RECLAIM
PROJECT XOL
BOOK FIVE
AMABEL DANIELS
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Amabel Daniels
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions
Dedication
For the Loris
Dr. Lori Wright, for her medical advice and keeping me safe.
Lori Sunderland RN, for comforting me during those scary times.
Chapter One
Luke
“Get your hands off me!” I twisted under the iron grips of gritty fingers. Two men held me, one hand on each arm. The cartel men forced me and Tramer further away from the hut Cassidy and Hendrick were in.
My hands were now bound behind my back but that wasn’t any reason to surrender. I wrenched around as much as I could, desperate to look back at the building we’d just left.
Cassidy! I can’t leave her.
“Get off!” Another twist and I broke one man’s hold on me. I fell back to step away. A rifle was raised, and just before the metal bashed me in the gut, I pivoted and ducked. I took the brunt of the force in my bicep at the same time as shoving upward, countering the weapon. The Mexican yelled as I smashed into him.
“Luke!”
Tramer’s yell was barely loud enough over the blood roaring in my ears and the clash of more men coming to manhandle me away from my girl.
Fists and guns struck me, and bound as I was, I couldn’t deflect them all. But I’d be damned if they brought me to my knees.
“Luke!”
No wonder everyone assumed our tall, stoic Special Ops retiree was military. Because that single command sure as hell got my attention. An order. A strongly suggestive warning. More than anything, a knowing tone of surety. Him merely saying my name in that tone was like a slap in the face.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked in a jeering, are you fucking with me? tone.
What was I doing? Wasn’t it obvious? I was… I was…
Dammit. What was I doing? What good would it do to go batshit Rambo here? Resisting these thugs probably wouldn’t accomplish much. For one, we were outnumbered. And unarmed. Tramer’s almost mocking snarl was all it took to slam that reality in place.
I wasn’t using my head. But I couldn’t just follow along. This wasn’t prison, with protocols and laws. This was the damn jungle, some remote no-man’s land in the thick of cartel operations. Their rules weren’t to be trusted. The beast of anxiety reared up fast and fierce in my blood and I just couldn’t…take it easy.
“Take it easy,” Tramer said in that commanding tone again.
I huffed. No, really?
I ceased fighting back, and after a few more pants for air, I grunted. They’d stopped attacking as I calmed down.
Use your head, dumbass. Keep cool. I blinked the sweat and grime from my eyes and stole a chance to survey our surroundings. Low buildings were spaced throughout the rugged compound. A Jeep stood idling nearby, its diesel stink wafting in the air. Another van, maybe the one we were brought here in, was parked next to a crudely built surveillance tower of some kind. Men patrolled the grounds, some strutting obediently in pairs and others leisurely grouping up near a tent, trays of food in hand.
Most importantly, no escape.
The man gripping my right arm barked out orders in Spanish. His tugs on my limb suggested I quit it and get a move on.
A move on to where, though? Losing my temper here and now wouldn’t help anyone. At the least, though, I’d sketched a rough map of the space to find my way back to Cassidy.
As I stood, keeping my face blank at the taunting scowls of the Mexicans surrounding me, I glanced at Tramer. Brows raised, he squared a tight-lipped frown at me.
Yeah. Yeah. I’d…lost it. Any guy being taken from his girl in this kind of place would trip even the strongest man into a reaction. But I’d heed his damn warning now. Not now, not like this. I’d always preferred action over thinking but I’d wasted time trying to break free. Every second we were captive here was too long.
We continued walking—well, I willingly walked now instead of dragging my weight—toward another building west of where Cassidy was kept with Hendrick.
Just hang time, Cass. Just…wait for me.
A heavy weight dipped in my stomach as Tramer and I were led inside a dark building. Wait? I wanted Cassidy to sit tight until what? I could rescue her? Spring her out of there? I bit back a growl, choking on my frustration. I didn’t want Cassidy to spend another single minute here with these thugs and lawless assholes. Scum who might find new ways to torture her for what Hendrick wouldn’t tell them.
Gritting my teeth, I barely registered the foreign words the man rambled as he shoved me down. I slumped to the dirt floor, rocking my back against the wooden wall. Tramer fell down next to me and immediately scrambled to sit at my left.
I refused to make eye contact with the men who’d brought us to another rudimentary shed-like structure identical to the one we’d just left. Dim light came in from the entrance, but once the guards left and slammed the single door shut, darkness crowded over.
“The fuck are you thinking, man?” Tramer muttered. He scooted back on his butt, likely edging for an easier position to sit in with his hands tied behind him.
“I wasn’t.”
“No shit.” Tramer shifted toward me even more and I winced as he pushed against a tender spot where they’d hit me.
Turning, I frowned at his weird fidgeting. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to cuddle.” He grunted. “Just shut up for a minute, will you?”
I’d only known Tramer for…a few days, but he’d never been this curt with me. Not even when I’d attacked him for entering his own home. Then again, our situation did suck. Couldn’t blame him for being grouchy. At least he didn’t have his girlfriend here in the same predicament.
He shifted some more and brought his arms forward, rope dangling from only one hand.
Damn. I blinked at his freedom and my admiration rose an inch. He had to have been in some even shittier situations to have learned that Houdini act. I couldn’t help but respect him more.
“Let me give you some advice,” he said as he took off his boot. “Don’t think.”
I narrowed my eyes as he removed the insole of his footwear. Don’t think? About Cassidy being stuck under the cartel boss’s orders? “Easier said than done.”
“How the hell did you survive that long in prison?” He huffed a weak laugh as he dug into his boot. “You sure don’t handle instructions well.”
That was a no-brainer. I’d…deserved my time in prison. And I generally knew what I was going to face there. Here, though, there was one crucial difference.
Cassidy.
I swallowed hard, fighting back the dread and fury of her being harmed in any way.
“Don’t worry about her,” Tramer said, continuing on like some kind of time-tested sage, pulling something from his boot.
“Don’t worry about her?” I sat up straighter, revved up to argue.
“She’ll take care of herself.”
She was defenseless. A target by means of knowing Hendrick. She couldn’t—
“Worry about yourself,” he said.
Because I was supposed to be a selfish bastard now?
“Because they’ll use you to get to her.” Tramer held up a three-inch-long slender object. He flicked the switchblade open and shut, showing me what it was. “And I migh
t not have known you guys for long, but I know what she’d choose.”
He raised his dark stare to me. “You. She’d choose to save you.” Pointing the knife he’d retrieved from his boot, he added, “Don’t put that choice on her to begin with.”
I licked my lips and nodded. Dammit. I got it. I’d figured out that much when they separated us, but…yeah, it really sank in my head now.
“While you were having a tantrum, I heard what he told her at the door. He’d just about promised he’d torture us—you until she has answers for whatever Hendrick is hiding.”
Torture us. I’d caught what he’d tried not to say. Us, not just me. Tramer’s life was on the line now too. Cassidy wouldn’t choose to let Tramer be hurt either.
“I got it.”
Tramer smirked at me and rotated his arm.
“Can you undo mine now?” I pivoted a little, giving him access to my hands.
“N—” He squinted as he raised his hand, silencing our whispers. Cocking his head to the side, he seemed to strain to listen to the noises outside.
I tuned in, too, my alarm ratcheting higher since he was alarmed. What now? Someone was coming? Plenty of noises came from outside… How would he pick out something to worry about? But he relaxed marginally a moment later.
“Not all the way, but I’ll loosen them enough so you can get out,” he said. Wedging behind me, he pulled at the rope around my wrists, cinching it tighter before he finished with an altogether looser bond. “In case they return and they see you’re free. No point to draw attention too early.”
Yeah. Then what about your rope?
As soon as he finished, he stilled suddenly again, listening. He jammed the closed switchblade under my sock, sliding the casing along my skin until it was nearly a brace for my ankle.
Raised voices came closer from outside. I jerked my head toward the door, just waiting for it to swing open.
“Shit.” Tramer scrambled to sit next to me again, shoving the ropes he’d removed behind him. He sat again with his arms backward as though he was tied. At the lowest whisper, he instructed me again. “You’ve got to find a way to get her out. I’ll look for our bag—we need a phone to get in touch with Zero. If we split up, rendezvous northeast from here.”
I blinked more sweat from my eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Escape plans. Right. But…how? Was splitting up even wise—possible? I’d rather take my chances with him than without. Two against…dozens. Better than being solo.
I couldn’t argue his goals, though, because the door burst open. Three men sauntered in, rifles in their hands instead of slung over their shoulders. Rapid Spanish flew at us, but their attention was on Tramer, not me.
What did he say? Army? Solider? Whose uncle did what?
I tensed as two men reached for Tramer and jerked him to standing. His hands were together, and I caught just a glimpse of the rope. He had to be holding it, trying to keep up the ruse of being bound.
Dammit, I couldn’t understand anything, they spoke so fast. I could swear they’d said something about the Army. Soldier man? God, it was a blur of fast words and a minimal scuffle. Tramer didn’t resist and stood obediently. I barely had time to realize he was being taken away before the door was shut.
I wasn’t alone, though. One thug remained inside with me.
Once the door was shut, he turned back to face me. A sinister grin curved his lips, twitching the cigarette stuck in his mouth. As he met my gaze, he cracked out a chuckle.
What, they were eager to start on the torture? I gritted my teeth and ran my thumb on the coarse twines of rope behind me. Keeping my shoulders as still as possible, I worked at the looser tie.
Bring it on, you a—
He stepped closer, allowing his rifle to swing to his back. In his other hand, a series of links dangled from a club. I stared as the ball at the end of the chain swung side to side, the shine of the metal glinting even in this low light.
Well…shit.
He muttered something in a jeering tone, words I didn’t even care to attempt translating. His weapon told me enough.
A mace? A goddamn mace? I’d been on the giving and receiving ends of violence, but I’d never encountered medieval tools.
He strode toward me, raising the mace higher. I kept my face blank and dug my nails into the rope at my hands. Hell, he said it’d be looser, easier to get out of! Sweat beaded and dripped from my brow as my heart raced faster. I locked my muscles, my injuries singing out a hell no at the tension.
If I couldn’t get out of this rope in the next few seconds…
I swallowed hard. Gunshots rang out in the distance and I flinched. Cassidy? Tramer? Someone goofing off?
Come on… I panted, scrambling in haste to free myself.
The man approached steadily, mumbling in Spanish.
Chill. Undo the rope and…and… I clenched my teeth, willing my hands to slip out already.
“Huh?” the man asked, emphasizing a question he must have asked me. Some rhetorical bullshit, probably.
Undo the rope and—
He yanked his arm up, the metal ball and chain arcing through the air.
Free!
I finished wrenching my left hand out of the rope as I turned my wrist a different way. Just before the ball could crush into my shoulder, I launched at him, aiming low. His knees—any part of his legs. That was my target. He roared a yell at my unexpected jump out of the way and into him. I’d knocked him flat onto his back and the mace thudded to the ground nearby.
In a rolling spiral, we fought for the upper hand. I punched him without mercy, silencing him until blood splattered onto the dirt floor and my sweat-stained shirt. When he’d slackened, pinned beneath me, I gusted out a deep breath.
He was out but still breathing. I eased off of him, cringing at the aches from his few lucky hits. Watching his worn camouflage shirt, I verified his chest was indeed rising and falling. It wouldn’t ruin my day if I’d killed him, but I didn’t have time to play games.
Find Cassidy. Get her out. Meet northeast.
I wiped the blood from my split lip and spit out the coppery saliva. Nodding to myself, I unclenched my hands and took stock of this pathetic thug. He must have figured that since I was tied, finesse wasn’t necessary with such archaic weapons.
I removed his clothes and gear, the guns, knives, belt, and all. Then I swapped our clothes. I pulled on his outfit and pushed his arms and legs through my garments. Still out cold, he didn’t protest when I dragged him to the wall. When he slumped over, I tied his hands with my rope and positioned him to the wood panel.
I stepped back, adjusting the waistband of the too small pants, and eyed my work. In the dark, he could pass for me if hair color was the only thing to notice. There wasn’t anything else I could do. Heading for the door, I checked the guns and spied the mace. Yeah, it was deadly, but I wasn’t used to wielding one of those things. I backtracked, shoving the mace into a dark corner, partly hiding it behind a half-full rack of firewood.
Now. About those plans.
Time to get Cassidy.
I went to the door, and with my hand on the doorknob, I chanced one more look back.
He was still out cold. I snorted at his moronic bravado. “Thanks.”
While I’d lucked out with an escape from this hut, I wasn’t about to borrow that thug’s misplaced confidence. Many more men were out there, and if I was caught…
Gunshots rang out again and I flinched. Fear of wondering who those were for nearly froze me. But Tramer’s words played again in my head.
Don’t think.
No. I wouldn’t dwell and wonder. Now it was time to act.
I swallowed hard and opened the door.
Chapter Two
Cassidy
Hendrick drooped toward the dirt, his eyes squinting tight.
“Hendrick!” I scrambled even closer on my knees, trying to hold him upright over my lap. Was elevating his head even a good idea? Bad? He was so…beaten. Cradling him over m
y thighs, I held back tears at how light he was.
I was a short girl. Everyone was tall from my view. Hendrick had always been so regal and proper. And tall. But here I was hoisting him up like he weighed nothing.
“Hendrick,” I said quieter now, my voice breaking. Heat spread down my cheek and I didn’t care to wipe the wetness away. “Hendrick…”
“Cassie? Is it really you?”
I turned him toward me, facing his bloodied and swollen face. His eyes were so puffy and circled in dark smears of bruises. “Yeah. It’s me. I’m here.”
“How…”
He wouldn’t—probably couldn’t—open his eyes, but I lowered closer to his face to speak.
“Rosa—”
His bony fingers reached up to grab at me. His grip caught me at my hand and I squeezed back. For as beaten as he was, he still had some strength. “She’s…?”
“I have no clue where she is.” I licked my lips, sensing an urgency to our chat. The cartel lord hadn’t exactly given me a timeframe. And the longer I was in here with Hendrick, not getting answers, the longer he could hurt them.
Luke.
My heart pounded hard at the idea of him suffering because of me—because of this insane search we’d pursued for Project Xol. He’d already lost so much in life, I couldn’t bear to imagine him being in even a breath of pain. I would not let him be injured for my sake. One way or another, I vowed that I wouldn’t. I pushed back the longing to be near him again and focused on what I could do right now.
Time for answers. Which I didn’t plan to share with the cartel boss.
Studying my old friend, I said, “Rosa asked me to get Scott’s files. In New York and then Texas.”
Hendrick bobbed his head. A nod. All right. He was still with me. “She knew they’d want them.”
“I got the files from the library and then I was…caught. She asked me to find you. Dale did as well.”
“Dale?” His right eye opened to a slit. “Hanson?”
I nodded. “Yeah…” Jesus. It was a long story to explain how I even knew the CEO who’d once funded Project Xol’s research. Or that I’d met him through Luke. And how I’d met and stuck with Luke was another tangent—
Reclaim: Project Xol Page 1
