Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) (57 page)

Retrieving the blanket she had moments ago discarded, she tied it around her shoulders and though the blanket looked like a cape, Jewels ceased her cape-crusading antics and drifted into a state of carefree ecstasy. The full effects of the drug were peaking in her system, continuing to block the pain of her bleeding bare feet, welts on her back, and the throbbing of her ankles and wrists. The painkiller had done its intended job. And much more.

Skipping lightheartedly through the tall grass of the meadow toward the shanty, she merrily sang a song from her childhood. “Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man? Do you know the muffin man that lives something lane-o,” she sang to no particular tune, giggling uncontrollably at the
something lane-o
part. She had forgotten the words which struck her as incredibly funny.

• • •

“Where do you want to start the search?” the helicopter pilot asked Marshall.

“Let’s begin at the rescue point, then move up the mountain,” he said, pointing in the direction the pilot should fly.

“You got it,” the pilot responded, maneuvering the helicopter in the direction Marshall indicated.

• • •

RAP-RAP!
“Yoo-hoo, Pappy, are you in there?”

Tank leaped straight up from a dead sleep, his eyes blinking wildly as he gathered his senses and focused on the door.

RAP-RAP!
“Come on, Pappy. Open up.”

Eyeing his watch: 0717 hours. Someone was trying to get into his hideaway. And not just anyone, but a woman! There was something familiar about her voice. Made him uncomfortable.

RAP-RAP-RAP-RAP!
“Pappy, I want you to meet Boo-Boo Two. I know you’ll just love her,” the woman’s voice called, raising an octave as her impatience escalated.

“Boo-Boo Two,” Tank whispered, rubbing his forehead in puzzlement.

“Oh well, Pappy, no Sweet Cheeks today,” the female voice called in a tone brimming with personal rejection.

The voice. Boo-Boo. Sweet Cheeks. It could only be one person, “Julia Andrasy,” Tank mumbled, finally making the connection. But she sounded very different. More than that, what the hell was she doing way out here, miles from any distinguishable road, SPOF or even Hines’ cabin? And, Hines. Shouldn’t he have taken possession and
cleansed
her by now? Had she escaped? Granted, the woman had a knack for launching daring escape attempts, but could she really have gotten away from Theodore Hines? If so, he’d sure as hell like to know how.

“Come on. Pappy, is that you?” the woman anxiously called through the closed door.

A Cheshire cat grin germinated on his face. If this
was
Julia Andrasy and she had escaped from Hines, he could capture her, return her to Hines ... no, capture her and keep her for his own.

Ironically, just a few hours ago he had been thinking about Julia and what he might do if they ever crossed paths in the future ... and out of the blue, their paths were crossing,
right now
.

Padding to the door, he removed the two-by-four barring the door. Flung it open. Sure enough, it was Julia Andrasy. His mouth widened as he eyed her. A thin gray blanket tied around her shoulders covered skimpy white underwear. No other clothing. No shoes. Long blonde hair a tangled mess. Face, arms, legs and feet smudged with dirt. “Fuckin’ train wreck,” he muttered to himself.

Stretching her neck to peer around his body to see inside the cabin, “Where’s Pappy?” she asked with a look of genuine concern.

Shit! Something wasn’t right. Taking a step outside, Tank urgently scanned the meadow, seeking
something
that might explain this odd encounter. Seeing nothing, he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her hard into the cabin, slamming the door shut.

Twisting her arm free from his hold and frowning, “Hey, you’re playing rough. I’m gonna tell Pappy,” she threatened. Nudging her elbow into Tank’s gut to get around him, she sauntered over to the cot, plopped onto it. Obviously making herself right at home.

Suspicious bewilderment washed Tank’s face. Cautiously, he approached the bed. Bending over, latching onto her chin with his thumb and forefinger, he roughly titled her head upward, stared.

Her big blue eyes were unnaturally wide. Pupils dilated. Eyelids blinked in exaggerated slow motion.

Wrinkling his forehead, “What the hell are you high on?” he asked with the tone of a concerned father.

“High?” she innocently echoed, expanding her eyes even wider.

Tank was positive she was high on something, especially since she didn’t seem to recognize him. If she wasn’t drugged, surely she would be terrified of him. In a half squat position, he parked his hands on his thighs, eyed her. “Julia, tell me what happened. How did you get here?”

“Just out for a walk and stopped by to see Pappy,” she said with nonchalance. Enthusiastically she patted the cot next to her. “Come Boo-Boo Two ... that’s it, good girl.”

Biting his lip at the sight of Jewels interacting with an imaginary dog, he stood, brows arching suspiciously as he gazed at her. Clearly, Hines’ plan had gone awry, otherwise she would not be sitting in his hideout half naked and stoned out of her mind. Had to find out what happened. To do so he would resort to his standard and proven results-oriented mode of operating: merciless brutality. His tactics would dispense the antidote to whatever drug had seized her mind.

Surveying the shack for something he could use to tie her up, a coiled piece of bull rope lying on the floor in the corner behind the cold potbelly stove caught his attention.

Scooping up the dusty rope, he marched over to her. “Time to play truth or consequences,” he said, straightening the rope.

Wide-eyed, “Truth or consequences,” she naively parroted.

The clueless act, Tank thought. “Yeah. You’re gonna tell me the truth and I will give you the consequences,” he answered bluntly, eyes smoldering.

“Huh?”

“Give me your hands.”

Readily complying, she stretched her arms toward him, offering her hands palms face up.

Winding the thick rope around her wrists multiple times, he bound them together. Knotted the rope.

The super painkiller not only suppressed physical pain, but mental anguish as well, blocking all recollection of the horror she had endured over the past several days. However, the harsh binding of her wrists acted like an instant antidote. Bits and pieces of terrifying memories of the past days randomly rushed her mind, ousting the drug-induced euphoric state. “No,” Jewels shrieked, recoiling.

Holding on, he easily maintained control. Smirking, “So you
were
faking la-la land.”

Confusion swept her haggard face. “Faking?”

“Yeah. Like you were stoned. Like you didn’t know who I was.”

Jewels just sat, forehead wrinkled, eyes fixed at the floor.

“Who sent you?” he huffed, giving the rope a tug, jolting her entire body.

Jewels grimaced.

“No comment? Fine.” Lobbing the free end of the thick rope up over the four-by-four beam near the ceiling, he pulled on it. Hoisted Jewels off the bed and onto her feet. Continued to crank the rope until he had reeled her into an upright position under the beam.

Groaning in agony, Jewels stood on tiptoes. Hands stretched high above her head.

After tossing the end of the rope over the rafter a second time as an extra measure to hold her in place, he anchored the loose end around the heavy base of the bulbous-bodied stove, then stepped back over to Jewels.

Her head was hanging, breathing labored.

Latching his hand onto her chin, he severely jerked it upward so she was looking him in the eyes. “Now, I’m gonna ask you again. Who sent you?”

“Nobody. Nobody sent me,” she pitifully whimpered.

“Always the fuckin’ hard way with you,” Tank barked, drawing the multipurpose tool hanging from his belt and configuring it into scissors.

Watching him, her mind blurred. Shaky images, like an old Super 8 home movie. Film spliced together in no particular order. Wrists bound to the bed. Black mask. Hanky shoved in mouth. Frantic running. Hood slammed over head. Leather restraints. Boo-Boo bleeding. Ball gag strapped in mouth. Face slaps over and over....

She dissolved into tears. Couldn’t help it. Whatever bravery she may have once had was all used up. If Tank was thinking he could torture an answer out of her, they were in for a long morning because she didn’t know anything. She wasn’t trying to protect anyone. No one sent her. By simple mistake, she just stumbled onto the shack.

SNIP!
Tank clipped the knot of the blanket around her neck, releasing it to the floor.

Forced to stand on tiptoe, her entire body quivered erratically. A charley horse manifested in her right calf. Awkwardly balancing on the toes of her left foot, she wildly shook out her right leg.

“Muscles cramping already?” Tank asked rhetorically, his tone demeaning. Before bending down to rub her cramped leg, he watched her suffer for a moment.

Jewels flinched at the touch of his calloused hands.

Vigorously, he massaged her calf between his flat palms for a few moments. “Is that better?”

Softly, “Yes, thank you.”

Pushing to his feet, he walked behind her. Gasped. “What the fuck?”

Dozens of long red welts peppered Jewels’ back interspersed with little bumps, some of them covered in dried blood.

“What the hell happened to your back?”

“Theodore ... whipped me,” she weakly replied.

Brows crimped, “What happened with you and Hines anyway?” he quizzed, completing the circle around Jewels until he was facing her again.

“He’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yeah, the grizzly got him,” she said, followed by a fit of giggles; a side effect of the painkiller wearing off.

“Hmm. So that’s how you got out here,” Tank muttered, not the least bit disturbed by her inappropriate and poorly timed tee-hee. “You ran away when that bear attacked him,” Tank concluded, relief in his voice, as he was well aware of the man-eating bear who had been terrorizing hikers and campers in the area for the last several months.

“Not exactly,” Jewels said, shaking her head in regret. “Noooo. That’s not right. Not exactly. That’s not exactly right. Really, not exactly,” she rambled, continuing to shake her head; the powerful drug was relenting but in the process making her goofier.

Leaning in toward her, “Not exactly?” Tank echoed with concern, his eyes narrowing. Furrows on his forehead deepening.

Looking around the room, as if ready to spill a secret and not wanting anyone to overhear, she leaned into Tank, whispered, “I ran away from the MTAF.”

“Holy shit!” Tank shrieked with alarm, grabbing his bald head with both hand. Bolting to the door, he cautiously opened it. Popped his head out. Seeking signs of the elite law enforcement group, he visually scanned the horizon for movement. Seeing nothing, he cocked his ear toward the sky and held his breath, listening for the sound of a helicopter. Only the morning chatter of song birds broke the wilderness silence.

Closing the door, Tank dashed about the cabin, stuffing his scattered belongings into a giant green duffle bag with the urgency of one scooping up precious belongings about to be consumed by a house fire.

“What’s going on?” Jewels’ voice was oddly perky, but tone confused. Further proof the effects of the shot were nearly depleted.

After a quick visual double-check of the room, he zipped the duffle, then unfolded what looked like a camo-colored foil jump suit and quickly climbed into it.

“What are you doing?” Jewels asked, perkiness suddenly replaced by panic.

“Making sure those MTAF bastards can’t track me with their infrared scanners when I get the fuck out of Dodge the mountain man way,” he said, darting toward the door, duffle bag in hand, foil suit crinkling with each hurried step.

Looking up at the thick rope binding her hands, she frantically tugged on it. “Wait! Untie me. Please don’t leave me like this.”

Halting at the door, he watched her pointlessly toil for a moment.

“Take me with you,” she pleaded.

Like the surprise of an unexpected backhand across the face, shock flooded his features. In a mocking tone, “Take you with me?” Growling, “You’ve gotta be joking! For all the grief you’re causing me right now, letting you live is the extent of my generosity.”

“Please, Tank, please take me with you,” she pressed in desperation. “I’ll behave. I can be a mountain man, uh, woman. And I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t leave me tied up like this to die. Pleeeeease.”

“Hmph!” Tank shook his head in disbelief. “You really
want
to go with me?”

“I really don’t want to be left here to die. Please, don’t leave me. I have financial means and could help you get out of the country or whatever. I won’t be any trouble. I promise. I’ll do whatever you want. Please....”

The money part certainly intrigued him and her pleas to untie her and not leave her for dead tugged at his heart, arousing feelings of compassion he hadn’t felt in years; feelings he didn’t want.