by Gemma James
Two pairs of jade eyes met the camera head-on, displaying evidence of true happiness. God, we’d lived for each other. We still did, which made sitting on my ass while he was in trouble, just half a mile away, next to impossible.
Ten minutes past my chosen deadline, I thought I saw movement. Leaning closer to the glass, eyes scanning the darkness for something—anything—I held my breath as hope bloomed inside my chest.
Jax had found him.
Rafe was coming back to me.
My teeth chattered in excitement, and my knuckles whitened as I gripped the back of the front passenger seat.
“Do you see them?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.”
And then I saw it. A shift in the shadows about fifty yards ahead. Through the pelt of raindrops, I watched the shadows grow larger before materializing into the forms of four men…though one seemed to be carrying a bundle.
A bundle too small to be Rafe.
Hope plummeted to the bottom of my gut, and I scrambled from the vehicle, mindless of the wind blasting my too-chilled bones as the guy with the ponytail put a young boy into the backseat of the first SUV. He told the kid to stay put, and my eyes scanned the faces of the four men, throat constricting over the absence of one.
“Where is he?” I demanded of Jax.
He shook his head, apology in his eyes, and I felt my knees give out, sinking into the mud welcoming my boneless limbs.
“No!” I cried in a breathless shriek. “You have to go back! Please. You guys missed him, or…or…”
“Alex,” Jax said firmly, dragging me to my feet and gripping me by the shoulders. “We got the kid out, but we’re not done yet.”
“Where is he?” I braced a hand on his arm to keep upright. “I mean…he’s okay, right? Please tell me he’s okay.”
Jax drew in a long breath then exhaled. “We don’t know.”
“You have to go back! Someone in there has to know something.”
“They’re all dead.”
“What?” I blinked. “You killed them all?”
He jerked his head toward the outbuilding in the distance. “Got one to talk first.”
That statement rang in my ears with the sound of hope. “Where is my husband, Jax?”
He exchanged a careful look with the blond guy…the one they called Rich, and my heart bottomed out.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded through gritted teeth.
“He had a fight tonight.” Swallowing hard, Jax let a tortuous beat pass. “According to Shelton’s guy, the fight’s a death match.”
Oh my God.
“You’ve gotta do something!”
“Don’t you think I would if I knew where he was?” His voice rose several octaves, words punching me in the gut as he let go of my shoulder. Taking a step back, he ran a hand through his blond hair. “Only the higher-ups know where the fight is being held. All we can do now is wait for him to return.”
But I heard what he didn’t say. Rafe might not come back at all.
15. FIELD OF NIGHTMARES
Rafe
The vehicle bounced over uneven ground, tires spinning in the mud in some spots. My prison transport was a nondescript black sedan, four doors with leather seats. Not exactly the type of rig one needed to navigate overgrown, muddy terrain. Shelton sat behind the wheel while Military Dude sprawled on the backseat beside me, his weapon at the ready and serving as a constant reminder that I was screwed, though the fact they hadn’t pulled the hood over my head this time was reminder enough.
Because I’d killed again, and if they didn’t own me before, they sure as hell owned me now. They’d trapped me in this for life. It was Shelton’s ultimate revenge—me, enslaved in death matches that would make him richer, and Alex enslaved to her worst nightmare.
Even if I learned to accept our fate, I couldn’t accept it for my son. I had to find a way to get Will out of the equation of Shelton’s retribution.
We parked on the edge of a field, and the guy next to me prodded his gun into my side. “Let’s go.”
I slid from the car, boots sinking into dark sludge. The rain was letting up, but a shitload of mud caked the ground. The three of us trudged toward a large outbuilding in the distance, where I assumed they’d been holding Will and me. Shelton walked in front, while Military Dude brought up the rear of our trio.
We’d gone maybe seventy-five yards when Shelton came to an abrupt stop. He tilted his head, listening for something, and it was then that I detected it too.
Dogs barking.
Cold dread slithered down my spine.
“What the hell?” Military Dude said, halting behind me. “What’s up with the mutts?”
With a frown, Shelton pulled out his weapon. “Could be a deer.”
But he didn’t believe his own words, and I didn’t either.
We resumed the journey across the field to my new home for the foreseeable future, each step a hair-standing occasion. My survival instincts were going haywire. With no moon to brighten the cloud cover, visibility was a bitch.
But I still saw it.
Shadows emerging from the overgrown field—two of them about fifteen feet on either side of where Shelton stalled in front of me. His head swiveled left then right, gun steady in his hand as he took in the unfamiliar men that surrounded us.
“Drop your fucking weapons,” said a voice from behind me. A voice I recognized.
The cold press of Military Dude’s weapon bit into the back of my head, but the gun-cock I heard didn’t come from him.
“We already killed the rest of your guys,” Jax said. “We don’t have a problem taking the two of you assholes out. Drop them now!”
Shelton dropped his gun before lifting his hands in the air. “Stand down,” he told Military Dude.
The guy at my back shifted, and I detected the thump of his weapon hitting the ground. Pulse ratcheting, I turned and stepped to the right, bringing Jax and another guy into full view.
His gaze drifted over me, cataloging the mud and blood, and he raised his brows at the sight of my busted up face. “You okay, man?”
“I’m alive.” I gestured toward the outbuilding. “How’d you find me?”
“Alex got creative with a skillet. Your woman’s got balls.” He stepped forward and shoved Military Dude to where Shelton still stood with his hands in the air. “She dragged that fucker down to the cellar and locked him up. If not for her propensity for survival, I wouldn’t have known you guys were in trouble.”
Pride for my wife rose in my chest. “They have my son.”
“We already got him out.” As his buddies retrieved the dropped weapons, Jax nodded in the opposite direction of the outbuilding. “He’s with Alex and Angel.”
“She’s here?” I glanced across the field, as if she’d magically appear in the overgrown grass, just like Jax and the other three men had.
“Yeah, but before you run into her arms, what should we do with these assholes?”
I shot a glance in Shelton’s direction, noting the furrow between his brows. He looked a little worried, and he should be. Jax passed me a handgun, and I sauntered up to the bastard.
“I should toss your ass into the dog pit.”
“Don’t be rash, Mason. We can make a deal. I’ve got money.”
“You’ve got nothing I want.” I raised the gun, and his eyes widened, alarm registering an instant before I pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through his skull, and Shelton dropped to the ground.
Military Dude took off running, and before I could aim, Jax got out a shot that sent him into the grass as well.
Instant death was better than they deserved, but I didn’t have the stomach, or the time, to make them suffer. I needed them dead, unable to come after us while I got my son to safety.
Meeting Jax’s gaze, I spanned the feet between us and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “I’ve never been more happy to see you, man.”
Clearing his throat, he stepped back. “I had so
me help.”
“You saved our asses,” I said, taking in the small group. “If you’re ever in a bind and need a guy…”
“We’ll let you know,” said the dude sporting two arm sleeves of ink. He slapped Jax’s back. “This fucker’s always had our backs.”
“Same here,” I said.
Of course, there was a time when Jax hadn’t had my back, and Alex and I had ended up enslaved in a sex ring nightmare, but he’d more than made up for it in the past year.
Jax nodded toward the line of trees on the other side of the field. “Go see to your kid. We’ve got this.”
“Did he see your faces?”
Jax gave a solemn nod. “Wasn’t about to traumatize him with a blindfold. Kid’s been through enough.”
I was grateful for his care in getting my son out of that place, but the question was on everyone’s minds, and it begged to be addressed.
What the fuck would we do if Will returned home to his grandparents and implicated us all in his kidnapping?
16. REUNION
Alex
Twenty minutes ago, I spied headlights on the north side of the field, but there’d been no movement since, no signs of life in the tall grass.
“Do you think the kid’s okay?” Angel asked, interrupting my obsession with the view on the other side of the glass.
“I hope so.” My attention veered to the SUV in front of me, where the guys had stowed Rafe’s son. I’d expected him to run for it the instant they left, but he hadn’t budged, so I figured the ponytail guy’s sharp order to stay put had gotten through to him.
I could have checked on him, could have made sure he was okay—that he wasn’t scared or cold or sick to his stomach from the trauma—but truth be told, I had no idea what to say to a kid who’d just been rescued from the type of harrowing situation he’d come from.
I was too traumatized myself, too much of an emotional wreck, and that made me question if I had what it took to be a mother. The negative thoughts arrowed straight to my belly, and I slid a hand over the life growing there, praying that I’d get it figured out by the time the baby arrived.
“Are you feeling sick again?” Angel asked.
I shook my head. “Just nervous. If Rafe doesn’t come back…”
“You can’t think like that. He has a reputation for winning, right?”
“He doesn’t lose very often.” It was my only comfort in this endless waiting game hell.
Grabbing my hand, she squeezed as her wide eyes zeroed in on something behind me. I turned in time to spot someone approach the vehicle, and it only took a split second to recognize those tattoos winding down toned biceps.
I was out the door and in his arms before I took my next breath. As I wound my legs around his waist, he gripped my ass and braced me against the side of the SUV.
“Jesus, baby,” he said through strangled vocal cords. “I’m so sorry…so fucking sorry.”
I clung to him, tears soaking his skin, failing to breathe in the strength of his tight embrace. He trembled as he held me, each breath a noisy shudder against my shoulder. And I couldn’t stand it anymore, the sound of his pain and regret flooding my ears. Inching back, I pressed my finger to his mouth, only now noticing the evidence of the fight he’d lived through on his beautiful face.
Thank God he’d come back to me.
“Shh,” I whispered, slowly dragging the pad of my finger across his busted lower lip.
There would be plenty of time later for apologies. For guilt and regret. I harbored so much of both I worried the emotions would explode from me. Not giving him a chance to say more, I pressed my mouth to his, heedless of the hint of metallic on his lip.
At the first lick of his tongue against mine, everything but him faded—the field, the SUVs and their occupants, the past six days of separation. I wanted to mount him right there and drive away the PTSD boiling inside me. But it sharpened its claws, and I sobbed into his kiss, unable to contain myself.
“I didn’t know if I’d see you again,” I said against his lips.
“I was terrified you wouldn’t.” Slowly, he let me slide to my feet, and we broke apart, putting a few inches of space between us as we fought for composure. That’s when the presence of his son caught our attention.
He stood a few feet away, watching our frenzied reunion with a mixture of curiosity and fear, and it struck me in the heart how much he looked like Rafe. I recalled setting eyes on him for the first time at the basketball game Rafe had taken me to last winter.
The day he told me about Will’s existence.
“It’s okay,” Rafe told the boy, lowering to his haunches. “You’re safe with us.”
“Can I go home now?” Will chewed on his lower lip, hesitant feet backing him up a step. He didn’t quite trust us, and he’d be smart not to. Not because we posed a threat to him, but we were virtual strangers, and any child his age should have a healthy dose of caution when it came to people.
Maybe that was a jaded outlook, but that was the world we lived in.
Rafe stood with a nod. “Yeah, buddy. You can go home now.” Gesturing to the SUV from which Will had just escaped, Rafe dug into the pocket of his jeans for a key. “Get in and buckle up. We’ll be there in a minute.” Something about Rafe’s tone had the boy scrambling to do his bidding.
“He listens to you,” I said, lacing our fingers together.
“I don’t know how, but I gained his trust in that place.”
“Maybe he senses the connection there.”
“I wondered the same thing.” Rafe opened the back passenger door of the second vehicle and gave Angel a grateful nod. “Thanks for taking care of my girl.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. You were here supporting her. Supporting us both. I don’t know what we would have done if you and Jax hadn’t stepped in.”
“That’s what friends do, right?”
“We’re more than friends. We’re family.”
Rafe’s declaration burrowed under her protective armor, and her mouth creeped up at the corners. “Go take your boy home.”
“I’m on it. I just wanted to check on you first. Jax and the others should be back soon. Will you be okay here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine. A deserted field after dark isn’t the scariest situation I’ve faced.”
That was a gross understatement, and I wanted to reach out and hug her for all she’d been through, for all she’d forged through since Jax had broken her free of the sex slave trade.
We said our goodbyes then joined Will in the SUV. Rafe put an address into the GPS—Will’s grandparents’ house, I assumed—and I wondered if his son would question how he’d known where to go.
But on the ride over, about a forty-five minute trip, Will didn’t ask how Rafe had known where he lived. In fact, he said very little, choosing instead to keep his attention plastered on the scenery outside the window as it whizzed passed.
As soon as we turned onto Will’s street, windshield wipers swiping back and forth to ward off the light drizzle, Rafe killed the headlights. A block later, he slowed then came to a quiet stop outside a house the size of a small mansion that overlooked the ocean.
“Is this where he lives?” I raised a brow.
“Yeah, this is the place.”
“Isn’t this risky?” I lowered my voice. “Shouldn’t we drop him off down the road?”
“It’s risky, all right, but I need to make sure he gets home.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I understood where he was coming from. He’d gone through so much to keep his son safe, and he wasn’t about to drop the ball now.
Rafe turned to face his son. “You can go on in. It’s over now.”
Will glanced between the massive front entrance cast in shadow and Rafe’s stoic expression, his jaw clenched in an effort to keep all emotion in check because this couldn’t be easy for him. “Will they…will those men come back for me?”
“No,
buddy. You don’t have to worry about them. I promise you that.” Rafe gestured toward the house. “Go on in.”
The boy sized up Rafe for several long seconds, a plethora of questions cutting across his young face. He pushed the door open, jumping out of the vehicle, and it slammed in his wake as he took off toward his grandparents home in a full-on run. As small fists pounded on the front door, Rafe tightened his hands on the steering wheel, preparing to flee.
One, two, three, four…
“C’mon, answer the fucking door,” he muttered.
Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven…
Someone inched the door open, and Will launched himself into the arms of an older woman.
Rafe shot off down the street, and we both prayed the cover of night would protect us from detection.
17. UNBRIDLED
Alex
Rafe didn’t go above the speed limit until we were several miles down the highway, trees encasing us on either side as we made our getaway. He found a logging road about twenty minutes out and took the turnoff.
“Where are we going?”
“We need to get lost for a while.”
Disquiet ate away at my nerves as Rafe navigated the increasingly rough gravel road, taking random turns at the forks as they arrived. Apparently, he’d meant getting “lost” in the literal sense. But I was okay with it. The last thing I wanted was to return to the island. Unfortunately, we only had the clothes on our backs, so we couldn’t get lost for long.
We traveled the unpaved road for about fifteen miles before he pulled into a small clearing that overlooked the hilly terrain. Darkness existed as far as the eye could see. On the trip up the mountain, the clouds had opened again, and a steady barrage of rain pelted the windshield. He cut the engine, casting the space between us in comfortable solitude.
“C’mere,” he said, voice husky as he unbuckled and pushed the driver’s seat back as far as it would go.
