by Jordan Dane
After they got back into the helicopters and took off, Nikki had huddled with the rest and kept an eye out the window to look for city lights or distinguishing landmarks. But it never got light enough for her to see much. She had no doubt their escape had been well planned. They flew by night and through remote areas, making it harder for anyone to track their flight. And with each well-orchestrated move by her captors, she grew more depressed. These men had thought of everything, leaving her without hope of ever being rescued.
At dawn, they landed in another open field, with a shack on the property, a corrugated metal Quonset hut amidst rolling mountains that encircled a clearing. No power lines. No real roads. Only rutted dirt tracks. Nikki didn’t recognize any of it. She had no idea if they were even in the United States anymore. And with the noticeable temperature drop, she caught a chill as she followed the others to the only shelter within miles.
“Get them inside,” she heard the Russian tell one of the men. “Chain them together, except for the three. I want them on a separate leash.”
“We shouldn’t stay here long,” the second man cautioned, looking over his shoulder and along the horizon.
“Not planning on it, but we may be here for a day or two. I’m waiting for clearance for our next stops,” the Russian ordered. “Make sure they…”
Nikki didn’t hear anything else the Russian said. She got shoved inside with the others, and started to look for the darkest corner she could find. A moldy stench made it nearly impossible to breathe. And their movements echoed in the tin structure as the girls cowered together in smaller packs. Someone struck a match and lit a lamp, casting shadows and the smell of kerosene into the dank space. One man threw dusty, scratchy blankets at them, and some of the girls had begun to cough from the filth floating in the stale air.
But as Nikki found a spot to sit, one of her abductors grabbed her arm and hauled her to another corner, away from the others. She was handcuffed and chained to two other girls and given half a bottle of water to share. The others across the room got nothing.
She handed the water bottle to the girls chained beside her, allowing them to drink first. When it was Nikki’s turn, the youngest kid handed her the water and whispered, a girl by the name of Britney Webber who had a small heart-shaped birthmark on her chin.
“What’s happening? Why did they separate us?” Britney’s eyes glistened with tears in the dimly lit room.
Nikki shook her head in reply, too scared to speculate. Her lips quivered and the water bottle trembled in her hand as she drank. She’d been culled out with two others for a reason, a purpose she didn’t want to think about. She had hoped to get some sleep, but closing her eyes now was out of the question. After her failed attempt to escape with Jessica, she felt certain the Russian’s decision to isolate her had more to do with retribution than any treatment for good behavior.
The man had plans for her—something real special. And no amount of speculation would prepare her. No matter what she imagined, the Russian could conjure something much worse.
Nikki fought to keep from heaving the contents of her stomach. She shut her eyes tight and imagined hiding in the darkest corner of her closet back home. As she slowed her breathing, she almost smelled the light fragrance of her favorite perfume, and fought back tears with the memory. And she pretended to listen for the sounds of her mother’s footsteps up the stairs. In the not so distant past—a lifetime ago—having her mom outside her closed bedroom door would have angered her. But now she would give anything for such an intrusion. Thinking of her mom brought an undeniable lump to her throat.
And hearing Uncle Payton’s soft laughter would have warmed her heart—making her feel safe—until she realized that she’d never hear his voice again. That’s when she pictured him dying in the explosion, and the frightening images sent her over the edge. This time she didn’t hold back her tears. She couldn’t, even if she tried.
“Thanks for everything, Joe. I wish…” Payton stood at the doorway to his friend’s hospital room, searching for words that wouldn’t come. He finally settled on, “Sorry you got hurt.”
“Are you kidding me? When I get home, I’m gonna milk this bum leg for all it’s worth.” Joe grinned between grimaces as a male nurse named Julio slowly helped him into a wheelchair. But his smile quickly faded when he changed the subject. “I know you were out at the site this morning. Anything new?”
“No. Just a whole lot of nothing.” Payton shook his head and stared down the hall at nothing in particular, his mind filled with images of the last forty-eight hours.
Hours had blurred into days with nothing accomplished—one big lesson in futility.
Recovery crews had painstakingly sifted through the sparse remnants of the destroyed factory, looking for bodies with cadaver dogs and using other means, without results. He could only watch from a distance behind the police barrier. Sam had warned him that he’d be unable to get closer, but he had to be there when they found Nikki.
It didn’t feel right to leave her in the hands of strangers, even well-meaning ones. Payton supposed no news was good news, and a part of him wanted to find hope in that. But being more pragmatic, he had grown to believe no news only delayed the inevitable of knowing what had actually happened to Nikki.
“How’s Susannah?” Joe asked as Julio retrieved his overnight bag and packed his personal stuff.
Payton knew that for every hour of not knowing, Susannah paid an undeniable price. And by the grim look on Joe’s face, his friend knew it too.
“Not good.” Payton gritted his teeth, fending off the tension headache brewing behind his eyes. “I’m glad you’ll be there. She could use a friend.”
Susannah’s voice had sounded rough on the phone. With every call, Payton had found her more and more on edge as time dragged on without any news. At times, her words slurred and he knew she’d been drinking, but who was he to ask her to quit? She was alone. And with every stone turned aside in that pile of rubble, his sister came closer to confirming her worst fear.
He could only imagine what was happening from a distance. Being unable to console her left him feeling completely useless. Like when they had lost their parents, Susannah balled up in a cocoon of heartache, feeding off whatever was left inside her, giving up. If anyone reached out to help her, he knew she’d probably ignore them. It was her way of handling grief. This time, Payton wasn’t sure she could survive the ordeal.
And worrying about his sister had shoved his own feelings deeper.
“She’s not the only one who could use a friend.” Joe had a way of reading his mind that was downright spooky. “Keep in touch, son. Call me anytime. I mean it.”
“I will.” He nodded. “Promise.”
With Joe in Alaska, Payton knew he’d be losing a lifeline, but it was for the best. When his friend had asked to be sent home, Payton knew Joe had struggled with his decision. He’d explained that he didn’t want to be a burden in Chicago, with his bum leg, and taking care of Susannah seemed a worthier endeavor than holding a pity party for one. Payton couldn’t help but grin at his justification for leaving the lower forty-eight. Joe feeling sorry for himself was as likely to happen as pro athletes giving up the big bucks and major endorsement deals, to play only for the love of the game.
He stepped back from the door as Julio wheeled Joe into the hallway. “My car’s in visitor parking near the patient pickup area,” he told the male nurse.
“Not so fast. We’ve got a stop to make,” Joe interrupted. “When does the plane leave?”
“We’ve got a little over two hours before the charter takes off. Why?”
“Plenty of time.” The old man grinned and avoided Payton’s eyes. Instead, he stared ahead and directed the nurse with a wave of his hand. “Straight ahead, Julio, my friend.”
To Payton, he added, “I promised Jessie that she could see me off and that you’d take her home after. She’s being released today.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient?” Payton
narrowed his eyes at his friend.
“Yeah, I thought so.”
Jess had signed the last of her hospital release forms and finished packing her overnight bag when a nurse entered the room. Her name tag read LORENA, but she had heard others call her “Smitty.” The woman had a voice full of gristle and rolled a wheelchair into the room to haul her to the curb. Unruly short blond hair and sharp eyes tempered with humor gave character to the face of a woman dressed in a crisp white uniform with sensible shoes.
“No thanks. I can walk.”
Jess barely looked up, but stopped when she heard, “Sorry, honey. Hospital policy.” Lorena smirked, undaunted by Jess’s best grimace.
“You don’t understand. I’ve got friends coming to pick me up. I’ll be okay.” Jess forced a smile. “Save the wheels for someone who really needs ’em.”
“Glad to hear you’ve got friends, honey. We should all be so lucky. But I’ve never lost this argument and I don’t intend to start a losing streak today.” The nurse had a glint of amusement in her eyes, clearly enjoying Jess’s challenge.
“I wouldn’t argue with her, Jessie. Around here, Smitty’s got a reputation. They call her Nurse Ratched and she scares the hell out of me.”
In the doorway, Payton stood with arms crossed, behind his friend Joe, who sat in a wheelchair and was accompanied by a Hispanic male nurse. If Payton and his friend couldn’t buck the system, how did she stand a chance?
At the sound of Payton’s voice, the crusty nurse rolled her eyes and fought back a smile.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, young man.” She waggled a finger. “If you didn’t have such a cute tush, I might take offense and say póg mo thóin.”
Jess had heard the Gaelic phrase before and knew it meant “Kiss my arse.” She shook her head and grinned for real this time.
“Do you mind if I roll her out of here? I swear…” Payton made a quick cross over his heart. “…she won’t budge from the chair until she’s free of the building. Deal?”
“Only ’cause it’s you, Payton Archer.” The nurse heaved a sigh, pretending to be perturbed. “And I’m holding you to your word.”
The nurse clutched his hand in both of hers, and in a serious tone added, “We’re gonna miss you guys. Have a safe trip back to Alaska, Joe. And Payton? You and your family will be in my prayers.”
“Thanks, Smit. That means a lot.” He kissed her cheek and the woman blushed, giving Jess a glimpse of the young woman she used to be.
“Now go on. This place is for sick people.” The nurse shooed them out.
Complying with Smitty’s orders, Payton helped her into the wheelchair and pushed her down the corridor. When they got far enough away, Jess made her move.
“Is she looking?” Gaping over her shoulder, Jess shifted in her seat, trying to catch a glimpse of her nurse. “I’m blessed with two good legs that work. As soon as I get in the elevator, we’re ditching the wheels.”
“We’re doing no such thing, Ms. Beckett. I made a promise to Smitty, and I’m a man of my word…most days.” As he pushed her wheelchair, Payton held her down with a strong hand on her shoulder, not letting her up. “Don’t make me duct-tape you into this thing.”
“When he gets like this, it’s best to humor him.” Joe winked as he rolled alongside, pushed by his nurse. “Besides, he’s wicked with duct tape.”
“Who says he needs duct tape for that?” she muttered, and slumped into her seat.
When they got to Payton’s SUV rental, Joe had insisted Jess take the front passenger seat since he needed the backseat to put his leg up and stash his crutches. Jess had a sneaking suspicion Joe was playing matchmaker, but she didn’t know the man well enough to make that assumption.
At the airport, she got out and stretched her legs, unsure whether she should give Payton some time alone with his friend. But both men made her feel welcome to join them. When it came time for Payton to put Joe on the chartered plane, she was first to say good-bye, making sure Payton had plenty of one-on-one time with his friend. She sat in a chair across the small waiting room of the charter service, gazing out the window and flipping through dated magazines, pretending to ignore the two men within earshot.
“I noticed you left your gun case in the trunk,” Payton said to Joe. “I don’t think I’ll be needing them. Not anymore.”
Joe shrugged and fished a key to the case from his pocket. “So return them when you get home. No big deal.”
Payton took a deep breath and lowered his head. “Susannah…tell her how much I love her. And that I’ll call…”
The words coming out of his mouth sounded forced, as if he was avoiding a deeper underlying fear, that saying it aloud might make it real.
“I hate leaving you here, especially now,” Joe said. “But I’m no good to you like this. And Susannah will probably need someone there when—” He stopped himself.
“When we hear, I may need you to help me make arrangements…to bring Nikki home.” After a long moment, Payton hugged the man who stood with the help of crutches.
“I love you, old man.”
“I love you too, son.” Joe closed his eyes.
The two men held each other, sharing what couldn’t be captured in words. When Joe pulled from his arms, he wiped a tear from Payton’s face, an endearing gesture that seemed natural between them—something a father would do for a son.
Payton walked Joe out to the plane and helped him on board. He came back to the waiting room and stood next to her in silence, watching as the charter pulled away and later took off. For a moment Jess didn’t know if he remembered she was there at all. And although she tried not to read too much into the man, it was hard not to respect his open display of emotion for someone he loved like family. That much was very clear. And Payton made no excuses for his sentiment, nor did he make light of it like most men might.
When he was ready, Payton fixed his blue eyes on her and with his deep honeyed voice, smooth as Kentucky Bourbon, he said, “Now why don’t you tell me where you live?”
Jess knew she was reading way more than Payton’s sad eyes conveyed, but in the instant he focused on her, her world faded to bright white and the sounds of plane engines muffled to nothing. All she heard was the smooth drizzle of his voice. And she felt drawn to the warmth of his body, wanting nothing more than to feel her fingers on his skin and to explore the extent of his tan lines. But reality brought all her enticing images to a grinding halt.
“Yeah…right. Home.”
Images of the dump she called home flashed in her mind, especially after Lucas Baker added his decorator touches. If that wasn’t enough to deal with, Sam had reminded her that her car had been destroyed in the explosion. Plus, she remembered that the Russian had taken her Colt Python, and thanks to Baker, she didn’t even have a backup gun. Since she’d been chasing that not-so-dearly departed bastard and ignoring her pursuit of bounty, she had no cash flow. Marginal though it was, her life had taken a dive into the dumper.
But you ain’t the only one who’s got it rough, sweetheart, she reminded herself.
None of her troubles measured up to Payton and his sister’s. And by the expression on the man’s face, he sure looked as if he could use a friend. And maybe a little hope.
“Why don’t you let me drive, big guy? We need to talk.” Trying not to look too grim, she held out her hand, asking for the keys to the SUV. “But first, I’m hungry and you probably haven’t been eating. You trust me?”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. He simply complied by handing over his car keys and following her to the SUV.
Jess had no idea how he would take her suspicions regarding the blond mystery woman and an alternate scenario about the explosion, especially after she’d encouraged Payton to accept that Nikki had been a casualty. She hoped a public restaurant might temper his initial reaction and make him more willing to listen to her reasoning.
But no matter what happened, none of what she had to say would be easy for him to hea
r—especially if his niece were alive and in the hands of a cruel man. With no leads on how to find Nikki, they’d be as powerless as they were the night of the explosion. The Russian held all the cards, backed by a slick and elusive international organization.
They had nothing.
Innocuous mariachi music wafted from the overhead speakers on the outdoor patio of Jalisco Jim’s, a local dive near her neighborhood that had served them a sizzling platter of fajitas to share, along with all the fixings and two mugs of Dos Equis. Under a festive umbrella at a table bordered by a wrought-iron enclosure, she and Payton sat in the far corner of the patio, nearest the back parking lot.
As secluded as the spot was, they were still drawing attention from the other patrons, but she had to get him to consider her scenario of what might have happened the night of the explosion.
“Like you said the other day, if this blond woman got help for me, she would’ve done the same for Nikki if your niece was in the control room. This mystery woman would’ve pulled her out too.” Jessie narrowed her eyes. “Payton, don’t you see? You didn’t leave Nikki behind, because she wasn’t there by the time you found me. She couldn’t have been.”
“Then what happened to her?”
As soon as the question was out of his mouth, a look of dread swept over his face. She could have filled in the blanks for him, but she needed Payton to draw his own conclusions.
“Oh, God.” He fought to say the words. “Maybe those men didn’t leave Nikki behind either.”
Jess shivered with his realization. She reached for Payton’s hand and held it until he looked at her.
“We’re going to find her. I believe Nikki is alive, Payton, and we’ve got a shot at locating her.” She stared into his eyes. “I’ve seen enough proof that Globe Harvest and its obscene network really exists, and that Russian bastard went to great pains to blow up an abandoned textile plant. He wanted to bury the proof of his link to a larger organization, but not all of that proof got burned. We’re gonna find her.”