by Mia Darien
“How’d you find out?” Max asked.
“She had a nightmare. I touched her, saw everything.”
Max leaned back, studying Cain’s expression. “Is she the one?”
“Yeah.” After everything had settled in Alaska, Cain had tried to find her, needing to know she was okay. Max had helped, but Delilah had several teams there that day, and another group had taken Quinn to safety.
Max’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll be damned.”
Exactly.
“So let me get this straight…” Sawyer leaned his elbows on his knees. “She set herself up to be taken into the same situation we rescued her from?”
“Yes.”
“Guts doesn’t begin to cover it,” Sawyer muttered.
Also right.
“How’d you let her go, man?” Shaw asked, only to be cuffed over the head by his brother. “Ow! What was that for?” He threw his cards at his brother.
“You’re about as sensitive as a knife to the gut.” Sawyer tipped his chin at Cain.
Shaw’s scowl cleared. “Oh. You have a thing for Quinn. I get it.”
Before Sawyer could whack his brother in the head again, Cain’s phone signaled a message.
—They’ve picked me up. I’m unharmed. —
A sensation akin to panic twisted up his insides. —Send coordinates.—
—Don’t be mad.—
Not good. —Send coordinates.—
—Not yet. I overheard something. They’ll take me to the islands soon.—
—When?—
—A day or two. I might not be able to get in touch. Something about a ship, which could limit communication options. But once I’m there, I’ll contact you, and you can come get me.—
“Damn,” he muttered. This woman was going to put him into an early grave from stress alone. Or put more grey in his beard at the very least.
“What?” Max asked. All three men had dropped their cards, their focus fully on him.
He shook his head and kept typing on his phone. —You promised. No heroics.—
—I’m not being a hero. I’m getting more info so we can stop more than the deal going down here.—
—No. What if you don’t wake up in time or can’t contact me from the islands. Too many risks.—
—I know you, Cain. If I give you my coordinates now, you’ll come get me before they put me on the ship. I’ll keep in touch as much as possible, so you know I’m okay. —
—No. Tell me where you are. Now.—
He waited, phone gripped tightly, but she didn’t respond. He never should have left her side. He should have let them take him too. Cain paused. As often happened, his mind cleared as a plan formed. He raised his gaze to his second-in-command. “Max?”
Max’s arms flexed as he crossed them. “You about to do something stupid?”
“I need your help. We need to get the demons to take me too.”
“Bad idea, boss,” Shaw mumbled. Sawyer said nothing, but his agreement with Shaw was stamped across the closed expression on his face.
Max studied him through narrowed eyes. “You say never separate the team.”
“She can keep us connected.”
“What if they take you to a different location. She won’t know.”
“Then you’ll have to come find me. I can’t leave her.”
Max’s jaw hardened, but he nodded. “Okay.”
Cain blew out a breath. “We need more help.” He dialed a number he’d memorized long ago. “Delilah?”
CHAPTER 8
Quinn stared out of the bars to her cell, down a long dark hallway with naked light bulbs hanging from a wire every ten feet, casting a dim light throughout the chamber. Her cell was one of three, each about the size of a closet, situated at the end, which meant she could see every new capture brought in. At least, those who posed no risk of escape. From what she could tell, another block of cells which neutralized physical abilities in various ways was located down a different hall.
Good thing they hadn’t stuck her in one of those, or she’d have no access to Cain and be up a creek without a paddle.
The accommodations here weren’t nearly as good as those in her previous hellhole in Alaska. There, at least, she’d had a bed and covers. Even some books. Here was just the cell. She sat or lay on the hard cement floor. They did feed her, but no utensils were provided, so she ate with her hands. Worst of all, she peed in a bucket in the corner. Thankfully, the building was air conditioned, keeping the summer heat at bay.
Now she sat on the floor with her back against the wall. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the concrete wall. Loneliness and fear made her want to reach out to Cain just to talk, but she didn’t want to drive him nuts with idle chatter.
You talk a good game, Ridley, but inside you’re a coward.
She plucked at one of the wireless signals floating through the air. While she couldn’t see them, she could sense them there, and, more importantly, hear them. Tapping into them had taken a ton of practice. She used the signal now to check the time. Almost seven at night, just a few more minutes and she’d check in with Cain. She’d been here two days, every second eternal, but she’d caught a conversation on a walkie-talkie which led her to believe tonight or tomorrow they’d take her to a boat to be shipped to their longer-term holding facility in the islands.
Anticipation stirred as she mentally composed her text, using her Telecommunication ability to convert it into the digital signal which would travel a cellular signal she’d hooked into—a signal which she couldn’t see or touch, but she could hear it and speak to it. The noises that came out of her reminded her of the clicks dolphins made to communicate. Cameras throughout the area caught her making the noises, but no one would understand her. However, she tried not to do it too often. Better to not draw extra attention.
—Checking in. I believe they’ll take me and several others to the islands in the next day or so.—
She waited for Cain’s reply. “Bet five bucks he asks for my location,” she muttered, smiling to herself.
—This is Max. Keep an eye out for Cain.—
With a jerk, Quinn sat forward abruptly. —What do you mean?—
—He’s joining you. They took him an hour ago.—
Quinn forced herself to relax back against the wall, acutely aware of the cameras, when what she wanted to do was pace. Of all the stupid, idiotic… Don’t be a hero, he told her. What about him? She should’ve made him promise the same darn thing.
—What if they don’t bring him here? Or put him in a different cell and I don’t know where he is?—
—His call, Quinn.—
Which told her Max wasn’t any happier about it than she was. He didn’t tell her that Cain wouldn’t be in this situation if she would’ve just shared her location. But she was thinking it. A frantic sensation clawed at her insides. She had to find him.
—Transmitting my coordinates now.—
—Received.—
And now she waited. Not passively, though. Quinn methodically started checking every transmission and digital communication out of the area where she was held, listening for any sign of Cain.
Nine hours later, exhaustion dragged at her eyelids, but she forced herself to stay alert, searching for the man whom she trusted above all others. A few weeks of constant contact and she found she craved his presence, his voice, the odd sense of calm his rare touches brought her. Her nightmares, a nightly occurrence for six years, had ceased completely with him in her bed. She hadn’t wanted to examine why too closely before, but now she had nothing but time and her thoughts. And the knowledge that she was falling for Daniel Cain. Hard.
The clank of the metal door at the end of the chamber dragged her from her telepathic stupor. She gave a slow blink as footsteps echoed down the hallway, preceding the figure of a man too lean to be Cain or any of the others on his team. She straightened as she recognized the man who brought her food and a fresh piss bucket ev
ery day. Only he carried neither.
Key in hand, he stared at her through the bars with a blank expression and the eerily beautiful pale blue eyes of a demon. “Stand up, turn around, hands on the wall.” He spoke in broken English.
“Where are you taking me?” Quinn used Sumerian, the language she’d overheard the islanders speaking weeks ago. She didn’t need to fake the fear which lent a wobble to her voice.
His eyes widened, but he didn’t answer, merely repeated his instructions in perfect Sumerian. Yup. Demon.
She did as he asked as quickly as muscles weakened from two days of minimal food and water and limited movement would allow. That she couldn’t control the shaking of her body irritated her.
He unlocked the cell door with a metallic click, then took her hands and bound them behind her with industrial zip ties. A blindfold came next. That part didn’t worry Quinn too much. Immediately, she sent a signal to Cain’s cell phone, confident Max would receive it. Using a tracking app, she allowed him to watch on a map as she was led out of the cell, down the hall, and out the heavy metal door. After that, she would’ve lost track of the twists and turns through the building if not for her own signal.
A blast of humid air, followed by the sound of water lapping against a shore, and she was outside the building. Were they at a dock?
Her footing changed, and they were walking uphill. A gangplank? Had to be. She was grateful she’d worn running shoes when the demons took her because the stilettos she sported at work would’ve been crap at negotiating the slatted metal flooring she was walked along once inside what she assumed was a large boat. Finally, they stopped and a door was opened with a rusty creak. She winced as the demon cut her zip ties off, nicking her skin with his knife. Her blindfold was whipped off, and she stumbled as he shoved her roughly inside before he slammed the door closed.
Wherever he’d put her had no window and no light. Quinn felt her way through the pitch dark, glad her previous experience hadn’t resulted in claustrophobia or a fear of the dark. Otherwise, she’d be wigging about now. Encountering smooth metal walls, she explored the space by touch alone.
“Ow! Son of a—” She bit off the expletive and rubbed her shin before bending down to feel for what she’d walked into. Pleasant surprise washed through her when she discovered a bed with a mattress in the corner. Even better, more exploration and a couple more bruises revealed a toilet and sink as well. Better than her little cell in what must’ve been a dock-side warehouse.
With a resigned sigh, she plunked down on the bed. Max had her location. He’d be coming. She just hoped he found Cain, too. Her own searching had turned up nothing. How long would it take before Max came anyway?
Despite the fact that she strained her ears for any sound of a fight, of rescue, she had zero warning when her door jerked open. A broad-shouldered man stood silhouetted in the doorway and memory slammed through her. In a split second, she mentally transported back to the prison in Alaska when her rescuer had opened her door.
Quinn gasped, but before she could do more, the man in her doorway was shoved roughly inside, and the door slammed closed behind him. The lock turned with a thunk.
“Quinn?”
One syllable, but she’d know his voice anywhere.
“Daniel,” she choked as she threw herself in his general direction.
The dark hampered them both, and she managed to slam into a wall of muscled man and bump his chin with her forehead. His strong arms closed around her, and calm descended over her body. She was safe as long as he was near.
Without thinking it through, she went up on her tiptoes and pulled him down to place her lips over his. The kiss was sweet and hot, zinging through her nerves in a delightful way. After a shocked second of hesitation, he pulled her closer and took over, claiming her lips with his and stoking the fires inside her.
With a low groan, he pulled back, their panting filling the room.
“Why’d they put you in here?” she asked, voice raspy.
“I managed to touch one of the humans involved. He was easily manipulated to get orders to hold us together. Touching any of the demons would’ve been useless, so I got lucky.”
She pulled back and punched him in the shoulder. Hard.
He didn’t even give her the satisfaction of an ‘oomf,’ nor did he let go of her. “What was that for?”
“Next time you promise me not to be a hero,” she grumbled.
A low chuckle reached her ears. “I should have been with you in the first place.”
“Oh!” Realization struck. “Max has the coordinates and is on his way. I should stop him.”
“Why?”
“Now that we’re together, I’m taking these jerks down. No one should be held against their will. Ever.”
CHAPTER 9
Consciousness returned slowly in the pitch black room. Quinn’s body told her morning had arrived, but she’d only know for sure when the lights came on in the room. They had zero control over the lights. Still, their captors could’ve left them in the dark the entire trip, so she wasn’t complaining.
The heartbeat under her ear thumped slow and steady, a comforting sound she’d come to crave over the last nine days. A little voice in her head said she didn’t need anyone—not anymore. But this was different. Not pathetic like she was when she’d been taken the first time. There could be strength in needing another person. She became her best self in Cain’s presence.
Weakness, however, came in the form of the other small voice in her head wishing they’d never reach their destination, because she’d have to give him up. They were forced to sleep like this because of the tiny single bed in the room. Otherwise, Cain hadn’t touched her again since that kiss. Every so often, she’d catch him watching her with a strangely intent expression. Did he remember? That he was the one who saved her from her captors? She hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had he.
“We docked last night.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrated under her cheek.
“I heard the anchor drop.” Hard to miss the heavy battery of metal on metal as each massive link of the chain attached to the anchor unreeled. After three days of using the boat’s system to communicate, she’d finally been able to tap into a cellular signal. “I’ve alerted Max. They’ll be waiting.”
A soft buzz preceded the lights blinking to life, and she squeezed her eyes closed at the sudden brightness. With a reluctant shove, drawing a grunt from Cain, she sat up. “When all this is over—”
“You’re going to take a shower and put on clean clothes.”
Quinn chuckled because she’d been saying that every day. She’d washed herself at the sink as best she could, washed her undies too. However, that didn’t help much. They were both rank, and her hair was a greasy mop pulled back in a ponytail. No wonder Cain hadn’t wanted to touch her.
“No. I’d like to—”
The lock to their door clicked, and she let her words fall away. Rather than breakfast being slid in on the floor, however, the door was opened wide and four men stood in the corridor, each with a pistol trained on her and Cain.
The shortest of the bunch waved his gun at them, indicating the far wall. In Sumerian, he said, “Hands on the wall.”
She caught Cain’s glance as she turned. “He said to put our hands on the wall.”
Like before, when they were put on the boat, they had their wrists strapped behind their backs and blindfolds roughly tied over their eyes.
As they clomped through the inside corridors of the boat, Max’s message came through. —In position now.—
—Being led off the boat.—
A distraction for their captors might not be a bad idea. “Is where you’re taking us going to have a bath? We stink.” She used Sumerian to speak with the demons who held them.
“Humans always stink,” one of them spat.
“Right, because smelling of rotten egg is so much better.”
And angry hiss sounded from behind her.
“Might not be
a good idea to piss them off.” Cain’s rebuke was conversational. Not that he’d understood a single word, but the hiss was a decent hint.
“Demons always smell of sulfur to me. Don’t they to you?” she asked in English now.
“The few I’ve run across smell like rotting meat to me. Putrid.”
Finally, they made it outside. A humid breeze feathered across her face, and sunlight penetrated the rag tied over her eyes. The hushed murmur of surf rose in the distance.
“An island?” She pretended to not know where they were. The ground tilted under her feet as they led her down what she assumed was the same gangplank she’d used to board.
—Get down.—
“Cain. Drop!” she yelled as she allowed her body to go limp, doing a great imitation of a potato sack as she rolled to the ground.
The whistle and burst of bullets was drowned out almost instantly by the thunder of an explosion. Heat kissed her back. Then running feet, and someone cut her hands loose. Quinn yanked away her blindfold to see their four escorts on the ground with bullet wounds to each head, the only way to kill one. A series of low buildings were on fire along the docks. Cain, now on his feet, held out a hand to help her up. She stood and threw her arms around Max.
“Hey, we helped too! I’m the one who blew shit up,” Shaw complained.
Sawyer slapped him on the back of the head, but she laughed and hugged the brothers too. “Thanks for coming to our rescue.”
Cain accepted a Beretta from Max. No samurai sword for this rescue, as when he’d saved her, she guessed. He glanced her way. “You stay here with Sawyer.”
“The hell you say!”
He crowded her. “I can’t protect you and lead my team at the same time.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Who says I need protection?” She looked at Max with raised eyebrows, glad she’d already asked him to bring her a weapon. Reluctance pulled at his mouth, but he pulled out a .357 Magnum.