Wolfsbane

by Ronie Kendig

  Canyon captured her mouth with his and pulled her into his embrace. Exhilarated with her response, he deepened the kiss and relaxed against her. How long had he wanted this, wanted Roark yet stepped aside? She smelled so good, melting into his kiss. Tasted so sweet. Canyon kissed her again, deeper, more passionately. He traced her leg and drew the hem of the tunic upward.

  DAY SIX

  Secure Facility, Virginia

  10:10:58

  Is it true, Bayani?”

  His blue eyes that always sparkled like our river, clouded. “It is.” He frowned. “The orders came through last night. It’s been verified.” On his jaw, the muscle popped. “My men and I pull out in eight days.”

  Awa came out of his seat. “We knew this day would come.” Hands behind his back, he paced. In all the years I have known Awa, I have not seen his expression so … grieved. Though not given to feelings, he had grown to love Bayani as the son I had not been able to give him.

  Bayani hung his head. “Yes, sir.”

  “What of Chesa?”

  “It is complicated, sir. My world is very different. I fear she would not be happy off this island.” Bayani rubbed his fisted hand. “I don’t know if it’s right to ask her to leave you and her people.”

  Chesa lunged forward. “You are my people, Bayani. Have I not done well with your warriors, learned your ways?”

  Bayani smiled. “You have. But Chesa, as I tried to explain, things are very different back there.” He turned his attention back to Awa. “If you feel she will do well, I will do everything in my power to return for her.”

  “Return?” Chesa’s question shrieked through the air.

  Bayani did not look at her. “First, I must return and request permission for her to come back with me. For now”—his gaze moved to Chesa—“you must stay here.”

  “She belongs with you, Bayani. Not here anymore.” Awa studied the outsider seated at his feet. “Then you will return for her?”

  “As soon as I can, sir. She’s my woman.”

  Bayani had learned our ways well. I would even say he loved our ways, our people, our island. Our Chesa.

  CHAPTER 20

  Small Village Hotel

  7 May

  Canyon jerked upright. Darkness swam mean circles around his buzzed brain. Where … where was he? Unfamiliar and damp, the room sat veiled in the secrecy of night. Something had snatched him from his sleep. What was it? He shifted—and froze. Groaned.

  Roark lay curled in the sheets beside him.

  He shoved himself from the bed and dressed as faint images leapt and tumbled through his mind. Raging passion. Abandon …

  Horror gripped Canyon as he held his T-shirt. “No.” Disbelief choked him. “No, no, no, no …” he whispered, afraid he’d wake her. And why did his head feel like an M1 Abrams tank had trampled it?

  His gaze darted back to the curvy form. No. He’d promised to protect her. He wanted to treat her right, with respect. Canyon spun away, sickened.

  Oh God, please don’t let it be true. Why did it feel more like a bad dream than reality? If he’d slept with her, wouldn’t he remember it better, stronger?

  But there was no other explanation to finding himself naked in bed with her. Shame and nausea roiled through him. What have I done?

  To the side, he heard a soft noise. Roark. Her bare shoulder bounced under the tease of moonlight coming from the open curtains.

  Everything in him coiled in on itself and died. He’d tried again. Failed. Again.

  Make it right. He swallowed. “Roark?” He couldn’t even say it. “I …” Couldn’t … talk. But he had to. He’d messed up. Bad. “I’m sorry.”

  She pulled herself upright, carefully holding the sheet in place. Head down, she slumped on the bed. Her shoulders bounced more.

  Canyon reached for her but then drew back his hand and roughed it over his face. He turned toward the window, as if somehow he could make this disaster go away. “What I did … it was so wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  He faced her, surprised to find her dressed and standing on the other side of the bed. Defiant—but that bore out of hurt and rejection. “Because—”

  “Because you didn’t want it—me?”

  Confusion pounded Canyon. “Are you insane?”

  “Yes, apparently I am. I just gave everything to a man I thought loved me.” Her chin wobbled. “Did you know that except for the kiss at your mom’s house, I’d never kissed anyone?”

  He stood there, stunned. Hating himself. Wishing he could wind back time. There were words for guys like him. Words he couldn’t repeat. But they fit. To a T. “I suppose you think I’m no better than Bruzon.”

  A shuddering breath. “He took what he wanted and then had no use for me. Is that what you did?”

  Assaulted by the accusation and acid in her words, Canyon jerked his gaze to hers. “Roark, no—” A noise by the balcony drew him up. He snatched his SOG from the nearby chair.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Besides me sleeping with you? Besides me breaking my promise? “Heard something.”

  As he reached the window—

  Creak!

  Instincts blazed and he jerked back.

  A rifle butt flew into his face.

  “Give me good news, Navas.”

  “We have the girl. And a bonus.”

  Humberto laughed so loud his side hurt. “You are worth every peso, my friend.”

  “And then some.”

  “Don’t get greedy.” He glanced out the window of the hotel. “You know where to hold them. I’ll return soon. But remember, the girl is mine!”

  “I can see why. But the location—not a good idea. The Americans know of the facility.”

  “They think they know.”

  “No … they know.”

  Humberto hesitated for the first time in many months. “How are you so sure?” he said with a snarl, fed up that the man had already taken so much control.

  “They’re here.”

  “They’re—you’re sure?” He leaned forward, already envisioning his brainchild sluicing off into the ocean. Millions of dollars … gone. “How can you be sure?”

  “I’m looking at them.”

  Bruzon’s Facility 7 May

  A guard came around the corner. Eyes wide, the man reached for his weapon.

  Max drove a hard right into his face. As the guard crumpled, Aladdin fired a tranq into his leg. Max gave him a nod, honoring not only his quick wit in figuring out the way into this facility through the underground system, but for this work drugging the guard.

  Squirt hurried to a door marked Mantenimiento and, using the key card from the uniform he’d snagged, opened it. Aladdin fired a tranquilizer into the man’s neck. They rushed into the depths of the facility.

  Bound and cover. Bound and cover.

  Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

  In the semidarkened hall, Max’s unease grew as they leapfrogged down one level after another. Too easy. His team must’ve felt it, too—they’d slowed in sync with him. Even with Squirt in the uniform of one of Bruzon’s guards, Max had played it safe and they’d done their best to avoid contact. Only as a last resort would they attempt to pass Squirt off as a local and he and Aladdin as hostages. With the security badge from the guard’s uniform, they’d cleared six levels so far. Squirt’s microcam recorded the path.

  Only a matter of time before it registered with some whiz in the control room that this guard should be a hundred feet topside and walking a perimeter. Not heading down into the prison—assuming it was really there as the girl had said—and the hidden weapons facility.

  Oh man. All too aware of what assuming did, Max pulled up against the wall. They had two options: one, go ahead with the plan and do what they do best—fight their way down and back. Two, alter course and pray they could tackle the more difficult route without fatalities.

  Squirt and Aladdin drew up alongside, backs to his, as they kept a sharp lookout for tangos.
>
  “Eyes open. Too easy,” he whispered. “Plan B.”

  A nod, then Squirt moved forward. The less talk the better. The less interaction the better. But this was obscene. Told Max they were about to walk into a trap. As they descended the stairs in the same bound-and-cover fashion they’d used for the last ten minutes, he worked through scenarios. His head could get the best of him, playing out deadly games with the enemy. What should be down in the facility was lab rats—both four-legged and two-legged kind—and a few sleepy guards. He hoped.

  Roark had said Bruzon held prisoners in niches that padded the facility’s reactor, which should be a multistoried structure … if it existed. Not that he doubted her. Okay, he did. It was the spec ops in him. Plan for contingencies. Be prepared and all that.

  Ahead, Squirt snapped a fist in the air.

  Max held his position and waited, tilting his head a little more toward his weapon, ready to align the sights center mass on a target. Adrenaline spiraled through his veins, pumping hard.

  Squirt spun toward him, ferocity in his expression as he motioned for the weapons.

  Handing over the weapons, Max and Aladdin assumed the role of captives.

  The door burst open.

  Max slammed his fist into Squirt’s face. The man stumbled, dropped the weapons, and dove into Max. Within seconds, two guards pounced on Max and pinned him to the cement floor. Cold steel pressed against his temple.

  “¡No, él los quiere vivo!” Squirt shouted.

  Straining his measly Spanish knowledge from high school, Max tried to make out the meaning. Vivo. That meant life—alive!

  The gun withdrew. Yes. Alive. He wants us alive. I’d like to stay that way.

  A boot stomped against his face but left enough room that Max could see the three men crowding the door. One, the clear leader and grinning, patted Squirt’s shoulder. This better work. Putting Squirt in the lead meant Max and Aladdin were now prisoners about to get locked in a cement coffin.

  The thought angered him. He struggled against his captors, giving his best performance against the men dressed head to toe in tactical gear. Not military uniforms. Guerillas or …? Regardless, Max could only hope Squirt’s dark features and Spanish could bypass this snafu. Eventually get them out of here—and with what they needed.

  Squirt straightened and met the others head-on. “Lo siento, han sido muy difícil de controlar.”

  Though Max didn’t know what that phrase meant, the wicked grin Squirt flashed at Aladdin, who was still slumped unconscious against the wall, seemed telling enough.

  A man—what was familiar about that guy?—stepped forward, eyeing Max and Aladdin. “¿A dónde los lleva?”

  “A la cárcel abajo.”

  Donde—where. Cárcel—duh, prison. Max at least caught that much of the conversation. Which meant this is where they’d learn if the information Roark gave about prison being below and on the same level with the WMD facility was true or not.

  “Solamente dos?Pensé que había más soldados.”

  Dos meant two. Mas soldados … more soldiers. The guard must’ve expected more soldiers. When the man’s gaze again scraped over Max and Aladdin, uncertainty marked his expression and his hand moved to the holstered weapon. Max’s gut cinched a notch. He prayed they wouldn’t get patted down. That the goons would assume Squirt had done his job and retrieved weapons and knives.

  Squirt shrugged, then nodded to the men who still held Max against the concrete. “¡Consígalos abajo!” he shouted, pointing to the stairs.

  Shoulders aching as the men hauled him upright, Max eyed Aladdin getting dragged down a level and into a hall marked only with steel doors. The prison. As they peered through the small barred window, he grinned. Just like the girl said. An expansive room with equipment that no business would need. A revolutionary general bent on nuclear power? Yeah. He swatted Aladdin’s shoulder. “Get stills.”

  Aladdin started snapping away while Max took environmentals. He didn’t know what the symbols meant, but it lit up like a flashlight. He pressed the RECORD button.

  Aladdin stepped back and stowed the spy camera they’d been given—ultrasmall, ultrasharp, and ultraconcealable.

  “That door.” Aladdin nodded to a steel door with a larger security panel. “That’s the way to the bays and the full lab, at least according to the schematics.”

  “Then that’s our exit. We can get the last of what we need as we leave.” Max looked down the hall to the left and right.

  Now. How did they get out of here?

  In the Hills Overlooking Bruzon’s Facility 6 May

  “Wait-wait-wait.”

  Leaves and branches crunched as Colton tapped Legend, who slowed and looked back at the Kid. Expectancy of danger hung in the air, thicker than the rain ready to unleash again.

  The Kid held up a finger. “Noise …” Eyes surrounded by camo grease darted back and forth as he turned a very slow circle. “I thought—”

  Snap!

  The Kid spun. So did Cowboy, his MEU .45 at the ready. Legend slid in next to him, his M4 stabbing Cowboy’s periphery. Legend gave the signal to spread out. Sidestepping, Cowboy probed the surrounding darkness.

  Moonlight flickered through an opening in the overhead canopy of foliage—and with a gentle breeze filtered the shapes of a half-dozen men. Heading straight toward them. Heavily armed.

  CHAPTER 21

  Bruzon’s Facility

  7 May

  Panic swirled and clamped around her heart. Dani wrestled, yelped, as the guards wrangled her down the stairs and into the hold. The same hold she’d spent 180 days in last year.

  “Get your dirty hands off me,” she bit out as two guards lifted her off her feet and hauled her the last couple of yards to the cell. With grunts, they thrust her into the dank coffin.

  No! She would not let this happen again. She spun and dove toward them.

  A meaty hand collided with her cheek. The impact knocked her backward. Adrenaline shoved her forward. Dani leaned back and nailed the guard with a roundhouse. Though he stumbled, his overweight form barely jiggled from the kick. He glowered then squatted, prepared to launch at her.

  “No la tóque. ¡Ella es Bruzon!”

  If, as he said, she was Bruzon’s, then even she knew the general would deal cruelly with anyone who touched her. That had been his way when she’d been his captive before. As sickening as the thought was, it gave her hope because apparently Bruzon wasn’t in the area, or he would’ve been here to claim her. That meant she had time.

  Time to find Canyon.

  Forget him. He called her insane and apologized for sleeping with her. Even now the words seared in her memory. She’d loved him, gave him everything. He didn’t even want her to tell Range that she loved Canyon. What did that mean?

  Hands tied, Dani dragged her gaze to the man in the doorway. She remembered him from last time: Bruzon’s right-hand guy. A violent, uncaring brute. Extremely loyal to the general and no one else.

  With a quick breath, she blew the strands of hair from her view. She held her ground, glaring at the reeking, overweight guard, wishing—daring—him to try something. Feet apart, she stood ready to fight again. Just as she would at every opportunity.

  “¡Deje solo!” As the cell emptied at his order to leave her alone, he locked his gaze on her.

  “Navas.”

  He cocked his head and offered a hint of a smile. “Miss Roark. Nice to have you back.”

  “I’ll escape. You know I will. Let’s not waste our time with formalities.”

  This time, he grinned. “I can see why he lost focus and fell for you. He always liked the tough ones.” He chuckled. “Thanks for the help.”

  Bruzon. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of that perverted old man. She’d spent enough days as his prisoner. She wasn’t about to do it again. This man before her should know that mentioning Bruzon would only make her more willing to fight for her freedom. If he had the brains he seemed to have, he’d know Bruzon didn�
��t matter to her … which was exactly the point.

  He wasn’t talking about the general. “Thanks for the help.”

  Canyon.

  Dani’s heart lurched. “Where is he?” She took a step forward, remembering the way they’d dragged Canyon’s limp body from the room, blood leaving a trail from his broken nose. She’d never forget the resounding crack that echoed as he thudded onto the floor, unconscious. “Did you kill him?”

  Navas smiled. Laughed. Then backed out.

  Clank! The door slammed shut. A steel frame slid into place, sealing her in the room, cutting her off. She banged against the hard plastic window that blurred her view. Even though it wouldn’t do any good, she wanted to scream at the man—he’d never care.

  Scream for Canyon—he’d never hear her.

  Scream at God for the injustice.

  Turned around, she slumped against the door and buried her face in her hands. Cold cement pulsed aches through her bare feet and up into her ankles, beneath the still-damp jeans and burgundy shirt she’d slipped on just seconds before the guerillas burst into the room.

  Weighted by the memory, Dani pushed herself to the corner—refusing the cot with its pillow and blanket, no doubt lice infected. She slid along the wall to the floor and hugged her knees, remembering what had been the most wonderful night of her life. Giving herself to Canyon … being in his arms, feeling his passion fueled her own until all her reservations, all her fears evaporated. He’d been so tender, so loving … not like … not like Bruzon.

  “I suppose you think I’m no better than Bruzon.”

  He’d apologized. Said he messed up. Why did Canyon feel being with her was a mistake?

  Okay, yes—unequivocally, it’d been wrong for them to make love, unmarried. She knew his beliefs, knew her own though she hadn’t attended church since her mother’s death. Did it bother him more that he felt he violated God’s law, or that he’d violated the family-invoked law about not cutting in on Range?

  Or had he regretted being with her? She hated herself for wanting to be with him, should’ve known that only left her feeling used up. Empty. Give a man your heart, become a pawn. Like her mother. Like her sister. Dani knew better.