Captured: Hunted Love #3

by Aden Lowe

  No indication of whether he remembered or not, just a grimace of pain as he rearranged his legs.

  "I'm going to get your bedroll out and get you a little more comfortable, then work on getting us set up here for a bit."

  He lifted a hand in acknowledgement and remained silent again. Talking must make his head hurt. Understandable. With the bedroll ready, Kate managed to get him tucked in, minus his boots and jeans, after a good deal of help from him.

  Tempted to bask in the accomplishment and catch her breath, she shook it off and moved on to the next task. The magnesium firestarter from his saddlebag came in handy, and thankfully they'd left a decent stack of firewood when they left Cherry Creek last time. The metal cup that fit over the bottom of the canteen was the only thing she had to boil water in, so she put it to work. The MREs in his bag might not taste great, but they would provide some nutrition until she could manage something else.

  Tending Ajax came next. She rubbed his sweaty hide with handfuls of grass, then removed his bridle and staked him out to graze where he could reach the water as well. Night drew near by the time she finished setting up their camp and made them as comfortable as possible in the circumstances.

  The last few minutes of full daylight, she devoted to checking Jakob's wound. It looked about as she'd expected, thankfully with no signs of infection yet. He could have used a few stitches, but his basic first aid kit didn't offer the necessary supplies. She washed the blood from the makeshift bandage in water she'd boiled and replaced it.

  With more water set to boil, she turned her attention to her own injury for the first time. An angry-looking furrow plowed across her upper arm, the bullet having taken a sizable chunk of flesh with it. Just a flesh wound, but painful as hell. She washed it carefully with clean water, aware of the risk for infection if fibers from her shirt remained in the wound. She then added a bit of the antibiotic ointment from the first aid kit and another makeshift bandage.

  Finally. All done. Fatigue made her shoulders sag. And she still had to feed herself and Jakob. One of the MREs contained meat with gravy. Something she might be able to concoct a broth from, since solid food probably wouldn't stay with Jakob. She set to work once more, and after what seemed like endless hours with her stomach growling, finally had a passable meal.

  Jakob still slept, so she ate quickly while his broth cooled, and finished it off with a long drink straight from the creek. He responded readily to the wet cloth on his face again, and helped her get him to a semi-sitting position where she could support his shoulders. He would have drank the broth greedily had she not slowed him down several times, worried for the state of his stomach.

  Supper finished, she heated more water for morning, checked on Ajax and fire, and settled in for a long night of keeping watch. The shooter was still out there, and she didn't like the idea of him walking right into camp while they both slept. Constructing a handful of snares from vine she'd collected as she gathered the firewood served to keep her awake for at least one hour.

  She spent the next slipping through underbrush by the light of the little LED headlamp she'd found in Jakob's saddlebag, and setting snares in likely looking spots. With luck, they might get a rabbit for breakfast.

  Ajax seemed glad for her company when she stopped to check on him again, raising his dripping muzzle from the water and turning to greet her with a mouthful of horsie-slobber-water dribbled down her front. Kate laughed and rubbed his ears, then patted his shoulder and sent him back to grazing.

  Despite her earlier doubts about the horse, he'd proven himself much more suitable for the work than she'd ever supposed he might. She took her seat again, determined to stay awake and watch over Jakob. Off in the distance, coyotes howled, and closer, small things stirred through the ground cover and trees. The sounds of Ajax grazing comforted her. He would stop eating if he sensed any danger drawing near.

  She turned her mind to making plans for the Chaser baby they'd discovered. If she could get her hands on him, he might even be trainable. It would take patience. He was a mature wild stallion, probably six years old. A far cry from the six month old babies she usually started with. But damn, he was one magnificent animal.

  Chapter Four: Falon

  Falon eased his bike into the gas station parking lot. Four hours rolling since they kicked the day off, and he was ready for a break. After Rita climbed off, he dismounted and stretched his back, and dragged his helmet off. When he turned, he found Rita had done the same, and he leaned in to claim a quick kiss. She was gorgeous, even after a total of ten hours on the road. They were close to the halfway point, and they couldn't get there soon enough for him.

  "I'm ready for a cold drink. How about you?"

  Rita blessed him with her dazzling smile. "Yeah, me too." She led the way to the door, forcing him to hurry to get around her so he could open the door for her. She gave him another of those gorgeous smiles in appreciation, and went inside, pausing just over the threshold for his hand to reach her waist. How did she know he needed to stake that claim before strangers?

  Not for the first time, gratitude filled him that she allowed all his little territorial displays, as his ex had called it. Rita actually seemed to welcome him making sure others knew they were together. If it meant marking his territory, so be it. He simply didn't share.

  Rita headed down a narrow aisle toward the coolers, and Falon couldn't help being a little claustrophobic. The shelves were higher than his head on both sides, cutting off his line of sight through the small store. He didn't like tunnels, and that narrow aisle seriously reminded him of one. Nothing good happened in tunnels. They always collapsed or flooded or got blocked and trapped people.

  Like that punk-ass kid at the end pretending to search for the perfect stale chips could easily be an ambush. Falon tensed as shuffling footsteps sounded behind him. He tightened his fingers on Rita's, hoping she would get the signal, and then released her hand. It might be nothing, but he didn't intend to get caught by surprise. Not in a damn tunnel.

  They neared the end of the aisle and the punk turned to face them, grinning and blocking the way. "Hey, folks. What say you stay real quiet-like, and hand over the cash?"

  Rita froze and Falon sensed the anger coursing through her. He shifted his position to keep an eye toward their rear. She stepped a little away from him and put her hands on her hips, and very deliberately looked the punk up and down. "I don't fucking think so. You picked the wrong people to try and hold up."

  The punk first looked a little embarrassed and afraid, but his nerve quickly reasserted itself. He raised the bottom of his stained and ragged T-shirt to reveal the butt of a small handgun at his waistband. "Bitch, I don't want no trouble, but I can handle it."

  Rita bent a little as if to brush some dust from her boot, presenting Falon with a tempting view of her ass. The wicked looking .40 she'd chosen to carry in her boot practically leapt into her hand as she straightened. "Sweetheart, I am trouble. Back up." She looked like trouble, too, with her snug jeans tucked into black boots, and a faded denim jacket she'd cut the sleeves out of. Under the jacket, a royal-blue corset that hugged every sexy-as-sin curve made Falon's cock throb every time he got a glimpse.

  He felt like a fucking idiot. Who thought of how delicious a woman's breasts tasted in the middle of a mugging? He had to be all alone in that distinctive proclivity. But try as he might, the memory refused to leave him alone, even as he braced himself to deal with the punk's partner, now only a few feet behind.

  Enough fooling around. He needed to get this done so he could get Rita somewhere more private and taste her again. Annoyed and increasingly frustrated, he turned on his heel, trusting Rita to handle the first punk while he took care of the partner.

  Surprised, he froze. The emaciated girl standing a few feet away didn't look capable of harming anyone. But the revolver in her fragile hands could likely do the job, if she could hold it steady enough.

  The barrel wavered and her eyes went huge. "I'm sorry, mister
, but we need the money real bad. We ain't eat nothing for three days." Certainly believable.

  Falon kept his voice gentle. "And you thought this was the best way to make some?"

  Tears rolled over the girl's cheeks. "No, but nobody won't let us work and we've sold ever'thing we can, including our asses."

  The punk edged carefully around Rita, suddenly looking as young and scared as the girl. He couldn't be more than maybe fifteen. "Look, mister, we really didn't mean no harm. We left home a few weeks ago and our money ran out fast. We thought we could make it, but we just can't."

  Rita put her gun away. "How old are you two?"

  The girl's revolver went back into the oversize jacket she wore. "I'm fourteen. He's seventeen. Look, we're really sorry. We won't do it again. Please don't call the cops." To her credit, she'd gained control of her tears and blinked them back.

  Falon sighed and glanced at Rita to gauge her reaction. Her concerned frown confirmed his own impulse. "We're not calling the cops. Tell me, does this place have real food? Sandwiches or something?"

  The kids looked at each other and the girl closed her eyes in a long blink and swallowed hard. "I think they have pizza by the slice up front."

  Falon nodded. "Good. Go with Rita and grab what you want to drink. Meet me up front."

  Rita nodded and gently took the girl's hand and led her toward the coolers while the boy trailed behind.

  Falon headed for the check-out area, and spotted the pizza warmer. Half a dozen petrified slices sat in little puddles of grease. Behind the counter, a heavy-set girl sat reading a romance novel and wearing earphones, ensuring nothing interrupted while she jiggled a few beaded braids to click the beads together. Falon tried just standing in front of her for a moment, but when that didn't work, he tapped on the counter. Still no response. Well, okay then. He hopped up to sit on the counter and snatched her book.

  That got her attention. A heavy scowl settled on her face and she yanked the earphones down. "What you do that for?"

  "Couldn't get your attention any other way. I could have walked out with the whole store, except I want some pizza." Falon deliberately closed the book without marking the page and placed it on the counter before he slid back down.

  Still scowling, the clerk took a little triangular box from under the counter and opened the warmer.

  "Oh, no you don't. I want fresh, and I want a whole pizza."

  "Well this ain't Dominoes. Sorry 'bout your luck." A slice of the dried up stuff slid into the box. "Anything else? Didn't think so. That'll be five twenty-six."

  Falon took out his phone. "What's your manager's phone number? Let's just see about my luck." He grinned.

  The scowl got heavier and the triangular box thumped in the trash can. "Be fifteen minutes, sir. And twenty-one forty-eight."

  He shook his head. "I don't know where you're getting those numbers. Your sign up there says two bucks a slice. Twelve for a whole pie. It might come to that with the stuff my friends are getting, too."

  Right on cue, Rita and the kids approached. Each of the kids put a bottle of soda on the counter, while Rita set a plastic basket loaded with drinks and snack foods up beside them.

  "We'll take this stuff now, and wait outside for the pizza." Under Falon's watchful eye, the clerk took an uncooked pizza from a small cooler and slid it into what looked like an oversized toaster oven. Probably wouldn't be a good idea to not watch every move she made with the food. Unless he missed his guess, she was totally the type to spit in someone's food if they pissed her off.

  After his purchases were rung up by a dagger-glaring clerk, Falon lifted his chin to indicate Rita should take the kids and stuff outside. One hip against the counter, he crossed his arm and returned the frown.

  A trace of fear showed in the clerk's eyes. "What you want now?"

  Falon let her worry about it for a minute, then shrugged. "Nothing."

  Her brows went up. "Nothing? Buddy, you still here."

  "Yeah."

  "Uh…Why?"

  "Just want to be sure nothing unfortunate happens to my pizza. Don't mind me." He picked up her romance novel and deliberately looked it over. "Looks like a good book."

  The brows rose another notch. "Seriously? Dude, what's wrong with you?" Surprised indignation made her voice raise and take on a shrill note.

  The book made a satisfying smack when he let it drop back to the counter. "I'm serious, it looks like a good book. Something wrong with that? It sure had your attention."

  The belligerent façade quickly replaced her startled curiosity. "Dude, do I look I want to discuss vampire-fucking with you? No, I do not. Now, if you're not buying anything else, I'd appreciate if you'd wait outside."

  Falon grinned. "Okay, I'll quit messing with you. Bad habit of mine. I'm sorry. I really wanted to ask you about those two kids that left with my friend. Do you know if they're from around here?"

  Dark eyes studied him, as if judging his sincerity. Finally she sighed. "Dude, I ain't never seen them before. Besides, y'all folk look alike to me. But a couple of little broke-ass white junkies? That wouldn't be missed around here. Or welcomed."

  "Good to know. Thank you." At least part of the kids' story might check out then. Before he could ask anything else, the timer for the pizza dinged.

  She turned took it out, cut and boxed it in a matter of seconds. "You want garlic butter with that?" A tentative smile crossed her generous mouth, gone in seconds.

  "No thanks, darlin'. This is good. Thanks."

  Chapter Five: Rita

  Outside with the silent teenagers, Rita led the way to the picnic table she'd spotted when they arrived. The pair huddled together on one of the benches, looking terrified.

  The bag with their purchases rattled as Rita fished out the two small bottles of orange juice she'd picked up. "You two better drink these first. It'll give you a little boost until the pizza kicks in."

  The boy's hand shook as he took a bottle and opened it. "Thank you, Ma'am." He passed the first bottle to his girlfriend and opened the second for himself.

  Was she really old enough to be a Ma'am? Hell, she hoped not. "I'm Rita, by the way. My friend in there is Falon." That poor girl barely managed to pick up her bottle under her own power. Shit. Moving slowly, Rita slid into the bench beside her, careful not to crowd. "Here, honey, let me help you. You look about to pass out."

  The girl accepted her steadying touch and drank deeply while the boy finished his. "I'm Mason, and this is Daphne. We're really sorry again, Ma'am. How can we repay you all?"

  "We're not looking for repayment." Falon's voice behind them startled Rita nearly as much as it did the kids. He'd approached with that eerie stillness of his. "How'd you two end up here?" He set the pizza box on the table in front of Mason and Daphne and flipped the lid back. "Dig in."

  Daphne seemed steadier and Rita left her side to take a seat on the opposite bench. Falon sat next to her and took her hand.

  Mason grabbed a slice of the pizza and handed it to Daphne, then took one for himself. The look on the little girl's face when she took her first bite brought tears to Rita's eyes. Between bites, the pair started speaking.

  "We met in a foster home, my sixth, Mason's eleventh, in Nashville. I'd been in some not-so-good ones and he'd been in far worse. But that place, it was a nightmare."

  Mason took up the story then. "It was all boys, except Daphne. The woman home-schooled us using only the Bible. No electricity, entirely off the grid. It was sort of a last chance for kids other people couldn't handle. We all learned real quick to follow the crazy rules. There was a little boy, brother to one of the older ones, who still wet the bed. The woman made him stand on his knees, arms out straight at his sides, and recite Bible verses for an hour. And if he shook or sagged, his time started all over."

  Anger began a slow burn in Rita's brain, and she had a feeling it was going to get far worse before they were done talking.

  Daphne started again. "When I got there, it was really strange being
the only girl. I was twelve. But I dealt with it and learned to do all the cooking and cleaning the way she wanted. Mason kind of looked out for me from the start and so did one of the other older boys. So when they could, they'd help me with the work. She caught them once and whipped all three of us. Mason still has scars on his back. It was bad, but we could survive it. Right after that, everything changed for the worse." Tears flooded her eyes as she looked to Mason.

  When he started to speak again, the boy's voice grew hoarse with powerless anger. "A couple weeks later, Daphne got her period. The woman flipped her wig, stripped Daphne in front of all of us, beat her and called her horrible names. I tried to stop her and the man beat the hell out of me and threw me in the Box, where they kept us when reciting verses on our knees didn't do the trick."

  Fury burned Rita's cheeks, and Falon's fingers nearly crushed hers with his own anger. "Where were the social workers when this was going on?"

  Daphne shrugged. "We never saw them. There was no one to tell and no way out. No one would have believed us anyway. They knew all the right things to say."

  "And it got worse still. Daphne and I got close. We liked each other, but there was no time for talking or anything. The woman noticed we looked at each other a lot and she lost her shit again. She stripped Daphne again and us boys were tied and forced to watch while the man raped her, over and over. Then they stripped me and the woman got a knife. They decided to cut my balls off. I fought and so did the others, but we were tied to this frame they'd made for that. They forgot Daphne though. She managed to get another knife and came up behind them while the woman was going over all kinds of verses and the man was raping my ass."

  The girl interrupted with a voice so soft Rita had to strain to hear. "I don't know how I did it, but I cut her throat before she could hurt Mason any more. The man was too busy to notice, so I did the same to him. I cut Mason loose, and the other boy who helped me, before I passed out."

  "We got everybody loose, gathered up anything worth selling, got Daphne out and burnt the house to the ground with them in it. We stole the truck and drove into Nashville, ditched it for a few hundred bucks, and split up. I found a place for Daphne and me to lay low for a few days while we healed up. We made it for about a month before our money ran out and we just couldn't find work. We decided to leave and try somewhere else."