Hidden Away (27 page)

“I don’t, but the trusty GPS does.”

He tapped on the GPS mounted in the dashboard as he spoke and once again she felt like an idiot.

“I’ll just shut up now,” she sighed.

“Try to relax. I’d like to get out of Mexico as soon as possible. I hope you peed before you left.”

She chuckled and leaned back in the leather seat.

They drove for an hour, but they couldn’t have traveled very far because the road was impossible and visibility was so poor that he couldn’t drive much more than twenty-five miles per hour for the majority of the time.

She’d just closed her eyes when she heard him swear under his breath. The truck ground to a halt and she popped open her eyes to see the road blocked by what looked to be the local police, or whatever it was they called Mexican law enforcement.

Garrett reached hastily into his pocket, pulled out a small electronic device and then reached under his seat. His hand came back up empty. He glanced once her way but then focused his attention to the roadblock before them.

“Listen to me, Sarah. I want you to sit tight, and don’t say a word,” Garrett said in a low voice. “I’m outnumbered and I don’t want to do anything that puts you at risk. Which means I’m going to have to cooperate with these assholes.”

Dread filled her stomach and rose into her throat, tightening until it was hard to breathe. Cooperate? Outnumbered? This sounded bad. Really, really bad. Three police cars were parked at angles and at least seven men were standing in the road. They began approaching the SUV with automatic rifles held high. One man shouted in Spanish.

Garrett kept his hands on the steering wheel and Sarah flinched when one of the men jerked open her door. At the same time, Garrett’s door flew open and the officers motioned for them both to get out.

Sarah looked at Garrett, her heart damn near pounding out of her chest. He gave a short nod and then ducked out of the truck, careful to keep his hands up.

“No habla Español,”
Garrett said when one of the men barked at him in rapid-succession Spanish.

To Sarah’s horror, the man drew his baton and rammed it into Garrett’s stomach. Another officer cracked his baton over Garrett’s head, dropping him to the ground. She screamed and tried to run for Garrett, to cover him, to somehow protect him from the unexpected attack.

She was quickly intercepted, a strong arm wrapping around her waist. The policeman who grabbed her uttered a guttural command she didn’t understand when she kicked and fought like a woman possessed. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he was telling her to cease and desist, but she wasn’t about to let them beat Garrett to death.

She twisted in his arms and jabbed her fingers in his eyes. He howled in pain and dropped her like a stone. She flew to Garrett and threw herself over his body just as one of the policemen was about to deliver another blow. She tensed, expecting the pain, but it never came.

“Goddamn it, Sarah, what the hell are you doing?” Garrett hissed.

“Saving your ass.”

“Get up,” one of the men said in strongly accented English. “Do it slowly, señor. You wouldn’t want the lady to get hurt.”

“Do as he says,” Garrett ordered. “And for God’s sake, don’t do anything to piss them off.”

Strong fingers curled around Sarah’s arm and hauled her off Garrett. She stumbled and nearly fell as she was shoved against the hood of the SUV. Garrett picked himself up off the ground and no less than three guns were pointed at him as he stood to his full height.

Two of the policemen went to the SUV and pulled out the bags from the back seat. They emptied the contents onto the ground, the first being Sarah’s clothing. Humiliation burned in her throat as the men laughed when her underwear fluttered to the ground.

Next they pulled out Garrett’s arsenal, frowning and talking to each other. They gestured at Garrett and rattled off more Spanish as they picked through all his weapons. Guns still drawn on Garrett, the police officers converged and motioned for Garrett to turn around and face the vehicle.

They began patting him down and even she was amazed by the number of weapons they pulled from his belt, pockets and pants. Panic scuttled around her stomach until she was ready to puke. This couldn’t be good.

Two of the men seized Garrett by the arms and directed him toward the backseat of the SUV. Before they stuffed him inside, they cuffed his hands behind his back and then slammed the door behind him. And suddenly their entire focus was on her and she’d never been so terrified in her life.

One wrapped his hand in her hair and yanked her sideways toward the other passenger door. She stumbled after him on tiptoe, drawn up by his grip on her hair. He opened the door and shoved her inside but didn’t cuff her as they’d done Garrett. She landed with a thud against Garrett and stayed there, preferring the comfort of his body over the alternative.

Two men got into the front while the others returned to their vehicles. The SUV fell into line between two of the police cars and they raced down the narrow road too fast for the condition of the road or the weather.

“Where are they taking us?” she asked fearfully. “They didn’t even ask us for identification or anything. They didn’t say why they were detaining us.”

“They won’t,” Garrett said grimly.

His voice was barely a whisper against her ear and she stayed in her position so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“They aren’t police,” he continued. “They’re not very discreet with their conversation.”

“But I thought you didn’t speak Spanish?”

“That’s what I told them,” he murmured.

Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “What do they want?”

“Ransom. It isn’t an uncommon practice. But listen to me, Sarah. No matter what happens, you do nothing to draw attention to yourself, do you understand me? No matter what they do to me, you aren’t to put yourself in the way.”

His voice was fierce and brooked no argument.

“Promise me,” he demanded.

She nodded, knowing it was a lie.

One of the men turned around, baton in hand and swung in Sarah’s direction. “Do not talk!” he said.

Garrett shoved her over and turned so that the blow landed on his shoulder. “Stay down and out of his way,” he ordered.

Not wanting Garrett to suffer anymore, she huddled in the seat and remained silent as they bounced recklessly down the road. It was at least another hour before they came to a stop. The headlights slashed over a hacienda-style house with an iron gate. After a moment, the gate swung open and the vehicles drove the short distance to a circular drive in front of the house.

Again, the back doors opened and Sarah found herself hauled out. Garrett fared no better, and the men took it upon themselves to land a few more blows as they herded Garrett toward the front door.

She was sick with fear and fury. He couldn’t defend himself with his hands cuffed behind his back and the bastards were taking full advantage.

“Stop it!” she screamed when at the steps, one of the men slammed his baton viciously into Garrett’s back.

Garrett’s knees buckled and he went down on one knee. He staggered back up and pinned her with his ferocious stare. “Damn it, Sarah, you promised me.”

She bit her lip to keep the sob from welling out.

She was dragged through the front room and unceremoniously shoved into a room in the back that had bars over the window and a cement floor. It was, for all practical purposes, a jail cell. A ratty mattress lined one wall and in the center was what looked to be an old bloodstain.

Oh God, what hell had they stumbled into?

A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling and the man reached up and smashed it with his baton, plunging the room into darkness. She went cold. Ice invaded her veins as he trailed his fingers up her arm.

Fear. Panic. Horrible, unending shame. Memories crowded her mind until she wanted to scream them away.

She would die before she let another man take from her what she wasn’t willing to give.

To her surprise, the man stepped away, leaving her standing in the middle of the room. Then he simply left and closed the door behind him.

She waited a few moments and flew to the door, testing the knob. It didn’t budge, not that expected it to. She stared around, her eyes adjusting somewhat to the dark. Only a narrow beam shone from underneath the door, and it wasn’t enough to make out much.

A light from outside cast just enough illumination through the window that she could make out her surroundings. Barely.

She began to pace back and forth, her mind short-circuiting with all that had happened. She didn’t understand any of it. And she was scared out of her mind for Garrett.

Where had they taken him? What were they doing? What did they want?

She heard raised voices in Spanish and then in broken English. She strained to hear. Something. Anything. She listened for Garrett but never heard him utter a word. She jumped when she heard a crash. It sounded like a chair being knocked over to the floor.

Several long minutes elapsed. Silence. No voices.

Then the low murmur of voices again. She pressed her cheek to the filthy door listening and straining.

A sound filtered through from the next room and she froze. She didn’t even breathe as a sick knot grew in her stomach. It sounded like ... Oh God, there it was again.

It was the unmistakable sound of an object hitting flesh.

It was slow and methodical. Rhythmic almost. Garrett never made a sound and the beating only got louder and more forceful. She covered her ears, trying to shut out the horrible reality. Numb to her toes, she shuffled to the far side of the room, wanting nothing to do with the bloodstained mattress.

Her eyes stung and watered as the sound echoed again, and she slid down the wall, her knees hunched to her chest. She hadn’t cried for herself. She couldn’t. But when she heard Garrett’s muffled sound of pain—the first noise he’d made at all—she bowed her head as the sobs welled in her throat. And she cried.

WHEN
the door opened, the flash of light blinded Sarah. She had no idea the passage of time, only that each minute that had passed had seemed an eternity. Her face was ravaged and raw, her eyes swollen. She scrambled to her feet as Garrett was shoved into the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, plunging the room into temporary darkness once more.

She rushed forward just as Garrett went to his knees. He put one hand down to brace himself and clutched his abdomen with his other.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. “Garrett, are you okay?”

She dropped down and wrapped her arms around him, holding on to him so he didn’t fall completely down. His breaths came in low pain-filled rasps and he knelt there, leaning into her for a long moment.

“What did they do? Why did they do this?”

She could barely get the words out around her sobs.

“I’m okay,” he said in a low voice. “Give me a minute.”

She could feel his battle as he struggled for control. Then slowly he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer into him. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and sucked in long, steadying breaths.

She ran her hands over his back and up his sides, and then she pulled away to slide her fingers over his face and down his chest, feeling for blood or swelling. When she reached his mouth, her fingers came away slick with blood and her heart leapt.

“You’re bleeding. Where else are you hurt? What did they do to you?”

“It’s not too bad. Help me over to the mattress.”

When she tried to rise supporting him, her knees buckled but she jammed one foot back to brace herself and willed herself not to stagger under his weight. By sheer determination, she managed to maneuver him over to where the bloodstained mattress lay, and her spirits plummeted even more as she realized that this wasn’t the first time someone had been beaten and left in this room.

He went down onto the thin mattress, which did little to shield him from the hardness of the floor. She tried to help him lie down, but he put a hand down to block her effort.

“Don’t. Let me do it. Only hurts when I try to move too fast.”

She backed hastily away, not wanting to add to his discomfort. When he was settled on his side, she pushed forward again and knelt over him, unsure of what to do or even what she could do. She’d never felt so helpless in her life.

“What did they do?” she whispered again.

“Beat the hell out of me,” he gritted out. “Mostly ribs. Hurts like hell to breathe. Everything else is okay though. Nothing broken.”

Tears gathered in her eyes again and she leaned down, gently wrapping her arms around him. She didn’t know what else to do—she wanted to offer comfort if nothing else.

He raised his hand and brushed it over her cheek, wiping at the wetness there. “Ah, Sarah, don’t cry for me, honey. I’ve been in worse situations. This is nothing. Believe me.”

She didn’t want to know about those other situations. She hadn’t lived through those with him. She’d lived through the sounds of his beating and knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. Rage built in her veins until her blood simmered and boiled like a volcano about to erupt.

“Those bastards,” she spat. “Those goddamn bastards. Why did they do this? What do they want?”

His hand absently stroked through her hair, offering her comfort, and that only shamed her all the more. She hadn’t been the one subjected to such brutality. She caught his hand and held it to her cheek, rubbing against his palm.

“Information,” he said. “They aren’t police. Not in an official capacity, although they probably have a pretty damn tight stranglehold on this part of the region. They want money. Want to know who I am and what potential threat I pose to them. They want ransom. These roadblocks are routine in some of the less-developed areas where the law is a nebulous being and left up to the ones doing the enforcing.”