Yield (28 page)

Nothing.
He picked me up and held me tight to suppress all my struggling.

I was carried to another car and left in the trunk, the lid closed on me.

When it opened again, perhaps a half an hour later, torchlight swept over the bag on my head. They held my arm still and injected me with something.

After that, nothing mattered.

A succession of blurred, faraway images paraded past, people, lights, engine sounds, the rocking of the surface I lay on. Men carrying me. Drinking water. For hours, minutes, days, the world was a series of distant fragments that had nothing to do with me.

Then I was left somewhere, still bound, vaguely knowing I was abandoned.

Slowly, I awakened and stared into the inside of the bag. At some point in time, the bag had been removed but now it was back.

Booted feet thumped on timber, echoing. Waves splashed and surged below.

A man grunted then put his hand on my shoulder then my neck. The drawstring was undone but when he dragged off the bag I couldn’t bear to look and see who had me.

Where was I this time? Somewhere worse than
his
house, I was certain. Perhaps I should pretend to be dazed?

With my eyelids mostly lowered, I began to lick my lips then stopped, not wanting to draw attention to any part of me that might give a man sexual ideas. Which was stupid. All I had on were a bra and panties.

Glass

Wren?

Then I said it out loud, I whispered it, “Wren?”

I hauled her to me, my tears threatening to spill.

Her eyes seemed to struggle to focus even when I gently directed her to look at me. “Who?”

“It’s me, Glass.”

At last, I saw a smile waver on her lips.

“Really? It’s you? Your hair’s darker. He gave me back to you? I don’t understand...” She whispered that then sobbed once and swallowed it down. “It is you? Untie me? Please?”

The doubts, hesitations, the apprehension in her tone, they cut me like a jagged knife sawing at my guts. Whatever had happened to her had changed her, and I’d not been
there
for her. My fault for letting her go out alone.

My regrets of that night were ingrained, like a dirty DVD track.

Rain check. Now is now.

“Give me a sec.” I’d nearly lost it despite years of training. I drew my knife, searching the cuffs for a spot to cut. All metal links and a key lock.

Pieter was behind me, to the left, keeping tabs on the situation.

I had to get her out of here. Was it a trap? I’d wondered, when I got the text.

I considered cutting the leather but there was a key connected to the cuffs by a ziptie and I cut that instead. As I unlocked the cuffs at her back and the ankle ones too, I surveyed the inside of this small warehouse. The access was either from the sea past two big sliding doors, or where I’d come in, from landward. There was a lot of miscellaneous cargo in here – crates, boxes, sacks. Nothing that said a big company, this was someone’s small freight shed. The door padlock hadn’t been properly closed.

While I worked on the cuffs and helped her to her feet, Wren watched me but said nothing. Maybe she was afraid this would go wrong too? Why had he let her go? The poor girl could barely stand and I caught her under the shoulders, steadied her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

She turned her face into my chest. Her body trembled.

A single electric bulb had been on when I came in, and I’d ducked in the door then sideways to the right to avoid being silhouetted. Pieter had gone left. Going out, it would be a dead certainty that I’d be framed in the door. We could shoot the light but that’d leave a bullet in the roof.

“See a light switch, Pieter?”

“
Ja
. By the door.”

“Hit it before we leave.

“Will do.”

“I’m getting you out of here, fast, Wren, baby girl.” I almost choked up again, at being able to say her name, to touch her again. “I’m carrying you out. You have to be quiet, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes red-rimmed from fear or crying, both probably.

When I’d first surveyed the warehouse, I’d felt a disconnection from reality.

I’d seen a woman, curled up and tied, with a bag on her head, lying on a central layer of boxes, like some perverted sexual display. My chest had hurt. I hadn’t
known
, couldn’t let myself be sure. I’d walked over, trying to be professional and scope the environment for bad guys, but I’d hoped
so
fucking hard. Every step had been a step toward both doom and euphoria. What if it wasn’t her? What if it was?

What if.

I’d been on the last scrapings of hope.

It was Wren.

I wanted to kill him, whoever he was, but first, safety. If I failed her now, I’d kill my fucking self.

I had to keep looking at her, leaning against her side to reassure myself with contact as I talked to the others with the commlink. “It’s her. Be alert. We’re coming out. Have the car ready.”

I’d brought Jurgen, Pieter, and four other men to cover me, but still I felt awfully vulnerable. What if there were explosives, a sniper? I’d only risked it because the text had mentioned her, or I’d thought it had. They’d said a live cargo called W was here, waiting for me. It’d been enough.

W meant only one possibility, to me.

“It’s you.” I smiled down at her as I carried her to the warehouse door. I kissed her forehead as she smiled back. Pieter turned off the light and went out, I followed. I had a Ruger at my waist and the guys had their favorite tricked-out weapons, from assault rifles to HKs but nothing would guarantee me getting out with her if half a battalion of someone’s men was going to ambush us.

The journey down the jetty to the next cover took forever, and went through puddles of light and darkness, past at least five good ambush points. I jogged most of the way.

Wren didn’t feel any lighter. There was good and bad in that. With her snuggled into my chest I felt like Thor and ready for anything, but carrying sixty plus kilos at a run took its toll. I was breathing hard by the time I hit the agreed evac spot. Pieter and Jurgen flanked me the last ten yards.

Around a corner and there they were – the two Land Rovers with drivers at the wheels and the engines running.

“In.” Pieter gestured and held open the passenger door to the first Land Rover, his eyes on the surroundings, his rifle in his hand.

Once I exited that warehouse door, my men had covered us but I could’ve had a hundred enemy eyes on me. Every stride, exposed to bullets, and if they were coming I couldn’t even duck, not with my girl in my arms. Worst feeling ever.

The second vehicle followed us as we pulled out, engine roaring, tires spinning fast over gravel but not enough to squeal. Discreet as possible, professional.

“Police?” Pieter queried. In the flicker of streetlights, I could see the raise of his brow. The man had every reason to want cops to stay a thousand miles away, but he was still suggesting it.

“No,” Wren said, from where she snuggled into my side, her arms around me, mine around her, inseparable. Pieter had thrown the spare bulletproof jacket over her, then taken off his own and placed it over her as well.

Good man.

No man could ever ask for a better group of friends and for that I am eternally grateful.

My heart ached as she raised her head. She seemed much more fragile than before.

“No?” I asked. “But soon?”

“Soon. I guess. Now, I need just to be with you and safe. Please?” Her grip tightened.

“Sure. Rest. I’ll get my doc to check you over though. Okay?” When she frowned, I frowned back. “Say yes, or...”

Fuck. Stop with the threats.

“Yes, Sir. I mean, fine.” Then she snuggled back into me. I felt the warm huffs of her breath sneak through the layers of cloth and vest.

Puzzled, I watched her for a few seconds.

At her statement, a shock had vibrated in, and echoed.

That
Sir
had been automatic, like one of my men responding to a command. She’d never said that before she was taken. Never to me. And she’d caught herself, I’d seen that before she hid. She knew it would seem odd.

What had he done to her?

I should get the doctor to see her soon, though I wasn’t sure I could even get hold of him this late. She’d been raped, almost certainly, maybe hurt in other ways.

I looked at her, curled up and holding onto me for grim death, like I was the only thing keeping her from floating away. The jacket had shifted and barely covered the bottom of her panties, so I inched it downward.

One night, a few hours of peace, then I’d make sure she was seen.

This had been Vetrov and I doubted he would leave any clues a doctor could find. I’d seen enough forensic crime programs to have some idea as to what was possible. The man would never have set her free if he’d only recently left semen inside her. It was a stark, horrible fact. Best to face it than ignore it.

We’d get past this. Maybe she’d need a psychologist? I’d have to contact Hugh. He might know more about how to treat kidnap victims. I had to find out if she knew why he’d released her. Had to be sure this wasn’t some ruse. Though nobody sensible would dare attack my compound without a few armored cars. Vetrov, I knew he was smart.

We just needed to get through those gates.

I’d never feel safe until we found him. Never. But he was in Australia and I was in Papua New Guinea. My resources weren’t the best outside my territory. I’d still need Hugh, no matter how much of a reticent bastard he’d become. Wren must have some new facts we could use to find Vetrov.

I patted her as we rocked through the streets, but my pistol was loose in its holster and Pieter’s eyes stayed on the street. No chances.

I’d make sure she was safe, well, and that the man responsible for doing this to her was dead. Fucked over first if possible, but dead would be enough for me.

ASAP.

We swung around a corner and our street appeared, at the end of which were the gates to the compound.

My back itched and my stomach tightened into a painful ball as we drove those last few hundred yards.

I slumped a little as the gates shut behind us.
In. Home. Thank god. Thank whoever was watching over us. Thank my men.

When we were all out and standing on the internal street outside my house, I gave them all a nod. “Thank you.” Then I looked them over, slowly, meeting their eyes. “I owe you one.”

Apart from a few murmured words, they were silent as I carried Wren up the steps and into my house.

Fuck it. Home.

Now to get her right again. Poor girl.

Whether it was the leftover effects from drugs she’d been given, or pure adrenalin letdown and fatigue, she was asleep. I gently shut the door behind me with my heel.

“Never letting you go again, girl,” I whispered, looking down at her, feeling her precious weight in my arms, watching her lips as she breathed and feeling her small hand stir against my chest. This time I let the tears come. “Never.”

Wren

That night, I think I woke fleetingly, twenty times, and every time Glass was there beside me, ready to hug me and talk me back into sleep. Wasn’t
him
. I was safe, in Glass’s house.

When a hint of morning came, sifting through the shutters and striping the walls, the floor before me, the bed quilt, my first thought was how bare my neck felt, as were my wrists and ankles. Reminders that reached into my consciousness.

My back burned, where he’d branded me. Had Glass seen the word yet? That brought me to tears.

Reminders.
They’d fade with time; they had to. I nestled into Glass and fell back into a restless slumber. So strange, to have someone beside me like this – someone I could trust.

Strange to know that once again I had choices.

*****

I sat on the edge of the bed in my newly adopted white shirt – one of Glass’s so it engulfed me like a snowstorm. The doctor was nice, gentle, a man who clearly sympathized easily with his patients. He possessed a soft, smooth voice and would wait for my answers a long time before he’d prompt me. I needed this. It was difficult to talk about how my life had been for the last two months.

Two months. A bit more, really. I’d lost track of the days. His advice had slotted into my head, neatly, like something pretty pasted onto paper. Sentences that meant important things I should remember.

You seem in good health, Wren, apart from the bruises and small scars, though the brand will need daily treatment to ensure it won’t become infected.

He’d told me it could be removed by a plastic surgeon when I felt ready for such a procedure.

I’d nodded. I would do that, one day.

The blood tests are to check for various problems including diseases such as hepatitis and HIV and to ensure you’re not pregnant.

I doubted he had any such diseases. The man controlled his life so precisely. Still, I agreed to the tests.

I’m taking this swab to check for evidence of semen.

Even though
he
had always used condoms. The doctor explained he should be thorough, and I agreed.

I need to comb through your hair, in case any of his hairs have been caught in yours.

Again this was for DNA. Though he wasn’t the police, it seemed he could access such tests. I agreed again. I clearly recalled
him
washing my hair but it was worth trying.

We both, the doctor and I, regretted that my pubic hair had been shaved often, as it meant there was no opportunity for his pubic hairs to be trapped there.

All so professional. He’d summed up the results of my abduction with some poking and prodding and blood tests.

As he packed away his stethoscope, he gave me more advice. Even the methodical way he handled equipment reassured me. I’d had to insist twice to shoo Glass from the room. I didn’t need him in here.

“One last thing, Wren.” He studied me, and I studied him too, thinking how elegant his peppered dark hair seemed. All part of his air of competence.

“Yes?”

“You’re going to need to see a psychologist.”