“Where did you get that?”
“I built it, of course, from the prototype blueprints I found. Jake made some modifications, I see. Yours is smaller, more compact.” He slipped his back into his pocket and paced in front of her. “Jake was a secretive man. Never wanted to let many people in on his classified project. Except for me, that is.”
“I don’t believe you. I know for a fact only two other people knew about the time bender project.” She thought of Conner Dade and Thomas Hardy.
Not even her mother knew about it and she certainly had no clue until she received the package from her father.
“Conner Dade didn’t understand the power of the time bender until I enlightened him.” Ridgewood stopped pacing, his shoes scuffing on the floor. “As for Thomas Hardy…he was nothing more than a puppet.”
Conner Dade had hired Dane to kill her parents so he could use the time bender for his own purposes. When Conner double-crossed Dane on the hit to kill Skye, though, Dane had killed him. Or so he said.
“And you?”
“My dear, Skye, how well do you know this Dane Fortune?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“Well enough.” Maybe not where he grew up or if he had a high school sweetheart, but she did know every curve of his chest, how it felt to be enveloped in his arms and kissed by his sinful mouth. “And don’t change the subject. We’re talking about my father here.”
“He wasn’t such a saint, you know. He had planned to sell this little invention to China for millions. Billions maybe. I’m not quite sure.”
Skye’s heart stopped and plummeted to her churning stomach. Her father would never—could never—do such a thing. Jacob Ransom may have been absent-minded, but a traitor he was not. Surely there was another explanation.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice a faint whisper.
“I wish it weren’t true, my dear. He had plans to have it mass produced.”
“My father would never sell out his country for money, no matter how much it was.”
“The truth is ugly, isn’t it? Even after leaving him years ago, I still kept an eye on him and his progress. My sources related his plans to sell the device.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It left her feeling cold. “Now you’re going to tell me how to use this and I’m going home.”
“No.” It became all too clear to her—and all too late—Ridgewood was someone not to be trifled with. Powerful and dangerous, he had kept his finger on the pulse of her father’s business.
“Don’t be uncooperative, dear girl. It’s of no use. There will be no one to save you. Your friend, Mr. Fortune, is dead.”
Fear trickled through her and, for a moment, she believed him. But then she knew Dane well enough to know he wouldn’t get himself killed without telling her. “You’re lying.”
“I assure you, Tia has taken care of the man. Now, you have no choice but to tell me how the time device works.”
Tia killed Dane? The very thought nearly made her laugh out loud. There was no way in hell that little girl could overpower Dane. He was stronger, faster, and had all those killer skills, after all. Skye clenched her jaw until it ached.
“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
His eyes turned to slits as he gave her a scorching look, one that told her not to mess with him. But Skye wasn’t going to back down.
“Perhaps, then, I’ll have to use other forms of persuasion,” Ridgewood said.
He gave a nod to one of his men who produced a knife and placed it at her throat, the cold, steely blade against her skin. She held her breath, her head against the wall behind her as she stared Ridgewood down.
“You will cooperate,” he said.
“I’ll never help you.”
“Oh, yes, you will. Because, you see, you’re coming with me.”
She stared at him in disbelief. She could tolerate time traveling with Dane since he was attractive and all. And rather irresistible. He had saved her life and she was certain his skills had come in handy more than once. But Ridgewood? The good doctor didn’t strike her as the type that would climb to the top of a frozen mountain for her.
“I most certainly am not.” She enunciated every word with a clipped tone. Thinking fast, she added, “Besides, the time bender doesn’t work that way.”
“Then how did the two of you arrive here?”
“There are two time benders,” she said, hoping he’d buy the lie.
“Two?” One dark brow rose.
“Yes, two.” She gave him her best bored-and-annoyed look. “Besides, I don’t believe Dane is really dead. Tia wouldn’t harm anyone.”
He chuckled. “There you’re wrong. Tia is quite obedient.”
She still wasn’t buying it. Skye couldn’t help but wonder what power Ridgewood had over her. Whatever it was, he was blackmailing her to help him. Dane would be smart enough to figure that out. But despite that, her eyes prickled with tears. She had left him, bleeding, with Tia, albeit at his urging.
“Don’t be too sad, my lovely. After all, you have me.” He paused again.
“Then I’d rather be dead.” She spat in his face.
He backhanded her across the mouth, causing the blade of the knife to dig a little deeper into her skin. She felt her lip split, tasted the metallic tang of blood inside her mouth. He certainly knew how to hit a woman.
“Bloody bitch,” he scolded. “You’ll pay for that.” He held the time bender up for her to see. “Tell me how to use it.”
“Never.”
The blade pressed deeper into her larynx. Holding her breath, she reminded herself not to breathe or swallow. Ridgewood said something in rapid Portuguese to the swine standing next to her and he removed the knife. She hissed out her breath, fixed him with a steely stare.
“It pains me to do this, my love,” he said. “But you give me no other choice.”
He nodded to his accomplices and her wrists were unshackled. Rough hands grabbed her, shoved her to face the wall, and reshackled her wrists. A hand clamped on her head to hold her in place as her cheek pressed into the damp wall.
“I’m sorry I have to do this,” he said.
He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone hand him a long leather whip. He uncoiled it and her heart pounded harder. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself, as the first lash came. The whip burned across her back, ripping the thin material of her shirt and flaying her skin. She shut off her mind to the pain, forced herself into the deep recesses of her brain so she wouldn’t think or feel with each burning onslaught.
When at last she was released and her wrists unlocked, she crumpled to the floor. Ridgewood stood over her, grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back.
“Are you ready to tell me how to use this time bender?” he asked.
She knew she had no choice, but still she refused. “Go to hell.”
He shoved her away and rose to his full height. “You stubborn wench. You’ll only make matters worse for yourself. I’ll leave you for now, to give yourself time to think things over. When I return, it would be wise of you not to refuse.”
The three men left her on the floor of the cell, the door slammed shut behind them with a finality she didn’t want to think about. After their receding footsteps, the only sound was that of her whimpering. If Dane was indeed dead, then she was trapped with no hope of escaping Ridgewood.
* * *
Moving fast, Dane grabbed the shaman’s wrist and lunged forward. His fist connected to the native’s jaw with a sickening thud, making the man’s head snap back. Dropping the knife, the shaman stumbled, speaking quickly in Portuguese to Tia—and he didn’t sound happy at all.
“What’s he saying?” Dane asked.
“He thinks you are evil,” Tia said.
“Even though he stitched me up?”
“You refused to drink so he thinks you are a dark god. You should not have done that
.”
“Oh, and was I supposed to let him stab me to death then? I’ve got to get to Skye.” Dane snatched his bloodstained tunic and pulled it on over his head. He groaned with the pain in his gut, as though there was a fire in his belly.
“Wait.” She wrapped a hand around his arm. “You cannot go.”
Clutching his middle, he gave her a sharp look. “Why not?”
“It’s dangerous.” She nodded to the shaman, who continued to rave in his native tongue. “And the shaman will stop you from leaving.”
“He can try to stop me.” He pulled his arm out of her grasp and took a step toward the door.
“Dr. Ridgewood told me to kill you,” Tia called.
“Good luck with that.”
He reached the door and swung it open, but the door jerked from his hand and slammed shut. Turning, Dane saw the dark look on the shaman’s face, a tall staff in one hand pointing directly at him.
“I’m guessing he’s stopping me from leaving,” Dane said dryly.
The shaman said something in Portuguese to Tia, nodding his head toward Dane.
“He says you are evil and must be destroyed.”
“You know, I get that a lot.”
The shaman spoke again, and Tia translated. “He says you must be banished to the Otherworld.”
“Listen, pops—”
But before Dane could finish, the shaman waved his staff in the air from side to side. Suddenly, it was as though the air had been sucked from Dane’s lungs. He could no longer breathe and gasped for air, falling to his knees, his hands at his throat. Glancing around, he looked for something—anything—he could use as a weapon.
His only hope was Tia. Looking up, he met her soulful gaze before dropping his head. Darkness pressed around his vision, closing him in and he knew he was moments away from asphyxiation. Sounds around him became muffled, as though he were in a tunnel.
Somewhere in his haze, he heard a crash and then was released from his suffocation. Gulping in air, he rolled to his back, his chest heaving.
“We must hurry.” Tia knelt by his side, grasping his arm and helping him to a sitting position. “Before he wakes up.”
Dane saw the unconscious shaman and a shattered pot. Raising a brow, he turned his attention back to Tia. “I’m impressed.”
“Quickly. Come with me.”
She cracked open the door and peered into the hallway. As Dane rose, he spied the dagger lying on the floor near the unconscious shaman and snatched it up.
“Why did you help me?” He tucked the knife in the waistband of his pants.
“It is Ridgewood who wants you dead. Not me.” Opening the door all the way, she slipped out and waved him after her. “And…I need your help.”
In the hallway, Dane stopped short. “Wait a second. You need my help?”
“Sim,” she said, lapsing into her native tongue. She looked up and down the hallway and started to take a step when Dane caught her by the arm.
“Explain.”
“Not here.”
“Here. Now. Or you can forget my help.”
She dragged her lower lip through her teeth in contemplation. “There is a ship leaving for the other side of the world. Ridgewood said it was a place called Borneo. My mother and sister are on it.”
“And?” he prompted.
“Dr. Ridgewood…is trading them for riches. White rocks he calls diamonds.”
“Son of a bitch.” Dane knew the implication immediately. He had been in the CIA long enough to recognize a slave trade when he saw one. “And I suppose they aren’t the only women on board, are they?”
“No.” She shook her head.
Dane knew Tia didn’t realize what would happen to her mother and sister—why she wasn’t on the ship was a mystery he’d have to figure out later. Quite possibly Ridgewood had other plans for her, judging by the girl’s slender figure and pretty face. But Dane had an idea the women would be sold into some sort of slavery purposes other than cooking and cleaning and that thought turned his stomach.
“When you…saved me from Dr. Ridgewood…I knew you were the only one who could help me,” Tia said, breaking into his thoughts.
Dane considered this for a moment. He had to admit, he didn’t trust the girl at first. But helping him escape certain death from the shaman won him over. If he made the decision to help, to rescue her family…he would be leaving Skye alone. He knew Skye could take care of herself, but at the hands of a monster like Ridgewood? Dane could take a small comfort in knowing Ridgewood would keep her alive long enough to make her tell him how to use the time bender. But still…if he harmed one hair on her head…
“Your woman…” Tia said, almost as though she could read his thoughts. “You are worried about her.”
“Skye can take care of herself.” He waved off her concern. He had to believe she would be okay. “I’ll help you, Tia. But you have to promise to get me and Skye out of this village as soon as possible.”
“You have my word.” She gave him a bow of the head.
“All right, then. Let’s go save your family.”
Still, though, the thought of Skye alone with that madman…
Dear God, Skye. I hope you’re all right.
Chapter Eight: To the Ship
It seemed an eternity had passed before the cell door creaked open and torchlight flickered across the floor. Footfalls echoed off the dank chamber and stopped mere inches from her. Still lying where she’d dropped, she kept her eyes closed. She couldn’t bear the thought of looking at her fate, the man who was her future.
Skye continued to hold on to the shred of hope Dane was still alive and would save her. But a niggling feeling told her there was no white horse, not this time. That was in another lifetime. That was before, when she was nearly killed on a frigid mountainside in the distant future by another madman hell-bent on his own ambitions.
Even in this time-traveling life, she always managed to attract the weirdos.
“Get her up,” Ridgewood said.
Iron hands grabbed her under the arms and dragged her to her feet. She looked at the man she considered the devil in his own right and clenched her jaw until it ached. How the hell would she survive this? There had to be some way to get her time bender back and get away from Ridgewood.
“Bring her to my chamber.” Ridgewood turned on his heel and headed back out of the dungeon.
Her captors dragged her along behind him, following up a stone staircase and into a corridor flooded with firelight. Her heart beat a fast cadence in her chest, her nerves on a raw edge.
What would Dane do? It was nearly impossible to put herself in his shoes—he was a trained CIA killer, after all—but she had to try. Perhaps it was her survival instinct coming into play. If they were going to Ridgewood’s chamber, then it was a safe bet he had plans to torture her into submission.
There had to be a way out of this mess.
He pushed open the double wooden doors. Inside, the decoration was palatial. Certainly furnishings fit for a king. A tall four-posted, hand-carved bed sat in the middle of the room and the floor was covered with garnet rugs. A silver candelabrum sat atop a bedside table, the orange-yellow flames of the six candles blazing brightly.
Ridgewood stopped in the middle of the room. Her captors paused only a foot or so from the man, still holding her as though she might escape. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out her time bender and flicked it on, never taking his gaze from hers.
Holy shit. He’s figured out how to turn it on.
Of course he would. He knew how the other one worked after all.
“Now tell me how this works.”
“You should know,” she said sourly.
Even if he spun the dial, the readout wouldn’t show as to where they were headed since it was busted. And besides, they still had at least twenty-four hours to go. Even if he pushed the button, nothing would happen.
“Do I push this?” His thumb hovered over the black button.
“Su
re. Why not?” She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and tried to give him her best bored look.
His mouth turned into a straight line, his eyes fixing her with a level stare. It took all her strength to suppress the smile that wanted to erupt. He depressed his thumb on the black button, then removed it and waited. Nothing happened.
Skye released a breath, relieved he hadn’t transported himself anywhere. As she suspected, the time bender hadn’t yet reset itself.
“Ha,” she scoffed. “You…arrogant…son of a bitch.”
Her mind, it seemed, kept forcing her mouth to say things she shouldn’t. He could and probably would kill her right then and there. Fine. She would rather die than help him and be his prisoner for the rest of her days. Or until they were lucky enough to return to their own time.
“It doesn’t work, you bitch!” His voice was cold as death as he spit out the words. He lunged toward her, his hand clamped around her throat and squeezed. “You lied to me.”
“No.” She forced the word out on a breath.
“And even now you still lie!” His hand tightened.
She gasped for air as his fingers pressed into her neck. Perhaps realizing what he was doing, he released her suddenly and took a few steps back, raking his hand through his hair.
“Tell me, Dr. Ridgewood…” It was difficult for her to force the words past her throat. She swallowed hard. “Why is it you want this so badly?”
His jaw muscles flexed. “Money and power, my dear, are beautiful and irresistible.” He turned toward his balcony and whisked open the doors to the magnificent view of lush green fields and workers sweating in the midday sun. “They’re harvesting the sugar cane I taught them to plant.”
“You did?” She wasn’t quite sure she believed him. How would Ridgewood know how to run a sugar plantation?
“I built my own empire, my dear, using this.” He held up his defunct time bender. “Until it stopped working, that is. I ran my own plantation, had slaves, mills, money. All by using your father’s little invention.”
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