“Haven’t seen anyone else.”
Neither had Neil. Pivoting, he checked behind him.
Nothing.
The rain around him hit the forest floor with a force that made a constant sound against everything around him. Having spent a large portion of his life in California, he enjoyed the rain when it came…just not today.
“Assume someone else is out here.”
“Good plan,” Rick murmured.
Or Raven had a trick up his ass. They encroached on the cliff with caution.
Neil’s fingers cooled with the dropping temperatures. He lowered his weapon to the ground and stopped long enough to look behind him. His eyes landed on something purple on the ground. He shifted toward the object, noticed something like it in a yellow color. Peering closer he noticed candy. He turned away, thinking at first that someone had left it on the path long before now.
He hesitated.
Candy? Who did he know that ate the stuff…the small bits easily tucked into a pocket?
The chopper was ten miles from their destination.
Someone had covered Linden’s body with an army green blanket, covering his face. Rick held on to one of the straps in the wall and stared blankly out the open door. Billy hung his head in his hands.
Mickey reached into his pocket, removed his ever-ready candy, and popped a few pieces into his mouth. Even through the pain of his injury he managed to live up to his name. Mickey Mouse…land of big ears and kid candy.
Neil dropped back. His insides curled onto him.
Mickey.
Why?
“Rick…stop.”
A few moments passed. “What?”
“Drop back.”
“He’s right there.”
Neil swallowed. “I know who it is.”
I know who it fucking is.
Gwen rolled onto her back, her hands behind her.
The door at the top of the stairs closed with a resounding click. She knew if she made it up the stairs without falling, she’d find the door locked.
The cloth in her mouth cut into her cheeks and dried her mouth out instantly. A dry mouth was the least of her worries.
Her heart beat so fast and hard in her chest it threatened to explode. Charles was directing their enemy. All her reservations about the man were spot-on. Not that being right was doing her any good now.
Gwen twisted her hands in the cuffs a few times even though intellectually she knew getting them off without a key was futile. Didn’t stop her from trying. As the adrenaline started to wane, fear took its place. The dingy basement didn’t bother her as much as it could, but the realization that there was only one way out did. When she felt her eyes start to fill with moisture, she struggled against the handcuffs again, and felt the metal bite into her skin. With the pain, her tears dried up. She would not pity herself and fall further victim to her captor. He’d love nothing more than to return to the basement and find her helpless and crying.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. All his talk about what women were good for, and what they weren’t, told her how much he underestimated her gender.
He’d left the light on, giving her the ability to see what might be hiding in the corners of the room that might aid her. She stood and moved around the room. Above her head were pipes and wiring running the length of the room. There was a water heater in one corner and what looked to be a fuse box close by. Sadly, she’d never had a need to open an electrical box in her life and could only identify it because of some of the television shows she’d watched in the past. With her hands behind her back, she couldn’t reach the thing anyway.
There were boxes piled on one wall about three deep. Several were labeled Christmas, and a few more had the name Annie scribbled on top. Gwen kicked at a box that wasn’t labeled. When the box hardly moved, she pushed her knee into it.
Heavy.
With a little effort, she twisted her hands to the box and used her fingertips to pry open the cardboard.
Books. Looks like I found Ruth’s library.
She couldn’t imagine books doing her a lot of good. Perhaps if her hands were free she could throw them at Charles, but that wasn’t an option in her current state.
Gwen turned toward the boxes with Annie’s name on them. Inside one box was what looked like a gallery of children’s artwork. The kind a child would bring home from primary school and litter the refrigerator with. Gwen easily pushed one box off of the other and opened another one. This one held items from an earlier time. Plush toys, a baby blanket. Nothing useful.
The Christmas boxes held the typical suspects. Lights, ornaments, knickknacks that needed to be dusted throughout the month of December and then put away again. The thought of the holiday brought a chill down her spine. If she didn’t find a way out of this basement, she might never see another Christmas.
What about Neil? He was out there thinking she was safe…and the man he chose to protect her wanted him dead. The back of her throat tightened.
He can take care of himself.
She had to believe that.
Gwen backed away from the boxes and leaned against the arm of the dirty couch.
Think, Gwen. What can I use here?
The boxes represented the women in Charles’s life. His wife’s books, which he apparently didn’t care for. And his daughter’s childhood. A daughter whom he wasn’t happy with at the current time. It seemed he’d packed up his daughter and tucked her away. Out of sight, out of mind. Much like Gwen’s own father had done. Yet Gwen knew her father loved her in his own way.
But did Charles always think about Annie in such a sour way? If he saw the items in the boxes, would they evoke a compassionate memory? A memorable and pleasant holiday? The man had already made it clear he planned on killing her. Provoking him to hasten his desire wasn’t smart…but maybe reminding him of what he’d lose if caught would make him think twice.
If she made him hesitate…
Gwen leaned on the edge of the couch and lifted her right leg to her hands behind her back. She assured herself that she could reach what she secured to her ankle before she’d left the house.
Removing the revolver now, however, wasn’t necessary. She could reach it, which gave her some comfort. Not that she knew how she would fire the thing at him from behind her back, but she damn well would if she had to.
Neil met up with Rick, seeing him face-to-face for the first time in three days.
His friend’s questioning eyes met his. It killed Neil to put his thoughts to words. “It’s Mickey.”
Rick’s face went stark white. “What the—”
Neil opened his palm and displayed the bits of candy he’d found on the path. “Know anyone else who eats this stuff like it’s crack?”
Rick grabbed at the candy, stared at it, and then threw it to the ground in disgust. “Fuck. Why? Why would he do this?”
“I don’t know. But if we find out we stand a chance of getting him out of here alive…so he can get help.”
“The fucker killed Billy. I don’t give a crap if he has a lunch date with the devil.”
Neil grabbed Rick’s arm as he turned away. “It’s Mickey, Rick. C’mon. Of all of us, he’s the one who lost the most. The man doesn’t even have his balls anymore.” The groin injury left the man impotent. A fact Neil forgot until the moment he knew Mickey was the one gunning for them.
“You think he blames us for that?”
Neil let Rick go when his friend stopped pulling away. “I don’t know. Maybe. I know he was dating someone before Operation Raven and when he returned she let him go.”
“We were all on the same mission. None of us is to blame.”
“Logic doesn’t play into a sick mind. Explains all the class A military bugs and toys he’s using. Stuff that’s come about since we were in.”
Rick turned in a circle, and then glared at the face of the cliff. “I checked on him. Heard he was deep undercover.”
“Who told you that?”
> “The major.”
Neil’s skin chilled. “The major?”
“I called him…you know, hey, how ya doing…by the way do you have any idea where Mickey ended up? I didn’t want to alarm the guy. He said he’d get back to me. Called a couple days later and said Mickey’s file indicated an assignment.”
Neil took a breath. “What made you think he was deep undercover?”
Rick shook his head. “I found Mickey’s dad’s number. The old man said his son was on a secret mission. Dads do that. Brag about their kids. I added the information together.”
“Only we’re his secret mission.”
“Wouldn’t his superiors realize he was AWOL?”
“Blayney doesn’t know,” Neil said.
“How can you be sure?”
Neil clenched his teeth. “I left Gwen with him.”
Rick stilled and stared. “For her protection?”
“Right. Who better than the US Marines to protect my wife?”
“Your wife?”
“Married her right before I met up with you.”
“Damn, Neil. Why didn’t you tell me? That’s huge.”
Yeah, well, now wasn’t the time for pats on the back and the sharing of beer. “Chuck implied that he’d have a better chance of keeping her safe if she were my wife. In case she started to get anxious and wanted to leave. I didn’t want Raven…Mickey finding her and using her against me like Billy and his wife.”
Rick narrowed his eyes. “So you married her only to keep her safe?”
Neil shook his head. He loved her. Oh, how he loved her. “Would have married her anyway.”
“Chuck suggested marriage?”
“No. I suggested marriage, Chuck expedited the priest and stood as witness.”
Neil peered toward the cliff, wondering if Mickey watched them as he kept hidden behind the cropping of trees.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Rick said. “If that’s Mickey up there then someone knows he’s AWOL. Unless there is a price on our heads.”
It didn’t feel right to Neil either. “We need to find out who Mickey is working with. The guy was good, but I never thought he’d win a prize for intelligence.” Mickey was the youngest one on their team. What he lacked in leadership ability, he made up for with raw power and enthusiasm. Always popping his sugar fix and pushing the team to move faster. Neil remembered when he’d heard about the extent of Mickey’s injury, that the man would survive mentally so long as he had an outlet for his energy. The marines always needed men like him.
He’d be OK.
Only he wasn’t.
“We need to draw him out. Get him talking.”
“Suggestions?” Rick asked.
“We get close and start talking. Make him put our faces in his head instead of a target. If he’s working for someone, something will come out. If he’s alone…well, we’ll deal with that later.”
Rick nodded. “I’ll take the south.”
“Be safe.”
Rick winked, and disappeared into the brush.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Moving around the room kept her warm. She managed to remove a few strands of colored lights and plugged them into the sole outlet in the room. One set started to blink, adding a twinkle to the dismal room. The irony of the image would have worked up a manic laugh if her mouth weren’t as dry as cotton.
Every once in a while she heard Charles roaming the floor above her and she’d stop. No need for him to come into the room until she had everything where she wanted it.
She realized that the only weapon she had to take Charles off guard was a psychological one. Strewing as much of the room as she could with Annie’s childhood memories along with their household Christmas items was bound to provoke some memories with the man. Something other than the hate that lived inside his soul. If the kid paintings and baby blanket did nothing for him, at least there would be some evidence that she’d been down there against her will. She’d dropped one of the bulbs and nicked her fingers, causing them to bleed. She purposely touched as many of Annie’s things as she could with her bloody hand, and went on to touch the walls, the rail on the stairs, and the underside of the stairs. The idea came from the book she’d attempted to read to pass the time earlier in the week. Crazy how life sometimes imitated art.
If he focused on the mess in the room, maybe she could manage to shoot her way out of there. It was all the hope she had. It wasn’t as if she could talk him out of what he was doing with her mouth gagged.
Using her fingers, and her feet, she tipped over boxes and spread first grade art around the room…all the while Christmas lights twinkled in a heap on the floor.
Neil shook the droplets of rain from his head. The thunder and lightning had stopped, leaving liquid sunshine. He wasn’t sure what was more wrong…the fact that he and Rick were now hunting someone they once called friend, a man Neil would have defended to the death, a man he once felt sorry for, or that like the clouds overhead, something larger surrounded him. Something close enough to smell, but not taste.
His heat goggles picked Mickey up close to where Neil had his fallback position. The strong desire to finish this quickly so he could retrieve Gwen and assure himself that she was well ate at him.
“I’m in position,” Rick told him in his ear.
Neil scurried from one tree to another, keeping his cover. “We still don’t know what his plan is.”
“Keep hidden.” He didn’t have to be told twice.
With his back to a tree, and several bushes at his feet, Neil scouted their enemy. “Ready. I’ll do the talking. Keep him guessing where you are. See if you can get in tighter.”
“Copy that.”
Neil drew in a deep breath and blew it out between cold lips. He positioned his binoculars to see if his words had any impact. “Why are you doing this?” he yelled above the sound of the rain.
There wasn’t any movement…nothing.
“We were friends.”
The brush in his view moved.
“Damn it, Mickey…talk to me. We were all brothers.”
That worked. “I don’t have brothers.”
Hearing his voice again hit his solar plexus. For a moment there he could have been wrong. But not anymore. “Once a marine, always a marine.”
“I’m the only marine left. You left. You all fucking left.”
Neil tracked the moving brush. “He’s coming toward you,” Neil told Rick.
“I see him,” Rick said.
“Our tour was finished, Mickey.” The major granted them leave until their time was served. It was as if the man knew any more would have twisted their minds. Twisted them like Mickey’s.
“It’s all I had.”
“Why blow it now? You gotta know this isn’t going to work. Someone is going to find you AWOL.”
Mickey’s laugh met Neil’s ears. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
“AWOL? You think I deserted my country? And he says you’re the smart one. You’re fucking stupid, Mac.”
Neil pulled back and shifted to a tree five yards to the north. “Who’s he?”
“I think it’s much more entertaining for you to figure that out on your own. You won’t live long after. Those last moments will make all your hope fade. Just like mine did.”
“What’s he talking about?” Rick whispered in his ear.
“Don’t know.” But it made him itch like he’d rolled in a hill of army ants.
“Your life still has hope, Mickey.”
“What do you know? Ever watch the light in a woman’s eye die? Ever feel the light in your own fade when she walks away?”
Neil pushed the image of Gwen away. He didn’t need Mickey playing him now. Now he knew that Mickey had planned on using Gwen to get to him. Best not fall into Mickey’s trap now. “There’s other women out there,” Neil said.
“Not when your cock isn’t good for anything other than taking a piss.” Mickey’s anger was palpable.
Neil cri
nged. “There’s more to life than sex.” Lord knew he didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t perform anymore. But killing his friends wouldn’t be the answer.
“Says the man who’s been fucking the little blonde number.” Mickey laughed again. “How’s Lady Gwen anyway?”
Neil bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He pulled his AK off his back and pushed in closer.
“This has nothing to do with her.”
Mickey laughed, and shifted his position straight toward him. He moved with methodical ease, keeping himself hidden.
“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”
“He’s playing you, Neil. Don’t fall for it.” Rick’s words registered, but they didn’t manage to calm him.
Beyond Mickey, Rick moved closer to the cliff, and closed in.
“Gwen’s safe. You can’t get to her.”
Mickey laughed again. “I don’t have to get to her, Mac. That’s the beauty of this. The man at my back is better than Rick.”
Neil froze, his nose flared as his vision went red.
“Bastard,” Rick murmured as he drew in tighter.
“Stay the fuck back, Smiley.”
“Or what?” Rick finally spoke.
“Or I press this button and put in the order for Lady Gwen’s unfortunate accident.”
Neil’s hands started to shake.
“He’s bluffing,” Rick whispered.
Neil shook the rain from his head and forced his head to clear. Major Blayney?
No.
“You never were a good liar, Mickey,” Rick said.
“Is that so?”
Neil closed his eyes, the pain in his head intense. Blonde? Blondie? Who’d said that recently?
“Know who I was banging before Operation Raven? The operation that Mac and Billy fucked up?”
Hearing that aloud hurt, even though Neil knew it was bullshit.
“Why do I care who you were with?”
Neil regrouped and opened his eyes again. Mickey stood two hundred yards away, Rick less than a hundred from him.
“The name Annie mean anything to you?”
Annie?
Blondie…Chuck’s question came back to Neil. “How did you get Blondie to come with you?”
Fiancé by Friday Page 25
