Give and Take (Ties That Bind Book 1)

by Claire Cullen

  "Just kissing," he murmured, feeling Drew nod against him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Drew wanted to pay no heed to the hand on his shoulder and the voice calling to him. It was too early, he knew that much.

  “Still sleeping,” he mumbled.

  “I can see that,” a soft voice joked in his ear, “since you’re using my arm as a pillow. But we’ve got a long journey ahead of us. Time to get on the road, Drew.”

  As much as he wanted to, it was hard to ignore that voice. Blinking his eyes open, he turned over, meeting Sam’s alert eyes. “How are you so awake this early?”

  “Years of practice,” Sam replied dryly. “Come on, up and at ‘em.”

  “Ten more minutes?” he asked, stretching and yawning.

  Sam’s fingers tickled under his arm and he jumped, shoving him away. “What am I, five?”

  “I don’t know, sleepyhead, are you? Come on, you can snooze in the car.”

  Grumbling, he got up and trudged across to the bathroom. By the time he had washed his hands and splashed water across his face, he'd woken up a bit. Sam had both beds made and was sitting by the door, the backpack next to him.

  When he caught sight of Drew, he smiled. “Come on, we’ll stop for coffee at the first place we find. It’ll help.”

  “Another hour of sleep would help,” Drew pointed out. “But I guess we have places to be.”

  “And promises to keep,” Sam added.

  “Mangling poetry this time,” Drew joked as they left. Sam returned the key while Drew stowed the backpack, and himself, in the car. The ground was still wet from the overnight rain but the early morning sun was bright and he suspected it would warm up quickly. They’d be riding with the windows down.

  Sam got into the driver's seat and they left.

  “About last night…” Sam started to say.

  “Thank you,” he interrupted, before Sam could say anything else. “I don’t think I’d have gotten back to sleep.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he added softly. “It could just be two people getting some comfort from one another, enjoying one another.” He didn’t want Sam to feel bad. “You didn’t need to do that. I asked you, pushed you.”

  “I wanted to. I’ve been itching to kiss you again since that first time.” Sam finally got a word in edge ways and it was Drew’s turn to fall silent.

  “So it’s not just me,” he said, when he recovered his voice.

  “No, not just you.”

  “And at least it’s not complicated,” he added, the sarcasm so thick it was cutting.

  It surprised a laugh from Sam.

  “Oh, hey. Coffee,” he said a moment later, and they turned off the road.

  They ate breakfast in the car, pulled into a lay-by. It was an odd medley of coffee, sausage rolls, and donuts.

  “Don’t you cops live on this stuff?” Drew joked between mouthfuls when Sam was grumbling about convenience food.

  “Not on the ETF we don’t. Have you ever seen me eat anything that’s not oatmeal or eggs for breakfast?”

  “Bacon, that one time,” Drew said.

  “That was lunch,” he corrected easily. “I’d been up since five.”

  “Yep, you’re the ultimate early riser. How you’re not mainlining coffee twenty-four seven, I don’t know.”

  “Speaking of coffee,” Sam said, taking a sip of his and grimacing. “What do you do to yours to make it so special?”

  Drew grinned. “That would be giving away trade secrets. They’d never let me work as a barista again. Oh, freedom.”

  “You’re not one of those hipster coffee people drawing love heart designs in the foam, are you?”

  He choked on his next mouthful and Sam reached over, patting him on the back.

  “I’m no hipster. I also don’t have a single artistic bone in my body. I did try, but even the simple stuff, like smiley faces, wound up looking like scary clown faces. Customers complained.”

  “I thought they used stencils for that stuff, not free hand.”

  “Oh, I did,” he replied, punching Sam lightly in the arm when the other man laughed. Their lighthearted conversation was a nice contrast to their recent sharing of stories.

  All too soon they were back on the road, Drew checking the map and tuning in a local radio station for news and weather forecasts.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” he asked around midday.

  “No, I’m good. It would be a real shame if we were pulled over this close to our destination.”

  “Hey! I’m not that bad a driver,” he jokingly protested, while glancing quickly behind them in case Sam’s worry about a traffic stop was more of a prediction.

  “The road’s mostly clear,” Sam reassured him. “I haven’t seen anyone acting suspicious or tailing us.”

  “That’s good.” He peered out the window, watching a field of cattle. Half the herd seemed to be lying on the grass. More rain on the way, he guessed. “I hope Diego’s there.”

  “Do you have another way to contact him if he’s not?”

  “I could try that email again. But he probably wiped it after what I sent through. Even more likely with Russell knowing I’d sent it and probably sending someone sniffing around to find out who it belonged to.”

  “But you don’t think he’d have found him?”

  “Diego’s too careful.” That was something he was sure of.

  “And you’re sure we won’t be walking in on a property mined and booby-trapped, with Diego armed to the hilt?”

  The first time Sam had asked, Drew had laughed for a full five minutes. Even now Sam’s words brought a grin to his face.

  “Like I told you, we’re a hundred times more likely to find him locked in an impenetrable bunker. Diego’s only a warrior when you put him behind a keyboard.”

  “Have many times have you two met?”

  “Just twice. At conventions, lots of people around. We mostly kept in touch online.”

  He knew it seemed strange to Sam, who was used to forming bonds by being in close-contact, stressful situations, and not through the anonymity of the internet.

  “I trust him,” he added.

  “I know,” Sam replied. “You’d never have sent him the information if you didn’t think he knew what he was doing.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They passed a sign for the company Drew had said was based nearby.

  “At least we know we’re on the right track,” he said.

  The roads became less like roads and more like dirt tracks. Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, and he knew rain wasn’t far off. The flash of lightning in the distance had Drew jumping in his seat. It was another few seconds before the thunder reached them.

  “Don’t worry, a car is the safest place we could be. Faraday cage and all that.”

  “It’s not the storm,” Drew replied, his voice quiet. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  “Believe it. We’re almost there.”

  Except not quite, when they took a final turn and ran out of road. Ahead of them, the ground rose steadily into a rocky hill, scattered with trees and shrubs.

  “I guess we’re walking from here,” Sam said.

  They clambered out, Sam grabbing the backpack and slipping it onto his shoulders. Halfway up the hill, the skies opened. Within seconds they were both drenched and tracking through muddy ground. Overhead, lightning flashed and thunder roared, drowning out every other noise.

  Drew was a few feet ahead of him but on his next step, his foot went from under him and he went down, hard.

  “Drew!” Sam slipped a hand under his arm, giving him a chance to get to his feet. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” He made a face, wiping the mud from his hands on his jeans. “Just wet. And a little humiliated.”

  “Why? I was the only person around to see.”

  “Exactly. Brave, strong, special forces police officer watches me tri
p over my feet and fall in the mud.”

  “Hey.”

  Sam spun him around so they were face to face. “I need you calm and focused, okay? I don’t care that you fell, that you’re wet and muddy, as long as you’re not hurt. But I need your attention on where you’re placing your feet and not on trying not to look foolish. A sprained ankle and we’ll both we in trouble.”

  “You’re right,” Drew said. “I’m just on edge, I guess.” He was looking down and to the left, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he rubbed his hand against his pants leg.

  Sam cupped his cheek, urging his gaze up. “Me, too. We’re in this together, okay? Fingers-crossed, Diego is waiting for us over that hill with some towels and a nice hot cup of coffee.”

  “Diego always has coffee,” Drew said, brightening at that.

  “Then let's keep moving. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can dry off.”

  Rainwater was dripping from his hair, his nose, his chin. Shaking it off, feeling very much like a wet dog, he followed Drew who began to take tentative steps up the hill, placing his feet carefully. The going only got steeper and Drew slipped a second time, crashing backward into Sam. He managed to keep them both upright, but only just.

  When they finally reached the top of the hill, it didn’t illuminate their path any better. The sleeting rain meant they had little view of what lay in the valley below.

  Drew shielded his eyes and peered around, Sam doing likewise.

  “Over there,” Drew called suddenly, pointing. Sam glanced in that direction. In the distance was a structure, indistinct but it might have been a house.

  “I see it,” he shouted back, fighting to be heard over the storm. “Let’s go.”

  He led the way this time, feeling Drew was safer behind him. Drew stayed close, a constant presence at his back. As they reached the base of the hill and the ground leveled off, he got a better look at their destination. It was a house, with the look of a rustic cottage that you might expect out in the middle of the countryside. From what little Drew had told him about Diego, that wasn’t his style.

  “Do you think that’s it?” he asked.

  Drew looked all around them. “I don’t see anything else that looks habitable. And this is definitely where he told me I’d find him.”

  “Then let’s go say hi.”

  They trudged through the long grass, rain soaking its way up Sam’s leg and through his socks. It was easy enough to ignore while they were moving, but once they stopped moving, once the cold started to seep in, it would be less than pleasant.

  The closer they got to the cottage, the more Sam revised his initial impression. At a distance, it looked old and unpolished. But up close there was something that didn’t quite fit. The windows were too new and from the way the light was failing to reflect he guessed there was something behind them, maybe metal. Reinforcement? Bullet proofing? All possible and all the kind of thing to set alarm bells ringing.

  The ground they walked on didn’t raise any suspicions, it was reasonably flat with knee-high grass and scattered plants and mushrooms here and there. A flash of something from a nearby tree had him pause, reaching a hand back to still Drew.

  Drew froze, mimicking him. “What is it?”

  “The tree at ten o’clock.”

  Drew peered around his shoulder. “What about it?”

  “On the trunk, about two-thirds of the way up. There’s something there. I caught a flash of light.”

  “Might be a trail camera with a motion sensor. Given it’s pointed in our direction, that makes the most sense.”

  “Alright. So if it is, does Diego know we’re here?”

  “That depends on if the camera is connected to anything. I’m guessing it must be, because it’s too high up to be trying to film the wildlife.”

  Whoever was watching, was looking for animals of the human variety.

  “Then let’s get out of this rain and say hello,” Sam replied, giving a wave to the camera.

  He watched the house as they walked, and swept his eyes over the ground in front of them, one hand resting against his holster. Nothing and no one moved.

  “Diego?” Drew called as they neared. “It’s Drew, and I’ve brought a friend.”

  There was no answering call, so they kept moving, climbing up onto the porch.

  Sam knocked on the door, noting how it too wasn’t what you’d expect for a country cottage.

  “It’s reinforced steel. Multi-point locking mechanism,” he pointed out to Drew. “For when you don’t want unexpected visitors knocking down your door.”

  “Is it soundproofed as well or can he hear us banging?” Drew asked.

  “Can’t be sure from out here but I think he’d be hard pressed to ignore this,” he replied, hammering on the door.

  “We’ve got another camera,” Drew said, pointing to a corner above the door. Sam took a step back, so they were side by side.

  “Is it on?”

  “Hard to tell. There’s no light but that doesn’t mean much.”

  The rain continued to drench them, and Sam knew the clock had started ticking now they weren’t walking about. They either needed to get inside or get back to the car, dry out and warm-up.

  “I don’t think he’s here.” He voiced the words he knew Drew didn’t want to hear. “The grass around the house is completely undisturbed. The trail leading here from the road was overgrown enough that I’d guess a few months have passed since anyone walked them. I know you said Diego is resourceful and can probably lie low here for a long time, but I think we have to strongly consider the possibility that he moved on after your email.”

  “It was stupid to come,” Drew said, slamming his hand against the wall beside the door.

  “Hey, hey.” Sam grabbed a hold of his arm before he could punch the concrete wall a second time, spinning Drew around so they were face to face. “That’s not helping anyone. Take a deep breath and calm down. We need level heads. Both of us knew there was a chance Diego wasn’t going to be here. We took that risk, and it didn’t pay off. Now we move on and try to figure out—

  “Drew?” a voice said, startling them both, Sam’s hand going instinctively for his gun as he glanced all around them, searching for the source of the voice.

  “Diego?” Drew asked, doing likewise. There was no one there, the house still locked down, the surrounding area devoid of life.

  “Hey, Drew.” There was the slightest tinny quality to the voice that Sam picked up the second time around. Glancing at the door, then above it, he found the speaker grill, nudging Drew, and pointing to it.

  “Yeah, that’s where my voice is coming from, Sam,” the voice said, sounding tired.

  “How do you know my—”

  “I can hear you and see you,” he said shortly. “Drew, what are you doing there?”

  “It’s good to hear your voice, Diego,” Drew said, waving up at the camera. “Can we come in? I need to talk to you about that email I sent.”

  “Oh, yeah. That one was a doozy. I’ve dug up a little more since, not easy since that PC you emailed from was rarely connecting to the outside world. And hasn’t been connected since. Someone who knows the true meaning of privacy.”

  “Diego, I hate to hurry you, but could you let us in? It’s pouring rain and we’re drowning like rats out here. I’d really like to talk face to face.”

  “No can do, Drew. I’m not there, I’m here.”

  “Where’s here?” Sam asked.

  “The less you know the better. I can let you into the house though, hold on.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Drew, put your left thumb up to the camera.”

  “What?”

  “Left thumb in front of the camera lens.” Diego repeated the words impatiently and Drew did as Diego asked.

  “Closer, a little closer. Good, hold it there.” Another pause. “Got it. Now, press your thumb against the door handle. Make sure you’re touching the black strip.”

  Drew did as he wa
s told. A few seconds later there was an audible click, and he pressed down, the door swinging open beneath his hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was a relief to be in out of the rain even if they were stuck in a small square room with another locked door. The second door had a handle identical to the first, but when he tried it, it didn’t budge.

  “Um, Diego?” he asked. Sam was checking the room out with care, one hand still at his holster. It made him uneasy.

  “Consider this a sort of airlock. The second door won’t open if the first isn’t closed.”

  He went to shut it but Sam’s hand clamped down on his arm. “We don’t know that won’t lock us in here. I don’t like it.”

  “Your friend is a little paranoid,” Diego said, sounding bored now. “You could do with taking a leaf or two out of his book. Don’t worry, Sam. The front door will open with Drew’s thumbprint as long as the inner door is closed. You’ll have to trust me on that.”

  “I trust you,” Drew said immediately, shrugging his shoulders as Sam shook his head. “Sam, please. We came all this way. We need his help.

  “Fine,” Sam said at length, shutting the door, and turning to face the second.

  “The keypad on the side,” Diego’s disembodied voice called. “It’s a number code keyed to your thumbprint. The date of our second meeting.”

  Drew would have groaned, except he knew Diego would hear. “Enough of the cloak and dagger stuff, Di.” Still, he stepped up to it, keyed in the numbers. Six, four, sixteen, and pressed his thumb on the handle.

  There was another click, and the handle moved when he pressed down, the door opening inward.

  “You’ll need to close the door before anything works,” Diego pointed out. “Lights, heat. The door completes a circuit of sorts.”

  “When you said holed up in a bunker, you weren’t joking,” Sam said in an undertone, but he closed the door this time and the room began to light up slowly.