by Regan Black
The vacant farm house at the end of the dirt road had been a safe place an hour ago. Now it felt like a potential death trap. He’d chosen it based on Tisdale’s recommendation because he trusted the tech. His gaze darted from the house, to the ruined car, and back again.
He thought he saw a familiar face in the distance and wondered if his enhancements were failing him. Hallucinations had never been a problem during development, but there wasn’t another explanation for seeing the face of a man he knew was dead.
Matthew shook it off, worried that somehow, in his desperation to save the one woman who had mattered, he’d made a mistake and put them in more danger. With no small effort, he forced his racing thoughts into some sense of order. First up, confirm Renata’s condition. Then they could move to step two.
To his immense relief, not only was she basically where he’d ordered her to stay, she was alive and breathing.
That simple fact answered one question. The driver hadn’t been followed here by anyone batting cleanup from UI.
Ignoring the urge to simply stare at her face, so lovely and serene, he called her name, and cradled her cheek. She didn’t reply. Her closed eyelids didn’t so much as twitch. Damn it.
He couldn’t see any visible signs of significant injury, but she’d apparently gone into shock while he’d been jawing with the kidnapper. Her hands and feet were cold and clammy. He rubbed her hands between his, smearing dirt and camouflage paint across her smooth, dusky skin. His fingers caught on the ring on her hand. Looking closer, he realized it was the same ring he’d given her on what had turned into their last day together. He’d blown a big chunk of his savings on it, but who better to splurge on than the unattainable Italian beauty who didn’t want for anything? He couldn’t believe she still had it, much less wore it.
Swearing under his breath, he tossed the ghillie suit over her. As blankets went, it was appalling. If he was lucky, she’d wake up and start complaining about it. Slinging the strap of his rifle across his chest, he secured his pistol in the holster on his thigh, then carefully scooped her up into his arms.
Her limp body made his heart stutter. She was alive, he reminded himself, and he intended to keep her that way.
He double-timed it to the farm house, his rifle slapping against his hip with every stride. He didn’t want to run for fear of shaking her too much. The basic treatment for shock ran through his mind. He had to stabilize her temperature, elevate her feet. Observe her until she woke up.
Security was of equal importance. He might not have had a wealth of choices in the short timeframe, but he’d accepted the gift of this place because he could work with it.
Nothing had changed. Not really. He’d been giving this problem all of his attention and he could still make this work.
He backed in through the wide door of the barn behind the house rather than shelter in the house itself. There had been no sign of life before Matthew had arrived to check out the property, and still he opted for the rough living quarters in the barn instead of any room in the house.
Easier to defend with fewer places for an enemy to hide, better exit options, and closer to his car. He refused to give anyone working against them a shot at tampering with the car or impeding their escape. He didn’t have any illusions that they would have to move – and quickly.
Not just because of the weather, the cold front rolling their way was the least of his worries. He needed to find a solution before anyone realized she was still alive.
Chapter Five
Renata’s stomach woke her with a hungry rumble, but she kept her eyes closed until she had a better understanding of her situation.
Not in the trunk anymore. Too quiet. Too much air. Her stomach gurgled again as an aromatic scent tickled her nose. She dared to peer out from under her lashes to find herself lying on her side, wrapped snugly in a blanket. The blindfold gone, relief washed over her in waves. She could see the room wasn’t dark and a soft glow cast shadows across what appeared to be a paneled wall. From her restricted view, she couldn’t see anyone else, but she could hear soft footfalls of someone behind her.
She felt a light pressure on her wrists. The bindings were gone, replaced with bandages, she discovered with a subtle movement of her fingers. But this place didn’t have the antiseptic smell of a hospital, too earthy and just a little stale.
She’d been rescued. Hopefully. Whoever controlled her fate now was a vast improvement.
Trying to piece it together only frustrated her. Her mind was a jumble, the recent memories disjointed and intertwined with the past as well as a full slice of fantasy. Matthew couldn’t have been here, he had surely been a figment of her desperate imagination.
She shifted on what felt like a narrow cot, loosening the blankets tucked against her legs. No point pretending to be asleep any longer. The sooner she had a good look at her surroundings, the sooner she could devise a way out.
“Hang on, not so fast.”
The familiar voice did her no favors and she pressed her fingertips to her temples. Couldn’t be him. She must be hallucinating. Again.
The cot creaked as he sat beside her and draped an arm gently across her shoulders.
“Take your time,” he said. “You’ve been through an ordeal.”
“Matthew.” She whispered his name and realized it wasn’t all a nightmare. “I jumped out of a trunk?”
“Like a champ,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And you’ll have the bruises to prove it.”
“You were there. You saved me.”
“I was there, just in time to see you save yourself.”
“But you’re dead.”
“Not exactly.” He cleared his throat and she felt the tension in his body as he stood up and drew the blanket over her shoulders. “I was supposed to be and if we don’t handle this carefully, neither one of us will survive for long.”
She looked around, her eyes acclimating and her head clearing. “We’re in a barn?”
“Only until you’re well enough to travel or –”
She waited, but he didn’t seem inclined to finish the thought.
“Soup?” he asked instead. “From a can but –”
“Yes, please.” Her nerves ramped up in response to his. Why did he feel the need to justify the conditions? She didn’t care where they were, as long as they were safe. “I don’t think I’ve had much to eat lately.”
“That’s a safe bet.”
“Who sent you to rescue me?” And how had anyone determined she was gone? “What day is it?”
He checked his watch. “Tuesday. December thirty-first.”
Her flight to Madrid, that dreadful interrupted walk down the jet way, had been over a week ago. Her appointment with the historian in Spain was long gone. The recluse would never take her call again.
“What is all of this about?” If she’d been ransomed, her family must have paid it. But they, like her, had mourned the death of the man in front of her. They wouldn’t have contacted him. How did Matthew factor into this?
A chill skittered along her nape as her mind offered up a distasteful answer. Matthew had been a Marine and his premature death had obviously been faked somehow. She knew there were researchers who used young men as guinea pigs, who arranged for people to disappear if necessary. The thought of Matthew caught in such a scheme made her head ache as her heart clutched. Oh, there had to be another explanation.
He pressed a mug of vegetable soup into her hands. “Stop thinking,” he said. “Eat first.”
More questions collided like bumper cars in her mind and, unable to sort out which ones were most important, she took his advice and spooned hot soup into her mouth.
The thin broth and tender vegetables might as well have been Uncle Torry’s famous lasagna, it tasted so satisfying to her long-denied taste buds.
“More?” he asked when she tipped her mug to pour the last of the broth into her mouth.
“Please?”
“As long as you’re
not queasy.”
“Not a bit.” Not over the soup anyway. She glanced around and decided this must have once been an office of sorts. The sparse furnishings and soft light from the lantern felt cozy after the endless darkness while she’d been confined to that chair.
“Where are we?”
“We’re still in New York.”
It didn’t sound at all like the city. “The state you mean.”
“Yes.” He sat down on the floor, facing her, those long legs outstretched. “We’re a few hours away from the city.”
Her stomach, so long without solid food, filled up more quickly than she anticipated. She used her spoon to push chunks of carrot around her mug while she organized her thoughts. “What happened to me?”
She didn’t like how he avoided her gaze, turning his attention to his mug of soup. “Matthew, talk to me, please.” Her heart did a happy flip when his sandy eyebrows furrowed in a familiar scowl. “Maybe I should be asking what happened to you.”
“No.” He looked up at her and shook his head. “Please don’t do that.” He set his soup aside and leaned back on his hands.
The move reminded her of a springtime picnic they’d shared in Central Park. Before he’d supposedly died. They’d shared champagne over delicious brie with fruit and crackers while practicing their French conversational skills. One of her fondest memories of him, of their time together, was the way they played with various languages.
For a moment she didn’t care how they’d both wound up in this cramped office. Her heart was all too willing to cast aside the years of hurt and celebrate being reunited. Anger that she’d suffered and grieved warred with joy that he was alive and well. “Is there any water?”
“By your foot.”
She glanced down, relieved he hadn’t come close enough to hand it to her. It was a little thing, but he seemed to understand her need to do for herself. Shrugging the blanket off her shoulders, she picked up the bottle, twisted off the cap and sipped cautiously.
“Looks like they kept you going with IV fluids,” he observed.
She cursed her lack of memory, not recalling anything like that, but the marks at the inside of her elbow provided convincing evidence. “Maybe they just kept me drugged.”
“Probably a combination.”
“I only remember the one needle right here.” She pushed her hair back from her neck and showed him. “I’d been shouting for help and someone got tired of it I guess.”
There was pride in his deep blue eyes. “Good for you.”
“Taking a needle in my neck should be considered an accomplishment?”
“In some respects, sure,” he said lightly, “but I meant the shouting.” His eyes narrowed with anger. “Your captor was a coward.”
“How –” She had to clear the lump of terror from her throat. “How do you know my captor?”
“We met briefly after an exchange of gunfire.”
“He drove me out here?”
“To sell you to me.”
A sharp, freezing pulse lanced through her system. He said it so casually, as if he bought stray women on a regular basis. Maybe he did. She didn’t know anything about him. He could be anyone now, have changed or been changed by any number of circumstances.
“You’re pale. Do you need to lie down again?”
“No. Of course not.” She needed to find an escape. At the very least, she needed to determine if he was a threat or salvation. “What about you? You must have been on watch for hours.”
“I’m fine.” He smiled gently. “Marines are tough, remember?”
She remembered that smile, the way it had warmed her when she thought love would be enough to keep them together forever. Looking away, she fiddled with the frayed stitches running along the edge of the blanket. Her thin blouse was no match for the cool air, but she didn’t care. She needed to feel, her body craved every sensation, rediscovering how to react and adapt and accept her newfound freedom. Assuming she was free.
“Renata? Do you remember anything else?”
“Nothing I’d call useful.” She pushed a hand through her hair, caught him tracking the movement. “One minute I was walking down the jet way to board my plane and the next I was tied to a chair, blindfolded and alone.”
“No voices? No one said anything to you?”
She shook her head.
“You don’t remember anything about leaving the airport?”
“No. Logically, I knew I’d been drugged.” She sipped at the water, grateful. “We’re taught how to fight back, how to prevent being taken, but I didn’t have a chance to resist.”
“Where were you headed?”
“Madrid,” she replied, but she had the sinking feeling he already knew that. “Are you testing me?” Suddenly indignant, her temper flared. “I’m the victim.” And she didn’t want to compound the bizarre situation by making a mistake and trusting Matthew based solely on her old feelings.
Soon she’d be an unemployed victim. This security breach would, by necessity, bump her right out of a job. She drew her feet up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. “How are you tied into my problems?”
She didn’t like the way he hesitated before answering her.
“The kidnapper was working under the order of a man who was taken into custody a few days ago by my boss.”
Boss. Not commander or even C.O. Matthew had obviously parted from his beloved Marine Corps. It added to her mountain of worry and uncertainty. “Who is your boss?”
“That isn’t something you should know.”
She pinned him with a sharp look. He had no idea about her security clearance, the people she’d met, chatted with, or the bigger responsibility she’d taken on. It shouldn’t matter that his ignorance protected him, but it did. She sat up straight, ignoring her aching limbs. “The best course of action is to go back to my apartment. Then I can make contact with my boss and report this incident properly.”
“Wouldn’t a proper report be handled better in person at the embassy?”
Curse him for knowing that. “I’d rather speak with my boss first.” And she needed to see if anything had gone missing from her apartment. Unlikely, but necessary. “No one interrogated me. I think it’s better not to make a scene just yet. Can we go now?”
“No. The trip to your apartment is impossible.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Your apartment was broken into and sustained minor smoke damage.”
“Someone looted my apartment during a fire?”
His gaze narrowed, assessing her reaction. “No,” he said slowly. “Smoke and flash-bang grenades were employed during a robbery. You know what those are?”
“Of course,” she snapped. Worse, she knew what kind of people employed those tools and tactics. Divert, distract, and get away with something no one knows about. She gulped in air. “Who ordered my kidnapping?”
“Jeremy Galloway.”
She stared at Matthew, baffled, unable to come up with a coherent reply. “That makes no sense,” she managed. “We went out a few times. Why on earth would he have me kidnapped?”
“More than a few,” Matthew muttered. “I was hoping you’d have some idea why he targeted you.”
“No. If Jeremy was behind my kidnapping, he would have made himself known to me. His pride knows no bounds. He gloats. He preens for God’s sake.” The man took longer to dress for a date than she did. “There’s no reason for him to do this. I assure you, if he’d gotten the better of me – for any reason – he would have told me himself.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Matthew rolled to his feet, gathering up the soup mugs. “Regardless, it’s true.”
“Because a kidnapper told you?” She turned to watch him. “Oh, I’m sure he’s a paragon of truth.”
“No.” Matthew scowled again as he rinsed the mugs in the sink in the adjoining bathroom. “Galloway admitted arranging the deal.”
It was so easy to fall into the old pattern of trust, b
ut somehow Matthew knew things a previously dead Marine shouldn’t know. “Does my family know about Galloway or… or any of this? Do they know about you?” Finally, she aired the real question nagging her.
He shook his head. “As far as I can tell, the only person who knows something is off with your holiday plans is your cousin Selena. Galloway showed her pictures of you confined to get her to cooperate with him.”
Renata’s stomach dropped as the implications sank in. “Is she okay?” A lump formed in her throat. “What did he force her to do?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I got the impression she was to retrieve something from your apartment and exchange that item for you.”
She paced the length of the small space. How much to reveal to a man she didn’t know and shouldn’t trust? “No. Selena couldn’t have been the robber,” she protested. But her cousin would do just about anything for the sake of family. “The grenade angle rules her out,” Renata continued. “She owns a gallery not a militia supply store.” She turned on her heel when Matthew cleared his throat. “What?”
“Galloway was apprehended at her gallery. He was there expecting to take possession of the item in question.”
Renata didn’t want to believe Selena would agree to such an outrageous demand. Surely her cousin would have called in some sort of back up. She sat on the cot once more, rubbing her temples while she tried to make the pieces fit together. “She told you that?” She studied Matthew’s face, the way he moved, and the errant wish that life hadn’t torn them apart drifted through her mind.
“No. I haven’t spoken with her.”
“Then how do you know any of this?”
His shuttered gaze closed her out. She’d always been able to read him, or more likely, he’d always allowed her to do so. Time gone and secrets be damned, this change in him made her even more uncomfortable.
“If you didn’t, then your boss must have spoken with Selena. It’s time you gave me his name.”