“Who are you?” he asked as blood ran down his chin and throat.
“I can be your worst fucking nightmare if you don’t start telling me about the woman.” His own vision blurred from rage and fear, Kong didn’t notice the state of the man’s face. The man’s eyes turned hard and cold.
“Who the hell are you people? Did they send you in to take me down with the cell?”
His words seeped into Kong’s brain. “You’re an inside man. Undercover.”
The two glared at each for other a few moments, both trying to size up the situation.
“Ask him who his superior is,” Walt whispered in Kong’s ear.
“Who’s your superior?” Kong growled.
“My superior is myself,” the man responded.
“He’s government,” Walt acknowledged.
“You’re sure?”
“It’s code,” Walt told him.
Kong released some of the pressure on the man’s body. “Tell me where she is.”
“First, you tell me who you are. I’ve worked too long and hard to let this operation go down because of vigilantes.”
“Tell him we’re only here to get Sam,” Walt instructed.
“I don’t give a damn about your operation. I’m only interested in the woman. I’ll ask one more time. Where is she?” Kong was losing his patience, he could feel time running out.
From the look on the large man’s face, he was being truthful. “She’s inside. You don’t work for the government do you? This isn’t about the terrorist cell is it?”
“No. She stumbled onto this. I’m here to make sure she comes home alive,” Kong told him as he started looking at the damage on the man’s face.
“That bitch is trained and trained well. You must work for someone,” the man said as he placed his finger on his tattered lip.
“What happened to your face?” His bitch comment about Sam put Kong’s back up. Did she do this to him?
“I was trying to question her, find out who she was and what she was doing here. The little bitch bit my face and kicked me in the balls, twice,” he said rubbing himself.
A small smile slid across Kong’s mouth, briefly. She couldn’t be too bad off if she was able to inflict that kind of damage. Then realization hit him. He must have been using torture tactics on her for her to react so violently. Kong pressed his forearm across the man’s throat, cutting off his air supply.
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing,” the man gasped.
“You must have done something, or she wouldn’t have tried to rip your face off like that.”
Kong’s vision began to blur again. His pulse quickened. “Is she still alive?”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s still alive. At least she was when I left her.” The man’s face was turning blue, his words hard to make out.
“Don’t kill him Kong. We need him.” Walt’s voice was calm, stern and just what Kong needed to make him release some of he pressure on the man’s throat. “Ask him what the plan is. Ask him how much time we have before his men move in.”
“How much time before your men show up?” Kong hissed between his teeth.
“They’re waiting for my call. They’ll be here inside twenty minutes and have this place surrounded. Orders are to take as many alive as possible.”
“Did you get that?” Kong asked into his radio.
“Yeah. Give me a minute,” Walt responded.
“How many of you are there?” the man asked looking around the woods.
“That’s none of your concern. Where is she in the house?”
“Basement. If you want her before Rayburn gets his hands on her, you’ll have to move fast. I’ve seen what his women look like when he’s finished with them. It’s not pretty.”
Blood roared through Kong’s ears, his breathing became heavy at the thought of Sam being used like her mother. “What about you?” he asked. “How much damage did you inflict?”
“Look man.” The man could feel the pressure increasing on his throat again. He reached into his pocket and pulled a small knife out. This man was going to kill him when he found out what he’d done. “I was only doing my job. You know how that works,” he stammered.
“Yeah, I know exactly how that works.” Before Kong could fist his hand and drive it into the man’s already bloody face he felt the cold steel of a knife slide into his stomach. Anger, fear, adrenaline, the picture of Sam’s smiling face all kept him from stepping away from the man and dropping to the ground.
When the pressure didn’t let up on his throat, he tilted the knife upwards and jabbed further into his gut. “No one’s blowing two years of my hard work. Especially on some half-dead bitch,” the man snarled.
Kong felt his muscles give out and his knees wobbled enough to give the man time to side away from the tree. When he was free, he bolted further into the woods. He needed to make his call, he needed to get his men there now and end this before everything went to hell.
Ricochet watched as Kong dropped to his knees and grabbed his gut. “Man down. Man down. That bastard stabbed Kong.”
“Can you see him Ricochet? Can you get a shot at him?” Boomer asked.
“Negative. He’s hiding like scared little girl behind a tree.”
“I’m okay.” Kong spoke into his radio. “She’s in the basement of the house. If he calls his team, they’ll come in here and take down anything that moves, including us. I need to get to her, now.”
“Negative Kong. You’re injured. Boomer and I will go in.” Walt didn’t like the eerie calm in Kong’s voice. He didn’t know how badly the man was hurt, but it was going to take a fully able man to go into that house and bring her out.
“With all due respect Sir, I love that woman and I’m bringing her out.” Kong looked up and saw a bright white light appear before him. Walt’s protests over the radio were nothing more than an annoying buzz in his ears.
He watched as the white light took on the form of a woman. Although transparent, her features were clear. She was the spitting image of Sam.
Time is running out. She needs your help now. The woman spoke, then reached out her hand. Come, I’ll show you how to get inside the building.
Walt was still shouting orders over the radio, so Kong reached up and pulled his earpiece from his head.
He didn’t need Walt now. Searing pain blasted through his abdomen as he stood, but Kong clenched his jaw and forced himself to his feet. The ghostly woman waited patiently as he staggered toward her.
She led him through the thick woods toward the back of the house. When they were directly behind the building, she stopped and pointed toward a window that was boarded up. You will be able to get through there when all the wood is removed. You must hurry, he’s waking, she told him with concern in her eyes.
With a nod of understanding, Kong continued to stagger toward the house. Every movement he made caused a fierce stabbing pain to tear through his body. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if he lived or died. All he cared about was getting Sam.
Dropping to his knees in front of the window, he took the deepest breath he could without passing out, then began ripping the boards away from the window. The flesh on his fingers tore and bled as he pried apart the planks. He worked mechanically, seeing nothing but Sam’s face, hearing nothing but Sam’s laugh.
Inside Rayburn, the devil himself, stirred from his drunken sleep. He glanced around the room and took stock of his men. None stirred. He rose from his chair and stretched, then scratched at his crotch. It was time to relieve himself of the alcohol that had processed through his system and now filled his bladder.
Staggering toward the bathroom, he noticed one man was missing. Shrugging to himself, he stepped into the bathroom and sighed as he drained his bladder. The missing man must be in one of the other rooms, sleeping off his booze like the others.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Grunting as he pulled the last board from the window, Kong nearly fell through the opening as his bo
dy slumped forward. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself, then looked into the darkness. The room was pitch black and only a small ray of light entered around his large frame blocking the opening at the window.
Sam lay still and listened as the sound of splintering wood echoed through the room. What was happening? Was that bastard coming back to punish her, to finally kill her? As each plank was removed, she heard grunting and moaning. It almost sounded like someone was injured, in pain. She cursed her swollen eyes because she needed to see what was happening.
With agonizing effort Kong lowered himself through the window and into the dark room. He waited until his eyes adjusted to darkness, then looked for Sam. He could hear breathing, but couldn’t see anything.
Follow my light.
Kong straightened his spine as the voice of the woman in the woods echoed in his head. A small orb of light floated before him and then moved to the side of the room. Kong followed, his feet shuffling across the dirt floor. When the light came to a stop, he looked down and dropped to his knees.
His breath whooshed from his lungs at the sight of her. “Sam,” he gasped. “Oh God baby.” Tears rolled down his face as his brain absorbed her injuries. His hands hovered inches above her, wanting to touch her, but afraid of the pain his touch would bring.
Sam held her breath as she listened to the shuffling feet come toward her. Her feet were free, but the horrendous pain had returned to her knee. She only had one leg to fight with and that wasn’t going to do her much good. Her body stiffened as she waited for what was to come.
Then she heard it. A voice she thought she’d never hear again.
“Mark?” she whispered, afraid that her mind was playing tricks on her.
“I’m here baby. I’m taking you home.” He surveyed the rest of her body, his hand clenching when he saw her wrists and knee. “Tell me where you hurt. I don’t want to hurt you any more.”
“Everywhere.” She could hear the mixture of anger and sadness in his voice when he spoke.
“Why are you here?” she asked, waiting, hoping once again for him to tell her his feelings.
“Cannon called and said you were missing. He asked Boomer and Ricochet to find you.”
Kong studied the shackles. Their long chains were only twisted around the cot frame. All he had to do was get them untwisted and she would be free from the cot.
As Kong worked, Sam asked, “Boomer and Ricochet? He asked them to find me?”
“Yeah, your uncle isn’t happy with me, so I invited myself along. Sam, you have to help me here. I need you to turn toward your right so I can pull the chain around the leg.”
“Sure, no problem.” Once again, disappointment cut through her heart. He felt obligated to help her. He still had no feelings for her. When she rolled to her right side, she had to bite the inside of her lip again to keep from crying out in pain. She didn’t want him feeling any sorrier for her then he already did.
The chain pulled around the leg of the cot without any problem and loosened the pressure on her wrists. “Okay, now the other side,” he told her and moved to lift the cot and free the chains.
When he lifted this time, his vision blurred and cold sweat seeped from his forehead. He’d lost too much blood. He had to get her out of the house before he lost consciousness.
“Can you stand?” he asked weakly.
“I don’t think so. I think my knee is busted up pretty bad.”
Sweat poured down between his shoulders as he fought the blackness pulling at him. “Okay, we have a slight problem then. See honey, I can’t get out of here, so you’re going to have to crawl out that window on your own. Your uncle, Boomer and Ricochet are out there in the woods. Once you’re out the window, I’ll radio them to come and get you,” he said fumbling with the ear piece that still hung around his neck. His words were slurring, his vision fading.
“What do you mean you can’t get out of here? Are you hurt?” Dear God, no. She could tell by the way he was talking something was wrong, but she could barely see him. She lifted her hands to his face and felt his clammy skin. “What happened?”
“That’s not important. Come on honey, let’s get you to that window before we get company.”
The two leaned on each other as they made their way to the window. All he had to do was make sure she was through it then he could close his eyes.
* * * * *
Rayburn took a quick look around the upstairs rooms of the house for his missing soldier, but he was nowhere to be found. A silent alarm rang throughout his head. Downstairs, he thought to himself.
He must be downstairs with the woman. Anger welled up inside him. She was his. No one was to touch her. He fumbled his way to the basement door and opened it. He could hear grunts and moans, fueling his anger.
He put his foot on the first step and fell, twisting his ankle. He roared in pain before pulling himself up again. Damn it, he was still too drunk to walk straight, he should never have drunk so much.
Sam and Kong heard the yell from the upper basement door. Sam was pulling herself up to the window frame when she heard it and froze. Kong accepted his pain and used it to give one last thrust, which pushed her through the window opening. When her weight left his body, he staggered and dropped to the floor.
“Mark, come on, I’ll pull you up. You can’t stay down there,” she whispered down to him.
“I can’t babe. I’m done.”
“Like hell you are,” she hissed back at him.
Kong pulled his radio to his mouth. “Boomer, she’s out. Behind the house. You have to help her,” His breath was coming in short pants now, his life draining. “She’s hurt bad buddy.”
“Roger, on my way.” Boomer’s legs pumped hard and fast as he made his way to the back of the house. He knew Kong was in trouble, but he had to move Sam first, then he could help Kong.
“Talk to me buddy,” Ricochet said into his radio. “How bad are you?”
“Bad,” Kong whispered in response. “You guys have to take care of her for me.”
Walt monitored the conversation as he watched for the agent that stabbed Kong. He could see him slinking through the trees toward the road. Walt maneuvered so he could intercept him, then crouched and waited. When the man stepped in front of him, Walt placed his pistol in the middle of his forehead.
“Give me one good reason not to scatter your brains all over the ground.” Walt’s voice was calm, cool and deadly.
The agent froze, his eyes wide, his skin pale. The bleeding from his lip had begun to slow, but now oozed faster because his heart was racing. “What do you want?” he asked. “Just tell me what you want.”
“You called your team?”
“Yeah, yeah I called them.” Blood dripped from his ragged lip.
“Good, then we’ll wait for them. When they get here, you’ll tell them you stabbed a man from the elite forces and tortured one of the government’s top rescue agents, who happens to be my niece.” Walt would see to it that this man paid for what he did to Sam and Kong.
“Elite forces? Rescue agent? Holy shit!” The agent’s face paled more. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know,” he stammered.
“Take me to where you’re meeting your team,” Walt ordered.
As the two men walked, Walt holding his gun to the man’s head, he spoke into his radio.
“Ricochet, I’ve got the mole. Keep your eyes on the team and let me know what’s happening.”
“Roger that,” Ricochet responded. “Talk to me Boomer. What’s happening?”
Boomer found Sam leaning into the basement window. “Come on Sam, we have to get out of here,” he said wrapping his arm around her stomach and dragging her toward the trees.
“Mark’s in there. Someone’s coming. We can’t leave him there,” she pleaded as she let Boomer drag her off. Once they were tucked in the safety of the trees, Boomer looked at her. His stomach clenched, then rolled at the sight of her face. Her eyes were completely swollen shut, her nose was hu
ge and her lips looked like they had been injected with too much collagen. Her wrists were still bound by the shackles and her leg was enormous.
“Please Boomer, get him out.” Tears slipped from the slits in her eyes and rolled down her puffy cheeks.
* * * * *
Inside the house, Rayburn had made his way to the bottom door of the basement. He threw the door open and looked around. The cot was empty, the boarded up window was now open and the room was quiet. As he limped toward the window Kong reached out and pulled at his gimpy ankle. The man didn’t have time to scream. His body hit the dirt floor with a loud thud.
Outside, Walt was waiting for the government agents to arrive. His hostage reached inside his pants and pulled his phone from his pocket. He had rigged the house with explosives that very morning. A backup plan in case the terrorists barricaded themselves inside the house. All he had to do was dial the correct number into the phone and boom, most of his problems would be over.
Walt watched the man’s face intently, never noticing the man’s hands moving. He was listening to his radio, catching bits and pieces of the banter that was going on between Ricochet and Boomer. From what he could pick up, Boomer had Sam away from the house and had then returned for Kong. Ricochet was leaving his tree and making his way to them. By the time Walt noticed the phone in the man’s hand, it was too late.
Kong reached over with weak hands and wrapped them around the man’s throat. He cursed at not having enough strength to hold him properly. “Going somewhere?” he gasped.
Rayburn clawed at the hands around his neck. “I’ll kill you,” he growled.
“Too late. I’m already dead.”
“Like hell you are,” came that familiar deep, slow voice. Boomer dropped down inside the dark room and kicked Rayburn in the head. His flailing feet and clawing hands stopped moving.
“Let’s get you outta here.”
Kong wasn’t as big as Boomer, but he was a dead weight, making it hard to move him. “Come on buddy, you have to help me here.” When he felt Kong try and pull himself up, he lifted with his legs and heaved him to the window. Grunts came from Boomer as he shoved and heaved his friend through the open window.
Black Smoke Page 24