Stranger Mine: a Base Branch novel

by Megan Mitcham

  “No matter what happens, don’t go without my signal. If anything goes wrong, get your ass back to the truck and move. One satellite phone stays with the truck. The other with me. Tucker’s number is the last dialed number. Tell the operator your name. He’ll accept a call from you.”

  For the first time, fear wavered Piper’s conviction. What was she willing to lose to find Matthew? Before Ryan, she’d been willing to give her life for the cause, and still was, but she couldn’t stomach exchanging Matthew’s life for Ryan’s. She just found the person who got her, cared for her, and didn’t try to change her. Despite the fact that he had. He showed her love and understanding, which naturally shifted her ideals and perceptions. Whether he was firm in his feelings of affection or not, she planned on keeping him around. One way or another. For a very long time.

  “Don’t give me that look.” His lids thinned to a scolding line. “You’re the most bull-headed woman I’ve ever met, but you can’t be about this.”

  Piper simply held on to her shaking hands and followed the glow of headlights as they revealed their path to redemption or destruction. Nerves twisted her bowels and threatened to rattle her teeth out of her head. Never had she been this scared. Fear wasn’t her usual response for intense situations. In neither captivity, the damn shoot out, nor walking through a minefield had she been this on edge. But this was different because now she had something to lose.

  “Lock it down, Piper. Or I’ll go by myself. You’re no help to either of us like this.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “I’m working on it.”

  Ryan switched off the lights as soon as they made the turn. For a second her freak-out level jet-set as they drove through the thick night.

  “Thermal monocular,” he soothed.

  She released an audible breath and sank against the soft leather.

  “You’re one hot gray chick. Turn this way, I might be able to see your nipples through your shirt.”

  Laughter bubbled, and then exploded in a release of anger, confusion, and fear. Her shoulders shook. Her belly rolled. “You’re crazy.” When he stopped the vehicle and killed the engine, the remnants of her laughter died.

  Ryan’s scruff tickled her lips a moment before his mouth skimmed over hers. Light as a whisper their skin and breath mingled. His hand cupped her nape, hugging them cheek-to-cheek. “Make it through tonight and I’ll tell you exactly what I meant earlier.”

  “Well,” she sighed, “that’s incentive enough for me.”

  A rumble permeated his chest. He released her and retreated to his side of the car. Metal slid across metal. Velcro screamed. Fabric rustled. “Here, eyes on.”

  Piper accepted a hunk of cool metal she recognized by feel alone as a thermal imagery monocular. She pulled on the contraption and welcomed sight, gray tinted as it was. Two M4’s and his trusty blood-spattered ruck piled high on Ryan’s lap. He handed her one of the assault rifles to accompany the two pistols and four extra magazines tucked away in the holsters and pockets of her borrowed BDU’s, which she buttoned so he couldn’t see her nipples and get distracted.

  “Keys are in the ignition,” Ryan said before slipping out of the vehicle. She joined him at the front of the truck to get their bearings.

  Rows of vines shown white in the eyepiece with only a hint of black. The shadows were tinted dark like puddles of swamp water. The succession stretched for a mile to the north and east. At the top of a gradual incline lights burned through conservative windows at the main house while the bunk and process buildings stood like dark boxes.

  “What day is it?” Piper whispered.

  “Saturday.”

  “Is it harvest time?”

  “By the looks of things, past. I don’t see any clusters on these tendrils. That’s not to say the other half of the field isn’t bursting with them. I don’t know when they harvest, if they grow different varieties, if they ripen at different times.”

  “I’ve never planted a thing in my life,” Piper said. “But it looks so quiet.”

  “It’s possible the workers went home for the weekend,” Ryan offered.

  “What?”

  “Gabrone may have influence over this place, but he doesn’t run it or own it. Thermal shows no guards.”

  “So you’re saying they’d let Matthew…what?” she asked, jerking her hands to the sky. “Take a walk? Hitch a ride into town?”

  “Small movements, sweet. Just because I can’t see any roaming guards, doesn’t mean there aren't goons in the house. And I have no idea. So let’s go find out.”

  Best idea she’d heard since the sun went down.

  Piper fell in behind Ryan, who stuck close to the foliage. He advanced at an easy pace. Several times he raised his fist just shy of his shoulder before he stopped. Like she wasn’t completely in tune with his every micro-gesture, every twitch of his ear, every shift of his spine. She didn’t see any movement besides Ryan’s and the chilly wind rustling the leaves. And still, she could have played the tight rope to any daring Wallenda.

  Six yards away from the network of grapes’ end, he pointed to the ground, and then hit the dirt. The gravel and dirt pricked her palms as she followed suit. He crawled on elbows with the rifle lying atop his folded arms. Piper locked her fingers over the barrel and butt to keep hers from slipping. Earthy scents of roots and vegetation huffed through her airway. Only feet away from the open space between the three buildings, Ryan crouched, but gave her the flat of his palm. Then he left her, literally, in the dust.

  He banked right toward the bunkhouse. The blood pumping through her heart congealed as she watched him vanish around a corner of black shadows. Damn. Piper yanked the useless device from her head and strained for any sound.

  Nothing.

  Time ticked, collecting in a big pile of worry at her feet. She hugged the M4 to her chest, rested her forehead on the stock, and offered a prayer.

  A crash brought her head up fast.

  25

  Ryan melted into the shadow of the long, narrow building. From his vantage point he could see no windows in the process building. When they’d seen it from the distance he’d expected as much. It likely housed large metal vessels, pipes, and oak barrels filled with fermenting grapes. Shrubs and trees hugged the main house while vines suffocated a pergola that spanned the entire front of the garden house. A row of picture windows looked out onto the vineyard. Luckily, the vegetation helped bank the brilliance pouring through the glass to a dim glow around the immediate grounds.

  He’d half guessed the bunkhouse would resemble the prison he’d found Piper chained inside. Windowless. Meager. A bit of hell on earth. As he sidled to the exterior, the richness of the wood caught his attention. It matched the main house. Large panes of glass stretched in five-foot increments across the back. Inch by patient inch, Ryan neared the window made black by the night and a profile that radiated no heat. He switched to night vision, a little trick that came in handy, and moved closer still. On the next inhale, he held his breath, so he wouldn’t fog the window, and peeked inside.

  What he saw surprised him more than a room full of Sinaloa members with rocket launchers and grenades.

  Bunks lined the walls, leaving a slender aisle down the middle. Each bed held a mattress, covers, and a pillow. And they were all empty. All that he could see anyway. Ryan maneuvered to get a better look. No one hid in the corners. He moved to the next window. And the next. Nothing looked out of character for a farm. A wide brimmed hat hung on a high bedpost. Work gloves drooped over the other at the end of another bed. Boots burrowed beneath another.

  Ryan continued on to the end of the building. Wood smacked into wood in the direction of the main house, shattering the peaceable silence. rifle up, he moved as fast as his boots would quietly take him to the next corner. He zeroed in on the front of the house, searching for the threat. He found another fucking conundrum.

  Matthew Reece stomped from the screen door, or at least, a guy with the same body type. Shoving the monoc
ular from his head, Ryan narrowed his gaze. Then again, maybe not. In the pictures he’d seen of the man they sought, Reece was narrow and pale. This guy mirrored Reece’s height, but thick muscles filled out his chambray shirt and the sun tanned his hide a deep brown. Of course, six months of outdoor labor could do that to anyone.

  The guy strode, hands on hips and mouth pursed, to the farthest side of the porch. He shook his head several times and seemed to search the heavens for answers. If you find any, let me know. Reece planted a sizable forearm on a pergola column, continuing his search.

  Dropping his weapon to its strap around his neck, Ryan bolted for Piper. It would take all the discipline she possessed to see Matthew Reece and not sprint for him. He’d told her to stay. And boy, if this wasn’t the ultimate test of her trust in him.

  At the edge of the bunk house he slowed and could have groaned in sweet relief when he saw her outline, laid as he’d left her, under the vines. She peeked out from her cover and met his gaze. Pleading radiated from her features. Her hand gripped the base of a grape plant, as if trying to hold herself in place.

  Her expression confirmed it was, indeed, her brother-in-law. Ryan pointed to his gun and motioned it toward his side, showing her his palms. Then he gestured at the house. When she nodded he pick up his rifle and prepared for anything.

  26

  Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Piper’s heart pounded in her ear. Matthew was alive. She swallowed past the desert in her throat, stood on wobbly legs, and adjusted the rifle by her side as Ryan had demonstrated. The first step threatened to topple her, but with each stride her coordination returned. She chanced one last look at Ryan. He didn’t meet her gaze. His focus and rifle barrel were honed on the man on the veranda.

  Her pace increased until she emerged from the shadows. Matthew’s head snapped in her direction. His arm fell from the post and he puffed his chest, the breadth of him nearly doubling. He balled his fist. His feet spread in a defensive stance, daring her to come closer.

  The man in front of her was Matthew Reece, but not the Matthew she knew. Captivity had changed him. Roughened his smooth manners. Doubled his muscles. Etched a menacing scowl on his face. Gave him a damn fine tan. Now he could actually pass as her blood kin.

  Piper took one more step, bringing her features into the light. As if she’d beamed him in the forehead with a billy club, his upper body jerked backward. Frozen, with her stomach in her shoes, she waited. Just as quickly as he lurched, he leaned forward. His hand clamped over his mouth and his head swung in a thin back-and-forth.

  She broke in so many ways. The independent girl who didn’t need anyone, much less a man, admitted she wanted two men in her life. The need for control, every and all day, fled in the shattering of the person she’d been. She sprinted across the stone path, up the steps, and launched into Matthew’s arms.

  “Piper?” Emotion choked him.

  “It’s me, Matt. I can’t believe I found you.” Tears clogged her voice too. She squeezed so hard her muscles quivered.

  “How the hell—”

  Without finishing the question he ripped her from his chest and shoved her behind him. Had he been his pre-abduction self, he’d have had a hell of a time accomplishing the task. But now strength radiated through him, just like it did with Ryan.

  “Matt?” Piper shoved at his back. She wiggled free only because his attention was riveted in front of him.

  “Gun,” Matt growled.

  Her gaze pivoted to find her lover mid-yard and advancing. She grabbed Matthew’s arm. “He’s with me. He’s the only reason I found you.”

  “Not true,” Ryan chimed, still keeping a lock on the door. “How many in the house?”

  “What?” Matt barked. His gaze bounded between them.

  “We need to move. Now,” Ryan whispered.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Matt took a step toward Ryan, blocking his path. “And you’re not coming up here until you put that damn thing down.”

  Piper swore her jaw hit the wooden patio. She’d never seen Matthew get riled about anything. Of course, an assault rifle in your face could give a person cause to rile. But for him to place himself in the path of it baffled her.

  “I can’t do that until I know it’s safe,” Ryan said.

  “Unless you’re scared of an old man, a woman, and her young son, it’s safe.” Matthew glared.

  “What about the Sinaloa’s men?” Piper asked.

  “They don’t come here often, only once since the day they dropped me off.” Matthew’s tone sharpened.

  “Where are the workers?” Ryan pressed.

  “Home with their families,” he answered.

  Ryan eased the M4 to his side, but kept it within easy reach. Piper struggled to control her tongue because that jaw on the floor thing happened again. “There are no guards here. You’re not chained to a wall or locked in a cell. And you’re still here?” Hysteria bubbled into her mouth and spewed out in her shrill tone.

  “It’s complicated,” Matt explained, without explaining a damn thing.

  “Explain it on the way. Let’s move. We still have a hell of a journey out of here.” Ryan rolled his wrist. “Come on.”

  Piper grabbed Matt’s hand and tugged. He didn’t budge. She turned her gaze to his hazel eyes. His stance relaxed and the severity bled from his face. His mouth curved in a sweet, sad smile. “I’m not leaving, Piper.”

  Her heart plummeted, meeting up with her stomach in her boots. “Why not?” she croaked.

  “It’s complicated,” he said again.

  “Complicated? No shit, it’s complicated. You were nabbed by a cartel and I’ve killed people to find you!” Piper roared.

  “Not taken,” he hollered. His widened shoulders lurched in her direction and loomed. The pink of fresh sunburn darkened with his anger, going molten red. “Sold by the person I loved most in the world.”

  Shock made her release him. He knew. She’d worried about how to tell him, but he already knew about the betrayal. Tears streamed in earnest against her cheek and she batted them away only to have them replaced by fresh ones.

  “Back away from her, Reece.” Ryan’s quiet voice whispered across the distance, chilling with its simple menace.

  Matt stumbled back. He grabbed his forehead, ruffling the floppy front of his once prim haircut. The brown hair, made lighter by the sun, curtained over his fingers. “You killed people. When? Why?”

  As it had when Matthew exited onto the porch, the screen door slammed back against the house. Their heads snapped in its direction. Ryan’s gun came up.

  A young boy’s sweet voice wafted though the air, “Matt, lo siento.”

  Matthew exploded, “No!” He launched himself between Ryan’s aim and a nine or ten year old boy. But her lover had already lowered the sights.

  The kid’s almond colored eyes went wide. Shock and fear distorted his features. Matt scooped the kid into his arms and gave Ryan his back.

  “It’s down,” Piper reassured. “It was down before he was through the door. Ryan would never hurt a child. Never.”

  Those small, light-brown eyes swung in her direction. His lips pursed, and then curved. “Are you Piper?”

  Matt canted his head at the kid, leveling their gazes. “How do you know that?”

  It was her turn to have wide eyes, because that was one of the thousands of questions she wanted answered.

  The child’s eyes veered back to Ryan and he waved. “When you talk about your family you talk about her. One time you said she had hair the color of the bronze Olympic medal. And she has that color hair. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your family, so it makes sense she’d come visit. But why do they have guns?” Before anyone could answer, he rushed on. “I’m sorry I made you upset, but I still want you to be my papa. Yeah, you have a family in the United States, but we love you more. Momma takes care of you and the other day I saw her kiss you on the mouth. That means she loves you.”

  Matthew hugged the
kid to his chest. His gaze jumped between her and Ryan. “Complicated doesn’t begin to cover all of this. Come inside. We’ll have coffee and talk, after I put Manuel to sleep.” Matt stepped toward the door. “Where are your momma and grandpa?” he asked the boy.

  The boy’s head shot up. “Mom’s in the back, cleaning the kitchen. I’m not tired.”

  “Then tomorrow you’ll have to work harder.” He ruffled Manuel’s brunette curls and stepped to the screen.

  Ryan hustled up the steps. His hot fingers skimmed her face. The contact broke her dumbfounded trance on her brother-in-law and the boy. She nearly fell into Ryan’s embrace, burrowing against his chest. Piper clung to the fabric of his shirt for dear life, absorbing his strength and reassurance.

  “More and more complicated,” Matt said. He held the door open and wiggled a brow at her.

  “You have no idea,” Ryan countered.

  27

  “Santa María, Madre de Dios.” Gabriella marked herself with the sign of the cross. “Such bravery.”

  “I’m going to vote stupidity.” The parenthesis on either side of Matthew’s mouth deepened. His jaw sawed and his eyes glistened. “I can’t believe you did all that for me.” He ran a hand over his face, held his breath for a minute, and then blew it out. “Thank you.”

  Piper nodded to keep from crying again.

  The four of them sat on the veranda in a semi-circle, her and Ryan side-by-side facing the unseen vines. Matt and Gabriella faced each other at opposite ends of a coffee table. Señor Varrera, the old man whose family had owned the farm for five generations, and Manuel had long since gone to bed. On the short table between them stood four fat mugs, and a tray holding a pitcher of water and four glasses.

  Matt collected his unshed emotions. Suddenly exhausted, Piper relaxed against the cushy chair back. Collectively they took a break from the heavy stuff, looking out into the night. Stars sparkled. Crickets chirped.