Suddenly, the metal gun in her hand seemed to weigh less. If he was willing to lay down his life for hers, then she should be willing to lay down hers for his. He’d taken a bullet and taken on an army just for her. How could he be so selfless?
And yet he was such a hardass. She got the feeling he was one of those men who had grown up without a family and bounced through the system, a lonely, desperate life that had given him a hard shell that had never been penetrated before now. And yet he still had dedicated his life to his country and rescued a senator’s daughter from an evil man intent on using her until she died.
Reaper might not ever want to admit it to himself but somewhere deep inside that granite chest of his was a strong beating heart and she had every intention of tapping into it before they parted ways.
So long as he didn’t die, and that meant getting them clothing so they could find a safe place to hide out. And then she would definitely have to go on the prowl for medical supplies, whether he wanted her to or not.
Caroline pressed her shoulders into the wall at the corner, lifted the gun to her chest and cradled it in her hands. The hot humid air curled her dirt-streaked hair around her face. Everything about this place was cloying and dangerous.
Straining to listen around the corner, Caroline’s instincts kicked into high gear. She closed her eyes and tried to close out the sound of her own loud, swishing heartbeat. Something inside her pushed outward. She became aware of the sound of men’s heavy footsteps pacing down the street on the other side of the building. She could even hear them speaking in a low, guttural language she couldn’t understand, but the underlying threat was clear all the same. As was the fact that the alleyway was still empty.
She caught a waft of cigarette smoke. The soldiers in the street had stopped for a smoke break. This was her chance. Gathering up the tiny shards of courage she possessed, Caroline peered around the corner, and then, seeing no one, stepped out from behind the protection of the wall, her gun gripped in her hand and shaking just as much as the rest of her.
She sensed Reaper watching her from the window. Please God, don’t let him see how terrified I am. She hadn’t fired a gun since well before her interrupted wedding to the general, and she honestly didn’t have a clue how much time had passed since then. The likelihood of her hitting a moving target couldn’t have been much smaller, but the sound of the gunshot would alert Reaper and she knew without a doubt he would be able to sink a bullet between her attacker’s eyes. The gravel mix crunched under her bare feet, but her heart was pumping too hard for her to notice the sharp edges digging into her soles. She could practically hear the men breathing around the other corner of the building.
Feet away from discovery, Caroline rushed across the distance to the hanging clothesline and ripped down a brown dress and head scarf and a loose-looking caftan for Reaper. And then she bolted back around the corner and practically dove through the window, her entire body thrumming with a mixture of fear and triumph at having completed her task without detection.
Reaper was waiting for her, and from the savage cut to his jaw she knew he was pissed before he even opened his mouth.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
She handed the pistol back to him, fighting off the aggravation his words had dredged up inside her. She had just risked her life for them both; you’d think the man would be a bit more grateful. “Do what?”
“Turn your back on the enemy. If one of those soldiers came around the corner, he’d have shot you in the back before you knew he was there.”
This time, Caroline didn’t bother hiding her thoughts. She snorted and shook out the clothes, snapping them more forcefully than was necessary to get her point across. “Sorry, I must have missed the escape and evade class at my all-girls prep school.”
He frowned, as if the thought that she might not know these things hadn’t crossed his mind. “It’s common sense. Never turn your back on your enemy.”
“I never thought I’d have to fight off someone who wanted to kill me, much less drain my blood for some psychotic experiment. Excuse me if I was more concerned with developing my brain than my reaction speed and strength.”
Of course, it wasn’t as if Reaper had neglected his brain in favor of making himself a killing machine. The intelligence in his dark eyes was just as apparent as the stark outline of the thick muscles lining his body. Not that she’d tell him that right now.
He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, staring up at the ceiling in a way that was eerily similar to what her dad used to do when he was frustrated with her antics.
“Just don’t do it again, for future reference, okay?”
Caroline gave him a jerky nod, amusement edging out her anger. Her nanny always told her that she had a way of getting under her father’s skin and apparently she did the same for Reaper. “Aye, aye, Captain.” She topped off her little remark with a salute, drawing yet another frown from her savior.
“Get dressed. We need to evacuate this place as soon as darkness falls.”
“But I thought we were leaving now.”
Reaper shook his head. “We can use the darkness to camouflage our movements. It will be safer.”
Caroline extended the black caftan robe to him. His fingers grazed the back of her hand as he took the material and a tingle tracked up her arm. This attraction she had to him was going to be a problem. She knew it. Every time he touched her, or even got close to her, she was overly aware of his presence. She had never noticed a man so much in her entire life.
But the vibes he was putting off screamed stay away. Women must fawn over him all the time. And Caroline was no different. If he took her in his arms right now and kissed her, she wouldn’t resist. Even here, even in the midst of so much danger and death and sadness.
Reaper shrugged into the robe, stumbled and caught himself before he hit the dirt floor. Alarm shot through Caroline and she was immediately back at his side, her hands pressed against his good side trying to prop him up. Nothing could possibly happen between them if he died before they got out of here. “You have to sit down and preserve your strength.”
But he didn’t seem to hear her talking. He just stared at the wall across the way.
“Reaper, you have to get off your feet.” She spoke louder, praying she could snap him out of his daze before he collapsed. He gave her a nod and limped over to the nearest wall, which happened to be right next to the stack of bodies, and sunk down to the floor. Caroline hastily slipped the brown dress over her hospital gown and then carried the long scarf over to the spot right next to Reaper. She sat down next to him and did her best to wrap the hijab over her head. At least she’d covered up her hair. The dress was about ten sizes too big, so oversized it kept slipping off her shoulder, but it was better than nothing.
“Put dirt on your face, you need to camouflage your skin as much as possible.” His voice was getting rougher and she knew he was closer than ever to passing out. She quickly did as he asked, not wanting to put any additional strain on him. Once she’d finished with herself, she turned to him. “Do you want me to do you too?”
He stared at her for the longest time before answering and she got the eerie sensation that he was looking inside of her.
“Yes, please,” he said.
Had he really just said “please” to her? He was closer to passing out than she’d thought. She hastily covered his face and then leaned back to study her work. While the dirt covered up some of the lightness of his skin, it would only work from a great distance. Like her hair covering, it was better than nothing. Caroline took his hand once more, seeking that connection. “I know you don’t want me to go anywhere, but we need to be realistic. If you pass out, I don’t have a clue how to treat your wound. You need to tell me what to do.”
Reaper closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, the lines of weariness on his face deepening. “You’ll need to disinfect it with something stronger. I need antibiotics to prevent infection, and you�
�ll have to dig the bullet out, otherwise I could get gangrene and die from blood poisoning. Then you’ll have to stitch the wound back together and cover it.” He spat out the list so matter-of-factly, like he’d done it before. Who was she kidding? He certainly had done it before.
But she hadn’t—the most medical experience she had was putting a Band-Aid on a scrape. Caroline fought to keep her voice steady and level, praying her voice didn’t betray the absolute terror ricocheting through her, Caroline said, in what she hoped was a confident voice, “Perfect. Thank you.”
If Reaper passed out, her best hope would be stealing his gun, finding a hospital and forcing a doctor to come with her and treat him. Maybe she could pull that off. Or would she just wind up getting caught again? Brought back to the bunker?
Reaper sounded like he was familiar with this area, which meant he probably knew if and where there was a hospital for her to get the supplies. “Reaper, where’s the hospital?”
He didn’t respond; he didn’t even open his eyes.
Panic gripped her. “Reaper?”
He didn’t even twitch. Was he dead? Caroline fumbled around his neck, searching for a pulse. When her fingers found a steady beat, she almost wept with relief. He had just passed out.
What was it that he needed from her? There wasn’t anything else she could do at this point other than sit and wait. He’d been correct in saying it would be too dangerous to make a move before sundown. The activity out front of the building seemed to be picking up. The men becoming more frantic in their search for their missing captives.
She leaned her head back against the pockmarked wall and closed her eyes. This was the first time she’d gotten to rest since being jolted awake from her drug-induced coma. She let her mind wander backward. She needed to remember her captivity so she could tell her father everything that had happened. Anything to help him track down Rainier.
She remembered the sharp pain in her chest and hearing Dr. Winters tell Reaper about the adrenaline injection. And then the feeling in her chest was joined by the pounding at her skull at the bombardment of noise and light as they made their escape. The fear had been even worse than the pain.
The General’s face surfaced in her memory, melding together with the visage of a polished, older, black-haired man who’d moved her around like a commodity, mostly keeping her unconscious. And then there had come the lab. The white walls and floors and lab coats. Dr. Winters constantly watching her for any change. And always the needles. They’d refused to even speak to her there, in the brief moments she was allowed to be awake. And then, lastly, she remembered General Rainier standing over her bed staring down at her with a look of complete ownership. Was this all some sick twisted plot orchestrated by him to get back at her for leaving him at the altar?
She might understand that if they’d actually had feelings toward one another, but their marriage had been nothing more than an arrangement. They’d had easy camaraderie, closer to that of a father and daughter than anything else. No love. At least not on her end.
No, she’d known the General ever since she was a toddler in diapers. He wasn’t a man who acted on emotion at all. The only reason he’d agreed to marry her was to protect her from her father’s political enemies.
She had to be imagining his presence in the lab. Could a man she’d known so long really have fooled her into thinking he was kind? Human? She couldn’t bear to think it possible.
She had no idea what kind of drugs they’d given her, but surely she’d hallucinated plenty. But she would remember, even if she had to go to psychotherapy to delve into her subconscious, and she’d do everything she could to stop these men from hurting anyone else.
“Check the building, men!” said a man in a clearly American voice.
Caroline jolted from her thoughts, sitting up ramrod straight. That voice was just out front.
“Just bodies in there, boss. No people!” Another voice, just as heavily accented as the one before, called back.
There was a scuffle outside, something that sounded like a loud slap and then the first voice spoke again. “Check the damn building. The next time you don’t follow my orders, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
An invisible vice closed around Caroline’s throat and she immediately began trying to wake Reaper. “Reaper, they’re coming. I don’t know what to do. Please wake up.”
His head lolled to the side and he didn’t move. Dear God, dear God, she had nowhere to hide. Nothing—
The stack of bodies loomed up next to her, a hand sticking out from beneath the tarp.
The latch jiggled on the rusted metal front door.
Time seemed to stand still for an instant.
She didn’t have a choice. She could pull the pistol from his belt and start shooting, but at best she’d only take out one soldier. They’d be as good as captured. As good as dead.
Boom! She jumped. The man outside must’ve kicked the front door. He jiggled the latch again.
No time. No time. Oh God, was she really about to do this?
Caroline threw the edge of the tarp back and a fresh wave of rotting stench bombarded her senses. She gagged. Pale, almost white, sightless eyes stared back at her. Flies and other creatures she couldn’t name crawled in and out of rotting cavities. Dried blood caked faces and chests and limbs. The tangled mass of horror lay before her. It was the stuff of nightmares. No, it was worse than a nightmare. This was something she couldn’t wake up from. The sight wouldn’t fade from her memory as days passed, it would be forever ingrained in her mind. An atrocity she couldn’t wrap her head around or even begin to understand. There were children in there.
Fighting against the nausea, she said a silent apology to Reaper and hooked her hands underneath his armpits and pulled him in the direction of the piled up corpses.
He stirred, fresh blood spilled from his bullet wound, but he did not waken. Her adrenaline must’ve fueled her strength because she was able to scoot him inch by inch across the floor to the very edge of the pile of bodies. She should probably bury him underneath a couple of them to truly conceal him, but she didn’t have the strength. So she turned him over onto his stomach and pulled the closest corpse down on top of him.
The latch jiggled again, rough metal on metal screeching across her nerves. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t put herself beneath someone’s dead body.
And then a long, loud screech skidded through the room, a sound more terrifying than keeping company with corpses. The soldier had managed to open the latch. Caroline sucked in a breath as she lifted up a woman of around her size and crawled beneath her, floundering blindly for the edge of the tarp, fingers closing around the rough material and yanking it down a second before the door banged open.
And then there was nothing but darkness and the most god-awful smell—one she didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget.
“Search the entire building, you idiot!” The commander’s voice was muffled but clear. Caroline closed her eyes and began to pray.
The loud footsteps echoed through the building, more than likely quiet but so loud to Caroline’s overwrought senses they sounded like pick axes pounding against a concrete floor.
Please don’t let him look under the tarp.
His footsteps grew louder. He was walking over the exact spot they had just vacated. Dear God, what if he noticed the blood on the floor from Reaper? Would it stand out? There was blood on the floor all around the tarp anyway, but it was drier and older.
Something long and prickly crawled up her arm. Terror took hold and Caroline bit down on her cheeks so hard she tasted blood. The darkness started closing in and a panic attack began working its way around her lungs, shrinking, compressing, killing.
Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, but it was the only outward reaction she would allow herself. Anything else might get her killed.
Where was the soldier? Had he left without her noticing?
The darkness. The bodies.
She couldn’t bre
athe. She had to get out.
No, no, no. Fight it. Fight it. Think about what he would say. There was still air in the room; she could still breathe. She wasn’t being crushed to death. The bodies, however horrifying, wouldn’t kill her. But the man standing on the other side of the tarp holding a gun could.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, he shuffled closer, mere feet from her head. She stopped thinking altogether as a rustling sound filled her ears. She saw the light first and then felt fresh breeze. He was lifting the tarp. Caroline turned her head away, closing her eyes and forcing her body to go limp. The weight of the dead woman pressed against her.
Please let her hijab completely cover her hair.
The soldier made a gagging noise and cursed. He dropped the tarp and stumbled back. “No boss, no one been in here.”
For the first time in Caroline’s life, she embraced the darkness.
The minutes ticked by. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she’d long ago stopped trying to keep up. She had to make sure the building was completely empty before she could risk pulling Reaper from the pile.
Finally, after only the sounds of the flies buzzing reached her ears, Caroline risked reaching out to lift the tarp. The pink and orange glow of the setting sun filled the room, but nothing else. She didn’t sense anyone else in the room.
Carefully, she eased up from the pile, the cold dead flesh of the woman on top of her pulling across her skin. Exhausted, Caroline fell onto the floor and rolled onto her back. Her stomach revolted and she staggered onto her hands and knees and vomited.
As soon as she was in control of herself again, she searched out Reaper and began tugging him from the pile. It was harder this time. The energy from the adrenaline had burned off, leaving her exhausted and worn out. At least Reaper was unconscious and he wouldn’t have to bear this memory.
The sound of his clothes rasping against the others while she finally extracted him sent another rush of vomit burning up her throat, but she bit it back this time. Fresh blood poured out of Reaper’s shoulder from all the tugging and pulling. She didn’t have the luxury of throwing up again. Nor did she have the time to reflect on what she’d been forced to do to survive.
Mayhem's Warrior: Operation Mayhem Page 10