Though the men didn’t tell him much, he’d learned that they were bringing in only a few ounces of gold a day, and Kemp had had to cash in that gold to keep the operation going.
But gold flakes or pieces weren’t like the nuggets Kemp had supposedly promised the man he owed.
Rick watched Shay over at the shaker wash pan helping another guy clean it out. He hated that Kemp had kept them separated like this, but tonight he would insist they stay together so he could protect her. Kemp had all the proof he needed after last night’s assault that Shay wasn’t safe on her own. And what about his brother? Was Aiden safe, wherever it was they’d stashed him?
He watched every man, guarding or working, to see if anyone disappeared or went with a plate of food to one of the buildings where Aiden might be kept. But he saw nothing.
His stomach growled. It had to cost a small fortune to keep these men fed. The crack of a rifle rang out in the distance and Rick stiffened, all his senses on alert.
He reminded himself that he wasn’t in the Middle East now. He wasn’t a marine anymore. He shoved his focus back to digging dirt, watching the camp and forming an escape plan in case plan A involving the airplane didn’t work.
An hour later, he spotted one of the men hauling in a four-point buck.
Rick’s mouth watered at the thought of venison. What was he doing? He couldn’t just settle into this life. For that matter, none of them could.
At the evening meal, the men washed up and sat at the table in the mess hall, the aroma of venison wafting over them. A guard nudged Rick from behind with his gun as he grabbed his plate of food, reminding him that his time was short.
His, Shay’s and Aiden’s time was short. The men were growing restless, just as Kemp had said they were. Rick’s gut churned. Kemp was playing them all.
He plopped next to Kemp and ate quietly, Shay sitting across from him. Though she appeared exhausted, the work seemed to have exhilarated her. He knew it had to be better than being held somewhere, captive and bound.
When the guy next to him finished his meal and left the table, Rick leaned close to Kemp. “We need to talk.”
Kemp dug into his baked beans as if he hadn’t heard Rick. Then he suddenly dropped his fork against the plate and jumped up. Grabbing his dish, he tossed it in the sink with a bang.
Rick had no doubt that juggling his own agenda, his accidental captives and the nonproducing mine was wearing on him. The problem was, Kemp carried a huge burden. Rick knew only too well what that could do to a man.
Kemp was going to explode, and soon. Rick just hoped the people he cared about most in the world were out of harm’s way when it happened. A pang went through his heart at the thought.
Picking his teeth with a toothpick, Kemp never once looked at Rick, who’d now lost his own appetite. He glanced at Shay, her face ashen, the color brought by the day’s work drained.
“Give us a minute,” Kemp said to the guard and other worker who’d remained inside.
The guard frowned at Kemp. “You sure about that?”
“Bind him, then. Toss me your weapon.”
It was Rick’s turn to frown, but if having his hands tied was the price for getting a minute with the crazy man running this operation, then so be it.
While the guard bound his wrists in plastic ties for not the first time—his ankles, too—he thought about Shay. He watched her sullen features as he was being strapped to the chair, made to feel completely powerless. Impotent.
Shay.
They hadn’t been bound that morning while in Kemp’s quarters, but the man had something to prove now.
And Rick had to protect Shay. Not only from these men and this situation but from himself. He tore his gaze from her to slice Kemp open with his glare. The guard clomped out of the kitchen.
“The men are talking amongst themselves. They don’t hold back in front of me because they think you’re going to kill me anyway. Either that or they will. So they don’t care what I know. But they’re getting restless. The claim isn’t bringing the gold you promised.”
Kemp pulled up a chair to face Rick. “Is that it? That’s what you wanted to talk about? Tell me something I don’t know.”
“No. You tell me.” Rick ground out the words. Fear crept into Kemp’s gaze despite Rick’s bound position. “I want to know your plan. What’s going to happen when these men become certain that they aren’t going to find the gold they were expecting? When are you going to let Shay fix the plane and let us get out of here?”
Chewing on his toothpick, Kemp waited before he answered. Almost as though he wanted Rick to remember who was in charge. But it was too late. Rick had seen the fear in his eyes. The man was near the breaking point.
“There’s another storm headed this way. Not a rainstorm but snow this time. So a few of the men are leaving tomorrow to get some supplies we ordered before it gets too difficult to leave the area,” Kemp said. “That’ll take them half the morning. I’ll take her to the strip then. But you’re staying here.”
“No,” Shay said. “Rick is coming, too. I need his help. He helps me fix the plane at the place we work.”
At most, he’d handed her a wrench a time or two—but Rick certainly wasn’t going to contradict her. Shay glanced at him, never giving away the truth. He flooded his gaze with approval. Her eyes crinkled around the corners just a little. Just enough for Rick to notice.
“You try anything and you won’t see your brother alive. Understand? You try anything and I just might kill the both of you right then and there.”
The wariness in his eyes told Rick he meant his words. And behind his gaze, Rick saw confirmation of another truth—Kemp would most likely leave them behind anyway, dead or alive.
“Understood,” Rick said. “We want to get out of here in one piece, just like you. Why can’t you let me see my brother now? See that you’re taking care of him. That he’s alive.”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
Rick couldn’t allow himself to hope. Kemp took pleasure in toying with him. Enjoyed the game too much. Rick let the point drop and focused on his other goal. “And for tonight I need to be with Shay. Make sure she’s protected. I don’t trust anyone else. You saw what happened last night.”
“That’s fine by me, but both of you will be bound.” He looked at Shay for her agreement. She could choose to stay with Kemp and have the freedom to move about in the room where he locked her or remain bound with Rick.
“How can I protect her, then, if someone tries—”
“They won’t.”
Rick didn’t like this arrangement, either. “What happened to the guy you stabbed, anyway? Did he get away?”
“Found him dead in the woods. I didn’t kill him. Animals got to him. Wolves, maybe.”
Rick closed his eyes, wishing he could drive away the image that appeared. Just another one to add to his bad dreams. At least if he was bound tonight and fell asleep, he couldn’t harm Shay if nightmares accosted him.
Funny that he’d wanted to be with her to protect her when he had to protect her from himself, as well.
*
Rick sat in an uncomfortable hard-backed chair that was nailed to the floor. They’d bound him to the chair as promised, after he’d been allowed to clean up. Kemp wouldn’t have them in the main house smelling of the outdoors, mud and dirt. Rick didn’t understand why he cared.
They were both so exhausted that neither of them had spoken much once they’d been placed in the small windowless room in Kemp’s main house. He’d left a small lamp on in the room so they could see, but it wasn’t as if they were going to trip or stumble in the dark. Tied up like this, they weren’t going anywhere.
Rick wondered if Shay regretted agreeing to be bound. She could have been free in a room of her own as she was before.
A few canned goods littered the floor as well as the shelves along one wall, making Rick think that Kemp had cleared a storage room out just for the purpose of holding prisoners. A bunk bed had been p
laced against the wall in the corner, and Shay rested on that, her wrists secured to the bed frame.
She’d fallen asleep within a few minutes. Rick studied her, admiring the beautiful outline of her features in the dimly lit room as he listened to her soft, featherlike snores. For a brief moment, he allowed his heart to dream. To think about the what-ifs. If he’d gotten a grip on his problem and had expressed an interest in her, would she have even been interested in him? Could they have had a chance? But a chance for what?
A chance for love and commitment?
Rick could easily see himself loving her. His admiration for her had grown exponentially in the short time they’d been together for this ordeal. And deep down he’d always admired her. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it.
If only he didn’t have the lethal, explosive flashbacks or dreams that sent him back to that moment in time where he’d failed. He would be a better man now if he weren’t trained to respond without thinking—training that had made him scare her and nearly hurt her. Without that, perhaps he’d be someone a woman like Shay could love.
On the other hand, if he hadn’t been trained, he would be dead now.
Instead, he was alive but damaged on the inside. His physical injuries had been nothing compared to the mental and emotional torture he went through almost on a nightly basis.
Shay shifted on the squeaky bed, pulling his thoughts to the present.
He planned to stay awake and watch over her, even though he knew he couldn’t do anything if someone were to break into this room. He’d have to already be free from the ties to be a threat. He held on to the hope of tomorrow—when Kemp would take them to the plane. He’d let Shay sleep for a while; then they needed to make plans.
Tomorrow they could possibly even escape. He still needed to figure out where his brother was, but worst-case scenario, he could come back and get him.
And that would be the worst case.
Getting Shay to safety was his priority. And saving her…might just even save him. Free him from the guilt.
As for tomorrow, if Rick could distract Kemp, then Shay could make a call on the radio. The best-case scenario was for Rick to take Kemp out completely. Then, if Shay fixed the plane, they could simply take off. But he doubted Kemp would let himself be caught off guard like that.
And if either of those plans failed, Rick was out of options. He felt as helpless as he’d been in Afghanistan—a forgotten place in many American homes.
He watched Shay, listening to the wind blow through the cracks of the house. His lids grew heavy, but he fought the need to sleep. Nothing good would come of him falling asleep.
His Cobra helicopter whirled in the sky—warning signals resounding all around him. The helicopter crash-landed, skidding into a sandbank. Rick crawled from the ruins and dragged his copilot away from the burning wreckage. They needed to make it to shelter, where Rick could assess the situation. Where they could hide until help came. Rick scanned the area and made a decision. He started for a building across the street.
A bomb exploded from the building.
The concussive force of the blast, the shock wave of air pressure, sent Rick flying through the air. His ears rang, deafening him to all other sounds as he lay on the ground, only vaguely aware of the pain. Only partially conscious. But he wouldn’t give in to the urge to lie still. He dragged himself to his feet and searched for his copilot, his friend—he had to get him to the cover of another building not ten yards away.
Ten long yards.
Automatic weapons spewed bullets around him.
“No!”
FOURTEEN
Shay jerked awake. She fought the confusion shrouding her.
Where am I?
Rick’s groaning form in the chair over in the corner caught her attention and quickly reoriented her. One tug of her hands reminded her that she was bound in place.
Rick moaned again, his forehead creased in anguish, and then he cried out. That sent Shay right back to the day in the office when she’d tried to wake him up. Only then, he’d had free range of motion and a weapon to protect himself from whatever evil tortured him in his dreams.
He didn’t have anything to protect himself with today. “Rick,” she said. “Rick, wake up.”
His head bobbed and rolled and then his eyes slowly slid open and found her. “Shay,” he whispered. Relief swept through his gaze.
“You were dreaming.” More like having a nightmare. What haunted him so?
He blinked and cleared his throat, throwing off the vestiges of a not-so-peaceful slumber.
“I’m sorry,” he said, closing his eyes again.
Shay had the feeling he didn’t want to look at her. “What do you have to be sorry about?”
His lids slid open again. “I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. Did I wake you?”
Shay gave him a soft smile in answer. “I don’t even remember falling asleep.”
“No one ever does.” Rick tried to smile, but the anguish she’d heard in his groans resided behind his gaze.
“Tell me about your dreams.” The dream. She should have said the dream. She knew he’d had this one before. A deep sadness dropped into her heart, but she knew that Rick Savage would not appreciate pity. And she didn’t pity him. Not really.
What she felt for Rick… It scared her. She couldn’t face it. This wasn’t the time.
Tears threatened behind her eyes. She hated them. “I want to know, Rick. What…happened to you?”
She knew enough to understand that his nightmares had to be linked to his time overseas in the U.S. Marines. She’d heard him talk enough about his brother turning to alcohol in the aftermath of his own military experiences. And she knew that Rick had turned to God—she’d heard him talking about that with the other men at Deep Horizon. Had seen him pray. But had any of them seen him while he slept? Was God really there for him?
“You don’t want to know, Shay.”
“I think I deserve that much, don’t you?”
His eyes held a kind of sorrow and regret. In his gaze she saw again how remorseful he was about that day when he’d nearly attacked her.
She could tell he struggled for the words. Maybe no words could ever explain what he’d gone through, but she pressed him anyway. “We don’t know what we’re going to be doing in a few hours. We might both be dead. Please, tell me…”
“I can’t.”
Rick held her gaze, nearly caressing her with his eyes. Her heart fluttered—did he really see her that way? He’d never really looked at her before this ordeal.
She wanted nothing more than to be free of these stupid plastic ties and go to him. Let him wrap his arms around her. Never in her life had she been so grateful to be tied up—Rick was dangerous to her heart, and maybe even dangerous to her physically. She needed the reminder not to get close to him, no matter how badly she wanted to. But even though she couldn’t approach him physically, she still wanted to try to reach out to soothe the pain he was feeling.
“Okay. I’ll go first. My father used to do that to me. After my mother died, he held everything bottled up inside him. She died when a man shot her. Right in front of me.” Tears surged in her throat.
“I guess that makes what happened that day I aimed at you even more terrifying.” He sighed, defeated.
“Yes. You have no idea. But after that, my father just closed himself off to everyone. Me and my sister? We needed him. But we couldn’t seem to reach him. He couldn’t see anything past the pain he was in. I could see he was like a soda bottle when you shake it, ready to burst.”
“Then we understand each other. I can’t afford to touch that cap. I wish I could. I’d do it for you, if I could.”
“If you mean that, then let me in.” What are you doing? You can’t risk your heart!
“Why would you want in, Shay? You’ve already seen what I can be. I’m dangerous to anyone I might…”
Love? Shay’s heart skipped erratically. She was edging closer to the danger
zone she’d managed to keep a safe distance from all this time.
“Anyone I care about,” he said, finishing his sentence.
“There are specialists out there to assist people who struggle with what you’re going through. Why don’t you get help? Then you could have a relationship with someone.” Just not me.
Rick surprised Shay with a smile. “And who would I have this relationship with, Shay?”
The way he looked at her, that little flirting glint, stirred her insides. Her pulse raced. No, she couldn’t do this. She’d been guarding her heart for too long. Rick had been safe to think about because he’d never noticed her. She tugged her gaze from him and stared at the empty, boring wall, unable or unwilling to answer him.
But if she really didn’t want the chance for a relationship with him, then why was she trying to get him to open up? He’d been safe before; now she was trying to open that soda-bottle cap so she could…what? Convince herself that it might be safe to love him after all?
Suddenly, Rick began straining against the chair, his face turning a little red.
“What are you doing?”
He moved his shoulders up and down and whipped his hands around in front of him. The motion looked odd, but to her astonishment, he eventually succeeded in freeing himself.
Shay gasped. “How did you do that? Why haven’t you done that before? I don’t understand.”
“I learned a trick. Hold my wrists wide when they’re tying me to give me a little slack to maneuver later. It doesn’t always work. But it worked for me this time. I needed to get out of this.” He began working on his ankles where they were tied to the chair. Not so easy, but nothing he couldn’t handle. When he’d freed himself from the chair, he moved to Shay and worked on the ties until they came undone.
She rubbed her wrists and shook her arms out. How good it would feel to sleep in a normal position. To be back safely in her own bed. “What will they say when they find that we’ve freed ourselves?”
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