Blind Ambition

by Gwen Hernandez

  He’d thought the same way in the beginning, but after a few days he would have done anything for more time with her.

  “I was hoping we could let things end naturally when you left, but then you started talking about getting together after St. Isidore. I never wanted to have that conversation. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  And she never needed to know how much she had. He shrugged as much as possible while chained to a wall. “I thought we were good together and it would be fun to see you again. I wasn’t asking you to marry me, Lys.”

  But he would have eventually. She was the first woman—the only woman—who’d made him want more from life than his mission and his team.

  “No,” she said quickly. “I know that. But we got along so well that it seemed dangerous to continue.”

  He shook his head. “Maybe I’m slow, but if everything was so great between us, why would you want to call it quits?”

  She pinned him with a look that made it hard to breathe. “Because if I was with you, I’d eventually want to stay, and I can’t do that. My work is my life.”

  Which still meant that it was him. He knew, because he’d been in her shoes before. He also knew that the right man would change her mind, just as she’d begun to change his back then. He hadn’t been ready to up and quit the Air Force, but he’d been rethinking what he’d do at the end of his service commitment.

  Turned out he quit anyway, but not for the reasons he would have liked.

  “What about Flore? You can’t adopt her and then jet all over the world once you have a child at home.”

  She nodded. “I know. Giving her a good life, keeping her healthy. That would be my new priority. I’d have to continue my work through my foundation.”

  “And there’s no room for a man in that life,” he said, feeling some perverse need to force her to see the flaw in her arguments. Why couldn’t she just admit he wasn’t enough for her and leave it at that?

  “No. I…” she said, her voice full of anguish. “She should have my full attention.”

  He still didn’t get it. Or why he couldn’t let it go. “Why are you so damned determined to sacrifice yourself?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Why?” he pressed.

  “Because I don’t deserve more!”

  Dan gaped as his heart did a slow roll in his chest. That was the most honest thing she’d said during their entire conversation, but her words didn’t make sense.

  Her eyes widened at her confession and she turned away, leaning her forehead against the wall.

  “Lys.” He tugged against his chains, desperate to put his arms around her.

  “I didn’t save my sister,” she said, her anguished voice muffled against the cement block. “I was too late.”

  He was still processing her confession when something clanged against the door. The lock clicked and light flooded the cell as the door swung inward on squeaky hinges.

  Petitt stood in the doorway and looked them both over. Then he glanced at the guard behind him and waved toward Alexa. “Bring her out.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ALEXA’S BODY SHOOK AS THE guard removed the shackles from her wrists and ankles. She glanced across the room at Dan and found him straining against his bonds, his muscles rippling as he glared daggers at Nillin.

  A minute ago she had been mortified about baring her soul to him. She had nearly spilled it all. Now she feared she would never see him again. Had her dad paid the ransom, or had he refused? Would Nillin kill her? And even if he let her go, what about Dan?

  Her heart beat double-time as the guard pulled her to her feet. She looked over her shoulder and caught Dan’s gaze, opened her mouth to say…something, but Nillin grabbed her upper arm and yanked her down several steps to the ground. Behind her, the heavy metal door banged shut with a thundering clang, like the door on a bank vault. Or a crypt.

  She shook her head and forced herself to focus on her surroundings. They could be anywhere on the island. Except that St. Isidore’s tallest peak—Montagne de St. Pierre—appeared far away. Based on its location relative to her, Dan was right about where they’d been taken. They were definitely at the northern tip of the island.

  Her captor dragged her along, not stopping even when she stumbled. Her partially numb legs stung as if attacked by needles as blood rushed back into her limbs, but she pushed aside the pain and took in as much as she could.

  They were on the edge of a run-down resort. Colorful multi-unit buildings peppered the sloping ground that led to a beach with brown sugar sand. A small cove protected a stretch of shoreline, but several of the buildings and the surrounding foliage had clearly taken a hit during the hurricane.

  Red tiles lay broken at the base of the villas as they passed a red one and a turquoise one. They finally stopped in front of a bright orange building with three units fronted by louvered windows with broken panes of glass.

  Her chest tightened. She was suddenly acutely aware of her state of undress. What were they going to do to her? She thought of escape, but there were too many men around right now. It would be a suicide attempt at best.

  Then, from behind the middle door, a child cried out. She strained onto her toes for a glimpse through a window, but saw nothing. Could the orphans be here? A small seed of hope blossomed.

  One of Nillin’s men handed him a white shirt, which he gave to her. “Put it on.”

  The asshole couldn’t have given it to her before parading her through the camp? As nice as it would have been to get her regular clothes back, she was just grateful to be able to cover up, even if the shirt had a v-neck and was nearly see-through. At least it came down to her knees.

  Apparently satisfied, Nillin opened the door and pushed her into the dim space. “You said the girl needs help.” He produced a box of medical supplies, probably stolen from her own clinic. “Go take care of her. You have fifteen minutes.”

  Flore! She entered and immediately encountered Carter, the two-year-old boy she’d heard through the door. He stood next to a bamboo armchair sobbing. She kneeled and hugged him close. “Carter, honey. Are you okay?”

  His little arms gripped her neck so tightly she almost choked, but she hugged him back. “M’lyssa, I bump,” he said, pulling back and pointing to his head.

  She didn’t dare glance at her guards. “Let me see.” She balanced him on her knee and smoothed back his dark, curly hair to reveal a faint red mark. “It’s small. You’ll be fine.” Then she kissed him on the forehead and set him down.

  He hiccuped and smiled.

  Her heart nearly cracked. She’d been so worried about the children, and now, seeing them here, she could hardly contain her joy. And her fear.

  She stood and surveyed the room, her eyes having finally adjusted to the low light after coming in from the sun. The other three toddlers lay on their backs on one bed, and the three infants were huddled together in the center of the other mattress. All of the children looked tired and undernourished, but she didn’t see any obvious bruises or injuries.

  Finally she found Flore. The girl sat at the foot of one of the twin beds, her head resting on her knees, her eyes closed. Alexa had to resist the urge to run to her. As she approached the bed, the children lay still, watching her with tired eyes. They appeared drugged. Her hands squeezed into fists. She’d spent the last decade trying to save people, but the urge to hurt the men who caused such anguish and suffering nearly overwhelmed her.

  How dare they terrorize these precious babies?

  Only through force of will did she reach the bed and kneel before the daughter of her heart. She wanted to wrap Flore in her arms and spirit her—and all of the kids—far away from this hell. Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure. She would not infect the girl with her anguish.

  “Flore?” Alexa smoothed back her curly hair and studied her too-thin face.

  She opened her eyes and gave a weak smile, then coughed. “Miss Alyssa,” she whispere
d, her voice tight. “I knew you’d find us.”

  God, the confidence of youth. Alexa blinked back her tears and returned the smile, giving Flore a gentle—and far too short—hug. “I’d never stop looking.” She opened the box of supplies Nillin had given her and sat on her knees on the hard ceramic tile, rummaging until she found an inhaler. “Are you having trouble breathing?”

  The girl nodded, her wheezing breaths echoing in the nearly silent room.

  Alexa’s own chest seized. She shook the rescue inhaler, then removed the protective cap and handed it to the girl. Once Flore had gone through the ritual of breathing out, inhaling the mist, and holding her breath—twice—they sat hand-in-hand until her body relaxed and her breaths quieted.

  “Feeling better?”

  She nodded.

  “Good.” Alexa gave her a quick squeeze and pressed the inhaler into Flore’s palm. “Keep it in your pocket for the next time you need it.”

  Flore’s eyebrows came together. “You’re not staying?”

  It was all Alexa could do not to break down right there. She glanced back at Nillin and pitched her voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry across the room. “I can’t, but I’ll try to come back.” She took a slow breath. “Are they treating you all right?”

  “They point their big guns at us,” Flore said, nearly whispering as she picked up on Alexa’s change in volume, “but they don’t hit.”

  Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but it was something.

  “Do you know where they are taking us tomorrow?” Flore asked.

  Alexa’s brain went on alert. “What do you mean?”

  “One of the guards said a plane was coming for us in the morning.” Flore’s pallor and breathing had improved, but she frowned. “Where are we going?”

  Her throat tight, Alexa shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’ll try to find out, okay?”

  “Five minutes,” Nillin called out.

  “No.” Flore sobbed.

  “Stay strong, sweetie.”Alexa wanted to promise that she would get them out of here, that she would come back for her, but she wouldn’t make a promise she couldn’t keep. She wouldn’t do that to the girl or herself. Alexa gave her a gentle hug. “I love you.”

  Flore sniffed and wiped her eyes, but nodded. “I love you too.”

  Alexa stood and turned away before she lost it. How would she live with herself if she didn’t save Flore and the others?

  But she couldn’t dwell on that now. Both for her sanity and because she had work to do. Moving quickly, she tended to each of the other seven children. “Did you give them something? A sedative?” she asked Nillin, hoping her voice didn’t betray her anger. She needed the man’s cooperation to continue.

  “No,” he said. “They are only tired and scared.”

  Oh, just tired and scared? Well, then. She felt one boy’s cheek. Despite the sticky heat, his skin was cool and dry, and his eyes looked slightly sunken. Several of the others had similar symptoms. “It’s more than that. They’re dehydrated.”

  He didn’t give commands to any of his men, or appear worried, so she appealed to his bottom line and kept her voice low so the older kids wouldn’t overhear. “Some of their symptoms are severe. If they don’t get the right fluids soon, you won’t have any children left alive to sell.”

  Nillin hesitated before asking, “What do you need?”

  Dan was going out of his mind in the tiny cell. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so fucking helpless or the last time he’d been so wound up during an op. He was usually known for his calm even under fire. But then he’d never been protecting Alexa before.

  Why had they taken her?

  He focused on his breathing and tried to erase all of the horrible answers his mind conjured. Maybe her father had come through with the ransom and they were making the exchange right now. Please let that be it.

  A growl escaped from deep within his chest. Would he ever see her again?

  Despite everything, he wanted to. He at least needed to make sure she was safe. Which meant he needed to get the hell out of here. To that end, he forced himself to sit back and take slow, deep breaths as he studied the spot where Alexa had been chained.

  Just like his, the hook that anchored her chain to the wall was attached to a metal plate to prevent the chain from wearing away the concrete block around the screw. Probably also to prevent the captive from hacking at it. But what about the metal plate itself? It had sharp corners. Could he bend one back and use it on the rope?

  He scooted on his knees until he was close to the wall and then turned sideways to get right up next to it, running his fingers along the perimeter of the square piece of steel. There were no gaps big enough for him to get purchase, but the lower edge sat over the grout line between two blocks, which left a bigger space between the metal and the brick. If he could wedge something under that gap…

  Like the chain on his handcuffs. He flattened his hands against the rough wall and slid them up. After several tries, he wedged the center chain link under the corner of the metal plate. He leaned forward and pulled up with all of his strength.

  His shoulders protested, tired and sore from their workout the night before and from being pinned back for so long. His wrists weren’t too happy either as the cuffs chafed against his skin. But skin would grow back.

  He attacked it again and again, tug, release, tug, release. The metal was more likely to fail from repeated stress than from long, steady pressure. Sweat dripped in his eyes and ran down his back. His muscles complained.

  The square plate didn’t budge.

  Dan sat on his heels and rested the back of his head against the wall. He could do this. Everything he’d done over the last couple of days was nothing compared to his pararescue training. Not even close. Except that during training he hadn’t been crazy with worry for Alexa and a bunch of innocent children.

  He worked in sets of ten. All he had to do was make it to ten, then he could start over. It was a trick he’d mastered in training. Just make it to the next…whatever. Meal, sleep, challenge, step.

  He lost count of how many sets he was on, and his progress was minimal—the metal plate had only budged a millimeter, maybe two—when the ground started to shake.

  This earthquake was less bouncy, and more side-to-side. As if the ground were in the screen of someone panning for gold. Taking advantage of the motion, Dan moved to the end of his chain and leaned forward with all of his weight, bracing his feet against the wall. He took hold of the chain to relieve the pressure on his wrists and hung suspended as the floor beneath him shimmied.

  Maybe, just maybe, the tremor could help him do what he couldn’t do alone: loosen the bolt.

  He let himself sway and bounce, his arms and shoulders screaming for mercy as he was jerked around. But the quake didn’t last long. Not as long as the one they’d had earlier in the day, though God knew his concept of time could be off.

  Dan collapsed to his knees, his eyes closed as he fought for breath. With any luck, the island wouldn’t suffer any damage. His prison had held up. Unfortunately. Were Alexa and the children in a safe building?

  If he couldn’t escape, Kurt might send someone else in to get both him and Alexa out, but that presumed his boss even knew they’d been captured.

  I’ve fucked up this whole thing so badly. He sagged, his limbs suddenly heavy as the logs they’d lifted in training. Some small part of him wanted to give up, just curl into a ball and let fate have its way.

  But hell, no. He lifted his head and shook off the soul-crushing despair. He was a warrior, goddammit. Giving up was not in his blood. Get your shit together, Molina. Time to get back to work.

  He sucked in a deep breath and twisted around to view his handiwork, giving the chain a sharp jerk. The bolt didn’t budge, but it did appear to have worked its way partially out of the wall. Which meant that he could pull the metal plate about half a centimeter away from the concrete.

  He shifted to his back and
brought his knees up so that the rope around his ankles was positioned against the corner of the metal square. Then he began sawing.

  Alexa didn’t want to leave the children, especially after the latest earthquake had the older ones in tears, but at least she knew they were getting fluids. She’d also managed to convince Nillin that she and Dan needed water.

  One of the three guards who’d escorted her on the return trip unlocked the heavy door, slamming it open. He put his hand on her bottom and gave her a push.

  She scurried into the dim, musty cell. The sun had just sunk below the horizon in the hour or so she’d been gone, and very little light made it into the small space. Her heart dropped at the sight of Dan on his knees, slumped against the wall. Had something happened to him while she was gone? She didn’t see any bruises or marks on his body, but that didn’t mean anything.

  He watched her and the guard openly, but didn’t move.

  “I brought some water,” she said, moving toward him. She’d already drunk her share of the twenty-ounce bottle while in the kids’ room.

  He nodded and sat up, his eyes on the gun-toting man behind her as he opened his mouth. Seeing him like this—weak was a word she’d never associated with him before—twisted her insides. How bad off was he?

  She tipped the bottle just enough that he could drink without spilling.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, finally meeting her eyes. His were less green than amber at the moment and more lucid than she expected given his demeanor.

  Hope kicked up. She held his head as he slowly finished off the water, wishing she could wrap her arms around him and never let go.

  “Enough,” the guard said, his voice laced with impatience. He took the empty bottle and tossed it out the door before pulling her to her feet. “Turn around.”

  She complied as he cuffed her and attached her restraints to the chain again. He left her feet unbound and shut the door behind him with a loud thunk.

  He asked, “Where did—?”

  “Are you okay?” she interrupted.