“Hello? Is this a bad time?”
Eaton. She stepped out of the bathroom and glared at him. “Is there really a good time for kidnapping?”
He spread his hands wide and smiled. “Welcome aboard, Miss Hanover. You’re satisfied with the accommodations?”
“Where is Mark?”
“He’s close.”
She didn’t care for the sly glint in the man’s eye. “You killed him.”
“No.” Eaton’s brow flexed into a frown. “He isn’t my true target.”
“He told me you’re pursuing some revenge thing against General Riley.”
“That would be more accurate.”
She folded her arms over her chest, trying to hide her nerves. If she could get some information, maybe she could also leave a clue for anyone who found their trail. “Is it accurate to say you’ve caused harm to innocent Riley children?”
“No.” He was emphatic. “General Riley is not innocent. His children, adults in the military, are not innocent. My wife and daughter were absolutely innocent. Whatever pain I manage to inflict on the general, it will never be enough and never be equal to the pain he caused them and me by hurting them.”
His rage filled the room. She wasn’t sure madman was the right term for Eaton. He was calculating. Remorseless. And he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Out of words, pretty painter?”
“Not yet.”
His sneer brought to mind crocodiles rising from the murky water to assess their prey.
“I’m listening,” he said.
She’d planned to make another plea for their lives, but she could see there was no point in wasting her breath. “I’m sorry you were hurt.” She could give him compassion without throwing General Riley under the bus. He would never do anything to intentionally harm anyone under his command or that person’s family. Whatever Eaton had done, she was sure the general had responded appropriately. “I’m sorry your family was affected.”
“Affected?” Eaton cocked his head. “Their lives were ruined.”
He didn’t shout. It would have been easier to deal with him if he had. Instead it was as if the bitterness had settled into his skin and lodged itself even deeper into his bones, altering his entire framework.
“That’s horrible.” She clung to compassion when she wanted to shout and rail at him. He probably expected her to fly into hysterics. Lulling him into complacency might be what she needed to escape.
His gaze narrowed and he stared at her as if he could see under her skin. At least he wasn’t leering down the front of her dress this time. Maybe he’d done that to draw a reaction from Mark.
“Please reconsider and let Mark and me go.”
He acted as if she hadn’t spoken. Checking his watch, he planted his legs wide and folded his arms over his chest. He presented himself to the world as an average man, easily overlooked or forgotten. She was sure he’d cultivated that effect during his service as a sniper. When she looked, the man she saw wasn’t average or forgettable. His righteous self-assurance was terrifying.
“I was furious when I saw you in the van,” he said conversationally. “It took some time to warm up to the unique opportunity you present.”
Opportunity had never sounded so frightening. The motors rumbled and the boat lurched under her feet. She lost her balance for a moment and caught herself on the bunk before she pitched forward into Eaton. He didn’t strike her as the chivalrous type.
“Won’t you please let us off this boat?” she asked.
“Eventually, yes. In the meantime, rest and enjoy the ride.” He gestured to the bed. “You’ll be provided with all the necessities in due time.”
He walked out and she heard the lock slide back in place. The small window high in the wall of the cabin had been covered, but she didn’t need the visual. They were leaving the dock and he could take them wherever he pleased.
Her only consolation was that Eaton’s presence meant Mark was on this boat too. He might have let someone else drive the van that brought them here, but he wouldn’t relinquish control over the current prize in his revenge game.
She considered pounding on the door or tearing apart the cabin. None of it would change the reality. For the immediate future, she was stuck. A captive in a war she didn’t understand.
CHAPTER 5
Mark came awake with a bad case of cottonmouth and a terrible whining in his ears. Mosquitoes? Bees? A flock of drones? He blinked away the fog muddling his brain and found himself handcuffed and chained like a dog to a loop of rebar bolted into a cement pad. He’d been stripped to his slacks and dress shirt. They’d even taken his socks. He tugged on the restraints, tested the grip of cement on the rebar as he worked himself into an upright position so he could get his bearings.
An industrial fan mounted in the ceiling was the source of the sound. Naturally, it wasn’t blowing at him, but rather toward an old metal desk, currently unoccupied, at the opposite end of a long, narrow room. A modified shipping container, he realized after further study. The air was hot and the humidity high. How far south had Eaton taken him? And how?
He recalled the drive and the marina. After Charlotte had been escorted away, Eaton and his men had harassed him. Drugged him. He didn’t need to touch the back of his head to feel the knot there. His scalp was tight from swelling and probably more than a little dried blood.
“Charlotte?” His rusty voice sounded pitiful in his ears. Clearing his throat, he shouted her name.
The only response was his rumbling stomach.
Mark twisted as far as the restraints allowed, trying to get his bearings. There was remarkably little to go on. Rusting corrugated walls and one door. When his eyes landed on a bottle of water near the wall, he didn’t even try to stretch for it. It was either out of reach or laced with drugs. Let the games begin. Mark scanned the windowless room again and spotted two cameras. Was Eaton already sending out the feed meant to torture his father?
“Charlotte!” he called again. What had Eaton done with her? Mark forced back the swell of panic. He had to stay calm. One step at a time, just like he’d told Charlotte.
Eaton had to know the army investigators were closing in on him. Why else would he go to such extremes with this elaborate kidnapping?
The man wanted to get caught, everyone agreed on that. More specifically, he wanted to get caught on his terms, after he’d accomplished his goal of ruining the general. Hank’s team had managed only a few successful interrogations of people they’d connected to Eaton. Still, Hank and his team were piecing together a picture.
Power was Eaton’s drug as much as control and impact. Whatever misfortunes he blamed on General Riley, Eaton intended for the general to suffer and keep on suffering as everything he valued dissolved into a wasteland. He blamed the general for the destruction of his family and seemed intent on dealing the same crushing blow to the Rileys.
“Charlotte!” Mark shouted her name again.
“Mark!” The faint response motivated him. If she was within earshot, they still had a chance. He hauled himself to his feet and tried to budge the cement pad. The door opened and Eaton walked in, followed by a man tall enough that he had to duck to get through the doorway. The man was bald and a wall of muscle. His uniform, likely in deference to the humid climate, was a black tank top with black cargo pants and black jungle boots.
If he was part of Eaton’s plan, Mark anticipated a great deal of pain in his own future.
“We’re glad to hear you’re back in fighting form,” Eaton said. He propped a hip against the desk, staying well clear of Mark, and folded his arms over his chest.
Mark stilled, refusing to give any hints about his condition. “Where’s Charlotte?”
Eaton looked at the muscle man. “So predictable.”
“Just as you said,” Muscle replied.
“What did
you do to her?” Mark demanded.
“We’ve shown her every courtesy,” Eaton said. “Haven’t touched a hair on her head.” He took two strides forward, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Yet.”
Mark strained toward him, wanting a piece of Eaton more than a gallon of water. “I’ll get free,” he vowed. “You’ll pay.”
“You will get free,” Eaton agreed. Then his eyes narrowed to slits and his nostrils flared. “When I’m ready for you to be free.” To Muscle, he said, “Go on and introduce yourself.”
Mark watched the big man advance, learning what he could in the few brief strides it took the thug to reach him. He dodged the first ham-sized hook aimed at his jaw and, thanks to the restraints, got caught with an upper cut. Wheezing, cuffed, he couldn’t do more than offer a few weak blocks against the rest of the beating.
“That’s enough for today.” Eaton gave the order just before Muscle’s boot connected with Mark’s rib cage.
The big man pulled the kick, sparing his ribs, and Mark smiled. His teammates always claimed he lived a charmed life. He was starting to believe it.
Eaton walked over and unlocked the cuffs linking Mark’s hands to the rebar and Muscle shuffled him out of the room.
Definitely a modified shipping container and not pinned down well, Mark noted as the floor gave a bit under their feet. He hoped it wasn’t just his imagination that beyond Muscle’s body odor and the smell of rust he caught a whiff of clean salt air nearby.
“Tack up some plywood, add a window or two and the place won’t be half-bad, Eaton,” Mark mumbled through a swollen lip.
“Something to think about,” his captor replied. He stepped in front of Muscle and led the way to a second heavily reinforced door. “Why don’t you consider the color palette for me and we’ll discuss it at our next meeting.”
“Sure. I’ll bring color swatches.”
Muscle walked through the opening first, dragging Mark through the doorway and tossing him into a cell that resembled a dog kennel with plywood on one side. The cell door clanked shut and Muscle locked it with a standard sliding bolt before walking out of the room and slamming the reinforced door closed with a loud bang. Eaton and Muscle had to know his ears were ringing.
Swiping away the blood trickling from his eyebrow, Mark took stock of the surroundings. He looked around for a camera and didn’t see one. That didn’t mean it wasn’t here, he thought, leaning on the cage door. The bolt held firm and there wasn’t enough space to get his hand through to manipulate it. He gave his captors points for confidence.
Wire fencing made up the walls and a ceiling of the cell that was a few inches too short for Mark to stand up straight. The jerk knew how to make a prisoner miserable.
He kicked at the gap at the bottom of his cage door. A convenient food slot, though Eaton probably wouldn’t bother feeding him. Next, he poked through the chain links at the plywood pressed against the outside of one of the cage walls. When it didn’t fall, he assumed it was there to block his view of anyone in the next cage.
“Mark? Is that you?”
Charlotte’s voice, stoic and clear, erased every pain as relief surged through his system. “Charlotte, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Well, I’m terrified, but they haven’t hurt me.”
Mark sat down hard, as close to the plywood as possible with his back to the cage door. She sounded all right. He just had to keep her that way. He rapped a fist against an upright support post and the sound reverberated all around. “Good acoustics in here,” Mark muttered. Eaton or the guards would hear every movement.
“If you say so. What did they do to you?”
“Nothing serious,” he replied. He didn’t expect the reprieve to last, but no point in talking about something neither of them could control.
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s rude.” He tried to laugh, but it turned into a wheeze. “Where’s the trust? I’ve never lied to you.”
“Mark, I’m serious,” she pleaded. “Have they hurt you?”
He couldn’t ignore her plaintive tone. Maybe knowing the facts would keep her vivid imagination in check. “They drugged me at the dock. Typical tactic, but it’s out of my system now. A big bald guard roughed me up a bit. I’ve had tougher training sessions.” He knew he was in for it later if Eaton had devices in here to pick up this conversation, but Charlotte’s peace of mind was more important. “Now it’s your turn to be honest with me.” He remembered the way the older man had ogled her in the van. “Has he hurt you?” He held his breath.
“No.”
Her voice was firm. She wasn’t lying to him. Thank God. He exhaled slowly. He heard her shifting closer and envisioned the flow of that dress over her body.
“He locked me in a tiny furnished cabin on the boat for the duration of the trip here.”
“How long were you on the boat? Did you stop anywhere?” How many days had he been unconscious? “Did you recognize anything on the way here?” He paused, listening. She didn’t respond. “Charlotte?”
“Oh, I’m here, just making a list. Did you want those answers in order?”
“Ha ha.” He was glad to hear her spirits were still good. But he needed information to make a solid plan.
“We left the same night we were kidnapped. We were on the water all through the next day and night. Then we arrived here in the afternoon. There’s a dock and this building we’re in. I saw a generator, but not much else.”
“Okay, good.” Her voice grew stronger with every bit of information shared. He used his shirtsleeve to blot the sweat from his face, ignoring the smear of blood. One more stain on a shirt that wouldn’t last much longer. “It’s hot in here. Has he fed you anything?”
“They’ve given me bottles of water and meal bars. It’s better than starving.”
She wasn’t wrong. “Unless you have a fake-food allergy,” he quipped.
“You know that’s not a thing.”
“Maybe not.” He did know she’d rolled her eyes and that made him smile. The smile tugged his busted lip and made him wince. It was worth it.
“Have you seen any cameras in here?” he asked.
“Not in here. There might have been a camera near the dock.”
That made sense. “What else can you tell me?”
“There’s a narrow beach near the dock and we walked through a wide path. Sea grasses and palms, and thicker trees farther inland. You and I are the only two people in this room.”
“Good job.” He’d had less intel on combat operations and the team had still succeeded. He had to assume Eaton knew his service record, so why allow her to tell him any of this?
It could be a test, but more likely it was one of the mind games Eaton liked. On his quest to destroy the general, he demonstrated a pitiless determination in setting up ordeals designed to create as much pain as possible for General Riley’s children. And their father had been kept apprised of every grim moment via text messages, photos and live videos.
“Charlotte, you’re amazing.” She’d wanted to help and she had. “They’ll find us soon. Whatever he does or says, remember good people are out there looking for us.”
“I’m uncomfortable but I think you’re in more danger,” she said. “He talked to me that night on the boat, Mark. He’s organized and deliberate. He has something very specific in mind.”
“We’ll get our chance,” Mark promised. He was more concerned with the improvising Eaton had in the works now that Charlotte was here. Mark couldn’t deny she was a weakness Eaton could use against him. He didn’t care. He’d do anything to spare her pain or humiliation.
“Charlotte—” He snapped his mouth closed, feeling the footfalls through the metal floor a moment before they were audible. The door opened and Muscle appeared again.
He sneered at Mark and walked right past him to Charlotte’s ca
ge. Mark wanted to coach her, to encourage her and reassure her he’d find a way to get her out.
Muscle’s body blocked most of his view of her as she crossed in front of his cage, but he could see she’d been forced to change out of her dress and into hospital-like scrubs in a drab olive green color. Her high heels were gone and in their place she wore slip-on prison-issue shoes that were a little too big for her feet. Mark clutched the front of his cage. Willing her to hear all the things he didn’t dare say.
Muscle hurried her along. Her hands were cuffed in front of her and she craned her neck to look at him as she walked by.
Her eyes went wide and she dug in her heels. “You are hurt.”
“I’m not,” he insisted. No matter how bad he looked, he was strong enough, smart enough to get them out of this.
He had to be.
* * *
Charlotte’s heart hammered and pulses of terror zipped through her system. She paced the length of her cage, tripping over the floppy shoes. Taking them off, she shoved them into the back corner. What were they doing to Mark?
She’d known he was worried for her, but the big guard had escorted her to the other room and parked her in a chair in front of the desk, not before she noticed the drops of blood on the floor near where they must have secured Mark. Eaton had asked her several vague background questions about her association with the Riley family. She couldn’t figure out what he expected to accomplish with her. He’d seemed to be killing time, and she hadn’t had the courage to ask him why. Eventually he’d sent her back here.
Her cage door had barely locked before they were dragging Mark away. In the hours since, she’d heard only angry shouts and the occasional pain-filled cry. From the vent cut into the top of the wall, their only source of fresh air in here, she watched the light fade as night fell.
Feeling helpless, she piled her hair on the top of her head and scraped her knuckles on the wire fencing that created a ceiling. It dawned on her then that Mark wouldn’t be able to stand up straight unless his cage was taller. Eaton wouldn’t bother to do anything to make a Riley more comfortable. She pressed her cheek to the cage door, but she couldn’t get the right angle to see anything helpful about the height of his cell on the other side of the plywood barrier.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 79
