“Seems intense,” I said, adding, “Kind of like how I’d go just about anywhere to find Mark and get him to safety.”
Casting a quick glance at her, I noticed the pinched look on her face. Whatever it was about Trent upset her. I let the silence fall between us. Either Ella would keep talking, or she’d go back to ignoring me.
“Once upon a time, I would have been that way for Trent.” She sighed as she hoisted herself over a fallen tree. Once she was on the other side, she reached out a hand to help me over. When she spoke again, a hint of sadness reflected in her voice. “But life isn’t a fairy tale. And sometimes our prince isn’t a price at all, but the devil in disguise.”
My heart broke a little for her. “Is that who he was to you… your prince?”
“No,” she answered, turning her back on me. “He was my husband.”
IN THE MOVIES, THE GOOD guys always seem to find a way to break free of their bindings. To further that, they always took out the bad guy.
How they did it was no more than Hollywood magic, because it sure as shit didn’t happen in real life.
“Again,” the hulking figure who’d hauled me up from the mud barked.
I didn’t have time to plead. Didn’t have enough energy to wrench myself free from the ironclad hold of the other man.
Water filled my nose as I tried desperately to fight my way free of it. Seconds stretched out feeling like minutes to my panic-stricken mind. I would die at the hands of the men who’d captured me. And for what? To die in Barbados wondering where the hell my wife was and if she was safe?
Air rushed down my starved lungs as soon as my face broke the water barrel I’d been subjected to repeatedly.
Each time, I’d get no more than a minute between bouts of submersion after refusing to answer the simplest of questions.
“What’s your name?” He was American, the guy who questioned me.
“I’ve told you. Mark. My name is Mark,” I said, chest heaving as I strained to see him.
The next question came, same as before. “Who do you work for?”
“I’m a photographer. Self-employed,” I said, bracing myself for the next round of water torture.
When it didn’t come, I wanted to whimper in relief.
“Put him in the chair.”
I was yanked back by my bound hands, staying on my feet only by the upward force put on my arms.
My ass hit the rickety chair with a bounce, arms sliding neatly over the back. To further the chances of me being able to escape, a belt was lashed around my chest, keeping me nice and tight.
Exhaustion pulled at me. Begged me to close my eyes and be damned with the two of them, but reason and logic won out. Allowing myself to succumb to sleep, or maybe it was the overabundance of trauma, would be very hazardous to my health.
A face swam into my vision. Eyes, green like the jungle around us, stared into mine intently.
“Why were you so far away from the tour groups?” he asked, squinting as he watched for any sort of tell that I was lying.
My head bobbed slightly. I fought it as best I could with a quick jerk. The motion was too much for my stomach. As if in slow motion, I vomited water and bile onto a set of expensive-looking boots.
“Douche bag!” The words exploded from the otherwise silent person who’d carried out my punishments for the green-eyed American. His fist swung at an arc and caught my jaw with a snap. My ears rang from the blow.
There was a scuffle. One of the men seemed to be holding off the other one. Step by gradual step, he was forced out of what I realized was a tent. It hadn’t been one of the things I’d noticed up until that point, what with the repetitive process of someone trying to drown me. I wasn’t sure anyone would stop to think about where they were.
Green eyes marched back across the room and glared down at me, picking right back up where he’d left off by saying, “Answer my question.”
“Question?” What had he asked me?
He crossed his arms, muscles bulging in a way that made me think he was trying to keep up the intimidation by showing me how strong he was as he repeated his early question, “Why were you away from your tour group?”
“I wasn’t with a tour group,” I answered.
“Try again. Why were you away from your tour group?” he demanded.
“I told you. I wasn’t with a tour group,” I said, putting a little bit of bark into my voice. I instantly regretted it when he took hold of my hair and jerked my head back.
The sharp prick of a blade met the soft spot at the juncture of neck and jaw. Something warm rolled along my throat, disappearing down the collar of my T-shirt. Sweat or blood? I wasn’t sure.
“Where is the girl?” he asked.
My insides jumped with shock. He knew about Paige. Following the shock was the mild feeling of comfort. If he didn’t know where she was, there was a chance she’d made it out of the jungle to safety.
“I don’t kn—”
The pressure of the blade increased ever so slightly. There was no doubt at that point if it was blood sliding down my neck.
“Try again,” he hissed.
I swallowed hard. The action caused the blade to bob up and down. My mouth, parched with fear, made my voice raspy as I said, “I told her to run. I swear—I don’t know where she is…”
He pulled my head further back.
Instinct had me trying to bow up from the chair and relieve the pressure. If he didn’t stop pulling my neck back at such an awkward angle, either he’d break my neck or the chair would tip with the shifting of my weight. I could only hope I’d be lucky enough to topple backward. It might crush my arms, but I’d be alive.
“You told her to run. Where did she run to?” he asked, allowing my head to tilt forward, getting the pressure off my neck so I could answer him.
“Back to the beach. To safety,” I answered truthfully.
“Why were you this deep in the jungle?” he asked.
Confusion pulled my brows in. “Deep? We hadn’t even walked a full mile in.”
His eyes squinted as he looked for the truth in my words. “Why were you in the jungle?”
“Green monkeys,” I answered, breathing a little easier when he wrenched his hand out of my hair and took a few steps back.
“What about them?” he asked.
“I came here to take pictures of them. For a magazine,” I added.
“Lying to me is not in your best interest,” he said, clenching his fists.
God, I was tired. So damn tired. My eyes closed even though I fought to keep them open as I said, “I’m not lying.”
“You better hope not,” he said, voice coming from a distance.
My reply came out more like a whisper as I said, “I’m not.”
AT FIRST, I THOUGHT IT was a dream. The one where you were falling, but you woke up right before you hit the ground. Only, I woke up as I toppled over. There was a loud snap. And for a moment, I thought maybe the chair had broken and I’d get my escape after all.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the chair. It was my arm.
“Hurt?” Green eyes asked, using it to haul me back upright.
I roared in answer. There were no words. Nothing I could do but make ungodly noises, because to form words would require thought, and I had no thought past the radiating waves of white-hot pain.
“I warned you not to lie to me,” he said, grabbing the front of my shirt and hauling me to my feet.
The sun had gone down. That was about the only thing I noticed as he, along with the guys whose boots I’d puked on, looped a rope between my tied hands and tethered me to the biggest tree within the parameter of their makeshift camp.
It was an effective means of torture due to the fact the rope wasn’t long enough for me to sit, let alone lie down. Their intent was pain. Lots of it. By the time they were done taking traded swings at me, I felt like the shredded remains of a piñata.
Unable to stand any longer, I listed sideways, slid until the rope pu
lled tight, and fell right into the utter blackness of oblivion.
I HEARD HIM CRY OUT. It was the most sickening sound I’d ever heard. And I immediately reacted to it.
Ella, who seemed to have a sixth sense about her, flattened me to the ground. One hand covered my mouth as she brought hers close to my ear and said, “Shut up before you get us all killed.”
I could feel her heart beating against my back. Could feel the tightly wound rage that shook her from head to toe as I nodded in understanding.
To draw attention to us was to die.
Sitting in the pitch black, hidden amongst a screen of dense foliage, Ella and I clasped hands hard enough to grind bone.
Her voice, low and steady, whispered words of disjointed comfort. “…move in soon… be okay… worry.”
A beam of light shone over Ella’s arm. She shoved me down and ran straight at it. A shot was fired. And then, all hell broke loose.
Bright flashes of red popped off from the darkness across the camp. They were followed by the hail of a semi-automatic weapon. Grunts, loud ones, rent the air when a bullet hit its intended mark.
A keening sound steadily rolled out of me. Mark was caught somewhere in the crossfire. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it until the gunfire ceased.
“No! Hold your fire,” a man’s voice bellowed, ceasing the fight.
“Put your gun down, Trent.” Ella’s voice brushed against the night air.
“Isabella, is that you?” the man I assumed to be Trent asked.
“Isabella died when you did. Put your hands up where I can see them,” she instructed.
I moved from my hiding spot. Drawn to the drama unfolding, it also gave me a better view of the encampment. Two bodies lay unmoving. Gunshot wounds, the both of them. What I hadn’t been ready for was the sight of Mark. I barely got my hand over my mouth to cover the cry of shock at seeing him.
He’d been brutally beaten. What little light was on him told me it was so much worse than it looked. And it looked really damn bad.
“What brings you here?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as if listening for something he couldn’t see. Because he wasn’t taking his eyes off her.
“I’m ghost hunting. I forgot the holy water, so this will have to do,” she said as she reached back and pulled her gun.
His hands came up as he took a step back and said, “Did you ever ask Cole what really happened to me? Did you think I’d just walk out on you? Leave my heart behind me? You’re my wife!”
His anger was not in check. He vibrated in place as he pointed at her. The stones of his wedding band glittered dimly.
“I’m not your wife anymore. You died, remember. And then you came back. Only you didn’t come back to me. You turned your back on us. You turned your back on me,” Ella said, squaring her shoulders.
“I couldn’t come back. Ask yourself why… Ask Oliver,” he said, eyes widening when Oliver stepped out of the shadows.
“Why, Trent? You flipped on us. You turned sides and gave your loyalty to Nicco,” Oliver said, raising his own gun up, choosing to sight it on Trent’s head. Ella already had his heart covered. “What part did Evan play for you?”
“Part?” Trent laughed. “You make it sound like he had a choice.”
“He doesn’t have anything now. He’s dead,” Ella snapped.
Trent shifted, one shoulder casually shrugging as if to say oh well. “Saves me from having to do it myself.”
“Who killed him, if it wasn’t you?” Ella asked.
He cocked his head to the side, pursed his lips as if deep in thought, and said, “Probably the Russian, Ivanov. He’s the one who wanted the intel anyway. I was just the middle man.”
“Bastard,” Ella hissed, taking a step closer to him.
With so many guns pointed at the bad guy, I made my move. Running right between Oliver and Ella, I slid like I was stealing home plate, right into Mark. He cried out as I fumbled with the rope holding him to the tree.
What I hadn’t counted on was someone coming up behind me and putting a gun to my head.
“Looks like we’re at an impasse,” Trent said, turning slightly to keep any eye on both situations.
“You should know me better than that, Trent,” Oliver said as he swung the gun at me and fired.
The gun at my temple bounced twice before it lay as still as the man who’d held it. He was there just to my left. Arm crumpled under him at an awkward angle. I didn’t need to reach out and put my fingers to his pulse. There wouldn’t be one. Not with the blood spreading out like one of those inkblot cards psychiatrist used. The answer to the unasked question hovered in my mind as surely as it had been asked. What do you see? I see death.
“Womon,” Erol called to me.
I jerked my gaze away from the dead man toward the sound of his voice just as the ground shuddered.
The wind picked up, lashing out with a heat that stole my breath. All sound went mute like a push of the remote button. Erol dove sideways, landing hard against the ground, and then rolled.
I wasn’t sure why, but I leaned over, curling myself awkwardly to protect Mark’s head as what felt like hail pelted us relentlessly.
Someone bumped into me, hands tugging and pulling, but not at me. I looked up in time to see Erol making quick work of hacking the rope holding Mark’s unconscious body.
I moved to catch him, but Erol hauled me back just before the rope let go.
Mark landed face down and didn’t move. I shoved Erol away and scrambled over to Mark on hands and knees. Finger stretched to check his pulse, I gently turned his head to the side.
I could hear the scramble of people around me. Their voices talking with fast-clipped words. There had been an explosion. Of what—they weren’t sure.
Were there others?
Names were barked, orders following them.
“Josh, get something to make a stretcher.”
“Erol, go check the perimeter.”
“Ella, keep an eye on him. He’s the one who set off the explosion.”
It was Oliver’s voice I heard. Oliver taking control of the situation. But where was Trent?
“We have to go after him, damn it!” Ella replied.
“You know as well as I do he’s long gone by now. Had the explosion not happened, we might have been able to apprehend him,” Oliver answered.
I could hear the anger in their voices, both frustrated that Trent had escaped in the confusion and mayhem.
“He wouldn’t have made it back to headquarters alive. I wouldn’t have let him,” Ella hissed.
“You had your chance to take him out and you froze. Had you shot him… killed him, you’d take his place in interrogation. Is that what you want? To ruin it all over a stupid mistake?”
Oliver’s last question hit a nerve, and Ella snapped.
“He wasn’t a stupid mistake. He was my husband!”
“Do you think that love has a place in the lives we live? That by opening yourself up to the silly notion, it makes you stronger? Wrong! It makes you weak. Makes you make bad choices. Bad decisions you wouldn’t normally make for yourself. Love will get you killed,” Oliver fired back at her.
“What would you know about it anyway? Don’t spout words of wisdom in which you have none,” Ella huffed, turning her back on him.
Her words were a venom-filled, direct hit. A hit she’d never know about because she’d turned her back on him. But I saw it. The pain was there just under his controlled facade. He’d loved before and it had ended badly. So bad, he’d probably never love again.
“Paige, move back so we can get him on this,” Josh said, nudging me out of the way.
Oliver and Ella, masks back in place, moved swiftly to help get him loaded.
Once Mark was rolled onto the stretch of heavy canvas torn from a tent, Oliver gave one final order to Ella. “Talk to the old guy. Find out who the hell he is and why he helped Trent get away.”
She nodded sharply.
&nb
sp; GETTING OUT OF THE JUNGLE had been a hellish nightmare. Halfway back to the cottage, Mark had come too with a cry of pain loud enough to pierce my eardrums.
Oliver and Josh had constructed poles on each side of the heavy canvas. Once it had been deemed safe enough to lift him without the poles, or canvas, giving away, Oliver and Josh each took position at the front, leaving Erol and me to lift the back.
I’d never realized how heavy Mark was until I had to carry a fourth of his weight.
His head tossed to and fro as we jostled him with each move we made. Ella stayed behind us, bringing up the rear as guard.
On and on, we walked. My arms went numb. My thoughts turned inward, blocking out everything else around me save Mark. My eyes didn’t leave the erratic pulse of his neck as Josh and Oliver guided us over obstacles. I didn’t have to stay alert to my surroundings; everyone else could take on that responsibility.
All I cared about was getting Mark out of the damn jungle as fast as we could.
And once he was stabilized… alert, we were going to have a very long chat about leaving Cole Enterprise behind us. Even if it meant saying goodbye to our friends.
I FLOATED ON A CLOUD of something like euphoric pleasure. A cloud where no pain could touch all the broken pieces of me. I was grateful for the reprieve because the pain had been so overwhelming, so intense, that I’d choked on it.
Hands, lots of them, rolled me over. It had been too much. I remember cursing. Yelling at them to stop touching me, to leave me alone and let me die. A sob broke over me. Her hand touching my cheek as she told me she’d never give up on me. That I needed to hang on for her.
The blackness took me. Words lost before they could be spoken. All but one. Her name. I said it. I fought to say it. Her hand brushed my cheek. “You’re safe now. We’re taking you home.”
That was all I remembered until I’d woken in a dimly lit room with Paige curled up on a camp bed just feet away.
Wanting to look at her while she slept so peacefully, I pushed up with my arms and caught the edge of the world as it tried to spin me off.
The Vows We Make (The Six Series Book 4) Page 17