Kynan regards the mom, the daughter, and the son next. They all nod.
Giving his attention back to Miguel and holding up the backpack, he states, “There’s three million in here, U.S. dollars, as requested. There will be no more money. If you want to uphold the deal that was made, it’s yours. You just send the family over to us, and I’ll toss the bag to you.”
Miguel doesn’t even try to argue as he knew we’d never entertain adding more money. He nods at the bag. “Open it.”
Kynan does so, pulling it wide and angling it toward the man so he can see the copious amounts of money within. There never was any consideration given to stiffing these people. Kidnapping and ransoms are a part of life here, and, oddly, people stick to the rules. The money is given, and the hostages are not harmed. If people started stiffing these guys, it would turn all future dealings into horrendous affairs.
Not that it’s any of my worry.
Miguel orders a man to get the bag. Kynan drops it to his side. With his other hand, he motions to the family to come his way. I hold my Heckler & Koch MP5 across my torso with the tip pointed down in a non-threatening manner. But only my teammates know that my finger on the trigger is ready to act at a moment’s notice. My brothers in arms are the same, and I know Ladd has his sniper support rifle trained on Miguel at this moment.
The family runs our way, needing no further encouragement. Bodie and I flank and then move in front of them while Kynan hands over the bag to the man. He backs away, never taking his eyes off us until he reaches Miguel and hands it to him.
Trusting we’ve provided the proper amount, Miguel slings the pack over his shoulder and gives us a cavalier nod. Then the group of ELN guerillas melts backward into the jungle.
Our work isn’t done. Ladd will stay high to make sure their retreat is permanent, then we’ll move the family to the extraction point just barely a click and a half from here. We’ll have to load the family on a helo, which will take us to the Cartagena airport, and, from there, we’ll put the family on private transport back to the States. We’ll take a separate private plane negotiated as part of our fee.
Unfortunately, this did not go down in time for me to get back to Jaime when I promised.
Which is today—Friday.
I was able to get off a satellite-powered text to let her know of my delay and tell her I would explain everything when I got in on Saturday.
It was finally time she learned the truth.
♦
I’m exhausted by the time our plane takes off from Cartegena. It’s a private jet that seats eight, and there’s a flight attendant to see to our needs.
Jackson and Bodie cock their chairs into reclining positions, curl up under the fleece blankets provided, and fall dead asleep.
I’m actually too tired to sleep, so I join Kynan and Ladd in drinking bourbon as we sit at a table near the rear of the plane that has bench seats on each side. We chat for a bit about the mission, all of us agreeing it couldn’t have gone smoother.
We then trade stories about our missions that have gone way worse, allowing levity to guide the narrative. Ladd regales us with a story about how he got shot in the ass in Belarus, and I laugh so hard I suck bourbon into my lungs.
The flight attendant brings us some food—meats, cheeses, and bread—and we wolf it down. We give some thought to waking Bodie and Jackson to see if they want some, but they snooze, they lose.
Eventually, I decide to try for some shut-eye, and it’s Jaime I’m thinking about before I fall asleep. As the plane approaches Pittsburgh, I get closer to having the rest of my life determined—happiness or misery.
I’m not sure how long I’m under, but it feels like no time before the attendant is shaking me awake, asking if I’d like lunch. She informs me we’re an hour outside of Pittsburgh, and asks if I want a turkey club sandwich.
I eat two, down two bottles of water, and watch Jackson, Bodie, and Ladd play a game of Spades.
I’m nervous, no doubt. I pace the aisle of the jet until it’s time to buckle in for landing. There’s no telling how Jaime is going to receive my truth after so many lies.
There’s a van waiting for us at the airport at the private jet terminal, and it takes us back to Jameson headquarters. Bodie doesn’t even bother trying to talk me into going out. Even though he’s my best friend and heading back to Vegas in the morning, he’s well aware of the conversation I’ll be having with Jaime when I get to her apartment. I told him about my marriage on our way into Cartagena. While he is legitimately happy for me, he’s also riding my ass to tell Jaime the truth as soon as possible.
I head to my apartment to take a shower, washing off almost two and a half days of jungle, sweat, and dirt. I wonder what Jaime would think if I just went straight to her apartment from the airport, dressed in my dark green cammies, encrusted with dirt, and stained with sweat. I’d sit my ALICE pack on the floor, prop my HK MP5 against the wall, and say, “Honey, I’m home.”
There’s no stopping the smile that comes as I can imagine her expression if that were to occur. But it quickly fades as I get in an Uber to take me to her apartment, knowing that, come tomorrow morning, I’m going to be a happily wedded, blissful man, or I’m going to be torn to pieces.
I doubt there is any in between.
CHAPTER 19
Jaime
My hands are sweating, my heart is hammering, and yes, I’m nervous.
But excited.
Nervously excited.
Cage texted me twenty minutes ago to say he was on his way to my place, and he’ll be here at any moment.
There are so many things I want to say and to happen, and I’m not sure what order it should go down.
Most likely, I’ll kiss him.
Then hug him.
I’ll tell him I missed him, and I’ll try to put the insecurities I’ve developed over this past week he’s been gone out of my mind—that feeling I might be missing something really important.
Yeah… we should sit down and have an immediate talk. I need to be able to tell him I’ve been troubled by the fact I really don’t understand his profession. He’s never talked that much about it, doesn’t want me to meet his coworkers, calling them misogynist pigs, and I just can’t understand why he travels so much in that line of work. It isn’t adding up, and I need him to look me in the eye and tell me I’m seeing ghosts where none exist.
There’s a knock at the door, and I practically jump out of my skin. I wipe my damp palms on my yoga pants, then have doubts about my chosen outfit. I had thought about wearing something nice to welcome him home. I’d considered everything from a pretty dress to a slutty negligee.
But then I decided to greet him in what I’d normally be wearing on a Saturday early afternoon if I was hanging around the apartment, so I put on a pair of black yoga pants and a loose V-neck t-shirt. My hair is in a ponytail, and I don’t have any makeup on.
I’m just me, and I hope Cage will just be him.
Reaching out, I note a slight shake to my hand as I unlock the door and open it.
In a massive rush, all of my doubts and insecurities evaporate the minute I see Cage standing there. He’s wearing jeans, a lightweight crew-neck sweater under his leather jacket, and holds a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
His hair is swept back from his face, his beard perfectly trimmed short, and those green eyes are eating me up as he runs them down my body and back up again.
All thoughts as to how things should go down seem to melt away with my insecurities, and I just react.
I run and jump, knowing he’ll catch me. He does so effortlessly, hands under my ass as my legs wrap around his waist. I’m vaguely aware of the flowers falling to the floor, but I couldn’t care less because our mouths fuse together in a hot kiss that speaks all the words necessary right now.
Cage groans, a sound of longing and desire that shoots straight through to my core. He steps further inside the apartment, kicks the door shut with his foot, and takes one hand off
my ass to reach back to flip the bottom lock.
Then walks us to my bedroom.
I mean, our bedroom. As we leave the tiny space of living area, I see the gorgeous flowers lying discarded in the foyer. I’ll make sure to come back and rescue them later.
“God, I fucking missed you,” he growls as we fall to the bed. His lips come back to mine, which is amazing but inconvenient because I can’t talk.
But then he starts pulling at my clothes as I do his.
“I missed you too,” I huff, desperate to feel his skin. I pull a little too hard at his sweater, hearing the seam rip.
Oops.
Soon enough, we’re both naked, rolling on the bed, kissing and touching. Not able to get enough of each other.
I end up on my back, Cage over me, settled in between my legs, so I feel the hard length of him and just how much he missed me. He stares down at me, hands framing my face. “I love you.”
Oh, my heart. It’s fully taken by this man. “I love you, too.”
“And we need to talk,” he says earnestly. “There are some things I need to clear up with you.”
This should make me scared, but, on the contrary, he’s going to give me exactly what I’ve been wanting. To clear up that feeling that there wasn’t quite full transparency.
“Yes, talk,” I say, hands going behind his head to tug his mouth down to mine. “But later.”
Much, much later.
I need this man inside me too much to worry more about words and what-ifs.
There’s more kissing, hands on each other. Fingers dipping, hands squeezing and stroking. The urgency mellows as Cage moves down my body, worshiping me with his mouth. I’d love to return the favor, but after he has me crying his name out, he sheathes himself in a condom and sinks deep inside me.
It’s the most perfect feeling in the world, and my future feels like it has no limits.
♦
Cage holds me close with my ear pressed to his chest. His heartbeat has returned to a steady thump, and I’m thoroughly sated. His hand glides over my hair, petting me, and I’m getting drowsy, eyes starting to droop.
“Ready to talk?” he asks, and my eyes fly back open.
I lift my head, so I can see his face. “Now?”
While yes, I knew we needed to talk, I thought we’d just cuddle for a while. Maybe nap and laze about. We could talk about an early dinner and perhaps a glass of wine.
“I’d really like to,” he says, his face serious. I note what seems to be a glimmer of unease. All my mellow feelings start to churn into something that doesn’t feel mellow at all.
Whatever he sees on my face causes his own expression to relax. He leans in to kiss me. “It’s not bad. At least, I hope you don’t think it is. But I do need to tell you some things. Maybe we could get dressed, grab a beer, and sit in the living room.”
I don’t know how to take that. What does it mean that he doesn’t want to talk while naked and in bed? Is putting on clothing like an armor? Is he going to leave me, and he wants to be ready to walk out the door?
“Jaime,” Cage says, and I can tell he’s reading my emotions all too well. His eyes are warm as a palm comes to my cheek. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s the important thing I need you to know right at this moment, because I can see you’re scared.”
And just like that, I’m okay again.
He loves me.
He is in this for the long haul.
The commitment he made is real, and we are going to start a wonderful life together.
“Okay,” I say, a smile even coming to my face. “Are you hungry? I can fix something.”
“I wouldn’t say no.” He laughs, and we roll out of bed.
We clean up, use the bathroom, and tug back on the clothes we had on before, with the exception we both remain barefoot.
In the kitchen, Cage opens up two beers while I whip up some sandwiches and grab some chips. We bring the food into the living room and sit side by side on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, with paper plates on our laps. While we eat, Cage asks me how this week has gone, so I fill him in on some happenings at work—which he’s always interested in—as well as the fact I told Laney about us.
“And your week?” I ask, sensing this is what he wants to talk about.
“Yeah,” he says in a low voice, wiping his mouth with a napkin. His feet go to the floor, and he puts his empty plate on the table. “About that.”
I mimic his actions, turning my body toward him so that our knees are almost touching and we can look each other in the face. Cage takes my hands in his, stares down at them a moment before raising his eyes to mine.
My heart starts beating hard because I can see whatever he’s getting ready to tell me is painful to him, and it will most likely be to me, too.
Oh my God… is he dying?
I open my mouth to ask that very question, my chest now constricting painfully at the thought of losing him when I just found him.
I don’t get a single word out though as the door to my apartment bursts open in a resounding crash. Cage had only engaged the lower lock so a hard kick rips the strike plate right out of the door casing causing wood and splinters to go flying.
An involuntary scream tears free from my throat as four men dressed in black with ski masks on come rushing into my living room. Cage leaps to his feet and vaults the coffee table to put himself in between me and the men, and it’s only then that I realize they’re carrying guns.
One of the men raises a pistol, pointing it straight at Cage’s face who stops dead in his tracks. He doesn’t back away though, nor does he even hold his hands up in surrender. Instead he looks pissed and like at any moment, he’s going to take the man on.
I’m so intent on watching that interaction that I fail to notice another man coming my way. He grabs me by the arm, jerks me up off the couch hard enough he wrenches my shoulder causing me to cry out in pain.
“You son of a bitch,” Cage barks and takes a step toward me. The rage on his face is scary and I see murder in his eyes. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
“Sorry,” the man with the gun pointed at his face says, and there’s no mistaking his distinct Irish brogue. “But she’s necessary to us.”
“I swear to God,” Cage says through gritted teeth. “If you don’t let her go, I’m going to—”
“You’re going to what?” the man demands as he advances a step in on Cage and puts the pistol to his forehead. Cage doesn’t even flinch or cower, but looks the guy right in the eye with a hard glint. “You’re going to shut the fuck up, is what you’re going to do.”
And then in a swift move, he pulls the pistol back, only to slam it into the side of Cage’s head.
“No,” I scream, trying to get to Cage as the man holding my arm restrains me in a full body lock. “Leave him alone.”
Cage crumples to the floor but he’s not unconscious. He immediately puts a palm to the floor and starts to rise again, so the man with the pistol knees him under the chin, causing Cage to fly backward, landing on his back with a distinct groan of pain.
“Stop,” I scream again. “He’s just a used car salesman. He’s doesn’t pose a threat.”
Cage actually lifts his head, not to look at the men but at me, and to my surprise, he chuckles for a moment before once again starting to rise.
Once again, the man with the pistol kicks him, this time in the ribs. Cage grunts but doesn’t fall flat to the ground. Disgruntled, the man puts the pistol once again to Cage’s head and jerks his head to the door, instructing the other guys. “Get her out of here.”
I’m pulled away, across my living room floor, kicking and screaming until some cloth is shoved so far into my mouth I immediately gag around it. But it suffices to quiet me and then I’m throw over one of the men’s shoulders.
Before he walks out with me, another guy comes up and shows me his gun as a warning. “If you struggle, we’ll kill your boyfriend.”
> Husband, I scream inside my head, glaring at him. But I remain still.
“Good girl,” he says and pats me on the head. “Behave and everything will be fine.”
I’m carried to the door and just before we step through, I cast a last glance back toward Cage. He’s staring at me and I can read his message loud and clear. I know exactly what he’s conveying.
Don’t worry. It will be fine. I’ll get you out of this.
I hope he sees in my eyes how much I love him, and how adorable it is that he—a used car salesman—thinks he’s going to be able to get me out of this. But it makes me love him even more.
CHAPTER 20
Cage
When I come to, it’s not the pain in my head, ribs, or jaw that I concentrate on but the fact that Jaime has been kidnapped. I have immediate clarity that she’s gone.
They carried her out with a gag in her mouth and thrown over a shoulder. Then I was hit one more time with the butt of the gun, this time to the back of my head and my world went black.
Rolling to my knees, I fight back a wave of dizziness and push myself up to a standing position. I look at my watch, realizing with dismay I’ve been unconscious for close to ten minutes. There’s no way in hell I’m going to make a chase out of this right now.
“Fuck,” I growl, searching for my phone and realizing it’s still in the bedroom. I rub at the lump on the back of my head, relieved there’s no blood because I don’t have time for stitches, and make my way to Jaime’s bedroom.
It doesn’t occur to me to call the police. I dial Kynan instead.
I’m stunned when he doesn’t answer, and I get his voice mail. I don’t bother leaving a message. Instead, I call him right back.
He answers on the second ring. “This better be good because I’m trying to enjoy some time with my beautiful wife, whom I haven’t seen in a week,” he growls.
“Four men just burst into our apartment and kidnapped Jaime,” I reply, knowing that will get his attention.
“What the fuck?” he barks.
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