Exit Strategy, page 23
part #1 of EXIT Inc. Series
He nodded, and waited for her to say the obvious.
“Okay, okay.”
He cocked a brow, still waiting.
“The zip line. We’ll cross the river on the zip line.” She tried not to let the fear show in her voice, but the sympathetic look on his face told her she hadn’t fooled him any more than she was fooling herself.
SABRINA HELD THE stitch in her side and plopped down on the dirt beneath the zip line platform, her lungs laboring as she tried to catch her breath. Once Mason had gotten her to agree to his plan, he’d urged her to run with him just inside the tree line as fast as she could go. It was probably a good quarter mile to the platform and she’d been gasping for air and thinking about begging him for mercy shortly after they’d started the insane run. But the tension in his face and the way his left hand had hovered near his holster told her that their pursuers were probably a lot closer than he’d let on.
He must have seen something, or heard something, to be so worried. So she’d suffered in silence and was a bit surprised she’d actually made it the whole way without collapsing. Mason, of course, didn’t even seem winded. Which had her grumpily considering tossing him in the river. It would serve him right after tossing her into the river, twice. But she was too busy holding her side to make the effort.
A dull thump had her turning around to see what he was doing. The sun had set during their mad dash to the zip line tower. And with only the light of a nowhere-near-full moon, she couldn’t see much at all except the dull flash of Mason’s knife as he struck something, making another dull thump.
She shoved to her feet and trudged over to him, still holding her side.
A thick padlock secured the door on a small building that was little more than a shed. But it was brand new, so the structure was solid. Still, they needed harnesses for the zip line, so they had to get into it.
She supposed he could have shot the lock off, but that would have given away their position. Besides, Mason wasn’t trying to break it. Instead, he was using his knife to pry the wooden molding away from the door where the lock was positioned. A few more thumps, some prying, and the wood where the lock was set suddenly broke away. The door sagged open, and he hurried inside.
Sabrina held the door open, hoping what little moonlight was available would filter inside to help him. Standing outside without any trees nearby, and hearing the river rushing over the rocks, was an eerie feeling. Was Ace out there looking for them? Or Stryker? Or that other man, Bishop? How many men had Cyprian sent after them? And more importantly, would they stop for the night or would they keep coming, never allowing her and Mason a moment’s rest?
He came outside, carrying an assortment of harnesses, gloves, and two helmets. Kneeling down on the ground, he sorted through his haul, then waved her over.
He knows what he’s doing. There’s no reason to freak out over helmets and harnesses. What happened to Mom and Dad isn’t going to happen to us.
She wished she really believed that.
She snagged the helmet he handed her while he put the other on. Once he adjusted his chin strap, he checked hers, wiggling the helmet.
“Too tight?” he asked.
“No. It feels good.”
He tightened the strap. “How about now?”
She shoved his hand away. “Now it’s too tight.”
He surprised her by shoving her hand away when she would have loosened the strap. “No, now it’s going to protect you if you don’t stop fast enough on the other side and run into the platform wall. Leave it.”
“I don’t suppose anyone has ever accused you of being bossy?” she grumbled.
“Never.” He went back to sorting the harnesses. He seemed to find one he liked and he held it up against her.
“This should work. Stand up.”
“I am standing.”
His answering grin told her he was teasing. “Hold on to my shoulders and step into the harness, like you’re putting pants on.”
“I know how to do it. I’ve done this before.” As soon as the words left her mouth, the image of her parents falling sucked her breath away. She started to shake.
He cupped her face and pulled her down for a soft kiss. “It’s going to be okay. I know what I’m doing.”
“You’ve zip lined before?” she asked, embarrassed at the wobbliness in her voice.
“Many times. Trust me.”
She forced the images of her parents out of her mind and let Mason take over. She lifted her legs when he told her to, stood still while he tightened the straps around her thighs, her waist. He checked her helmet again, then handed her a pair of gloves.
“What are these for?” she asked. “I didn’t have gloves last time.”
“Just a precaution. In case there’s any reason to touch the cable. There won’t be a guide on the platform to help us so it’s best to be prepared.”
Her earlier panic started taking hold again, but she swallowed hard and put the gloves on. They were too big, so he exchanged them for a smaller pair that fit better.
After putting on his own equipment, he used his knife to sever the remaining harnesses. She knew what that was for—so if anyone followed them, they wouldn’t have equipment to use the zip line.
He sheathed the knife in his boot and settled his crossbow and quiver over his shoulders. Then he led her to the ladder that would take them up to the platform.
“You first,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
To catch her if she fell?
She shuddered and started up. The ladder was thick and solid and secured to the platform at several points, making it sturdy. When it didn’t even wobble as she climbed, she became more confident. Especially since it was too dark to see much below her if she did look down. But once she stepped through the gate onto the three-sided platform, and saw that dark maw that opened out onto emptiness and the rushing river below, she started shaking again.
A pair of warm, strong arms circled her from behind as Mason joined her on the platform and pulled her against him. He kissed her cheek, then the side of her neck, as he hugged her.
“Tell me about them,” he whispered, before kissing her cheek again.
She shivered as his lips moved down the side of her face. Suddenly it seemed as if his earlier urgency was gone and all he cared about was holding her.
“Rina? Your parents. What were they like?” He nuzzled her earlobe, sending a streak of sensation straight to her belly.
She tried to remember what he’d asked her. Her parents. What were they like? Not an easy question to answer. She tried to think of a way to explain them without him misunderstanding, without him thinking they were bad people. Yes, the way they’d abandoned her and her brother was selfish, and she’d always resented it, but she’d also understood to some degree. But it was difficult to concentrate, to find a way to explain with Mason’s hands roving over her belly, down to her hips. She shivered again, her eyes closing.
“They . . . they loved me, in their own way. I didn’t . . . get to see them very often. They were free spirits who lived for adventure. But I always knew they’d come back and settle down, eventually.”
He gently turned her in his arms and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. So short and so sweet she couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in her throat. He captured the sound with another, lingering kiss, but pulled back all too quickly.
“They traveled a lot?” His body began to sway as he moved her back on the platform in a slow, sexy dance.
“Yes. Grampy Hightower took care of me whenever they were gone.” She snuggled against his chest, her body swaying with his, moving across the wood. “But Mom and Dad always made it home for holidays, and sometimes my birthday. They brought special presents from exotic places. Homecomings were always such fun.”
He stopped their dance. There was a slight tug against her harness and a loud click. She opened her eyes and looked up in confusion. But he wasn’t in front of her anymore. There was only open space, and the river, the white frothy rapids flashing in the moonlight as the water rushed and gurgled past them.
She gasped and tried to back up, but Mason was behind her, a wall of muscle, his arms on hers, his chest pressing against her back.
“Let me go. I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. You survived the loss of your brother. The loss of your parents. Your grandfather’s disappearance. Most people couldn’t live through all of that and come out so strong, so grounded. But you have. You’re a very special woman, Sabrina. You’ve been through so much. But you’ve never given up, have you? And you’re not going to give up now. You’re strong, resilient, determined. I know you can do this.”
He leaned over her shoulder to meet her gaze. “Thomas wouldn’t want you to give up. And neither would your parents. Do this for them. The harness is secure. The pulley above you is new, strong. The clip holding the harness to the pulley is solid steel. I’ve double-, triple-checked everything.”
He gently lifted her hands and placed them on the strap above her, which she knew connected to a pulley on the cable.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he continued, his deep voice so soothing, so confident, that it was hard to be fearful anymore. “Ten seconds, fifteen at the most. The line dips near the other side of the river then goes back up. It’s designed to slow you down before you reach the other platform. You can’t see it from here, but it’s there. As soon as you reach the other side, put your hands out in front of you to stop yourself at the back wall. Then just unclip the carabiner from the cable and move to the side. When the line goes slack, I’ll know it’s clear and follow you over. All you have to do is take one step. And trust me.”
“I trust you.” She tightened her hands on the strap and stepped into space.
MASON QUICKLY CLIPPED his carabiner to the next pulley and put one hand on the cable, waiting for the tension to slack. He hated sending her over without him, but he didn’t have a choice. The cable was plenty strong enough to hold both of their weights, but he could crash into her at a high speed if he didn’t make sure she was off the line first.
And now he was getting more and more agitated waiting for his turn. While he’d been trying to keep Sabrina calm and convince her to face what had to be one of her worst fears, he’d heard something. A night creature foraging for dinner in the nearby underbrush? Maybe. It could have been the creak of the wood in the tower, contracting in the cooling temperatures now that the sun wasn’t baking the wood anymore.
Or it could be one of Cyprian’s men, working his way up from below.
How long had it been since Sabrina had stepped off this platform? Twenty seconds? Twenty-five? He didn’t think the line was all that long, based on the curvature he’d noticed when he’d spotted it back by the waterfall. If that was the lowest point in the line, it had to curve up just enough to slow the zip liner so they wouldn’t hit the inside back of the platform box. It couldn’t be more than twenty feet past the tree line. So why hadn’t the tension in the cable eased yet?
Just then the line bounced and went slack. Mason blew out a deep breath, relief easing the knots in his shoulders. She’d made it to the other side and remembered to unclip her harness from the cable. So far, so good. He grabbed the strap above him and shoved off the platform.
The line was new and strong and gave a smooth ride across the river. With Mason’s greater weight, he covered the distance much faster than Sabrina would have and he quickly reached the line’s low point on the other side of the river. The cable arched up, slowing his speed. The dark platform came into view exactly where he’d guessed it to be, about twenty feet back from the tree line.
He landed on the platform, grabbing the cable overhead to steady himself as he came to a stop and unclipped the carabiner. He turned around, searching for Sabrina in the dark.
The platform was empty.
Chapter Eighteen
Day Four—8:00 p.m.
Sabrina blinked against the fluorescent lights overhead and poured all her anger into the shriveling glare she aimed at the man across the room. The same man who’d been lying in wait for her on the zip line platform. He’d gagged and bound her before he’d cut her harness strap and released her from the cable. Then he’d tossed her on his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and hopped off the platform in a heart-stopping slide down a rope to the ground.
She’d done her best to struggle and slow him down as he’d jogged into the woods with her, but the way he’d bound her arms behind her, any movement caused sharp, agonizing pain in her shoulders. He’d brought her here, left her gagged and tied up, sitting on what seemed to be a cold, stone floor. Now that her eyes were adjusting to the light, she could verify that it was indeed stone. She was in a large rock cavern, cut into the side of the mountain. There were no windows, so the lights overhead and a steel door on the entrance kept any light from leaking outside.
It appeared to be a storage room for equipment for the EXIT tours. Boxes of supplies—bottles of water, helmets, even a pair of rafts up against one wall—filled about a third of the room. The rest was empty, except for her.
And Ace.
He was dressed head to toe in green camouflage. His pants were tucked into army-issue black combat boots. A pistol rode in a holster on each hip and a rifle was slung across his back. But in his right hand was a large, lethal-looking knife. He held it down against his side as he strolled across the room and stood over her.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” He gestured with his knife toward her arms, pulled tight behind her. “That’s nothing, though, compared to what Mason’s been through. I assume you’re lovers. Did he tell you about those scars on his back? It happened when he was in the army. Did he tell you about it?”
He squatted down in front of her. “Happened years ago. Apparently he was held captive for weeks in the desert, tortured, tied up with steel wire that cut into his back. They called the guy who tortured him the Jackal. He rubbed salt water into Mason’s wounds every day while he tried to get information about his unit. I hear Mason never cracked, never told him anything.” He shrugged. “Didn’t matter. All the men in his unit still died. The Jackal got his information some other way. Ironic that Mason ended up being the lone survivor.”
He ran the edge of his knife under her chin. “Cyprian dug that information out of reports in Mason’s personnel file. Apparently your lover goes nuts when he’s tied up. Some kind of PTSD thing from his time with the Jackal. Did you know that?”
She looked away, dismissing him the only way she could. Her heart broke for the horrible torture that Mason had suffered through, but she didn’t want to give Ace the satisfaction of thinking he’d found her main weakness—her feelings for Mason.
The sharp edge of Ace’s knife pressed against her cheek, forcing her to look at him.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t turn away from me when I’m talking. You don’t want to make me mad. I could cut you up into little pieces and enjoy every minute of it.” He tilted his head as he ran his knife blade along the column of her throat, forcing her to tilt her head back. “If I had more time, maybe I’d try to see just what Mason finds so fascinating about you. Then I’d carve you up. But there’s no need to wait to pay you back for that little nick you gave me with those damn scissors.” He suddenly pricked her skin with the knife, laughing when she jerked back with a moan against her gag. The cut stung and warm blood ran down her neck.
“Don’t worry,” he crooned. “It’s just a little cut. You won’t bleed out. Yet.” He pulled the knife back, letting her lower her head. His callous words had her heart pounding double-time. The blood rushed in her ears and her lungs starved for oxygen as if she’d just run a race.
“You’re hyperventilating.” He laughed. “Guess I still have the power to strike fear into a lady, huh?” He half stood, bending over her with the knife.
She tried to lean away from him, but her shoulders tightened as if they were about to pop out of socket, making her arch back.
The cloth that was tied behind her head, keeping the gag in her mouth, slackened and fell away.
He squatted in front of her again, keeping the knife in his right hand as he grabbed the edge of the cloth in her mouth and yanked it out.
She coughed and worked her tongue to moisten her dry mouth, then drew her first deep breath since he’d captured her. When the searing pain in her shoulders eased enough so that she could breathe normally again, she straightened against the wall behind her.
“Before you kill me, will you at least tell me if you know whether my grandfather is alive?”
He cocked a brow. “Don’t you want to know the whole story before I tell you the ending?” He shrugged. “You’re in luck. I happened to overhear Cyprian discussing your family with Bishop, right before I stuffed Bishop’s head into a gas oven.” He laughed when she recoiled from him. “Seems like Cyprian used Bishop as his little lapdog back in Colorado, to kill your brother because he was using Cyprian’s daughter.”
Sabrina drew a sharp breath. Mason had been right.
“I guess it snowballed from there. Your grandfather saw some sketch you drew of Melissa Cardenas and he pieced it all together. He was stupid enough to threaten Cyprian. Then again, maybe not that stupid. The old coot supposedly locked some kind of evidence away somewhere that proves Cyprian had your brother killed. At least, that’s what he claims.”
He leaned so close she could feel his hot breath against her cheeks, but she forced herself not to flinch or turn away.
“I knew part of the story, of course, since Bishop and I were the ones looking after that old man and torturing him. But I didn’t know all of it until today. No amount of torture seems to work, though.”
Sabrina’s chest tightened. Grampy is alive. He’s alive. Oh God. But he’s being tortured.
