Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Two)

by Kamery Solomon

  No, if I was going to tell her, I needed more information. It was obvious what I needed to do if I was going to get it, too.

  Slowly, the camp died down around us, Sam and I curled up in the back of the unloaded wagon. Her breathing was even and deep when I slid from the makeshift bed, making sure she was covered well before I disappeared into the woods again.

  Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, I checked my knife as I made the short hike to the clearing. As it began to show through the trees, I slowed, looking for any signs of movement, heart thundering in my chest.

  It was almost a certainty that if I was caught, I would be strung up beside the mysterious man.

  Breaking into the space, I gathered all of the courage and determination I had and walked up to the crucified stranger, clearing my throat to announce my presence.

  He lifted his head a tiny bit, looking at me from under hooded eyelids, his breath rasping through his mouth like he was having an asthma attack.

  “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me,” I whispered. “But I need to know if the other Templars are close. It’s important—I’ve been waiting for over a month.”

  “I see your mark, Black Knight,” he growled, his voice shallow and wet sounding. “And I’ll not fall for any of your tricks.”

  “I’m not a Black Knight, I mean, I am, but—” Frustrated, I shook my head. Unable to help myself, I glanced around, checking to see if anyone had come back to make sure he was still alone. “I’m a spy. I didn’t even know about all of this until a little over a month ago.”

  He regarded me coldly, disbelief in his eyes. “Go away,” he finally said, dropping his chin to his chest again.

  “Are the Templars coming for Samantha O’Rourke?” I was hissing now, agitated and fearful about being discovered.

  “Of course they are.” He laughed, sending himself into a coughing fit that sprayed tiny flecks of blood from his mouth. “Any man who doesn’t think so is a fool. I’d run now if I were you—her husband isn’t likely to take to the man who’s been hovering around his wife with puppy dog eyes.”

  “What?” Damn it, was it that easy for everyone to see how I felt about her?

  “Get out now,” he said again. “Before it’s too late.”

  “I can’t.” Stepping closer, I craned my neck to stare up at him. “I’m like her. From the same . . . time.” I’d never told anyone else the truth before. It was as if the statement hung in the air, waiting to be challenged. Surprisingly, I found myself waiting for him to laugh again, to treat me as if I were crazy.

  Instead, his eyes widened, studying me over with renewed interest. “Prove it,” he gasped.

  “And just how am I supposed to do that?” I asked crossly. Impatiently, I held the knife out, showing it to him. “Look, I saw what they did to you earlier. You’re dying and there’s nothing I can do to stop that, not without medicine and instruments from my own time, anyway.” Hesitating, I found myself not wanting to say the next part.

  “But you can stop my suffering now,” he breathed, finishing the statement for me.

  Seeming to consider for a moment, he closed his eyes, struggling to breathe, his body twitching in its held up state. Holding my own air, I waited for him to decide what to do.

  “I’ll tell you.” Choking, he coughed again, his body trembling from fatigue and abuse. “I’ve nothing to lose either way. Black Knight or not, this is the truth—I never sent word that I’d joined up.”

  Not expecting that answer, I froze, staring at him with what must have been a dumb expression.

  “There was no time,” he explained. “I’d planned on sending word from the city, but was caught before I had a chance. I’m sorry; the Templars aren’t anywhere nearby.”

  It became clear to me then just how much I’d been relying on the wonderful force of good Sam had been telling me about to burst in and save us. Every morning, I’d committed to protecting her for one more day, to loving her silently until her husband came to take her away from me. Now, to hear that they weren’t going to be arriving any time soon, it was like being punched in the gut. How could I protect Sam from whatever Randall had planned for her? How could she continue to survive through her losses if she didn’t have the man she loved to help put her back together?

  “Thank you,” I told the man numbly, staring out over the grass of the clearing.

  “Someone will send for them,” he said in what I thought was his attempt at a comforting tone. “They will come.”

  Looking back at him, I inhaled deeply. “What’s your name?”

  “Ayo.” He smiled grimly, nodding at me and the knife I held. “Make it quick, yes? I would like to leave this place sooner rather than later.”

  Silently agreeing, I stepped forward, reaching up toward his neck “Thank you, Ayo. May God be with you.”

  It was over quickly.

  The warehouse in Mexico City wasn’t far from the church I’d lived in and fled from. The thought made me anxious, like I owed it to Angelina and her father to go and apologize to them for leaving. Maybe I would have, if Sam hadn’t been with me.

  Since learning the help I’d thought was coming actually wasn’t going to be here any time soon, I’d found I wanted to keep her with me even more. Flanagan wasn’t cutting it in my mind, our deal be damned, and she wasn’t safe with the group she’d been saddled with when Randall took her almost two months earlier. Every time someone looked at her, I had to fight the urge to reach for a weapon, reminding myself that we’d made it this far without her getting hurt even more. There was a definite difference in the sexual attention she received since she’d lost the baby, as disgusting as that was to the both of us, but the men kept their distance, thankfully.

  “Do you think we could get any food in here?” she asked me, glancing around at the tiny room we’d claimed when we arrived. It had a few chairs and what appeared to be an old, ratty bed in one corner, but that was it. The wooden door faced the hallway, the large open space that most everyone else occupied located just beyond that.

  “If we’re lucky. I don’t know if the new people brought anything with them.” By my count, there had been another ten men waiting for us when we arrived, playing cards on a barrel with a slab of wood placed over the top of it, an oil lamp illuminating the proceedings.

  Randall hadn’t cared to share with us how long we would be staying. Most of everyone had set up around the new crewmembers for the night—with only a few of the other couples searching out tiny spaces and rooms for privacy. I knew what it must look like, me taking Sam in here alone, but it was the only way I felt I could really protect her.

  “Are you okay, Mark?”

  Her soft voice brought me out of my thoughts and I glanced over at her, sitting in one of the chairs by the back wall, the bed to her right side. Worry creased her brow as she watched me.

  “Something has been bothering you. What is it?”

  “Nothing.” How could I tell her that rescue wasn’t imminent? That we were stuck with pirates and murderers for the foreseeable future?

  Balking, I thought of the man I’d killed, the first one since I’d cried over my past in her arms. Should I tell her that I was still the same, no-good-murderer as before? I’d only committed the crime at Ayo’s agreement, but it still felt like a dark deed.

  What if I’d been able to save him? A punctured lung and a few gunshots didn’t have to be fatal. If Randall had found out I’d cut him down and doctored him, though . . .

  “I’m fine, really.” Forcing a smile, I leaned against the wall, listening to the racket of games and gambling in the main room.

  She didn’t believe me, but dropped the subject, staring at her hands in her lap.

  “Hey.” Softening some, guilt coursed through me for shutting her out again. “How are you? You’re the one going through everything.”

  “I’m okay, I think.” There was a note of the despair I’d seen in her as she held Rachel to her chest and she sniffed, rubbing her nose
with the side of her hand. “I’m not really bleeding anymore. I thought I would for a few weeks.”

  “You probably lost a lot of the lining while you were spotting and then miscarrying. If you count that, it’s been three weeks total. That’s not a bad time. You’ll probably lose a little here and there for a few more.”

  “Did they teach you that at paramedic school?” Laughing, she gazed up at me and sighed.

  “Actually, yes, they did,” I replied in mock defensiveness.

  “Thank you, Mark.” The sincerity in her voice caught me off guard and I gaped, surprised that she would say it with so much feeling.

  “Of course. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Pushing away from the wall, I walked over to the bed and flopped down on it, immediately regretting my decision as dust clouded the air.

  Chuckling, she waved her hand in front of her face, smiling at me in a way that made my heart stop. “Really, though. You’ve saved my life more than once, and even in our own time when you kept me from going into the Pit when it collapsed. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “Don’t,” I said immediately, sitting and staring at her. “Don’t act like you owe me anything. You lived—that’s all I wanted. I don’t need anything more than to know you’re in the world and okay.”

  If there had been no Tristan, no pirate hostage situation, no anything but us, it would’ve been easy to kiss her then. Her face was so sweet and soft, her eyes wide as she watched me, only a few inches away. My hands ached to hold her, to cuddle her against my chest and run my fingers through her hair. Drying quickly at the thought, like I was a man dying of thirst, my lips tingled with the image of her mouth on mine. Heart racing, I felt myself leaning in, slowly, as if every millimeter was killing me.

  Jerking back into the present, I blinked, and then looking away, I stood so quickly she jumped.

  “What is it?” she asked in alarm.

  Glancing at her, I tried to focus on the things that would help me remember what our situation was. Her black shirt was dirty and torn on one shoulder from getting caught on a branch as we rode out of the mountains. The pants she was wearing belonged to Flanagan, who had been more than happy to tell everyone I’d let her get in his breeches. The shoes I’d bought for her in Veracruz were muddied from our trek as well, tied to her feet with little care for whether or not they stayed on.

  She was a prisoner, a captive among this crew.

  Married.

  Not mine.

  “I thought I heard something outside,” I lied, moving toward the door. “I’m going to go check it out. Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll stay right here,” she said by way of reply, eyes still wide as she stared at me.

  All but fleeing the room, I practically threw myself out into the hall, gulping down the smoke heavy air as I pressed myself against the wall. I’d come so close to doing it, to touching her in a way she wouldn’t want, and it scared me. Where was my self-control? What the hell had I been thinking?

  The way she had looked at me—had she felt it, too? The draw, the need to be touched and loved by someone? It was as if her gaze had burned into me, uncovering all of my secrets and declaring they didn’t matter to her.

  Swallowing hard, I knocked my head against the wall once, frustrated. I needed real fresh air, not the smoky crap everyone was inhaling here.

  Moving down the hall, I ignored everything I passed, pushing through the doors and into the night.

  “You all right?”

  Whipping around, I stopped short in front of Flanagan, the way he was tying his pants suggesting he’d come out to use the bathroom.

  “Yeah. Could you keep an eye on Samantha for a while? I need a break.”

  Something in my face must have convinced him it was dire, because he nodded without saying anything, staring at me quizzically. “She in the room?”

  “Yes.” Turning away, I started walking down the street, needing to go somewhere that she wasn’t, fleeing the woman who made my life worth living so she could live her own in peace.

  “Where are you going?” Flanagan called after me.

  “Church,” I yelled over my shoulder, saying the first thing that came to mind.

  Striding down the roads I’d once known so well, I made my way to the chapel, wondering if Angelica and her father still lived and worked there. What would I say to them if we ran into each other? In that second, it didn’t matter, so long as I could get my head on straight again before I returned to the warehouse. Randall would probably be pissed when he found out I was gone, but that wasn’t important.

  A few moments later, I found myself outside the stone and stained glass building, staring up at the bell I’d helped ring so many times. The garden was still growing on one side; I could smell the flowers Angelica had loved so much through the wall that protected the space from the street. Despite it being after dark, the doors were open, as they had so often been, the place of worship beckoning for me to come in and sit a while.

  Jogging up the steps, I ran a hand through my hair and straightened my shirt, suddenly wanting to appear somewhat presentable. As I came through the door, I noticed I was the only one here, a few candles lit by the entrance as prayers from those who came before me. The benches at the back were empty and waiting, so I sat down, breathing heavily as I folded my hands and did what I always did at church—I thanked any god or gods who might be listening and asked for help with my current situation.

  After a while, I became content to just sit and stare at my old home, smiling as I relived the good memories I had of the place. This had been my most peaceful time in the past, besides when I lived with the Apache.

  Shouting outside drew my attention a while later and I frowning as I tried to hear what was being hollered.

  “Capítan! Capítan!”

  Flanagan’s voice reached my ears and I shot to my feet, turning to the doors in horror. He was outside, running like his life depended on it, smoke billowing into the air behind him as an unknown building burned.

  “Sam!”

  I was sprinting before my mind could even comprehend what was happening, racing toward her, praying I would make it in time. If the Captain of the Guard found her there with all of those pirates, she would be thrown into prison, hanged as a thief even. She’d said she worked as a buccaneer before; did she have a warrant out for her arrest? Cursing myself, I sped up, feet slapping against the pavement.

  The warehouse came into view, shining like a beacon. The roof was on fire and mass panic had ensued on the ground. Men darted every direction, some openly fighting in the streets. Apparently, the Capítan had brought his entire guard with him.

  Shoving past one pair of fighters, I made a beeline for the door, punching someone in the nose as they tried to grab me. There was a satisfying crunch and blood ran under my knuckles, but I didn’t have time to stop and admire my handiwork.

  Inside was even more chaotic than what I’d just witness in the streets. It was a full on war, swords clanging as blood flew in every direction. Screams of dying men met my ears, part of the ceiling suddenly collapsing in and smothering three or four people underneath.

  Panicked, I dove into the hall, rushing toward Sam’s and my room. Someone shouted behind me, the sounds of pursuit reaching my ears, and I threw myself into the bedchamber, slamming the door shut.

  “Mark!”

  She was standing against the back wall, a pointed chair leg in her hands. Apparently, she’d bashed her seat to pieces so she could defend herself.

  “We have to get out of here, now,” I told her urgently. “It’s the Captain of the Guard, if he finds you here, you’ll be tried as a pirate.”

  Glancing around, I cursed myself. I’d picked this room because there was only one way in. Any second now, whoever had followed me down here would burst through and take us.

  “What do we do?” she asked, seeming to come to the same conclusion.

  Filled with the fear of having to watch her die, I
grabbed her hand. This was the only moment we were going to have before it was all over.

  “I love you, Sammy.”

  Bending down, I kissed her full on the mouth, feeling her freeze under me, but not even caring. Kissing her was like drinking sunlight and whiskey. I felt I was falling through time all over again, melting against her. She was everything I needed and wanted, and I had to let her know before we were torn apart.

  Her hands fisted against me, pushing me away, and I felt my heart break. It was like an explosion in my chest, an ending to everything I’d ever wanted. The moment was over; she wouldn’t allow any more.

  The world around me popped back into focus, the sounds of battle and screaming filling my ears again.

  Wait, that was Sam screaming.

  Bewildered, I looked down at her hands, still grabbing my chest, pulling on my shirt, her words incoherent. Blood washed her skin and there was fear in her eyes as she looked at me.

  Confused, I fell to my knees, not understanding why she was trying to hold me up. Words wouldn’t form in my mouth and I felt my consciousness sliding away into the darkness, the phrase at the tip of my tongue.

  I’ve been shot.

  My chest felt like it had been blown to bits. I guess that was partially true.

  Groaning, I rolled my head back, grimacing at the pain I felt in my ribs. Someone had tied me to a chair, my ankles secured to the front legs and my hands bound behind me. The position made me feel like I was being cut in half from the pressure on my lungs.

  There was also a bag over my head.

  Apparently, Capítan planned on getting some revenge before sending us to trial.

  “What is your name?” The man’s voice had a Spanish accent and was full of cold business.

  “Snake Eyes,” I rasped, finding that my voice sounded like a dying dog by comparison. “Could you at least take the bag off my head? I’m not going anywhere.”

  A pause followed, then footsteps, my eyes greeting the blinding light of the early morning sun shining through the window as the cover was torn off. Blinking rapidly, I squinted, trying to make out my companions. In the end, I settled on one calculation.