated behind an antique walnut desk at the far end of the large room. Michael Gallegos.
Her heart froze. Now the charade of loving uncle would be stripped away and she would see him as he really was. A cold-blooded killer and drug king.
But the mm who rose to his feet and started around the desk toward her acted just as he always did whenever he saw her. He held out his arms for a hug! "Katie, sweetheart, how are you feeling?"
She shrank away from him in horror, stepping back until Cantu's Uzi was again pressed into her back. At least that was a threat she could recognize! "You don't give a damn how I'm feeling," she said quietly. "So why don't you cut the act? It's served its purpose."
He winced at her tone. "Of course I care," he said, throwing her a wounded look. "Why do you think I had Fabian go to the trouble of setting Ryan up?"
She gasped. "You were responsible for that?"
"You kept sticking
your nose into something that wasn't any of your business. I had to do something to distract you."
"I'm a reporter," she retorted. "It's my job to stick my nose into illegal things that aren't any of my business."
He continued as if she hadn't even spoken. "I could've overlooked a lot of things from you, but when you searched my home, my office, I knew I'd have to do something to stop you." He watched her eyes widen and chuckled softly. "Do you think I'm a fool? I've got hidden cameras all over the house. I knew the minute you stepped into my office."
She swallowed, suddenly feeling sick. "So when we overheard you giving directions to this place, it was all a setup."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he protested, frowning. "Let's call it a … test, I was hoping that loyalty meant something to you. But what did you do?" he asked as he stepped back behind his desk and picked up her small camera, which Cantu had obviously confiscated when he'd knocked her out. "You come out here with this. So much for loyalty." Throwing it back down onto the desk, he took his seat, his eyes dark with regret as they met hers. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you leave me no choice. I'm going to have to kill you. You know too much."
He was crazy. He spoke of killing her as if it were a sad necessity she was forcing him to! When had his mind slipped over the fine line between sanity and madness? "Uncle Mike," she choked, "you're not thinking clearly—"
"Oh, but I am," he argued with a pleasantness that turned her blood to ice. "I'll try to make it as painless as possible for you. It'll be an accident, of course. Just like Sam Bradford's. But it'll have to wait till tomorrow. Nothing can interfere with my plans for tonight. And setting up an accident takes time. With Mr. Bradford we were just lucky that the weather cooperated."
She blanched at the mention of Sam but forced herself to focus on the tidbits of information he was giving away in his rambling. "What's happening tonight that's so important?"
"That, my dear, is none of your business," he returned curtly. Glancing past her shoulder to where Cantu silently stood guard at the door, he said, "Take her back to the shed and tell the guard to give her anything she wants within reason. I want her last few hours to be as comfortable as possible."
Cantu stepped to her side to grab her arm. She never took her eyes from her uncle's. "Do you really think that's going to appease your conscience?" she demanded contemptuously.
He shrugged. "Unlike most of the world, a conscience is something I learned to live without years ago." He nodded for Cantu to take her out, and his last words caught her just as she reached the door. "Katie, try not to worry about Ryan. I'll be there to console him."
The taunt and his soft, triumphant laughter were almost her undoing. Only the sure knowledge that he wanted to snap her control, to beat her down so she would give up, kept her from ripping free of Cantu's hold and launching herself at the old man. Patience, she warned herself as she stepped outside without a backward glance.
* * *
Grant prowled the confines of the shed like a desperate claustrophobic. How long had she been gone? he fumed. Ten minutes? Twenty? If that bastard hurt her… He swore, erasing the thought before it could lodge in his mind like a cancer. No, Cantu wouldn't hurt her. Not yet, anyway. He was the type of man who would draw out the fear, letting his victim brood on his fate, anticipate the pain, dread it. He would strike when it would take only a touch to push someone over the edge.
Before he'd let that happen, Grant vowed savagely, he'd see Cantu in hell.
The sound of a key in the lock shattered his musings. He whirled, crouched for trouble, but it was Katie. The relief that coursed through him almost staggered him. Resisting the urge to go to her, he forced himself to keep his distance and ran a sharp eye over her instead. The dirt from the floor still clung to her clothes and cheek. She was paler than when she'd left, more subdued. She didn't appear to have been harmed, but Grant knew there were infinite varieties of torture other than the physical.
He stepped toward her, his eyes searching hers. "Are you all right?"
She swallowed and forced a smile. "I'm fine."
"You could be better," Cantu said as he appeared in the doorway behind her, his grin leering. "I could make your last hours very pleasant ones."
Grant moved so quickly, Katie only had time for a strangled cry of surprise. Grant pulled her behind him and bore down on the younger man with the light of murder in his eyes. Ignoring the Uzi that was snapped up against his chest, he towered over Cantu like an avenging god. "You'll have to go through me to get to her." He taunted softly, "Come on, Cantu. Put the machine gun down. Let's just see how much of a man you are."
Horrified, Katie watched Cantu's finger tighten on the trigger. "Stop it, both of you!"
She might as well have been talking to the wall. The two men glowered at each other with hatred in their eyes. "I don't have to prove I'm a man to you," Cantu told Grant silkily. "Only to her. And I'm going to make you watch."
"Like hell!"
The arrival of another truck in the compound drew Cantu's attention to the open door. Swearing at the interruption, he promised, "Later," and stepped outside, slamming and locking the door behind him.
He'd barely walked out the door when Katie pivoted sharply and glared at the man she loved. "Damn it, Grant, my uncle has already promised to kill us. If you keep pushing Cantu, we'll never have a chance to get out of here!"
"Gallegos is here?" he demanded, crossing to her. "You saw him? What happened?"
She shuddered. "He's crazy," she whispered, remembering how her uncle had held his arms wide for a hug. "He actually thought I would drop the investigation out of loyalty. Now he has no choice but to kill us. Oh, it'll look like an accident, of course," she added quickly, her voice shaking. "Just like Sam's."
"He told you that? He admitted being responsible for Sam's death?"
"It'll be an accident. Just like Sam Bradford's," she quoted. "But it seems accidents take time to set up, so we'll have to wait until tomorrow. He'll do everything he can to make me comfortable in the meantime, because nothing can interfere with his plans for tonight." She almost choked on unexpected laughter. "He considers himself lucky that the weather cooperated with him the night Sam died."
Grant frowned at the hint of hysteria he heard in Katie's voice and quickly wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't let her lose control, not if they were going to get out of here. "Easy, babe, don't fall apart on me now. We're not going to wait around like sitting ducks for the old man to blow us out of the water," he told her firmly, stroking her hair. "We're making a break for it tonight, so we've got to make plans."
Sliding down to the ground, he pulled her down beside him and leaned back against the wall, his legs stretched out next to hers. "Tell me everything you saw. The layout of the camp, how many men, guns, everything."
Closing her eyes, Katie willed herself to concentrate. Escape. The word beat at her until images of the camp pushed aside those of the man she would never call Uncle again. She described her meeting with Gallegos. "The big building a hundred yards to the left of here is Gallegos's headquarters," she said quietly. "His office is there. To the right of that are two other barnlike structures that look like they might be used for storage. They're sitting right on the edge of the swamp."
"How many guards did you see?"
She saw again the men lounging around the compound and had to fight to repress a shiver of revulsion. "About thirteen, including Cantu," she said flatly. "And they were all carrying Uzis."
"The guns won't do them much good once we can reach the swamps and disappear into the underbrush," he replied, seemingly unconcerned. "Now we've just got to figure out what Gallegos has planned for tonight and use it to our advantage."
For the first time since Cantu had knocked her out, Katie smiled naturally. "And just how do you propose to do that?" she asked dryly.
"Not me," he corrected. "You."
"Me! But—"
"You've mentioned that Gallegos has already said he'll make you as
comfortable as possible," he reminded her. "If you bang on the door complaining you're sick and you need to go to the bathroom, you've got a good chance of getting out of here. I don't. Once you're outside, you can look around and see what's going on."
Through the wooden walls of the shed, they could hear another truck drive into the compound and the welcoming shouts of some of the guards. Grant was right. Something big was planned for tonight, and the more they knew about it, the better their chances were of escape. "All right," she said decisively. "I'll do it."
Since she'd just been outside, she knew she wouldn't be able to complain of sickness without raising the guard's suspicions, so they decided to wait a couple of hours to make their move. They were the longest of Katie's life. The temperature in the muggy shed grew hot as she and Grant talked of everything but the events to come. All the while, the activity in the compound increased.
Katie paced restlessly, her nerves knotting tighter with every passing moment. The exercise did nothing to release her growing agitation. When she felt the walls of the shed closing in on her, she knew she had to do something. She stopped abruptly to face Grant, who was still leaning comfortably against the wall. How could he be so relaxed? she wondered irritably. "Let's do it now. I can't stand this waiting!"
He looked her over, noting her ashen cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, the signs of strain around her mouth, the sweat-dampened curls that clung to her face. It wouldn't take much acting to convince the guard that she wasn't feeling well. Rage boiled in him. He wanted to crush her in his arms and promise her that Michael Gallegos would pay for the hell he was putting her through. But her control was already stretched to the limit. To be touched now might be her undoing, so he purposefully stayed where he was. "You want me to get the guard or do you want to do it yourself?"
"Maybe you should," she decided. "Then it'll look like I'm too weak to do it myself."
He nodded and rose swiftly to his feet. At the door, his eyes met hers. "Ready?"
