by W. J. May
It was an exhausting game, one that could continue only so long. It was getting to the point where Rae was worried they’d have to stop and find somewhere to hide for the night, when she and Devon circled back towards the bridge once more... and found the path empty.
With sighs of relief they didn’t even bother to hide, they slowed their pace and began trudging down the dirt road. Gasping, sweating, only enough energy left to hold each other’s hands.
“Well, that has to be one of the worst days I’ve had in a good long while,” Devon panted, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the early evening sun.
“What are you talking about?” Rae teased, leaning on him heavily. “You spent that entire day with me. Aren’t you the one always saying that we work too much? Complaining about how we never get to spend enough time together anymore?”
“I take it back,” he replied, shaking a lock of damp hair from his eyes. “I’m fine spending time with Jules. At least he’s never sent me back to the 1600s.”
“Hey,” she giggled, smacking him in the arm, “that’s a little harsh.”
“It’s true.” He grinned. “Although I probably shouldn’t tease you about it now. You see, I recently heard that I might be your fella.”
She pushed him away from her, laughing all the while before lifting a warning finger in the air between them. “You’d better be careful. Otherwise you’ll come home one day to see that I’ve let Molly ‘repurpose’ one of your cars.” He paled in spite of himself, and she crossed her arms with a smug smile. “She’ll turn it into some kind of hat box—”
There was a rush of air, and the next thing she knew both of her legs were dangling off the ground. Tired as he was, Devon swept her into his arms. Carrying her gently over the soft grass.
Another hour went by.
The sun sank into a blood-red horizon as they made their way down the dirt path. His fingers wrapped in her curls. Her arms circled loosely around his neck. They’d been walking in silence for quite some time before he suddenly raised his eyes, resting them tentatively on her face.
“What?” she asked curiously, lifting her head from the hollow of his neck. “What is it?”
It was rare he had an expression she didn’t recognize. Rarer still that she couldn’t identify what had caused it. They had been living together for so long that they knew each other’s every whimsy and mood almost as well as their own. Could predict each other’s every thought.
But this? She had no idea what this was.
“Nothing.” He blinked quickly and lowered his eyes back to the ground. “I’m just tired.”
Whoa, there!
If there was one thing he could have done to pique her curiosity further, it was to lie. She pulled back in his arms, twisting around so she was staring directly at his face. His skin was warm and his cheeks were reddened slightly by walking so long into the sun. But it wasn’t any of those things that caught her attention. Not the windblown hair, the sparkling eyes, or those perfect lips that always seemed on the verge of breaking into a smile.
It was the fact that he was deliberately avoiding her gaze.
“Hey, what is it?” she asked again, softer this time. “Talk to me.”
Again, those eyes ventured hesitantly to her face. Again, he hastily averted his gaze.
“Seriously, nothing. It’s not the time to talk about it.”
“Devon, what—”
“It’s really not the time.” He flashed her an easy smile. One intended to distract, to avoid whatever was going on underneath. “I think we’re actually getting pretty close—”
“Devon James Wardell.”
He came to an abrupt stop, spine stiffening as his arms tightened around her legs. “You know I hate it when you do that. I still have PTSD from my mom—”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
For a second, he merely stood there—as torn as she had ever seen him. Then, without seeming to think about it, he began walking once more. One thoughtful step in front of the next.
“Rae, do you ever...” His voice trailed off as he stared into the setting sun. “Do you ever think about having another kid?”
Wait a second.
Her heart stopped beating.
WHAT?!
Before she could pull in a breath, he dropped her to the ground. Before she could begin to process what he’d said, his entire face transformed with obvious dread. Before she could open her lips to ask, a booming laugh echoed in the air between them.
She whirled around, only to find exactly what she was afraid of. The giant from the race track standing beneath the bridge.
All her friends held hostage by his side.
Chapter 7
“It’s about time!” Gigan-terd (Rae was going to call him that from now on) threw open his arms with a beaming smile, his long shadow reaching towards them in the setting sun. “We’ve been waiting for the better part of an hour.”
The better part of an hour?!
She looked at her friends in fright, the concern for their well-being temporarily distracting her from the bombshell her husband had just dropped.
Her friends looked hot and tired, but for the most part unharmed. The sleeve on Molly’s dress had been torn. Luke was sporting the start of a black eye. Rae suspected the two were probably connected.
“Guys?” she called tentatively.
She was answered by a chorus of half-hearted affirmations. Each more sullen and dispirited than the last. They weren’t accustomed to being taken prisoner. They were even less accustomed to allowing it to happen. But at that point, there wasn’t much else they could do. So they stood with their hands bound behind them. Five armed men standing at every side.
The only person who’d been generally left alone was Gabriel. Cuffed or not, it looked as though his ‘jailors’ didn’t want to get too close.
“They’re all perfectly fine,” Gigan-terd reassured her, quite kindly, too, considering the violent circumstances. “No harm will come to them. I’m only tasked with taking you back to London.”
Devon ground his teeth together, eyeing the iron manacles binding the rest of them with silent rage. “I already told you once, that’s not going to happen.”
“Oh no?” the giant countered. “And how exactly are you going to stop it?” When Devon hesitated a strange look of triumph flashed through his eyes, cooling just as suddenly into hungry anticipation. “You know, you were the one I was waiting for.” He lifted a massive hand, reaching for Devon’s face. “It seems I owe you a broken jaw.”
Devon jerked back as Julian strained forward against his chains. But Rae was absolutely riveted. Not by what he was saying, but by how he was saying it. By the things he was leaving out.
From the very beginning, he’d made no effort whatsoever to hide what he was doing. Quite the contrary, it was like he’d deliberately selected the location just because of how many people were around. Counting on the fact that the gang would never openly resist in such a public location.
The look on his face when he asked how Devon was going to stop him? As if he’d already guessed the answer? That, while Devon could follow through on the threat, he never would?
Not that it stopped him from trying.
“Untie them,” Devon said quietly. “Or you and I can go somewhere private, and we’ll see just how many things I can break.”
Somewhere private was right. Even now, bound and at knifepoint, the friends found themselves in the impossible position of protecting those who were holding them captive. Playing the part of the defeated prisoner just to ensure their secret would be kept safe.
What was more, the giant seemed to intuit this.
“Why not right here?” He raised his hands in an open invitation, beckoning Devon forward as he cleared space for them on the grass. “You want me to untie your friends? Let’s have it then.”
A wave of profound uncertainty froze Devon in his tracks, his handsome face paling as he stared between his friends and the giant, wonde
ring if that was something he could remotely do.
“Come on, kid.” The man flashed him a wicked grin. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He knows. I don’t know how, but he bloody knows.
Just like that, Rae sprang back into action. Tired of waiting cautiously on the sidelines for an opportunity to present itself. Tired of the giant and his sadistic little games.
“Why not fight me instead?”
There was a pause, then about fifty pairs of eyes turned to her at the same time.
“Excuse me?” “What?”
Both Devon and the giant spoke at the same time, though they seemed unaware of it themselves. They were too busy staring at her with twin looks of shock. Standing just a few feet behind them, Molly smacked her forehead with an exasperated sigh.
“Sweetheart, what are you...” Devon trailed off, looking both curious and afraid. Over the years, he had come to trust his wife with anything. He’d trust her with his very life. But this was a giant they were talking about. And it wasn’t like she was allowed to win...
“I have no quarrel with you, sweetheart.” The giant mimicked Devon’s pet name with a little wink. “Believe it or not, I don’t relish the idea of hurting kids like you one way or another. But your man and I have got a history now. Some things we need to straighten out.”
“To untie my friends, right?” Rae didn’t back down. Quite the contrary, she strode across the grass without an ounce of fear, putting herself between Devon and the giant. “He beats you in a fight, and then you let us all go? And we’re not kids, by the way. Not even remotely close in this day and age.”
A covert hand grabbed the laces of her corset, pulling her discreetly out of harm’s way. She slapped it aside with a sigh, silently cursing her overprotective husband.
“Yeah, that’s right.” The giant cocked his head to the side, looking her up and down with open curiosity. Much the same way he had when Angel charged at him just hours before. “And what in the name of heaven makes you think you’d be up to the challenge? No offense, love, but you weigh about as much as my little finger.”
There was a spattering of laughter from his men. A sea of menacing smiles that contrasted sharply against the stricken faces of Rae’s captive friends. They didn’t particularly care that she was volunteering to go head to head with some kind of colossus. At some point over the years, they’d all had to do much worse. Their concern was exactly the same as Devon’s.
She was not allowed to win.
But, as fate would have it, they needn’t have worried. Rae had no intention of letting herself win. That being said, she had no intention of letting herself lose either. She had other things in mind.
“Should be an easy fight for you, then.”
She smiled brightly and kicked off her new shoes. While the men had been treated with boots of soft leather, she and the rest of the girls got little slippers. Stiff, tight, and unyielding. The kind designed to keep you indoors. The kind she would never be caught dead in today—er, as in the future, the proper today.
After the shoes came off, the stockings were next to go. Then the corset. Then the heavy outer layer of her gown. At that point the men started laughing again, and she wondered if the white shift dress that remained was technically just a seventeenth-century version of underwear.
One look at Molly’s face told her that it probably was.
“Come on, then,” she said brightly, gesturing the giant forward with a slender hand. “Let’s not keep the others waiting. My friends, or yours.”
This time, the hand pulling her back was much stronger. She didn’t think she could shake it off even if she still had Devon’s own tatù to do it. Hazards of marrying a super-spy.
“I admire the sentiment,” he murmured into her ear. “Lord knows I admired the seventeenth-century striptease. Just tell me this isn’t another ill-timed demonstration of flair.”
She shot him a choice look over her shoulder. “Love, I had all this momentum building and you’re messing it up.”
He flashed a humorless smile. “Pardon the interruption. Just thought I’d take a moment to say my goodbyes.”
She rolled her eyes, ignoring the giant and the murderous horde. Devon was always so dramatic. “Would you just let me go, so I can fight this psycho already?”
The hand tightened as he let out a soft sigh. “I really wish you’d stop saying things like that.”
“I’m serious, let go.” She struggled against his grip, depressingly aware that without a tatù he was much stronger than she was. “It’s not like I don’t have a plan.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” His voice filled with false cheer. “There is a plan. And here I thought you were just attempting some Biblical reenactment for fun.”
“You know the little guy in the story won, right?”
“So not the point, Rae.”
The giant watched them bickering, his face lightening in surprise. After a moment, he turned to the prisoners with an honest smile. “Are they always like this?”
Julian bowed his head with a weary sigh. “You have no idea.”
Meanwhile, the couple was just getting warmed up.
“—just saying, you don’t always think these things through,” Devon reasoned, still holding her back with a restraining hand. “What about that time in Guam when you—”
“Ugh, I knew you were going to bring that up!” Rae exclaimed. “For the last time, Devon, I found it in a Waffle Hut! How was I supposed to know the thing had gills?!”
“...by looking at it?”
She threw up her hands, twisting around so the two of them were face to face. “I got it through customs, didn’t I? Furthermore, I thought we agreed never to speak of it—”
“Excuse me?”
A pleasant voice cut through, and the young couple turned to see the giant watching them with an amused smile. He lifted his hands peaceably, but cocked his head towards the setting sun.
“Much as I hate to interfere, I’m afraid time is of the essence. If I’m going to be fighting one of you, perhaps we should just get on with it.”
“Well said,” Rae agreed, pushing her husband smugly back into the arms of the five burly men waiting to restrain him. “At least someone here has a sense of propriety.”
The giant chuckled, and Devon would have had plenty to say on that ‘sense of propriety’ if one of the men holding him hadn’t clapped a heavy hand over his mouth. As it stood, he allowed himself to be dragged backwards with the greatest reluctance, shooting daggers with his eyes.
“You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that.” The giant slowly walked forward, looking Rae up and down with an amusement that bordered on admiration. “It’s a shame about this next part.”
A thrill of anticipation shot up through her toes but she kept it carefully off her face, joining him calmly in the center of the grass. “Oh, I don’t know, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
She glanced across the clearing at her friends, each of their faces imprinting in the back of her mind. Luke’s worry and Molly’s exasperation. Gabriel’s amusement and Julian’s disapproval.
Her eyes came to rest on Angel.
“Now seems like the right time to use them...”
There is a common misconception that’s made its way throughout the world. The idea that the bigger someone is the slower they move. The stereotype of the lumbering mammoth. In reality, this couldn’t be farther from the truth. A person’s speed is in no way determined by their size.
A fact proven true as the giant’s fist blurred through the air...
...and froze three inches from Rae’s face.
Thank the Maker!
Dark tendrils of hair flew back from her face as she let out a deep sigh of relief, then turned with a grateful smile to the blonde knockout standing behind her.
“Thanks for the assist.” She stepped carefully around the fist as her body shook with a belated tremor. “I wasn’t sure if you understood what I was trying to tell you.�
�
All around them, the rest of the clearing had frozen dead still. Like someone had been watching a movie and hit pause. Only the seven friends were free to move about as they pleased.
Albeit, they were doing it with some difficulty.
“Of course I understood.” Angel flexed her arms behind her, chafing against the iron cuff at her wrists. “I was just debating when to stop him.”
Rae froze in disbelief, glancing back at the giant.
“Before, Angel. You stop him before he smashes my face in. Thanks.”
Around them, the rest of the gang was freeing themselves of the restraints. Holding out their wrists to Gabriel in turn as he parted the iron with a lazy flick of his hand.
“Ideally, yes.” Angel continued conversationally as the cuff dropped at her feet. “But then I couldn’t help but remember how this whole mess is kind of your fault.”
Rae’s mouth fell open, then she whirled around in a rage. “What the heck is wrong with you!”
It wasn’t to Angel that she directed the question, but Julian. He grimaced apologetically, having been asked many times before, and turned entreatingly to his wife.
“Honey... please?”
“What?” she asked incredulously. “I was just being honest.”
As the two dissolved into a classic marital discussion on the virtue of holding one’s tongue, Devon pried a stranger’s weathered hand off his mouth and stormed across the grass to his wife.
“Hi, honey. Are we having fun?”
Something about the way he said it made Rae suspect it wasn’t quite sincere. Perhaps it was the two fists hanging by his sides. Perhaps it was the imprint of a hand, still smeared across his face.
“Look,” she began in her most rational voice, “I wasn’t going to let him hit me. I just figured that we needed to put things on pause. Give ourselves a little time.”
“To do what exactly?” Molly asked, rubbing the raw skin on her wrists. “It’s not like we can just go. We had to let them catch us in the first place. It would have looked crazy if we didn’t.”
“Go? Why would we go?” Gabriel plopped down on the grass, as frustrated as he was bored by the entire century. “Why leave, when we could be standing here in manacles. In the sun.”