Prisoner Mine (9 page)

“Their bomb would have killed people. Yours didn’t.” Coen pointed at Zeke.

“He has valid answers.” Greer tugged on his sleeve. “Can we go now?”

The bloke had all the right answers, yet another reason Zeke didn’t trust him. Derrick Coen was an opportunist. When he was honorably discharged for extremely dishonorable conduct he ran to US Elite. When US Elite left him in the lurch he ran into the Stas’s open arms. In short, he pledged loyalty to whoever kept him alive. Frivolous loyalty damaged more than an outright enemy.

Light filled the alleyway. The glow filtered in through the door no one had bothered to close. A car door slammed close enough that none of them dared whisper.

Zeke signaled for Greer to head for the car. She jogged on silent feet through the unfinished sofas and chairs, but stalled at large double doors. Her eyes and waving hand ushered them to follow. Coen did. Again Zeke signaled her to leave. Before waiting to see if she obeyed, he eased the door to its frame, secured the lock, and pressed his eye to the peep hole.

Two seconds passed. A guard with a rifle in his hands prowled into view. He stopped at the alcove and hiked the gun against the front of his shoulder. One tedious step at a time the Stas allegiant approached. Zeke snugged the barrel of his Glock to the door and breathed, slowly, steadily.

The knob wiggled under the guard’s hand. When it didn’t open he straightened and turned to leave. His steps halted. He pivoted back to the door. The oval shape of his faced elongated as it neared, taking him from arsehole to alien. He edged his eye to the peep hole for an eight count.

He backed out of the alcove, tossed his hands up, probably to the driver, and hollered a negative that hardly made it through the heavy door. Zeke hurried through the maze of furniture with little more than filtered moonlight to discern the path. The front door on the north side had been propped open. He ducked through it and sprinted across the street to the parking garage where he’d left his car, to where Greer waited with Coen…alone.

When he reached the well-lit structure he slowed to a casual walk. His heart hiked in his chest more now than it had when he’d been in danger of having an AK-103 pierce his belly button. Cars filled the lot near capacity, but no one idled about at one a.m. Not if they knew what was good for them.

Zeke took the north stairs, opposite the plant. He wanted to observe Coen from a distance. As expected Greer watched the south stairs, between her pacing the width of his car. She pinched her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger and swayed with each change in direction. The corners of Zeke’s mouth pitched skyward at her manic concern for him. He had to remind himself to watch the one he’d come to see.

Coen watched the door, but his gaze lingered on Greer far more. Whether on her shapely hips or the Glock holstered at her side he couldn’t tell. Though, neither sat well.

“Greer?” Coen said.

It jerked her attention from the door and stalled her pacing. “Yeah?”

The bastard closed the distance between them and cupped her pale cheeks. “I thought you were dead or worse.”

To hell with observing. Zeke moved from behind the truck he’d used for cover and walked toward them.

“I thought you were too.” Greer cupped his hands. Zeke’s chest constricted. She pulled his hands from her face and released them. The bands loosened.

“I was.” She smiled. “But Zach saved me.”

Fuck, he hated hearing her call him by a name that wasn’t his own. He hated more that he couldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“Oh? Zach is it? I thought he was Captain Saulter?” Coen’s bushy brows hooded his eyes.

“He was until he saved me.”

“Well, thank you for saving me.” Coen’s hand lifted toward her face once more.

“She removed your hands from her body once. If they have to be removed again, they’ll no longer be attached to your body. Clear?”

Both of them spun to his voice. Greer did the chest grab thing he’d come to enjoy. Derrick did a slack jaw, eye-roll thing he liked too.

He recovered quickly and tossed up double peace signs. “I was just saying thank you for saving me.”

Zeke advanced until his boots hit the other man’s sneakers and patted his own cheeks. “You want to cup my face too?”

“Nah. But thank you.” Coen spread his arms wide. “Really.”

“Can you two kiss and make up later? I’d like to get out of here.” Greer tried stepping between them, but settled for standing on her tiptoes and staring from one to the other.

“Greer, back seat. Coen, front.”

They both fell in without a word. Zeke closed the rifles into the trunk and hopped behind the wheel. They drove in silence through Long Island. As they sped through Queens, Greer stiffened just as she had on the way to the Stas held warehouse.

When they reached the outskirts of Hackensack Zeke pulled the car to the side of the road. He tugged two stacks of cash from a pocket and handed one to Coen. He held the other out to Greer.

“Go. Let your families know you’re safe, but don’t go home. Hide for a while. I’ll get to the bottom of this as fast as I can.”

Greer jerked the money from his fingers and offered it to Coen. “I’m finishing this. You should go.”

Zeke opened his mouth to protest, but her fingers gripped his bare forearm. The touch alone weakened him.

“Please,” she begged, “I need answers.”

“I’ll happily keep the money, but if she’s staying,” Derrick winked at Greer, “I’m staying.”

“
S
o you’ve been hiding
out all this time.” Derrick’s head swiveled, taking in the large barn and the haunting hickory trees that danced in the dark on an invisible breeze. “You leave us without so much as a heads up. You draw all kinds of suspicion down on me and Greer, so you could what, commune with nature?”

“He hasn’t been—”

Zach’s gaze caught hers. Just the corner of his eye and a shake of his head and the explanation died on her lips. The double barn doors opened automatically. This place was more high tech than she’d originally assumed.

“I don’t get to know why I was abducted, why my captain abandoned me, abandoned
us
, on our first mission?” He didn’t face either of them with this rant, but faced forward, like he asked the whole world. “I want to know, damn it.” Derrick’s fist popped against the roof of the car.

Striated muscles in Zach’s arms clenched. It seemed he strangled the steering wheel to keep from choking the life out of Derrick.

“I know you want answers.” Greer sighed. “Acting like an ass won’t get you any closer to them. We’re all tired. We’ve all been through a lot over the past few weeks. Just relax. We’ll get to the bottom of all this, just not tonight.”

“You mean this morning?” Derrick propped his elbow on the door and looked out the window into the darkness.

She plopped back onto the seat and waited. Zach drove inside and the car stopped. The engine quieted. Zach climbed out and propped his seat forward.

The scents of earth and hay relaxed the knots at her nape more than the plaster and fresh paint fumes of her generic DC apartment ever had. Greer crawled out the back and stretched her arms toward the aged wood of the second floor. She might have fallen asleep on the three-hour drive back to the farmhouse had the blanket of tension inside the car not proved too thick. It sucked spare oxygen from the interior even with the windows cracked as they’d zoomed down the interstate. She’d fought for every drowsy breath.

By the time they hit the trampoline of pitted and rocky backroads she’d moved from sleepy to bone weary. Not that she’d speak a word about her discomfort to Zach. He’d dealt with her at her worst. She wanted to show him her strength. Taking out two guards and extracting Derrick should’ve gone a long way to that end, but he hadn’t said so. He hadn’t said anything since he tried to kick her out. Her and Derrick.

Zach stepped back, giving her ample room to decompress. Yet, he didn’t go far. He cataloged Derrick’s every move. Derrick inspected the piles of hay and a tool bench on the far wall she hadn’t seen until they’d headed out nearly nine hours ago.

“What is this place then?” Derrick stomped his foot on the hardened ground.

“Safe.” Though Derrick had asked the question, Zach’s gaze met hers when he answered.

A gooey smile mushed her lips. Zach returned a version of a smile. Greer nearly fell over. Seriously, she wobbled and grabbed the open door to steady herself. He placed a hand behind her back, but kept a few inches between them, guiding her to the base of the steps.

“I’m sure you’re tired. Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” The tips of his fingers

pushed against the small of her back and urged her onto the stairs.

He’d cradled her in his arms, scrubbed her naked body, but somehow that brief, light contact electrified Greer’s skin unlike any touch before. Now she stood confidently on her own two feet. Now she could take out the enemy. Now he had no reason for physical contact, except that he’d wanted to touch her.

The tingle followed her to the suite, to the chest of drawers, and into the bathroom, though Zach stayed below. Since she had her full faculties back, Greer took extra care with herself, conditioning her hair and combing away the knots. She reached for the razor, lathered the legs she’d lacked the strength to shave last time, and grazed the blade up her calf. No more than a quarter inch of growth came off. After more than a week not in control of her mind and body, she expected to look like one of those au naturel movement chicks with leg hair long enough to braid or color. Only a few shave-less days’ worth looped and eddied its way toward the drain.

Outrage and revulsion translated into a sob. Greer trapped the animalistic sound behind her hand. Those sleazy fuckers had not only drugged her. They’d violated her while she’d been unconscious. It wasn’t rape. And yet…the realization battered her with emotions in the same zip code she’d been dragged through all those years ago. She folded in half. Water beat her nape. Hair and water flowed over her face. Her knees hit porcelain.

Greer curled into a ball and cried. The rushing water buffered the noise. It drummed in steady droplets. Her tears did too.

Exhaustion, not resolve, forced Greer to her feet. She shaved her body with disinterested swipes. Maybe there was something to the no-shave movement. After all, men didn’t have to shave.

When she turned the water off Zach’s and Derrick’s muffled voices filtered through the wall. She dried and dressed with an urgency that told her being held prisoner in her own body was bringing up a landfill’s worth of shit from her past. Odds were good she’d die a virgin. Nobody liked baggage.

She scooped up the pile of clothes, sidearm, holster, extra clips, and knife and held it against her chest. The boots standing in the corner could wait. She braced for reentry and then turned the knob. If the guys noticed her red eyes or bare legs neither said a word. She had opted for an extra baggy T-shirt tonight—this morning—and wondered why she hadn’t done the same last night when Zach’s eyes had been the only pair on her.

“Bacon. Eggs. Toast.” Derrick sat at the kitchen table, shoved soupy eggs and half a wedge of toast into his mouth, and chewed. “If I’d known the man cooked, I would’ve kept my mouth shut.” He pointed his loaded fork at Zach, who sat across the table, before scarfing its contents.

“Food always was your weakness. And girls.” Greer smiled, thankful to see both men chowing amicably at the table.

“And running my mouth.” Derrick mumbled around the other half of his toast.

“Truer words.” She skirted the table and set her heap on the chest, not knowing where else to put them.

“Hey.”

Greer turned back toward the two men.

Derrick’s lanky arm reached across to the everyday ware heaped with food. He shook the dish from side to side. “He even made a plate for you. Come on, you have to be hungry after waxing some guards and running a couple of miles.”

She tugged on the hem of the shorts and hurried to the table. Her stomach flipped and fluttered enough that she had no urge to eat, but she wanted to hear more about Derrick’s abduction and time at the compound. “I didn’t kill them.”

“Crying shame,” Zach mumbled.

Derrick chimed in with, “too bad,” at the same time.

The men’s gazes met. Both rocked back, Zach to his chair back, Derrick to his elbows.

Orange juice sloshed around Derrick’s cup as he carried it to his mouth and took a deep swallow. “I know you don’t trust me. It’s your nature.” He plopped the empty glass onto the table and braced his forearms on either side of his nearly demolished plate. “Now, it’s mine too. I was a spoiled kid with too many gaming consoles. I played war games since I could write my name. The adrenaline rush, the frustration of losing, the elation of winning. It seduced me.”

Derrick shoved away his plate. “When I enlisted they shipped me off to Afghanistan. I still played war, shooting the bad guys from a distance, advancing levels. It had no meaning. None of it. Not until I was chained to a factory belt and the enemy stared down at me. His spit rained on my face. The cold barrel of his gun clogged my throat.”

The more Derrick talked the further Zach withdrew, folding his arms over his chest and reclining into the chair. Greer reached out and covered Derrick’s warm hand with hers, wishing it’d be that simple to touch Zach. No one deserved what they’d been through. It could’ve been worse. At least she didn’t have a mark on her body. Derrick had escaped with a hideous tattoo. Zach hadn’t been so lucky.

“I thought I was tough until that moment.” Derrick squeezed her fingers. “I caved. I gave them my loyalty to save my life.”

“Live to fight another day,” Greer whispered.

“Those bastards—” Derrick began, but a shrill beep halted all conversation and Greer’s breath. Her gaze flew around the room looking for the source of the noise. When she couldn’t pinpoint the siren that seemed to radiate from the walls she looked to Zach. His piercing gaze honed in on the computer.

“What is it?” Greer forced the sentence one syllable at a time.

Per usual, Zach didn’t grace her with an answer. He shoved back the chair and ran for the desk. Greer followed, determined to find out what the hell was going on. Derrick brought up the rear. “Is the place on fire?”

Again he didn’t answer. Greer’s stomach dropped into her big toe.

Zach unlocked the bottom left drawer of the desk. His gaze narrowed on Derrick while he yanked open the drawer. He pulled out the laptop, set it on the desk, and wrenched it wide. Finally his eyes left Derrick and shifted to the screen. He typed in a password that would make the Department of Defense proud. She’d only caught two letters in the long sequence and they’d help as much as having an Italian translator in a North Korean court room.

“You bloody mind?” Zach eyed them, turned his laptop away, and continued clicking.

“Yeah, I mind that you’re keeping me in the dark,” Greer snapped.

“I don’t know what’s going on yet,” he popped back.

“You know what the noise is from though,” she pointed out.

“Christ.” His grey eyes rolled before he continued, “It’s a tripped parameter sensor.”

Greer considered that for a second. “Wouldn’t the woodland creatures trip them all the time?”

“If they were in the woods, yes. These are on the main road and driveway.” Zach used the mouse pad to click several times.

Derrick moved to the old loft doors turned large window. Yellows and reds congealed in the distant sky, outlining his lean body like a shadow profile she’d done in kindergarten art class. “It’s still pretty dark out, but I don’t see anything.”

Greer eased back from the desk toward her gun on the chest.

“Fucking teenagers,” Zach snarled.

“What?” She stopped.

Zach turned the screen. A video clip reached the end, but immediately started over. The Jeep that had been exiting the frame when she’d first seen it now entered from the left.

A young boy drove. His gaze—which should have been on the bumpy road nearly three miles from the barn—lit on the girl in the passenger seat. More accurately on her bare breasts. The girls, one in the front seat and another in the back, stripped their shirts overhead and whipped them around in the breeze. In the back seat, the boy not driving helped himself to a taste.

“I don’t understand,” Greer croaked.

“You don’t?” Zach’s gaze dropped to her breasts.

Heat traveled from her nipples up her chest to her cheeks. “I don’t understand why they’re out here.”

A genuine smile crooked his lips. “There’s a lake on the property. Kids, brave enough or drunk enough, come out to get naked in the formerly-abandoned barn.” He gestured to the walls around them. “Or they go skinny-dipping. I can show you later, if you still don’t understand.”

“Man, backseat is a nine-point-five.” Derrick leaned between them and gawked at the constant loop of boobs.

Greer hugged her arms around herself and stepped away from the screen.

Zach clicked and typed. The video disappeared.

Derrick straightened. “Come on, man. I’ve been pent up for weeks. The least you can do is let me watch.”

“The least I can do is not punch your nuts into your nostrils.” Zach’s gaze slid to Greer, and then back to Derrick. “Have some respect.”

“Aw.” Derrick swatted the air with his hand. “She’s used to my mouth.”

“I reset the system, but I need to go scare these kids away.” Zach closed the computer and returned it to the drawer. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I can help.” Derrick stepped toward the stairs.

Zach stopped at the top of the banister. “Great. Clean the kitchen.” His head disappeared below the floor.

Greer didn’t hear the door open or close, but dual relief and grief over his absence plagued her.

Derrick clapped his hands together and turned to her. “About the—”

“If you say cleaning the kitchen is really a woman’s job, I’ll use that frying pan to beat you to death in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t. That talk was just a diversion.” Derrick rushed to the desk. He pulled on the drawer, but it didn’t budge. “The computer, did you catch the password?”

“What are you doing?”

His lanky arms tensed. He pried at the handle with gritted teeth. “Help me.”

“Help you what? What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to save us.”

“Save us from what?”

“There isn’t time.” His hands slipped off and he stumbled back. He moved to the center drawer and pulled so hard the drawer winged from the desk. Paper clips, markers, and pencils scattered across the floor, along with a long silver letter opener.

Derrick dropped to his knees, grabbed a paperclip and the opener, and went to work on the drawer.

The desperation with which her partner worked on the lock sent a wave of gooseflesh rolling over Greer’s skin. Greer stepped backward, toward her gun.

“Why do you think we got grabbed?” His determined gaze left the drawer and found her. The laser line of his gaze zipped to the chest of drawers, and then centered on her. He stood. “Why do you think?” His sharp tone reverberated around the room and smacked her in the face.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here, to find out.”

A hollow laugh rolled from his belly. “He’s the reason.”

“He?” she managed to rasp.

“Zach Saulter isn’t his name.”

Greer’s legs rubberized. She’d never seen him as a Zach, but she hadn’t expected it wasn’t his real name…or maybe she had. The floor softened under her feet, threatening to swallow her whole.

“He runs a rival gang out of the old country, the Rhyke.”