Blake had opted to go over the western wall, and the two would meet wherever Zack told them Mandy was likely to be held.
Duncan sloshed further into the darkness, almost immune to the smell by now. Almost.
He’d had to memorise the directions Paul had given him to make his way through the tunnels, not wanting to waste time drawing up maps. He repeated the instructions to himself. Right, Straight, Left, Right.
Time ticked on, and Duncan sloshed through the water as quickly as he could. Had Blake made it into the compound, or was he waiting for Duncan?
The ground grew uneven, and Duncan tripped, coming down hard on his bad knee. He grunted in pain, holding still to wait for it to pass even as the fetid water sank into his trousers. A few deep breaths and he slowly raised himself into a standing position.
He took a tentative step. Pain lanced through his leg and he froze, wincing. Slowly, he tried again, moving forward. Mandy couldn’t wait for him to recover. He had to keep going.
The putrid air filled his lungs as he took a deep breath to push the pain to a distant corner of his mind. He took a few more steps, moving through the ache. Eventually, it eased enough for him to walk on it normally, but he knew he’d suffer for it later.
Darkness pressed in on him from all sides, and Duncan began to worry he’d gotten lost. There was no sound other than his harsh breathing and the splash of his footsteps echoing through the tunnel.
Nearly there.
He reached the spot where the ladder should be. Nothing. Shit. Had he made a wrong turn?
He swung that light around, trying to find what he was missing, but it didn’t penetrate far enough into the darkness. He took a few more steps, eyes moving side to side with the beam.
There!
He hurried forward, gritting his teeth at the pain in his knee. He’d already taken up too much time. The police were on their way, and he needed to get Mandy out of there before they showed up, guns blazing.
There was every chance they couldn’t be trusted.
Duncan tucked his light back into his pocket and took hold of the ladder. His knee burned as he slowly made his way up, careful not to put too much weight on it for too long. The pressure of time ticked like a bomb about to go off.
He reached the top of the ladder. Preparing himself, he planted his palm against the ceiling above him and pushed.
It didn’t budge.
Panic set his heart fluttering. He adjusted his stance and tried again. Maybe there was some movement, but he couldn’t tell if it was the manhole cover.
Duncan hooked his arm around the ladder rung and dug the flashlight from his pocket. The beam illuminated the rusty metal covering, spelling out the words of the maker. If this manhole had been paved over…his throat closed over at the thought.
Determined not to panic, he planted himself steadily, then heaved with all his considerable might.
The manhole creaked, then rust and dust rained down on Duncan as it came free from years of debris and shifted to the side.
He almost laughed with relief. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath of the fresh air, clearing his lungs. Then, he stuck his head out to the eyes and had a quick peek at his surroundings before diving back into the safety of the manhole cover.
He was about ten feet from the nearest wall. To his left and behind was just empty space, and straight ahead was a solid wall that was no doubt the outer wall of the compound. So, his right, which seemed to have the external wall of the warehouse, would be his aim.
“Team?”
“Oh, thank god,” came Sam’s voice. “Where have you been?”
He growled. “Trekking through the worst smelling tunnel known to man. I’ll never get the smell out.”
She chuckled. “Right, well—“
“Incoming,” interrupted Zack. “Cops are here.”
Duncan swore. “You have a location on Mandy yet?”
“Negative. There are five people inside the warehouse, but I can’t tell who is who.”
“And Blake?” Duncan asked.
“I’m here,” the other man replied, sounding out of breath. “But I’m no used to you. They caught me before I got over the wall and I’m on the run. I’ll try to make it back once I’ve lost them.”
Duncan sighed. “It’s fine. Maybe just get us some quick transportation out of here.”
“Done.”
“Okay, we can’t waste any more time. Sam, I need to make a run for it. Am I clear?”
The comms were silent for a minute. Then, “Yes. If you go…now.”
Duncan hauled himself out of the manhole with his upper body, then stumbled to his feet. He raced over to the open door in the exterior wall, almost dragging his bad leg behind him.
Zack’s voice came next. “Once you’re inside, go hard right. There are two bodies coming in from the left.”
Duncan did as Zack said. The small room just off the door looked like a security guard station. It was smaller than most closets, and crammed with a desk, chair and filing cabinet. Duncan crouched below the window level, half-hiding under the desk as much as his big body would allow.
His leg screamed in protest at the position, but he ignored it, waiting for Zack’s instructions.
“They’re coming towards you,” he said. “Wait for it.”
Duncan waited.
The slow drip of water from one of the rusty pipes was slowly driving Mandy mad. She’d given up her defiance and now lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and waiting.
For what, she didn’t know.
She hadn’t seen Tulane since he’d stalked out of the interrogation room a few hours ago. She was grateful, knowing her chance of survival went up with every second she wasn’t in his company.
A key turned in the lock with a faint click, and Mandy sat up as the door swung open. The second kidnapper stood there, barely illuminated by the weak orange light coming through the window above—a streetlight, Mandy had guessed.
He grinned at her, and it was only then that the familiarity she’d sensed before returned with a vengeance.
A name popped into her head. “Frankie?” she asked, finally remembering the terrorist that had escaped the night she and Duncan had been taken hostage.
He eyed her carefully. “How do you know my name?”
Mandy scrambled to her feet. “We’ve met.”
Doubt settled over his expression. “When?”
“When you took me and a whole room full of people hostage and we nearly died?”
Frankie’s face cleared. “Ah, yes.”
Mandy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “The police never found you.”
Frankie shrugged. “Tulane looks after his own.”
“Is that—”
“Enough.” Frankie grabbed her arm and hauled her down the corridor.
“Where are we going?” she asked, stumbling slightly at his rough handling.
“Tulane wants to see you,” he said.
Mandy didn’t say anything at that, too overwhelmed by panic. Was this it? Would he kill her now? Her throat closed over as she tried desperately to think of a way out.
Rather than taking her into the interrogation room she’d been in earlier, Frankie dragged her instead into the huge, empty warehouse space she’d seen when they’d walked past.
Two shiny black cars waited inside. Tulane stood next to one of them, looking more aggravated than he had earlier. His silver hair was mussed, as if he’d run his hand through it impatiently, and his suit was rumpled.
“There you are,” he said as soon as he saw her, his eyes narrowed in a glare. “What took you so long?”
Mandy slanted a glance at Frankie. “We were just getting reacquainted.”
Tulane also looked at Frankie. “Reacquainted?”
Frankie shrugged. “She saw me at the Christmas thing.”
Tulane’s eyes widened with apoplectic rage. “You mean she can identify you at the scene, and now can testify your connection to me?”
Frankie went dead still, like prey scenting a nearby predator. “Yes?” he choked out.
Tulane spluttered wordlessly for a second. Then, he took a deep breath and looked at Frankie with a terrifyingly flat expression. “Get it in the car.”
Frankie audibly swallowed and tightened his fingers around Mandy’s bicep. He dragged her in the direction of the car and Mandy squirmed. Everything she knew about staying alive in kidnappings screamed at her not to get in the car. If she got in the vehicle, she’d be dead.
She twisted, and tried to pull away from Frankie. He barely seemed to notice. His free hand went behind his back and then Mandy’s stomach dropped as she saw he held a gun and it was pointed right at her.
Gunfire sounded. She gasped. Was she hit? She braced herself for it, but after a second there was still no pain. She almost laughed in relief.
Frankie glanced around, eyes wide, then grabbed her and held her in front of him like a shield. Mandy’s heart beat the staccato rhythm of panic. Was Duncan the one out there firing? Or someone else?
She glanced around, trying to find the source of the gunfire, but it must have been coming from one of the surrounding offices. Her gaze landed on Tulane, whose face was a mask of fury.
“Get her in the car!” he yelled at Frankie.
Frankie hauled her towards one of the vehicles but Mandy struggled to get free. The cool metal of a gun barrel pressed against her temple, subduing her. She sure was sick of guns right about now.
The gunfire in the distance volleyed back and forth. Whoever was out there still lived and fought back. Mandy needed to get to them, needed to stay alive and safe until they could find her—presuming they were here for her.
They reached the car, and someone inside pushed open the door. Frankie shoved her towards the gaping dark hole, but Mandy struggled. Frankie pressed the gun tighter against her head, but for once Mandy didn’t care. She’d die if she got in that car, regardless. She knew that much.
He hauled her closer, using his superior strength. Mandy planted her sneakers to the side of the car door, using her leg strength against Frankie to stop him shoving her into the car.
“What’s the holdup?” Tulane yelled.
“She’s fighting,” Frankie yelled back, making Mandy’s eardrum ring.
“Fucking hell. Get her in the car or you get left behind.” Tulane disappeared into the second car. After a moment, the car drove towards an opening in the south wall of the building. Mandy was left alone with Frankie and whoever had opened the car door.
“Right, you bitch,” Frankie growled.
He leaned into her, all his bodyweight compressing her legs. She tried to push back, her legs shaking with the effort, but he was too heavy.
The gun lifted away from her temple for a brief second and elation filled her. Until a hard knock on her skull sent pain shooting through her. Dazed, she sagged. Frankie used the opportunity to bundle her into the back seat of the car.
Fighting to regain her thinking prowess, she pulled herself across the leather seat aiming for the opposite door. Her vision swam. A weight came down on her legs, but she ignored it. She reached out, grasping the door handle, and pulled. A hand clasped her wrist, stopping her.
Mandy turned her head. She blinked to clear her vision and a woman’s face came into view. She was an attractive woman in her fifties, with a sharp red suit and her grey hair pulled up into a bun.
“I wouldn’t,” the woman said. She tightened her grip on Mandy’s wrist, digging her nails into Mandy’s skin, then let go. The implied threat was clear, and Mandy’s heart sunk.
The woman sat back with a satisfied smirk, not taking her eyes from Mandy. The smile tugged at something in Mandy’s mind, making her think that perhaps she’d seen this woman before. But she couldn’t place her.
The woman rapped her knuckles against the dividing wall separating the back seats from the driver, and the car crawled in a circle, having to turn around so it could follow Tulane’s vehicle.
The tinted window came down with a soft whir.
“Where to, madam?”
“Follow the car in front,” she said, still eyeing Mandy. There was something off about the woman’s gaze, something that chilled Mandy to the bone.
She squirmed, but the heavy weight on top of her didn’t budge. She glanced away from the woman’s piercing gaze and saw that Frankie sat on her legs, pointing a gun in her direction. Mandy pulled at her legs and Frankie raised enough for her to wriggle them out from under him. She sat, smoothed her hair, tugged at her t-shirt, made sure her skirt covered everything necessary. Only then did she, with great reluctance, return her gaze to the woman.
The woman smiled. Her lipstick matched her suit perfectly, a slash of scarlet on her pale face.
“Who are you?” Mandy asked.
“That’s no concern of yours.”
The door to the warehouse was in sight. Fear gripped Mandy’s throat. She was going to her doom, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Something flashed in front of the car, barely visible through the small gap in the dividing wall.
The car swerved, throwing Mandy against the door, then stopped. The change in angle revealed Duncan—gloriously alive—staring fiercely at the car with his gun raised. Blood trickled down one temple and stained his shirt in multiple places, but he still stood.
Gunshots went off. Mandy flinched as the windshield cracked, but it didn’t shatter. Bulletproof glass.
Duncan’s yell of rage was audible even through the soundproofing on the car. He limped forward. The car moved again, this time hurtling towards the opening in the warehouse wall with nerve-wracking speed.
They zoomed past Duncan, who raised his weapon again. Gunfire sounded, then a tire exploded and the car was thrown violently off course. It spun in a sickening circle and Mandy gripped the door handle, pressing herself back into the seat.
The car hit the metal warehouse wall with a deafening crunch, throwing Mandy onto the floor. Frankie, too, fell off his seat, and his head cracked against the window before he collapsed forward, unmoving. The world stilled. Mandy took one breath, then another, before slowly raising her head to take stock of the situation. Only the woman had managed to remain seated.
Her hair was out of its neat bun, flying everywhere, and there was a tiny cut on one cheek, but she looked otherwise unharmed. A seatbelt was still snug across her chest.
They stared at each other for a long moment, as Mandy tried to think what to do. But her head swam and buzzed, making thinking almost impossible.
The door behind her opened and Mandy instinctually kicked out.
“Oof,” said the man. Mandy swivelled her head to see Duncan glaring at her.
“Sorry!” she said, then crawled backward towards the door.
The woman’s arm shot out, latching onto her wrist with surprising strength. “You leave now, you’re dead,” she hissed. “He’s dangerous.” Mandy wondered who this woman was to him. A fellow captive? A partner? It was impossible to say.
“I’m dead if I stay,” Mandy told her. Then, she threw herself out of the car and the woman’s grip snapped.
Mandy landed on Duncan’s feet, and she rolled away so he could shut the door, keeping his gun aimed at the woman who glared at him in impotent fury.
Once the door was shut, placing a barrier between them, Duncan reached down and dragged Mandy to her feet.
“Where’s Tulane?”
She shook her head. “He left. Escaped.”
“Are you injured?” he asked as he hauled her towards the door, much like Frankie had earlier. She didn’t struggle this time, far too glad to see Duncan.
“I’m okay. Head’s a little fuzzy, but I’ll live.”
Duncan stopped just outside the door turned to her. His eyes roamed over her face, then twisted her so he could examine her head as well.
“I’m fine,” she reassured him. He grunted, ignoring her.
Gratitude for her rescue and relief he was alive overwh
elmed her, and she threw herself into his arms. He froze for a second, shocked, then pulled her fiercely towards him.
“You stink,” she told him, but didn’t let go.
He chuckled and made no move to release her.
“I was scared I’d never see you again,” he whispered into her hair.
The admission, low and rough as if it had been wrung from him unwillingly, caused a riot of butterflies in her stomach.
“Me too,” she whispered back, then clutched him tighter.
He made a sound of pain and Mandy gasped and pulled away. He let her go reluctantly, arms settling on her shoulders rather than releasing her completely.
She eyed him, much as he’d done for her earlier—the cut on his forehead, a bloody lip, and—
“Is that your blood?” she screeched, seeing the dark patches on his t-shirt.
He winced. “Some of it.” He hesitated. “Most of it.”
“We have to get you to a hospital,” she told him urgently, trying to drag him away. It was like trying to move a mountain.
He shook his head. “I’m fine. And, anyway, we can’t. If the police know I was here, I’ll be arrested immediately.”
“But—”
“We’ll go back to the safe house. You can patch me up there. I should be fine, but if it’s worse than I think, then we can go to the hospital. Away from here.”
Everything in Mandy rebelled against letting him get away with this. He needed to go to the hospital. But she also couldn’t bear the thought of him going to jail for rescuing her.
“Fine,” she told him. “But this doesn’t seem right.”
“I’ll be okay,” he reassured her.
She swallowed, eyeing him for any sign of deception. A siren sounded in the distance, followed by another, and more, all coming towards them.
Duncan paled, visible even in the muted glow coming from the orange safety lights around the warehouse yard.
Whiskey-Eyed Woman (Soldiering On Book 5) Page 10
