by Lori Ryan
It bothered James that Hunt would even ask about Presley. He growled a response, then grabbed Hunt by the front of his shirt and pulled him toward him in the small space of the car.
“Tell me how they would know where we were going. Tell me how someone might know I was having memories of that firefight.”
Hunt opened his mouth to say something, shaking his head like he meant to deny it, then paled. “Oh shit.”
James dropped his shirt. “Want to tell me what ‘oh shit’ means?”
James needed Hunt to be innocent in this. He needed to know this man hadn’t betrayed him.
Hunt rubbed his forehead. “I called Gray.”
“Colonel Gray?”
“Yeah. I called to see if they could get you more support, get someone who could talk to you. I was worried about the flashbacks and Gray had been supportive the whole time you were missing. He couldn’t get anyone to go into the region, they kept telling him it was too unstable, but he stayed in touch with me. He kept trying to get you out, so I thought he could help with what you were going through.”
James didn’t want to think about the “instability” of the region. He’d seen it firsthand. But if Gray was involved, he could have told Hunt he was trying to get James out, but not been making any real effort. Instability was definitely an easy excuse, given the state of the area. There was a reason they called it the Devil’s Den.
The first fucker who’d had James when he was captured was a cartel drug lord. He was a crazy fucker who had recognized that holding a U.S. serviceman could have its advantages someday. James was a chip to him, something to keep in his back pocket that he might pull out when he was at the bargaining table. In the meantime, though, he hadn’t hesitated to torture James. It had been fun to watch the American sweat, to see if they could make him scream.
The man used to talk about making James cry and curl into a ball, to beg for his mommy. They never knew James had done just that on the inside. There were times he’d done exactly that, putting on a mask for the men, but breaking in ways they would never see.
Peña was the man’s name and he was a sick fuck, but that had worked in James’s favor for a time. The man had wanted James good and healthy when he tortured him. He’d sent James to Catalina right from the start, to have her heal him. And from time to time, he brought Catalina to James, whenever he thought James might die. He brought her in to bring back his strength. She would weep for James, but he would tell her not to weep. When he was close to breaking, Peña let him see his angel. Catalina was heaven on earth. She was James’s reward for hanging on through all they threw at him.
Peña’s own cousin killed him. It was a shakeup in the order of things and Peña’s cousin had inherited James along with the house and cars and the whole damned thing.
He hadn’t been with Peña’s cousin long when Silva had taken him. He didn’t know if it was payment or what, but he’d been in Silva’s compound for most of the time he was in captivity. Silva didn’t bother with torture. He was happy to let James sit in a cell and starve on rations meant to weaken him and keep him controllable.
James escaped Silva’s guards one night, sure he could get to Catalina and get her and her grandmother out of there. He thought he could get them to safety, then he’d either find a way to get them all to the U.S. or he’d just stay there with her, settle someplace and live in peace.
Silva had known exactly how to strike at James. The man had thought nothing of slaughtering Catalina in her home, in front of her grandmother.
James shook off the memories. He’d spent the next year feeding information out, chipping away at Silva’s empire. Looking for a way to get to Silva himself to kill him. In the end, Silva had been the one to get James when they’d recaptured him.
James forced the memories to sit and wait while he focused on Hunt and Gray. “What did Gray say?”
“He asked if you were still at my place and I told him you were on the road already, headed to the airport. He said he’d reach out to you when you got home. That he’d make sure you got help.”
“Is Presley okay?” Hunt asked again, quietly this time.
James nodded. “I got her back home.”
“What now?” Hunt asked.
James looked at him. “We finish whatever the hell we started when we wandered into that warehouse in the Devil’s Den.”
32
Presley had been home for four days. James had been gone for four days. He’d dropped her off and left again. This time, without her.
Cade was angry, Laura was hurting, and Presley… well, she was trying to hide just how hurt she was. She was beginning to acknowledge to herself, though, that she had stupidly fallen in love with James Lawless. Even being shot at hadn’t changed how she felt about him.
She walked into the barn, stopping to greet each of the horses and ponies on her way to Tess’s stall. When she got to Tess, the large horse ducked her head and tucked, nuzzling her face in Presley’s chest. Presley wrapped her arms around the horse and closed her eyes, trying not to cry. She’d done a lot of crying since coming back from the funeral.
First, she’d cried out of sheer fear as it began to sink into her that she could have easily been killed in that car. That had been before she’d realized James was gone. He’d left sometime in the middle of the night, while she slept in his bed. When she woke, his clothes, his journal, and Lulu were all gone.
He hadn’t left a note.
That part probably hurt the most.
She heard Laura’s light footsteps as she entered the barn behind her. Presley stood and turned, knowing what her friend would ask.
“Have you heard anything?”
Presley shook her head. “Nothing.”
She knew she wouldn’t hear anything but she didn’t tell Laura that. Laura had thought James was dead for years before they’d discovered he was being held in South America. She’d only just gotten him back and now he was gone again. Presley understood that Laura needed to believe he would return to her again someday.
Presley knew better, though. If he was in danger because of something he’d seen, he would draw that danger as far from his sister as he could. And that meant drawing it from Presley, too.
She realized with a start, that she would have gone with him in a heartbeat if he’d asked. Nevermind the fact that she was getting ready to open a new business, that her life and friends were here. She’d have followed him if that was what he wanted.
It hurt like hell that he hadn’t. He’d told her all along that he couldn’t give her more than temporary, but still, somehow the pain was shocking in its intensity. Its finality, too.
Everything in Evers had been quiet this week. There’d been no fallout from the incident on the way to the airport. Despite the fact that she’d worried the whole way home that they were being tracked, that someone would come out shooting any minute, they hadn’t. Except for the fact that James was gone and that Presley now panicked and pulled over anytime a car moved to pass her on the road, it was like the incident never happened.
Laura seemed to flail around for something to talk about. She finally settled on the one thing Presley had been using to bury herself in. “How are things with the buildout? Are the Hart brothers on track to be ready for the grand opening?”
“Yes.” They had needed to find shelves and a table for the back room, and Presley needed to find a counter for the checkout area, since James was now no longer making all of that for her. He left the shelves he’d completed in the barn and she could have used those, but she didn’t want the reminder of him on her walls where she’d have to look at them everyday. Instead, Seth had gone to a fixture supply store and picked out basic white shelves that he and his brothers would mount.
Cade walked in and put his hands on Laura’s shoulders, squeezing as he stood behind her. Presley turned back to Tess. She didn’t want to look at people in love.
“You planning to ride today, Pres?” He asked. Cade never asked her if she’d heard
from James. He was too angry with him for hurting Laura.
“Yeah, I thought I’d take her over some jumps. She needs it.” Presley needed it, too. The feeling of flying always made her feel better and Cade was right. Tess was a horse that needed to let loose.
“I put a new barrel jump out there for you to try. It’s not too high, but it’s broad and it makes for a nice combination with the boxer.”
Presley nodded, pulling Tess’s halter off the hook and slipping it over the horse’s head. She wanted to tack up and get on board as fast as she could. The sooner she was in the ring and away from everyone, the better.
She heard quiet footsteps as the pair walked away. She led Tess from the stall and put her on the crossties to brush her down and saddle her.
She’d gotten the saddle on and was about to switch out the halter for a bridle when the phone rang.
Cursing her stupid heart for flipping over at the thought it might be James, she pulled it from her pocket. It wasn’t James and it wasn’t ever going to be James. It was Ashley’s husband, Garrett Hensley. Aside from being married to Ashley, Garrett was also Chief of Police for Evers. He’d had to interview her for the Pennsylvania police when her rental car had been found torn up with bullet holes and ditched behind an old barn on the side of the road.
“Hey Garrett,” she said, trying to sound normal. If he could tell she’d been crying, he would tell Ashley and then Ashley would run over to check on her again.
“I just got a fax with a copy of the police report for you. You’re going to need it to make a claim on your insurance.”
Presley grimaced. If ever there was a time to have bought the rental car no-questions-asked insurance policy, this would have been it. She wondered how much it raised your premiums to have your car riddled with bullets. “Okay, thank you.”
“Do you want me to drop by with it sometime? Or I can give it to Ashley to get to you.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m going to go into the flower shop tomorrow to check on a few things. I’ll run by the station and pick it up, then, if that’s okay.”
“You got it, Presley.”
He hung up and she had a new appreciation for tough guys who didn’t ask questions and didn’t want to have touchy-feely conversations about your emotional state.
33
Looking at the sign out front of her shop should have filled Presley with all kinds of happy feelings. The logo had come out better than she’d expected, a ring of flowers laced around the name of her shop didn’t sound very fancy, but the look and feel was everything she was going for and more. Petals and Posies.
She unlocked the door and went inside. The windows had been finished out in the front and the walls were painted and ready to go. Still, nothing was as it should have been. There were plain white shelves on the wall and a granite counter for the check-out area. It lacked all the custom touches that should have made the space perfect.
The Hart brothers would be back the following day when the refrigerated cases were due to arrive. After they installed that, there was little left for them to do. Then she’d have a week to set up the computer and get the software up and running, putting in the inventory in the system and then checking in the stock that would arrive for her grand opening.
She moved to the work room, pretending not to notice the basic sturdy table that filled the space. It was large and functional. And it made her want to cry. She heard the door open at the front of the shop and closed her eyes for a second. It was either one of the girls stopping by after seeing her car out front or one of the Hart brothers checking on things.
Either way, she didn’t want to see any of them.
When she saw the large figure filling the doorway to the work room, she didn’t process what was happening at first.
She opened her mouth to say that they weren’t open for business yet, but something was off about the man. He wasn’t smiling. There was no emotion there, only cold, dead eyes looking at her as he moved toward her. Presley opened her mouth to scream, but he was on her, covering her mouth with a hard hand. He pressed his hand into her, making her teeth bite into the soft inside of her mouth.
“You need to keep your mouth shut, do you hear me?”
It wasn’t a real question and he didn’t wait for an answer. He’d lifted her easily with one arm and was walking her toward the back door. She kicked at him, but there was no way for her to get any leverage and he had her arms locked by her sides. The adrenaline rush that hit her was useless.
When he got to the back door, he leaned in close to her ear. “Keep your mouth shut, you hear me?”
She nodded, cursing herself for not being stronger. Then he pulled his hand from her mouth so he could unlock the back door. She screamed, but the sound was cut off when he gripped her hair tight, and cursed as he slammed her head into the doorjamb.
She didn’t hear his words, only knew he was cursing her for making noise. She saw another man, and a van. She struggled as they put her into the back of it, her head splitting where he’d knocked it against the door. She thought she felt blood, but the panic rising up in her was taking over everything, making it hard to decipher what was going on.
“Did anyone see you?” one guy asked.
“No.” The guy who grabbed her was putting zip ties on her wrists, cutting into her flesh. He did the same to her legs, though those were protected by her jeans. Then he put a cloth bag over her head and her panic flew into the stratosphere as light was blocked out and she realized this was really happening.
34
James and Hunt were two hours away from the Pentagon when he got the call. They were planning to go to General Cutter. He was the one guy James could trust right now. Cutter was loyal to his country, to his family, and to the men who served under him. No way in hell would he be involved in any of this.
The voice on the other end of the phone line was Gray’s. And in that moment, James knew it was also the voice he’d remembered in his flashbacks. It was the voice of the man who’d said “What the fuck?” just before Silva’s voice had cut in. What Colonel Gray would have been doing in a warehouse with Silva was a mystery, but James had a feeling he knew.
“I’ve got your girl, Lawless. Presley Royale is going to be staying with me as my guest until I get you.”
Ice hit his veins. James would tear the man’s head off and enjoy watching the life drain from his body.
He didn’t bother telling Gray he would see him dead. He didn’t take the time to threaten him and let him know what he’d do to him if Presley was hurt. He said the only thing he could. “Where?”
“Head toward Alexandria. I’ll text you an address later.”
“I’m four hours out.” It was a lie, but he needed the extra time.
“I can be a patient man. But mind you, Lawless, don’t fuck around. I’m not that patient. And if I get bored, I’ll play with your girl. I don’t think you want that.”
“You fucker—”
James was talking to a dead line. The man had hung up. The sound of blood rushing in his head was something James had heard often in his life, but it was never more overpowering, never more all-consuming than now. He’d left her to protect her, to keep her safe. If she wasn’t part of his life, she wouldn’t be hurt. He’d been wrong. He’d left her and now they were using her against him.
“What is it?” Hunt asked from beside him.
“Gray has Presley. He’s holding her in Alexandria until I turn myself into him.”
“He’ll kill you,” Hunt said.
“Yeah. And he’s probably already sending someone after you. We’re the only loose ends in all of this.”
James made a U-turn as Hunt punched Alexandria into the rental car’s navigation system. He was on his way to end this and get Presley the freedom she deserved. Even if that meant walking into a death trap himself.
35
Presley had cried herself out before they got her to the dirty room. The ride in the van had been long, maybe an hour or more.
Her legs and hands had been asleep long before they got her out of it. The sounds of helicopter blades and men yelling over them had been all she heard as she was loaded onto the aircraft.
She could be anywhere now, she realized. They had cut the bindings on her hands and arms but kept her head covered. There had been a car ride after the chopper and then she’d been left in a room. The last man to walk out pulled the cover from her head and ripped the tape from her mouth, tearing at her skin.
The room was nearly empty with only a small cot in the corner where she sat. There was only one door and there wasn’t a window anywhere. She’d never felt more terrified, but the sensation was mingled with one of disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare.
She thought of James and how he must have felt in captivity all those years. He must have spent days on end alone. She’d been alone for an hour and she thought she would lose her mind from the sheer terror of it. If her captors didn’t come back, there would be no way for her to survive. She would starve to death, with no food and no water. The thought of it made her almost want to laugh, the kind of crazed laugh that came from knowing you might be losing yourself, losing your mind.
She wasn’t sure if her captor walked in just then, would she hug the man, out of sheer relief that he hadn’t left her?
She thought she might.
How had James handled this for so damned long?
Would he be coming for her? Surely this had to be connected to him. He’d said the men had shot at them because of the memories he was trying to recover. Maybe they’d taken her to force his hand. To get him to come to them?
Or could this be completely unrelated? No. She dismissed the thought. It couldn’t be. It had to be connected to James, so he would come, right?
She paced the room, stretching her sore limbs. There was nothing she could do to try to escape. There was nothing in the cell. No door knob on the inside of the door. There was nothing.