Rude Awakening

by Veronica Chadwick

  The ropes were just tied too tightly, but she kept tugging, twisting. She couldn’t just give up, lie there and wait for them to do what they wanted to with her. Anger and adrenaline pumped through her body, making her hot and sweaty, dizzy and sick.

  As quietly as possible she shifted and the cell phone slid against her leg in her loose pants. Biting her lip she lifted her hips, wiggled and squirmed until the cell fell out of her pocket with a soft thud onto the carpeted van floor.

  Frantically she shifted again, patting the ground until her fingers found it. Relief flooded through her as she flipped open her cell phone and ran her thumb over the buttons, picturing them in her mind as she fought to focus, to breath through the nausea, fear, and the pain. The soft tone that redialed Lucas went undetected.

  “Jaimee!” She closed her eyes and nearly sobbed at the sound of Lucas’s voice. She twisted again and pushed the phone against the side panel of the vehicle beside what felt like the wheel well and prayed they didn’t hear him. Prayed that somehow he could track her with just being connected. Prayed that the call wouldn’t drop.

  The bag over her face, though it was some sort of cloth, completely blinded her to any light whatsoever. In addition, she had trouble breathing. She concentrated on taking shallow breaths as she continued to work on getting her wrists free of the rope and fought against the pull into unconsciousness.

  Jaimee had no concept of how long she lay there trying to work her hands from the ropes. It seemed like forever but the dizziness and disorientation was making it difficult. The nausea had faded but the headache was relentless. She tried not to think about what was about to happen. It was frustrating, infuriating. Maybe most of her life had been dull and insignificant but it was still worth more than this. The life of her unborn child, her own personal miracle, was priceless. She’d do whatever she had to do to protect that precious life.

  When the car stopped and the engine died she had to swallow the rise of panic that threatened to swamp her senses. Stay calm, stay alert, stay alive, she chanted in her brain. Once again she found herself turning to prayer for her baby, Lucas’s baby. This was crazy. What could they possibly hope to gain from her anyway? Other than that day planner, she had nothing. And she didn’t even have that anymore.

  A yelp escaped her dry throat when the back hatch door finally popped open and rough hands grabbed her bound ankles and quickly dragged her downward. They released her legs only to grab the neckline of her blouse and yank her to standing before they pulled the stuffy bag from her head. Gasping the fresh, oxygen-rich air, she shook her head to get the hair out of her face. Trying to ignore the pain throbbing at her temple she glared up at Ronald and his oafish accomplice.

  “Awake, Jaimee?” Ronald taunted as he jerked her up against him. She swayed on her still-bound feet, trying to find balance. She gritted her teeth against the rage, the humiliation and the fear. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

  She scowled at him in disgust. “What do you hope to accomplish by kidnapping me?”

  “Even tied up and helpless you’re a condescending bitch.”

  “I’m not condescending, Ron, you’re just stupid.”

  Ronald’s mocking smile faltered seconds before he delivered the blow to her abdomen.

  Jaimee doubled over, heaved and struggled to breathe through her nose as the tears stung her eyes and fear dug its jagged claws into her heart.

  “Clever girl.” Lucas pressed mute on his cell and listened to Jaimee’s labored breathing. She was frightened but strong and smart. He was so fucking proud of her.

  Making the necessary calls was easy enough. The Hostage Rescue Team was mobilized. The HRT was made up of the sniper, react and assault team. The Pope, part of the react team, had quickly informed him that he had her on that psychic radar of his. They were headed east into a very rural part of Wilson County. Lucas listened.

  Lucas frowned when the sounds changed, the engine died. Muffled voices, he couldn’t make out words but he heard Jaimee’s voice followed by her cry of pain, her moan. He clenched his teeth to near cracking, his body tensing further as he drove faster, moving ever closer to her. Fucking Ronald would pay dearly for that.

  The team was assembled to extract the hostage safe and sound, neutralize Marshall and his men, if at all possible, and bring them in for interrogation. For Lucas, the objective was rescue Jaimee, protect Jaimee at all costs. He had sense enough to know that kind of single mindedness could jeopardize more than the mission. It could ultimately mean Jaimee’s life. How ironic.

  No, Edward Zachary was the objective. Ronald Marshall and all of the lesser minions were a means to the objective. So Lucas would harness the rage and thirst for vengeance until the job was done and Jaimee was safe again.

  Yeah, that speech sounded really nice, crisp and logical. But if Jaimee was hurt all bets were off. He loved her madly even if a man without a heart or soul wasn’t supposed to possess that particular capability.

  All the things he’d done, believing the ends justified the means whatever those means might entail, weighed on him now. Without Jaimee the weight of it all would crush him, grind him to dust. Ah, but Jaimee was light and home and goodness. Her smile made him believe nothing was impossible. He could feel her inside him, in every cell of his being and it made him better. She was his heart.

  “Easy, Grayson.” The Pope’s quiet voice coming through his earpiece didn’t have the intended calming effect. Fuck that. Easy was not how this was going to go down.

  “We have a visual. Looks to be a farmhouse. Old barn in back. Blue Suburban parked in front of the barn,” Samson reported.

  Lucas saw the farm as he crested the rise. He pulled off the road and parked out of sight in a wooded area over the rise. He hoofed it from there, making his way through trees until he was past the farmhouse and finally sprinted to the rundown barn.

  “Zachary in there?” He spoke quietly as he pulled the pistol from the waistband of his jeans.

  “Don’t have a visual yet…,” Robinson answered. “We’re still…”

  “Negative.” The Pope interrupted.

  “You got a visual, MP?”

  “Negative.” The Pope answered matter-of-fact.

  Just another instance of The Pope knowing things. Sometimes. Sometimes he didn’t know anything more than they did, but in those cases he would say nothing. If he had something to say, however, they all knew his word was golden and they’d learned questioning what he called his “spiritual gift” was pointless.

  “Got three inside including one hostage. Hostage is in bad shape,” an agent whispered.

  Lucas went cold as he drew up against the west side of the barn. “Define bad shape.”

  “Beat up, bloody. The dude looks unconscious from here. Tied to a post. Looks like they worked him over good.”

  “Dude?” Relief flooded his body.

  “It’s Brent Turner, Grayson,” Samson answered.

  “Don’t see Ms. Turner,” replied another agent.

  “There are two men bringing Ms. Turner through the front now.” The Pope spoke low and confident. “Snipers in place.” There were two snipers who had no compunction about pulling the trigger. One shot, one kill.

  Lucas was agent-in-charge. The Pope and Robinson were react. The react team would make sure none of the bad guys got away. Robinson was also known for excellent negotiating skills if there became a need for them. Then again, The Pope was known to be on an assault from time to time if needed. The man was huge. Samson and the two men Lucas didn’t know were assault, basically the bulldozers. Once everyone was in place, it would go down fast.

  Lucas moved slowly to the front of the barn and watched through a crack between two ancient wood planks as Ronald and another goon tied Jaimee to the thick center post beside Brent, away from Lucas’s view. Brent didn’t lift his head but Lucas could see his lips moving. He had a strong urge just to blow the fucker away for putting Jaimee in this situation. Then again, in a sick,
twisted way the piece of shit was the reason he found Jaimee in the first place. Too fucking ironic.

  “Grayson. Sounds like they’re trying to get Zachary out here.”

  “Good. Be ready to move but let’s wait it out and see if he shows. Keep an eye on the two at the post,” Lucas instructed as he watched Brent talk, Jaimee react.

  “We won’t let them hurt Jaimee, Grayson.”

  She could feel Brent watching her from hooded eyes as they roughly brought her arms in front of her to retie them tighter. She rubbed at her stomach, concentrating on the soreness there, wishing somehow that she could tell if baby was okay after the blow Ronald dealt her. Maybe it was okay, probably it was okay. God, please let it be okay.

  Her breath left her lungs in a rush as another man shoved her hard against the thick post beside Brent and began tying her to it.

  “I shouldn’t have come back for you. It’s all your fault, Jaimee,” Brent whispered to her without lifting his head.

  “This was a mess of your own making, Brent. I had nothing to do with this,” she hissed through her teeth.

  “You didn’t know. You’re just a whore.” It wasn’t as though he hadn’t implied that he thought that of her before. To Brent any woman who was interested in sex was a whore. She’d never realized before how whiney Brent’s voice was. Couldn’t he just shut up? Jaimee grimaced against the frustration.

  “Are you pregnant?” Pain was clear in his hoarse murmur.

  “What?” She breathed after a pause and shifted to hear him better.

  “You keep rubbing your stomach. You could be, you know. You’ve been screwin’ around. I saw you with him.”

  The headache pounding at her temples rose in tempo as she tried to assimilate the meaning of his nonsensical babbling. “What are you talking about?”

  “You wouldn’t let up. I had to do something. I didn’t want kids. I never wanted kids. They’re a liability. They cost too much. But you wouldn’t stop.”

  Jaimee scanned the men standing several feet away discussing what would become of her and Brent. She swallowed hard then asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew. “What did you do?’

  “I had a vasectomy. Soon after we were married. Then I paid your doctor to lie. That’s what I did. There was no other way to get you to stop. All you could think about was having sex. Having babies. I wanted more than that, Jaimee. I could have been somebody. We, we could have been powerful and respected…”

  She quit listening to his self-important tirade. He would have never been anything but the slimy weasel he’d become. So she was never unable to conceive. The whole time, the pain and sadness she went through, it was all because of his greed. “Why did you marry me?”

  Brent sighed. “Because I loved you, Jaimee.”

  Jaimee shook her head. “You don’t know anything about love, Brent. You only love yourself.”

  Brent’s reply was cut off when Ronald cursed viciously and hurled his cell phone. “Son of a bitch!” he roared. His face was livid red. “He’s not coming.”

  Jaimee held her breath as he snatched a pistol from one of the other men. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he lifted the gun, cocked it and pointed it at Brent’s forehead. “Then we don’t fuckin’ need him anymore.”

  The gunshot exploded and shook Jaimee to her core. Brent’s blood splattered over the side of her face. The whimper that escaped her throat didn’t seem as though it came from her. Trembling, she closed her eyes. Waiting for her turn. Thinking of Lucas.

  “I’m not gonna kill you yet, Jaimee. Open your eyes,” Ronald snarled. Slowly, Jaimee did as she was told. Ronald stood before her and pushed the gun into her chest, between her breasts. “It seems my boss isn’t interested in hostages. He just wants one thing. You have that one thing.” Slowly he drew an icy line around her left breast to stop at the pulsing artery at her throat. “Where is the fuckin’ day planner?”

  Jaimee didn’t even try to hide her fear. Would it really do any good to try and buy time? She swallowed hard before answering. “I don’t have it.”

  Ronald’s face went red, his nostrils flared, his lips peeled back in a vicious snarl before he backhanded her so hard she would have fallen if she weren’t tied to the post. “Stupid lying bitch!” he screamed, just centimeters from her face.

  The metallic taste of blood was making her seriously nauseous and surprisingly furious. “If I did have it, why would I give the thing to you?”

  “Because I have the power to let you live.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re too desperate. Someone’s got you by the balls, Ron. Looks like you’re the stupid bitch.” The way her voice shook belied the bravado of her words. Still she couldn’t seem to hold her tongue. What was the point?

  This time when he backhanded her it didn’t seem to hurt as bad. Maybe her cheek was numb. Maybe it was the anger pumping through her veins. He was gonna do what he was gonna do but she wasn’t gonna make it easy for him. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her pain or fear either. However, it might not have been her smartest move, goading him like that, being that he was insane and all. Her head swam as meaty fingers clamped over her chin. Ronald leaned in and sneered, she could feel his breath on her and nearly heaved. “It’s gonna be a long time before I let you die, honey.”

  A flurry of movement behind Ronald caught Jaimee’s attention seconds before it caught Ronald’s. He had her untied, flipped around and yanked up against him before she could register what was happening. When she lifted her eyes her heart leapt. Lucas was standing before them. His feet spread apart in combat stance, body tense, pistol raised pointing at them, at Ronald. His eyes were hard, his expression deadly.

  There were men behind him standing over Ronald’s goons, who were now somehow hand cuffed and lying face down.

  The man from the bar, the bouncer, Adrian Robinson, he had Ronald’s phone. “Damning evidence here, Ron, my man.” His lips quirked, but his eyes were as hard and cold as Lucas’s. “Let her go, we’ll negotiate.”

  Ronald’s arm banded across Jaimee’s ribs tightened. Jaimee gasped, trying to breathe. “No. No.” He panicked. “There’s nothing to negotiate.”

  “Look, Ron, Zachary left you high and dry, man. Didn’t you do everything in your power to make everything right after Turner screwed y’all? Did he give you any credit whatsoever for that? Hell no, he didn’t.”

  “Stop it!” he screamed. “You can’t play me!”

  With his weapon still in his hand Adrian put his hands on his hips and sighed as he looked down and shook his head. “Man, I am so not trying to play you right now. Do you see this man standing next to me?” He lifted just his eyes and nodded toward Lucas. “That dude wants nothing more than to watch you bleed. Now you and I can prevent that with one simple agreement.” He paused, lifting his head, waiting.

  Ronald didn’t say anything, he shifted from one foot to the other. His eyes darted back and forth between Adrian and Lucas. He stank of sweat and fear. Jaimee swallowed her need to heave and glanced at Lucas. His whole body was pulled tight, ready to react, but not rigid. She wanted to hold him more than anything at that moment. Tell him she loved him and that she loved the baby he’d given her and beg him not to walk away from her. The barrel of Ronald’s pistol jabbed her in the head again and she winced. That is, if she lived through this. “What happens if I give up?”

  “Well one, you get to live. Two, we’ll take you in for questioning and you’ll tell us everything you know about The Collective and Edward Zachary. And three, we’ll make you a sweet deal.”

  Ronald was shaking. Or was that her? “How sweet?”

  Adrian shrugged, his expression unconcerned. Jaimee knew by the intense glow of his green eyes that wasn’t true. “You’ll do time, I can’t get you out of that. But, you won’t get gassed. We’ll keep you safe from Zachary, and there’s a good chance we can get you a lenient sentence with a parole option.”

  Ronald shook his head vigorously. His body odor, cou
pled with the smell of blood and death, was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Not good enough. I want to walk and I want Witness Protection.”

  Adrian sucked in air through his teeth and affected an expression of skepticism. “I don’t know, dude. You killed a guy and that’s just the one we witnessed.” Adrian motioned to Jaimee with his pistol. “On top of that, you kidnapped and hurt this lady pretty badly. That’s his woman.” He tilted his head toward Lucas. “He ain’t happy about that and he wants you to pay.”

  “No!” He screamed in her ear. Jaimee took a deep breath through her mouth and tasted salt. It was then she realized tears were streaming down her face. His woman. She shook her head slightly. “Witness Protection or I blow her away. I have nothing more to lose. Do you understand me?”

  Lucas leaned over and whispered something to Adrian; he straightened and cleared his throat. “Witness Protection is a long shot, man. I can’t make it happen whether you kill her or not. We can negotiate. You turn on Zachary and you’ll probably end up doing very little time if any. But come on, Ron, you gotta help us out here.”

  Ronald shifted from one foot to another again. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  Adrian narrowed his eyes and took a step closer. Ronald tightened his grip on Jaimee and pressed the gun harder against her temple. A whimper escaped her lips. She didn’t mean to. She wanted to be tough, but she was losing the battle quickly.

  “Do not piss me the fuck off, asshole. I’m tired of playing around with you. There are two snipers with their sites on your forehead right this fucking minute. And Grayson here is getting antsy. We don’t want to kill you, because frankly, you’re just eat up with information we really need. However, I’m done playing nice. Now let her go and we’ll make sure you’re safe from any fallout from Zachary. Hell, I’ll even check into the goddamn Witness Protection Program for you. Otherwise we’re gonna blow you the fuck away before your finger ever gets the message from your pea brain to pull that trigger.”