by Cat Johnson
Molly would see. In the morning, when Thom showed up at the church right on time and explained how he’d forgotten his charger, Ginny’s faith in him would be proven justified.
He would apologize. She would forgive him. They’d get married and then they’d pose for pictures together, and she didn’t intend to look like death warmed over because she hadn’t slept.
She quickly did the math. She could take a sleeping pill right now and still get eight hours sleep even if she woke up early to get ready. Perfect.
“Siri. Set an alarm for six-thirty in the morning,” Ginny said into her cell phone as she walked toward the bathroom.
“Alarm set for six-thirty a.m.,” the feminine computerized voice replied.
“Thank you.” Even though Siri was an AI assistant, it felt rude to not express any gratitude.
She came out of the bathroom with a bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills and headed toward where she’d left her tea on the table.
Molly frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Taking something so I can go to sleep.”
“But what if you’re groggy in the morning or what if you don’t wake up in time?”
“That’s what you and Siri are here for, to make sure I wake up. And if I don’t take something I won’t get to sleep and then I’ll definitely be groggy tomorrow so I’m willing to take my chances.”
Herbal tea wasn’t going to cut it tonight. Not with all the stress surrounding this wedding.
Enough listening to everyone else about what was best for her. Ginny knew what she needed, and short of having Thom in bed next to her tonight, the sleeping pill and a solid eight hours would be the next best thing.
Before Molly tried to talk her out of it, she popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed it with a big gulp of minty lukewarm tea.
Done. Nothing to do now except try to have sweet dreams and then wake up and get married.
Easy. No problem at all . . .
CHAPTER 21
Time ticked by, as evidenced by the shadows moving down the wall and across the floor through the one dirty window as the sun set. The room grew darker as the light diminished—just like Thom’s optimism.
The guards changed twice over the hours as one pair of men left and another pair took their places, which only meant these guys were fresh and less likely to screw up.
Ray came in twice more, asking the same questions, not believing the same answers—the only answers Thom and the guys were willing to give.
Their hands had been unbound and they were given a bucket to piss in once during the long day—at gunpoint in a room full of guards because apparently Ray had decided the three of them even unarmed were a threat. Since they’d been given no water to drink, once had been enough.
Thom smelled food being cooked outdoors but they weren’t offered any. Ray must think they’d be more likely to spill their secrets if they were hungry. Thom would rather not eat anything prepared by their captors anyway.
The only real surprise was that there was none of the drinking or revelry that Thom had expected from this group as night fell. Instead, the camp went dead quiet shortly after full dark. Though it wasn’t all that dark because, as he’d requested, Ginny had planned their wedding for the full moon.
Thoughts of Ginny and their wedding, now mere hours away, fueled Thom’s drive to get out of there.
They didn’t talk. Brody and Rocky stayed silent, just like Thom. At one point Brody looked as if he was asleep. Knowing Brody—who could sleep anytime and anywhere—he might actually be taking a short nap, although just as likely was that he was pretending, a ruse to lull the guards into a false sense of security.
It was a good idea. Thom dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes but his ears remained open. He listened closely to the guards’ breathing, to the sound of them shifting in the chairs they’d finally settled in after growing tired of standing during their shift, to the shuffling of their boots against the floor.
It had to be close to an hour that he waited but eventually Thom heard the change. The slow steady deep breaths of one guard. The soft snore from another.
Two guards and by all indications both asleep.
Head still down, he opened his eyes a crack. The men watching them were slumped in their chairs, their guns laid across their knees.
He glanced toward Brody and Rocky and saw both of them raise their heads. Thom saw Brody’s shoulders moving, rotating as the rest of him barely moved in the chair until finally he brought his hands around front.
Brody always had been like Houdini when it came to getting out of zip ties, even handcuffs, during trainings. It’s like the man’s joints popped in and out effortlessly. Thom didn’t question it, just happy that now that Brody was free, he’d cut them all loose and Thom wouldn’t have to dislocate his own thumb.
Reaching into his boot, Brody emerged with a small knife that Ray’s men hadn’t discovered during the shoddy search they’d conducted. He moved noiselessly to behind Rocky, cut his ties and then came to Thom and did the same.
Ignoring the stiffness in his joints from being bound and immobile for so many hours, Thom stood and looked to Brody. During an op they’d have rules of engagement, standard operating procedure. He’d know if he was supposed to disable the guards temporarily, or permanently, or bring them with him for questioning.
It was risky to try to sneak out of the room without waking the guards. The sound of the door opening could wake them and they didn’t know what they’d encounter outside. Ray could very well have men set up on watch outside the door, as well as at the perimeter of the camp.
It would be best if Thom, Brody and Rocky were at least armed.
Rocky had already grabbed the double barrel shotgun the men had taken from them but had been dumb enough to leave in the room with them.
Brody signaled for Thom to take the man on the left and he would take the guard at the right.
They couldn’t kill these men—they weren’t at war even though it sure as hell felt like it—but they could choke them out, gag them and secure their hands with their own zip ties easily enough.
While Rocky held one gun at the ready, Thom and Brody moved into position.
With one swift simultaneous move, they had the guards in a headlock. With one hand over each man’s mouth and the crook of their arms pressing on their throats, they compressed the carotid arteries with their biceps and forearms. Ten seconds later, both were unconscious.
Rocky ran forward and in quick work they had the two limp men gagged and bound, including their feet, before they regained consciousness.
Brody grabbed one of the automatic weapons, including extra clips, and Thom the other.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Rocky—obviously being foolishly sentimental, stood there loaded down with all three of his grandfather’s weapons.
“Fine with me.” Thom couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
They moved to the door cautiously. They had an extremely limited window of opportunity before the two guards regained consciousness and started to make noise, or someone from outside came to check on them.
The camp had gone quiet hours ago. Thom hoped that meant everyone was sound asleep, hopefully inside the other buildings on the property where they couldn’t see or hear the three men about to sneak away.
Brody eased the door open as Thom and Rocky flanked him on either side of the doorway. They might as well have been on an op. The process was the same and a successful outcome just as critical.
They needed to get far away and fast, hop in the truck and put some miles between them and this band of crazy gun-toting idiots. Only then would he be able to deal with the fallout of his being hours late getting back.
Brody led the way with Thom covering the rear since they were the two who had the firepower. Rocky was between them carrying the museum relics, as the guards had called them.
It was nearly impossible to move through densely wooded areas completely soundle
ssly. There was always the rustle of brush, the snap of twigs, the crunch of footsteps on the dry forest floor. Hopefully any guards stationed in the woods would assume it was an animal or their own men, possibly their relief, making the noise.
Thom had to believe that since—remembering the ghillie suits—there was no way he’d spot the camouflaged guards in the dark.
They were maybe a hundred yards out when Brody stopped dead. Rocky and Thom held fast and that’s when Thom smelled what Brody must have, what had stopped him in his tracks. Cigarette smoke.
After a few seconds during which they all remained silent but heard no noise from the woods, Brody signaled for them to move to the left away from the scent, which seemed to have traveled to them on the breeze from the other direction.
The proof of someone in the woods with them, awake and smoking, meant their forward progress slowed to a crawl as remaining silent became even more crucial.
Slow and steady they progressed at an unnerving snail’s pace, while with every step Thom braced himself for the sounds of the camp waking and discovering their absence.
They had bought themselves some time by tying the two gagged guards together with the length of rope that had been hanging on the wall. And then going the extra step of tying them to the legs of the cast iron wood stove in the room. Tight so they couldn’t do much thrashing around and make enough noise for anyone nearby to hear.
Even so it was only a matter of time before the changing of the guard. Thom had intended on being long gone by that time. Hopefully on the highway headed East for Connecticut.
The pale gray on the horizon told Thom it was later than he’d thought. He was starting to fear the light was going to work against them just as they came upon a POSTED sign on a tree.
At the sight of the bright yellow sign Rocky took off at a run, moving past Brody to take the lead.
Far enough from the camp now to not worry as much about noise, Thom and Brody both followed until they broke into the clearing behind the cabin.
“Grab whatever you need and get in the truck.” Rocky stomped up the stairs and flung the door wide. He emerged in seconds and tossed three duffle bags onto the porch before heading back inside. This time he emerged with the truck keys in his hand. He tossed his grandfather’s guns inside the truck along with a metal ammo case, apparently not about to leave anything of value there for the men from the neighboring camp to find should they come looking.
Thom made a beeline for the cooler and dug into the melted ice for three bottles of water.
Food he could live without for a few more hours if he had to, but they were all dehydrated and needed water.
He’d started out the day thirsty from the night of drinking. After Ray’s denying them anything to drink, Thom was even more so.
Brody scooped up the three duffels and the cooler and tossed it all in the bed of the truck, before jumping into the passenger seat.
Rocky let Thom into the back seat of the cab and then climbed behind the wheel. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“The faster the better.” Brody lowered the automatic window, the weapon he’d taken from the guard still at the ready, as if he expected a pursuit.
Hell, they might have a chase on their hands if Ray and his band of good old boys had discovered their captives gone and decided to jump in their trucks and come looking for them.
After shoving two bottles of water into the front cup holders for this teammates, Thom cracked open the third and took a gulp that half emptied it. He stowed the bottle in the back cup holder so he had two hands to hold the weapon he still carried.
“What are we gonna do about them back there?” Brody asked tipping his head back to indicate the whackos they were fleeing.
“We’ll figure that out when we get far enough away. We can’t go to the police. They’ll have us in questioning for hours.” Rocky glanced at Thom in the review mirror. “We have to get him back to Connecticut.”
“Agreed. Besides, who knows where or how they got these weapons. I don’t particularly like the idea of us waltzing into the police station with illegal firearms in our possession.” Brody snorted out a short laugh. “I can’t imagine command would be thrilled with that paper trail either.”
“Or that three of their best-trained operators got taken by a bunch of yahoos in the woods of Pennsylvania,” Rocky added.
“That too.” Brody nodded. “Oh, shit. I’d forgotten we bought this.”
Stowing the weapon, Brody reached beneath the dashboard and grabbed the packages of jerky they’d purchased at the gas station while Rocky had fueled up the truck during the drive there.
Brody ripped into the cellophane and distributed the contents to Rocky and Thom.
Thom tore off a bite. Even if his stomach was in knots, his body needed some fuel.
While chewing, Rocky said, “Okay, so how about this? As soon as we get back to civilization I’ll call my father. He and my uncle have been coming up here since they were kids. Between them and my granddad, they’ve got contacts all over the area. They’ll know who to call to take care of our friends back there without getting us into trouble.” Rocky glanced at Thom again in the reflection of the mirror. “That good with you?”
“Yeah. It’s good.” Thom twisted in his seat. Sliding open the back window, he kept an eye on the roadway behind them.
The first order of business was to get the hell out of Dodge safely, then they could worry about all the rest.
CHAPTER 22
Thom remained good for an hour or so, until the sun rose higher in the sky and he got a look at the clock on the dashboard. That’s when he started to get antsy.
He was good at compartmentalizing things while in the middle of the action, but now that they were out of the shit, he was starting to lose it.
Another hour went by and he was crawling out of his skin, practically rocking with agitation and the adrenaline he couldn’t expend in the backseat of a truck that wasn’t getting him where he needed to go nearly fast enough.
The three-hour drive had felt like nothing on their way there two days ago.
Now, a day late getting back with no means of communication in their possession, the return trip felt like an eternity.
The time he should have been at the church, dressed and ready for photos, came and went and they were rapidly approaching the hour he was supposed to be standing with Ginny at the altar to take his vows.
Finally Thom cracked. “Oh. My. God. Why didn’t we try and find our cell phones back there?”
Brody turned and cocked one brow. “Because we were escaping captivity by a bunch of lunatics?”
“And even if by some miracle we had gotten hold of a cell phone, I told you, the signal around here sucks,” Rocky added.
Thom had managed to keep his cool during the captivity. To focus only on getting free as he’d been trained to do. To not obsess over Ginny and the wedding. But now that the imminent danger had passed, he was obsessing all right.
Good thing he’d long ago switched on the weapon’s safety and put it down on the floorboards of the truck, because he was too twitchy to have his finger anywhere near the trigger of a loaded gun.
“But I called Ginny on the way here.” Thom’s frustration was starting to bubble over and spill onto his friends.
“And you talked for like thirty seconds before you lost the connection. This whole area is a dead zone. You were lucky to get a call to go through at all,” said Rocky.
Thom saw nothing lucky about any part of his life over the past few days. In fact, he was most definitely the most unlucky man he knew.
His gut feeling had been right. Things had been going too smoothly—the successful raid in Iran, the delay-free transport back to the US, his two-week wedding leave being approved—so of course life had to slap him down and put him in his place.
If he was this crazy, then Ginny must be going completely insane.
Brody twisted in his seat to glance back at Thom. “Bro, we’re gonna
get there. A’ight?”
How could Brody be so confident? Thom frowned. “Do you not understand that the wedding is today?”
“Yup. Later today,” Brody corrected.
Thom sniffed out a breath. “Not that much later.”
They still had a long way to travel. And what if they hit traffic? Thom glanced at the digital display on the dashboard but all that did was upset him more.
“Dude. I’m driving as fast as I can.”
Thom was well aware of that as he had to grab again for the back of the seats in front of him to keep from getting flung across the cab of the truck as Rocky veered from one lane to another, weaving in and out of traffic and passing the other vehicles that weren’t going eighty-five miles an hour.
“Do you want me to get off the highway at the next exit and try to find a phone so you can call?” Rocky asked.
The likelihood of stumbling upon a pay phone nowadays was slim to none and it would take too long to find a gas station or convenience store and convince the clerk to let him use their landline to make a call.
“No. It’s okay. We can’t take the time. Just keep driving.” He wouldn’t feel better until he was in Stamford. He wouldn’t be okay until they pulled into the parking lot of the church and he saw Ginny.
Rocky hit the brakes and Thom was flung against the seat in front of him.
“What the fuck?” Brody cursed.
“Cop,” Rocky answered as he slowed to something more resembling the speed limit.
Fifteen minutes later, the police were the least of their problems as traffic slowed to a crawl.
“Can you see up ahead? What’s going on?” Thom asked, tasting bile in the back of his throat.
“There’s flashing lights. Must be an accident,” Rocky answered. “We’ll be past it in about half a mile.”
Moving at five miles an hour the way they were, that’d only take—forever!
Shit. A camp full of gun-toting militants hadn’t defeated Thom, but this drive just might.
CHAPTER 23
“Virginia, I don’t want to upset you, but is it possible he got cold feet?”
