Pocketful of Diamonds

by Pierce, Nicolette

  “Was I there?”

  “No, you were here. I’m sorry about that. But . . .” she looked at Ian hopefully. “I thought we’d have a bigger wedding when we get home.”

  “Of course,” Ian agreed. “When we get home.”

  There was that word again. Home. It had sat between them before, and now it reappeared. And it was the last thing they had to worry about. Right now they just had to stay alive.

  Still, it felt good to hear him agree with her. It would be nice to have a wedding where they’d actually share vows. And even if it was just a dream, she would hold onto it until the very end.

  “Do you remember much of this place?” Ian asked Bruce.

  “Not much.”

  “You seem well today. I wonder what is making the difference.”

  Gwen wondered the same thing. “Yes, you seem like the same man you were over a decade ago.”

  “My head feels a bit foggy,” he admitted. “Like waking from a long dream.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Did they ever give you medication?”

  Bruce shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

  “You don’t think—” Gwen stopped to look her father in the eyes, inspecting his face. “Is it possible?”

  Knowing what little he did of Duvine, Ian thought anything was possible. He also wondered how far back this had started. “Did you know Duvine before Gwen started working for him?”

  Bruce took a moment to ponder. “Yes, but I can’t quite remember how. But I do know that I gave him Gwen’s résumé.”

  “You did?” she questioned.

  He nodded. “You were looking for a job.”

  Gwen pressed her fingers to her lips. “You don’t think—”

  Ian touched her arm gently. “Let’s give Bruce time to allow any memories to return.”

  “But what if he relapses?”

  Gwen looked to Bruce. It was as if he were slowly breaking through the cobwebs of his mind. This was Duvine’s doing. All of it. Somehow Duvine had orchestrated all of this.

  “I don’t want to get your hopes up,” Ian started. “But I have a feeling Bruce will make a full recovery.”

  “But how? The doctor confirmed that he had dementia.”

  “Who was the doctor? Could he have been paid off by Duvine?”

  Gwen’s mouth parted in shock. “It’s possible.” She turned to her dad. “Why did you go to that doctor? He wasn’t our normal family doctor.”

  “Duvine said he was an expert in the field.”

  “How did you know Duvine?” she questioned again. “Did you owe him money?”

  “No, I stopped gambling. You know that.”

  “But then you had started up again. You owed more money than I could have paid back in a lifetime.”

  He frowned. “I never played that deep. I might have lost one or two cars, but never in the amount you are talking about. That night you made me promise to stop gambling, I did. I never sat down at a table again.”

  “Then how do you know Duvine?”

  “Give him a moment,” interjected Ian.

  Gwen took a breath and nodded. “It doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re stuck here, and Duvine is gone. He manipulated us all.”

  “It makes me wonder about the minions.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s say your dad has been drugged this whole time, which is looking like might be the case, then what about the minions? The only one that seemed lucid was the one dressed in black. The others were spaced-out drones that followed orders but not much else. What if they are drugged too?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “How did he get twenty women who all looked the same?”

  “Plastic surgery,” Bruce said, then he blinked. “Plastic surgery . . . I saw him. I was working at an office, doing a side job. I opened the wrong door.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite grasp the memory.

  “Take your time, Dad.”

  “The room. It was filled with beds. There were girls lying on them. Nurses were there, looking over them.”

  “Did the girls look the same or were they different?”

  “Similar,” he said, then nodded. “Yes, similar but not the same. Some had bandages over their faces.”

  Gwen hated the thought that was forming in her mind. She looked at Ian, who had a look of horror. “Do you think he abducted the women, drugged them, and made them look identical?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  “Then the woman in black is in on it. She has always been the sole voice.”

  “Duvine wouldn’t be able to do all of this on his own. He’d need a trusted assistant who would make sure his work was carried out.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Gwen leaned over, placing her forehead on her raised knees. “He manipulated us all. He stole over ten years of our lives. All of us. I wish I had been nicer to them.”

  “They aren’t in their right minds. Even while drugged, he must have used a form of brainwashing on them to keep them on task.”

  “He needs to be stopped.”

  “We’ll stop him as soon as we get out of here.”

  Gwen helplessly tugged at the chain. “We’ll be here until someone finds us.”

  “We still have time. The water level hasn’t risen as fast as I expected it to. I’m sure we have another day before we have to worry.”

  She was already worried. But she’d be damned if she was going to die while Duvine continued to ruin lives. There had to be a way to stop him.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, the next day proved to be worse. The water level rose to their necks and continued. They were running out of time, and still no one had come. The building was quiet save for their own breathing. Ian wanted to reassure Gwen and Bruce that help would come, but he now thought it a lie.

  While he knew Greyson would keep his word and funnel messages, Sierra Leone was not known for its communication technology. The messages might have never been received. Or maybe no one was willing to risk going to war with a diamond king.

  It was hopeless.

  Gwen looked over at him with the same hopeless look in her eyes. The water drifted up to her chin. “Just remember I love you.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “How could I forget? I love you.”

  A sound off in the distance warned them of a presence. It sounded like the dull thrum of an engine. Since the room was right off the ocean, he wondered if it was a boat docking at the pier.

  Was it a rescue party or someone else? Either way, he hoped they would hurry. Even if it was the enemy, surely they wouldn’t leave them to die once they realized Duvine had everything.

  Nearly a half hour later, they were found by the rebels.

  “Ian Miller,” the leader said. His soft, melodic accent contradicted his full gear. Ian knew that voice well. The other rebels called him Kakal. “Where are my diamonds?”

  “Duvine has them. He took everything.”

  Kakal waded into the water to grip Ian by the throat, cutting off air. “I owe you a debt.” With his free hand he took out a knife and held it to Ian’s throat, drawing blood. “Do you remember this?”

  Ian closed his eyes. He didn’t have to see the knife to remember it. He had held it once. Just once.

  “Don’t hurt him, please,” Gwen pleaded.

  She should have known her words fell on deaf ears. Had it been anyone else, they might have been able to beg and plead for their lives. But not with this group, and definitely not with this leader.

  “You are next,” Kakal told Gwen, his smile revealing a row of rotten teeth.

  Ian couldn’t struggle with his hands bound and a knife at his throat. His lungs burned, desperately needing oxygen.

  “Word is that you have another mine,” Kakal snarled, digging the knife in deeper. “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Gwen replied for Ian.

  “Where?” he demanded.

  “At the river’s bend.”
>
  Kakal let go of Ian. He gasped for air before being pushed down into the water. Struggling to surface, Ian grappled with the hands that held him down. Just as he was about to blackout, Kakal dragged him up.

  Kakal glared as Ian sputtered and gasped. He waved one of his men over. “Unlock them.”

  The man lowered his gun toward Ian’s chains, but his aim was way off mark. Ian couldn’t move away and the bullet lodged in one thigh followed by the other. Ian bellowed a string of curses as his legs screamed, stinging from both the shredding bullets and saltwater. The man fired another shot and Ian’s chains fell away, though he could do nothing but crumple in pain. The water surrounding him swirled red.

  “Ian,” Gwen cried, struggling with her restraints. “Ian!”

  Kakal gave the order to free Gwen next. “Better aim this time.”

  The man’s shot was true, and Gwen was freed without injury. She struggled with her wet robe to scramble to Ian’s side. Another shot was fired and Bruce was free as well.

  “Ian, stay with me,” Gwen said. Ian tried to stay with her, wanted to, but the pain was too much. When she clamped down on his wounds to stop the blood, he passed out.

  Chapter 25

  Gwen sat next to Ian, watching for any sign of movement. It had been nearly four days and he hadn’t moved a muscle, not even when a man had dug out the bullets, not even when they were tossed in this makeshift prison she believed to be in Sierra Leone, and not even when she begged. With the meager amounts of water she was given, she made sure to drip as much as she could into Ian’s mouth without choking him.

  Her father was locked in the cell with them and back to his old self. In the quiet room, they had spoken at length. Her dad wanted to be filled in on the last ten years of his life, as well as hers. He couldn’t seem to apologize enough. She finally forbade him to utter another word. This wasn’t his fault. It was Duvine’s.

  Gwen felt a movement next to her. She looked down to find Ian’s right hand twitching. Thinking he must be in pain, Gwen reached out to touch him. He propelled upright and grabbed her by the neck.

  “Ian!” she gasped.

  His glazed eyes slid into focus and he immediately let go, trying to back away but then falling flat when his legs betrayed him. He crumpled, groaning in pain.

  “Ian, hold still,” Gwen scolded. “You’re going to rip your stitches.”

  He stilled for a moment and gathered a breath. “Where are we?”

  “Sierra Leone, I think. Dad and I aren’t too sure.”

  Ian looked around, his gaze tripping on the door. He nodded. “We are.”

  “How do you know?”

  “This is where they held David and I before we were able to escape.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “They were about to transport us when David . . .” Ian cringed. “Let’s just say David is better equipped to handle these situations.”

  “Well, he’s not here now.” Gwen took the tin cup that had an inch of water for Ian to drink. She brought it to his cracked lips. “Drink this, but carefully. It’s all we will have until morning.”

  Ian took a sip and then leaned back. “What happened at the island?”

  “Not much. They placed black bags over our heads, and then we arrived here.”

  “No one else showed up at the island that you know of?”

  “No one.”

  Ian frowned. “I hope I didn’t make matters worse with those messages. I hate this war they’ve been fighting.”

  “Don’t think too much about it. We have enough to worry about without adding their feud on top of it. Wars can’t last forever. Someday there will be a person to step up and stop this insanity, but it won’t be outsiders.”

  Ian reached for her hand. “I hope you are right.”

  She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Get some sleep. You still look tired.”

  “I love you.”

  Before Gwen could respond, he was out. His heavy eyelids closed, sweeping black lashes on his cheek. He looked so tired. And why shouldn’t he be? He carried everyone’s burden on his shoulders, was shot twice, and was held by the rebels twice. Ian didn’t belong in this world, and yet he stayed for those who needed him.

  She stood and paced the room. Now that he had woken, she felt better about the situation. Ian had a good chance of recovery, but he needed a real doctor and clean dressings. They had to get out of here, but she doubted he could walk. So, what happened now?

  Her only hope was that the Dark Lions would find them, but could they fight off the entire rebel army?

  There were too many variables. And they were stuck inside a dank cell with no windows. She was fairly certain one of their walls was an exterior one. She had heard noises coming from beyond it a couple of times. But no voices that she could call out to.

  Thankfully, no one stood guard over them. The door was secured enough that there was no way they could break out. Even Kakal didn’t bother with them. Gwen had thought for sure he would, especially if he thought Ian had the rights to the land at the river’s bend. Maybe he was double-checking to make sure Ian hadn’t lied to him. If that was the case, they were running out of time.

  Gwen listened at the exterior wall, wondering what she was hearing. It wasn’t voices, just a sort of grinding and grumbling that machines might make. Where were they? She would have tried to notice their location had they not been blinded while transported.

  “Dad, what is this sound?”

  He pressed his ear against the wall and listened. She wasn’t sure if the wall was tin or perhaps aluminum, but it looked as though it might have been a repurposed roof.

  “I don’t know,” he said, straightening. “It sounds like a machine, but I’m not sure what kind.”

  “But it is an exterior wall, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “Can we break through it?”

  He tapped on the wall, listening for density. “No, but we could probably bend it.”

  Gwen perked. “Really?”

  Bruce kicked at the bottom of the wall. “It’s sitting on top of the dirt. There’s nothing holding it down except for a few two-by-fours.” He skimmed his hand over the vertical row of nails. “See here? And here? If we could pop off a few nails and pry the metal up, then we might be able to slip through the bottom.”

  Gwen scanned the room. “We don’t have much to work with.”

  Bruce did the same until he settled on the tin cup. “That could work for the nails. Bring it on over.”

  Gwen took the cup from Ian’s side, frowning when she realized he hadn’t finished the water.

  “Drink it, Gwen,” her dad said. “There will be more later.”

  She downed the last sip and handed the cup to her dad.

  He patted her on the shoulder. “We’ll get him out of here.”

  She nodded.

  Taking the handle of the cup, he wedged it under a nail and began to wiggle it free. “This might work. They nailed these in here by hand, and not by a steady hand either.”

  As he worked each nail free, Gwen stole glances at Ian. Even if they were able to break out of here, what would they do with Ian? She didn’t think he’d be able to walk. He’d nearly passed out earlier after just a bit of struggle.

  When six nails had been worked free, Bruce bent down to see if he could move the metal. It bent slightly, but he couldn’t get enough leverage with the cup.

  Gwen kneeled next to him and took the cup. Maybe if she was able to dig away some of the dirt, they could use their hands to pry the metal. That would give them plenty of space to crawl under. They’d have to pull Ian through, which would probably knock him out again from the intense pain. But, at this point, they really didn’t have a choice.

  She worked, scraping the dirt away. Several times she had to stop and wipe the sweat from her brow. It was so damn hot in the small cell.

  “Let me do it for a little while,” her dad said.

  “I’m almost done. I think I can squee
ze my fingers through.”

  After a few minutes, she was able to fit her fingers under the wall. The metal groaned. She immediately let go, not wanting to draw attention.

  “I’ll dig a little bit farther,” she said. “Then we can both lift at the same time. We’ll need to have Ian next to us when we do. The sound will carry, and we won’t have much time.”

  Bruce stood and walked over to the prison door, inspecting it. “It’s solid, but we might be able to wedge the cup handle under the door. It’d take longer for the guards to open.”

  Gwen looked over at him. “If we get caught, we are as good as dead. Do you think we can make it?”

  He frowned, and Gwen knew right away her plan was useless.

  She tossed down the cup and sat back. “We’ll find a different way.”

  “I don’t think there is another way. In the last few days you filled me in on everything that has happened. I doubt we’ll get another chance. And even if the rebels allowed us to walk free, do you really think they will extend that courtesy to Ian?”

  She looked at Ian. “I wish he would have told me what happened here last time. But he seemed afraid to.”

  “Some things are better left unsaid.”

  She nodded, but the question remained in her thoughts. It always would.

  He kneeled down next to her. Taking the cup in his hand, he began to dig.

  “You don’t think we’ll make it out alive. Why do this?”

  He stopped for a moment to look at her. “Would you be able to leave here without Ian?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s either this or none of us leaves.”

  “But you don’t have to,” she insisted. “If there is a chance you could walk out of this alive—”

  “Gwen, honey, I’ve been dead for the last ten years. If I can help my little girl once, after all the problems I’ve caused, then I’m going to do it.”

  “You didn’t cause the problems. It was Duvine.”

  “Everyone played a role, whether good or bad. It’s no use dwelling on it.”

  She sighed and sat back against the wall. This might be the last time she ever spoke to her dad, and she couldn’t seem to summon any words. They were tired and weary, half-starved and dehydrated. If they broke free, they wouldn’t get far, especially if they were in the wilds of Sierra Leone.