Sacrifice (3 page)

Raphael reached out to steady her, but she swung out of his reach.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Emma—”

“NO!” she screamed, taking another step back, her loose nightgown twisting around her legs. Frantic, she swung her head, searching for a way to escape. She spotted a door in front of the first row.

Alarm filled Raphael’s eyes. “Emma, I know you’re upset and you see me as your enemy right now, but we’re thirty-five thousand feet in the air.”

She didn’t care. She’d rather plummet to her death than succumb to Raphael’s pull again. Her muscles tensed, prepared to leap for the door.

“Emma, don’t do anything—”

She bolted, barely getting past him before his fingers dug into her arm. He pulled her against his chest, a fire in his eyes. “I know you’ll hate me for this when you wake up, but hopefully you’ll thank me for it later.”

His lips lowered to hers and he kissed her with his pent-up frustration. To her agony, she answered his call, giving herself to him. The familiar fuzziness filled her head and she sagged before his arm tightened around her back, holding her to his chest.

He continued to kiss her until she was aware of nothing but him. Then he laid her down on a seat, tucking a blanket around her and smoothing her hair. “Don’t worry, Emma. Everything will be all right.”

His words were faint and far away, but she wondered how could anything be all right without Will.

***

The guards escorted Will into a cargo van. Looking through the back window, he could see that they drove past a small compound surrounded by a chain-link fence, then through a guard station with wooden gates. One gate was unpainted and looked as if it had recently been replaced. He almost laughed. What the hell kind of security was that?

A heaviness filled his chest, nearly suffocating him with grief. He held his breath in an attempt to slow his racing heart. What the hell was going on with him? Will shoved his fear into the recesses of his mind. If he was going to get out of this, he needed a clear head.

No streetlights lit the road so he wasn’t sure where they were until the vehicle stopped and the back doors opened. Six guards fell in around the back of the van as the four armed guards inside escorted him out. As flattered as he was, Will wished they’d underestimated him instead.

They paraded down a sidewalk and stopped at one of the middle buildings, taking Will through the front doors and to an elevator bank in an office lobby. A security guard at the front desk eyed Will with distrust.

An uneasy sense of déjà vu swept through him, making him hesitate. “I don’t really care much for elevators. I’m a bit claustrophobic.”

The guard on his right curled his lip but remained silent.

Will couldn’t let them see his apprehension. Everyone had a part to play and his was the cocksure asshole. He checked their uniforms for stripes and found none. “You boys Army? Marines?”

“Freelance,” the man on his left said.

One of the other guards elbowed him.

He winked. “Freelance, huh? Whaddaya know? So am I. Maybe we can work out some kind of arrangement.”

The men remained silent.

“So that guy out on the airstrip—was he Kramer?”

The man on his right shifted his eyes as though Will were crazy.

The elevator door opened and someone dug a gun tip into Will’s back and pushed. “Enough chitchat. Playing stupid isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Six men packed the small space with Will, pressing him against the back wall. “So where are we? Some secret government facility?”

The guard who had been on his left shook his head. “Like you don’t know. You’ve busted out of here twice. Last night you stole a plane and crash-landed it in Wyoming.”

“Mitchell, shut up,” one of the men grunted.

Will turned to face the talkative guard. “Mitchell, is it? I think you’ve got the wrong man. Seems to me I’d remember stealing a plane.” Will grinned. “Although it does sound like something I’d do. Always go for the dramatic exit.” Which was a lie. Covert was always better. “What was I here for anyway?” The question released the anxiety he’d held at bay, catching him by surprise. Someone was in danger and he needed to save him. Or her.

Mitchell pressed his lips together in a scowl.

The elevator doors opened and the group filed out. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead.

Will angled his head to the ceiling. “Nice touch, fellows. A-plus for creepy effects.”

Four armed men flanked a door in the hallway. Will was deeper in the building, surrounded by ten men total, and his hands were still cuffed behind his back.

One of the guards opened a steel-plated door, the hinges creaking.

“Can I at least know what I’m being held for?” Will asked over his shoulder as they pushed him through the opening.

The slammed door was his answer.

“Hey! At least take these fucking handcuffs off.”

The door remained closed and Will turned to inventory the room. A flimsy metal frame and a bare mattress. A metal toilet. Four rectangular small vents close to the ceiling on two opposite walls. No chairs. No sink. No window. That made things trickier.

Surrendering to underlying panic that had nothing to do with his own safety, he sat on the bed, the frame sagging beneath his weight. He closed his eyes and tried to sort out his mess of emotions. Fear. Worry. Love.

Love
?

And all those feelings spiked whenever he pictured the woman in the woods. Was she Emmanuella? Just the thought of her name tightened his chest with dread. Who the hell was she?

He sucked in a deep breath, his body twitching with distress. A new fear slid in to join the existing one. Will was a man used to being in control. He’d not only slipped down the ladder of control, he was on the bottom rung about to fall off. He had to get a grip and he had to figure out where all these emotions came from.

There was little doubt he’d been on a job and he must have failed, which was why he was here now. The woman in the woods must have been the job. Concentrating on the phone call, he remembered that he was supposed to bring a woman to South Dakota for a ridiculous amount of money. The memory spiked his anxiety and his breath caught in his throat, sending his heart racing. He fought to stifle the panic and his mind instinctively retreated to a familiar behavior that had been his mind’s coping mechanism during extreme situations in Iraq.

He thought of his mother.

Given the sting of her rejection three years ago, concentrating on happy times as a child with his mom only made his terror worse. His mind scrambled to find another buoy. It wasn’t an image, only a feeling, yet much more powerful.

Belonging.

Choking back a sob of surprise, he clung tight, overwhelmed with the power of the feeling, the one thing he’d craved his entire life. He didn’t question where it came from, only that he knew it was real and it was his. It lapped through him, filling him with a sense of calm.

Belonging to what? Or who?

The image of the woman appeared along with a fresh wave of emotions. On the brink of tears, an overwhelming urge to save her filled every part of his head and his panic returned. She was in danger and he couldn’t do anything to help her. He’d never felt like this about anyone in his entire life and his hysteria was tied to a woman he didn’t even know.

Calm down. They’ve fucked with your head
.

He took a few quick breaths as he twisted the idea like a puzzle piece, trying to make it fit with what little he knew. That had to be it. If his feelings were real, he’d remember her. Remember her fucking name, for God’s sake. Maybe he’d been the guinea pig of some new mind-control project he didn’t know about. Will liked the idea, as farfetched as it seemed. If only because the other alternative was one he couldn’t face: he was losing his mind.

She was a figment of his imagination, or at least his feelings were. The only person who needed saving was himself.

Working his hands under the edge of the mattress, he groped for loose metal pieces to unlock the cuffs. It took him ten minutes before he found a section that had any give. Concentrating on a task returned some clarity to his head. He needed to focus on the situation he was in
now
. The frame was entirely too new, as was the mattress, which told him that the holding cells were rarely used. If at all.

Why had he been escorted to a compound in the middle of nowhere and placed in a cell that rarely saw prisoners?

He bent the thin metal stick of the frame back and forth, spinning it around.

Kramer knew whom he was, calling him by name, which in itself was disconcerting. Will rarely gave his real last name. Aliases worked best, considering the company he tended to keep in his business. The fact that Kramer knew his real name let him know that this wasn’t a case of mistaken identity. But Will had never been here before and he’d sure as hell remember stealing a plane the night before.

The terror and panic returned.
Focus on the task at hand. One step at a time
. His anxiety retreated, hovering in the background.

The piece snapped and Will looked over his shoulder to angle it to the keyhole. It took several attempts to insert the shard into the locking mechanism, but after a few quick jerks and twists, the cuff popped open on his left hand. He rotated his arms to the front and freed himself from the other restraint.

He got up and moved around the room. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard muffled voices filter through the metal, but he couldn’t make out any words.

Will realized he wasn’t going anywhere. The space offered no chance of escape. Even the door hinges were on the outside.

With a grunt of frustration, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. He had no idea how long it would be until someone came back, but he figured he should get all the sleep he could beforehand.

He had the feeling he was going to need it.

Chapter Three

Jake stirred. Something in his memory tickled his consciousness. A shadow almost, it hovered at the edge, teasing him with the feeling of something forgotten. Something important.

His eyes opened as the haze burned away and he found himself in a room, laying on the edge of a bed clutching Rusty, his stuffed dog.

“Señor Jake, you’re awake.” An older woman sat in the corner, knitting a scarf.

Mommy had tried to knit once, a long time ago. The thought of her sent a pain through his stomach. Where was she?

The woman set her yarn and needles in a basket on the floor. “My name is Maria and I’m here to take care of you. Are you hungry?”

He sat up, his anger building.
He
said that he was taking Jake to see his mother. “Where’s my mommy?”

Confusion clouded the woman’s face. “I don’t know. Señor Aiden only said you were coming.”

“Who’s Aiden?”

Her eyes filled with fear as she leapt out of the chair, wringing her hands. “
Tu abuelo
. Your grandfather.”

A man stood in the doorway. “Not to worry. Jake has had a difficult night and is confused.”

Jake recognized the voice. It was
him
. “Where’s my mom?”

Maria stood in the center of the large room, swinging her gaze between Aiden and Jake.

“That is all, Maria,” the man said.

She hesitated, watching Jake with terrified eyes.

Aiden took several steps into the room, his cold eyes watching her while his face remained expressionless. “I said that is all, Maria.”

Her hands shook as she hurried past him.

His gaze followed her with a look of boredom. He turned his attention to Jake.

Jake jumped off the bed, his hands clenched at his sides. “You told me that you were taking me to see my mommy!”

Aiden cocked his head to the side. “No, that’s not what I said at all. I said we were going to get your mother.”

Jake’s breath came in short bursts. “Then where is she?”

Sitting on the side of the bed, Aiden leaned forward, clasping his hands. “Lesson number one, Jacob: Always make sure the person states in very clear and concise words what they mean. Is their language ambiguous? Make them clarify. Take Raphael, for example. He thought he pinned me down and made the situation fit his desires. Yet he forgot that there are always loopholes to squeeze through.”

Aiden laughed like he’d said something funny. But Jake was mad. He wanted answers and Aiden was talking about someone he didn’t know. “I don’t care. I want my mommy!” His chest filled with fire.

Aiden raised an eyebrow, yet looked bored. “You
should
care, Jacob. If you had asked me to clarify last night, I would have told you that we were getting your mother but letting her go. For now.”

“I never saw my mother.” But he didn’t remember anything that happened last night after Aiden took him from the house, either.

Aiden placed his hand on Jake’s head. “You were there. You just don’t remember.”

Jake wanted to ask why, but with Aiden, anything was possible. “I want to see my mom,” he said in slow, even words.