Taken With The Enemy (14 page)
I sprinted forth to the first car, a white no-name beater. It was unlocked, but a quick search of the interior produced no keys.
Shouts rang out from the roof top.
Shit! The fucking guards had spotted me.
Ducking down, I scuttled to the next vehicle, a pick-up truck. The driver door was unlocked, but no keys. I went to the third vehicle, an unlocked van, no keys, but binoculars. I grabbed those babies.
Footsteps approached my location.
I was running out of time!
Fuck driving. I darted to the truck closest to the wall, scurried up onto the hood, threw my backpack and the binoculars over the wall, then grasped the edge and bent my knees, preparing to jump.
Behind me, someone cleared his throat. I glanced over my shoulder only to find my escort and two guards there with their rifles pointed at me.
Crap.
My escort tipped his gun, as if to signal me to get down.
Though I had what was sure to be loaded weapons aimed at my body, I didn't move. I was too close to escaping to give up now. Instantly, Sergeant Jackson's last lecture about my carelessness popped into my head.
"
Yalla,
” my captor urged.
But I realized something important about myself in that moment of hesitation. I wasn't as careless as the squad leader once claimed. I was bold, brave even. And I was going to escape, or die trying.
No harm will come to you ... You are safer here with us than where you were before ... He carries it to protect you, in case something happens. It's not because we think you're dangerous or we're going to shoot you if you try to escape.
My captor's fateful words spurred my tongue.
"You know what,” I declared. “If you don't want me to escape, shoot me now. Otherwise, I'm leaving and nothing short of death is going to stop me."
They stared silently, trying to judge how serious I was. For a moment, I worried that they might actually shoot my ass. Finally, my escort lowered his weapon.
Shaking his head and rolling his eyes in exaggerated exasperation, my escort sighed heavily and waved his hand in the air, as if to say, ‘go then'.
"Thanks. Appreciate it."
My escort chuckled.
I pulled myself onto the top of the wall, almost expecting someone to grab my ankle. I swung my legs around to the other side and hoped down.
Holy shit! I'm actually out! They let me go!
Breathing in the sweet scent of freedom, I picked up the binoculars. Blowing dust and sand out of the lenses, I assessed my new surroundings.
In the distance, less than a mile away, I spied a tower of sorts and a couple of large mounds. Placing the binoculars on my eyes, I zoomed in. No, not desert mounds ... they were concrete aircraft hangars painted to blend in with the desert environment. There were also a couple of scattered buildings and a small runway. The prison I just escaped from probably once housed off-duty fighter pilots and air crew.
Other than that, the area was barren. I was in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but sand, stone, and sun....
Was that a fence?
I zoomed in more, following its path. It seemed to go on for miles in each direction, encompassing the whole site, buildings, hangars and all.
And it was not an ordinary parameter fence.
Concertina wire.
Ick. Nasty stuff.
It would be an obstacle, but not impossible to get through. I'd just have to be careful not to get tangled in it.
Pulling out my compass, I found that the tower was west, and I needed to go east. As I picked up my backpack and took the first steps toward my journey, something landed behind me with a heavy thud.
"Brenna."
I swung about, dropping sack, compass and binoculars, my hand automatically resting on the hilt of my knife.
My captor!
Shit!
Fight or flight?
His eyes narrowed. “Don't even think about drawing that"
Flight.
I bolted.
"Don't run either,” I heard him groan aloud before taking off after me in pursuit.
Hauling ass across the sand, I headed straight for where the parameter fence seemed to be the closest, maybe 300 yards away at most.
"You might as well stop,” he hollered. “You won't make it past the wire."
Looking over my shoulder, I saw he was catching up to me.
"Fuck you."
Though my legs protested, I urged them to move faster.
"You can't jump it."
"The hell I can't."
He was right, I couldn't successfully jump it. But I could make a very messy attempt for the sake of principle.
"Brenna, stop! Don't make me take you down!"
I didn't glance back at him. I didn't have to. I could tell he was close. But I ignored his warning all the same...
Which is why I found myself being tumbled to the ground moments later.
Somehow, he managed to take the brunt of the jarring impact, with me landing on top of him, protected within his arms. We rolled through the sand in a dizzying blur, finally coming to a rest with him lying on top of me.
As the dust settled around us, I stared up at him—
my captor once again!
—trying to come to terms with this latest recapture.
Breathing heavy, he grinned. “Are you okay?"
My chest heaved, not only for air, but in all consuming anger. I pelted him with my fists. “No! I'm not fucking okay! Get the fuck off me!"
He caught my wrists and pulled them above my head. “Calm down, sweetheart. Where are you hurt?"
I started twisting and squirming beneath him. “Off!” I screamed.
"So you're not hurt, just mad as hell?” he asked calmly.
"Motherfucker. If you don't get the fuck off me, I'll—"
Suddenly, his lips covered mine, silencing my protests, exploring my mouth with firm tenderness. I yielded to the intimacy of the moment, my body relaxing against his with a reluctant moan. Sensing my submission, he slowed the pace and deepened the kiss, his fingers intertwining with mine while his tongue teased and cajoled my senses. He tasted so good. I pressed into him, conveying my desire for more.
He withdrew hesitantly, lingering on my lower lip for the briefest of seconds before pulling back.
I opened my eyes slowly, only to meet his searing gaze. “Damn it ... Why did you kiss me?"
He smirked. “It was the only way I could think of to calm you down."
"Prick."
"What?” he asked with utmost innocence.
"I guess getting your jollies off had nothing to do with it. You just
had
to kiss me. You know, duty and all that crap. I'm sure you didn't
want
to."
"Oh, I definitely wanted to,” he assured me. “I just promised you I wouldn't. Again. At least not while we're here."
Here ... prison.
“You have to let me go."
"Tell me why you want to leave."
Evade.
“The others let me go. Why can't you?"
"They didn't let you go. They just weren't going to shoot you."
"They didn't try to physically stop me,” I countered.
He laughed. “Then they would've missed out on the fun of making me chase you down."
"What do you mean?"
Releasing my hands, he sat up and rolled off me. “Look on the roof."
Propping up on my elbows, I squinted into the distance. Sure as shit, it appeared as if a small group, maybe ten or twelve people, was up on top of the building looking out on our position.
"Oh, that's crap."
He climbed to his feet. “Well, we guys are easily amused. Or, they're easily amused, usually at my expense,” he said dryly. He held out his hand to me. “Why do you want to leave us?"
I stared at his out stretched arm and shook my head. “I can't stay here."
"Even if I was to let you go, you were heading the wrong way. There is a reason that fence is there. At the start of the wire until about, oh, I'd say a mile out, the land is littered with unexploded ordinance."
I gasped. “What kind?"
"Landmines mostly, and some other fun surprises."
Ignoring his offer to help me up, I climbed to my feet on my own. “Do you know how dangerous those are? What if some child was to stumble across one,” I grumbled as I dusted myself off.
"We didn't lay them. The last residents did before they left. Unfortunately, we don't have the time nor the manpower to disable them all, so we marked the area off, using concertina wire as a deterrent.
I stared at him in disbelief. “And your friends were just going to let me go into a minefield?"
"Nah, they knew I'd catch you in time."
"And if you didn't?"
"There was no concern. They knew I'd catch you."
Cocky mother fucker...
Throwing up my hands in disgust, I stomped off back toward my gilded cage.
Jogging to catch up with me, he fell into step with my angry strides. “Don't be upset, Brenna. It was an admirable escape."
"Fuck you."
He chuckled. “Do you always use the f-word so liberally when you're ticked off?"
I stopped short, placing my hands on my hips. “And is everything just a joke to you? This is my life you're playing with."
"No, I take your life very seriously,” he said slowly. “But how would you have me act? I honestly don't know what you want from me, doctor. What do you want me to say?"
Scoffing, I waved him off and continued walking.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. “Do you want to know how hard it is trying to thwart all your efforts to get one over on me? How frustrated I am with your unwillingness to open up and trust me when I say that you don't have to run, that if you'd be patient, I'd let you leave soon enough? Do you know how tired I am of wondering what new plan you're concocting, worrying every minute that you'll do something dangerous in your misguided attempts at escape?"
When I bowed my head and looked away, he moved closer, placing my hand over his heart. “Or how much it hurts that you would up and leave without so much as a goodbye?” he whispered.
That last one stung the most. “I can't stay."
"Give me one good reason why I should let you go, and I will."
I looked up to meet his gaze. “Because it's the right thing to do."
"Not good enough,” he replied, releasing his hold and stepping back. He lifted his arms. “Tell me where it is you need to be that is more important than being here. Do you have children waiting for your return in the US? Is there a sick patient or family member? A lover to rush home to? Are you going to lose your position at the hospital if you don't go back immediately? And I assure you that while people in your unit do miss you, the mission is still being accomplished without you there."
God, I hated when he did that, feeding me information to make a point. “You already know the answers to those questions. So why ask them? The point is, it's wrong to kidnap someone and force them—"
"To do their job? To help people? Force them to do something they love and do willingly all the time?"
"If you needed my help, you should've asked,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
"I don't have to."
"Says who?"
"What does it matter? What we're discussing is the reason why you want to run away, not what right we have to bring you here."
Pompous ass. “You have no right."
"Regardless, you're safe and comfortable. Why do you want to leave?"
"Maybe I don't want to treat your tortured victims anymore,” I offered.
His expression grew dark. “Your last patient was hurt trying to flee capture, a capture prompted by the company he kept and a plan of attack that he was party to. But even if torture was the case, I don't believe you'd abandon those so-called victims when you are their only access to health care."
"Maybe it also had to do the way you treated me the last time we saw each other."
Letting out a heavy breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would have apologized, given the chance."
"You had two days,” I responded cynically, tapping my foot for emphasis like some irate fishwife.
"I was giving you time to cool down. I figured when you were ready, you'd call."
His explanations made me feel better, especially hearing him say that he didn't torture his prisoners. However, I wasn't going to let the demeaning way he treated me go so easily.
I shrugged. “You still haven't apologized."
"I'm sorry.” The smirk was long gone. He was sincere again. “Forgive me. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."
"Why?"
"Ah,” he paused. “I guess I should treat others the way I want to be treated?"
"No,
why
did you speak to me that way? Tell me
why
you were so angry at me."
"All I can say is that I was scared for you and it caused me to act out of order. True to your gentle personality, though you might not let people in, when it comes to your profession, you always reach out. That can be a dangerous thing to do when dealing with the enemy."
I lifted my eyebrows. “Wow, really? You don't say..."
"You also know I'm not your enemy now, right?"
I nodded. “But you're still my captor."
This was his hint on what to say to make things better between us, at least for now. But would he catch it?
He didn't disappoint.
"Brenna, will you stay with us? We need you here...” He held out his arm to me. “I need you here,” he whispered.
I knew once I put my hand in his, my heart would be lost forever.
But I did it anyway.
We began our trek back, heading a different direction from which we came.
"Where are we going?” I asked.
"There's a gate over there,” he explained, pointing to the far end of the complex. “It's on the other side of the building from where you hopped the wall."
"Is that where the road leads out of here? You all can't be completely surrounded by mines."
He nodded. “There's only one way in and out of here, and it's guarded well."
"By the group sitting on the roof?"
"Well, usually not that many. Some only went up there for the show."
