K-9 Security, page 9
The fourth attacker came from behind. He locked Cash’s arms to his side as the one with the knife got his bearings. A swipe of that blade cut through the front of his shirt and scored across his chest. Cash launched his elbow back into the bastard’s face behind him. Then he kicked the knee out of the guy in front. A scream filled the small cell and echoed down the corridor.
The soldier at his back—roughly Cash’s size—war cried a split second before the son of a bitch practically picked Cash up and hauled him back. They hit the floor together. Before he had a chance to catch his breath, two more attackers were dragging him across the floor by the legs. Cash reached for the closest thing resembling a weapon as he could get: a freestanding dumbbell.
He swung it with everything he had into one man’s kneecap. The sickening crunch of shattering bone filled his ears, and he knew then the soldier would never walk right again. Without any use, the cartel would put him down. His attacker dropped to both knees, and Cash ripped the metal across the soldier’s face. Another caught him around the middle from out of nowhere. He brought the dumbbell down as hard as he could.
A weight bench slammed into him from behind. He launched forward, saved from eating the floor by the weight in his hand. Cash caught himself against the wall and chucked the dumbbell at the abductor getting ready to throw the bench at his head. The soldier took the weight to the gut and dropped the bench on himself. Cash rotated his shoulder. “I’ve gotta get in better shape.”
A fist rocketed into his face from out of nowhere. He spun into the fifth soldier who’d decided to get in the game and launched his knuckles into the man’s jaw. It was a brawl with no end. He knocked one down and another got up, and he was quickly running out of adrenaline.
Strong hands shoved him backward, and he tripped over an unconscious body. His elbow slammed against the cement as he rolled his legs up and over his shoulders to keep him moving. Out of breath, he raised both hands in preparation of what came next. Only one soldier remained. The one who’d locked his arms back while letting the others see if a bunch of candy would break out of him if they hit hard enough.
Cash had misjudged the soldier’s size. They weren’t equal. If anything, the man had at least fifty pounds of hard muscle on him. No shot caller. Not one to make decisions. His job was meant to keep others in line. “Let me guess. They call you Tiny.”
A broken-toothed smile soaked in blood flashed wide. Groans filtered through the hard pound of Cash’s pulse behind his ears. Tiny came in for a right hook. Cash ducked and struck the soft tissue of the bastard’s organs. Didn’t make a damn bit of difference. A thick hand wrapped around Cash’s throat and bent him over a stack of barbell weights at his back. Cash dug his grip into the soldier’s forearm, then his elbow. Black dots floated across his vision. He had a minute. Maybe seconds.
He hauled his bloodied fist into the soldier’s eye, but Tiny recovered too quickly.
His attacker locked his gaze on him. Then thrust his forehead directly into Cash’s face.
The world threatened to rip straight out from under him. The black dots took over, his lungs empty. He’d taken on an entire army in hopes of getting Elena and Bear out of here. Instead, they’d be the ones looking down on his body.
Tiny threaded an arm between Cash’s legs and hauled him overhead. Gravity took hold, and in a classic wrestling maneuver, the soldier deposited him onto the floor. The collision finished the job the others had started on his ribs.
He had nothing left. Nothing left to fight. Nothing for Elena or her brother.
Pain exploded across his scalp as Tiny fisted a chunk of his hair. Bone threatened to break under another strike to the face. Once. Twice. His head snapped back into the metal foot of the weight rack, and the world exploded into color. White, yellow and that drugging black he’d followed down the rabbit hole once before. In that pale rainbow, a face materialized. One he felt he’d known his entire life, yet had just encountered less than two days ago. He wanted nothing more than that face to be real. To feel how soft her skin was, to get lost in her warmth, to have those dark brown eyes look at him with something other than fear. To have her believe he was the good guy. That his brother’s betrayal didn’t run in his veins. Two days. That was all it’d taken for her to remind him of his purpose.
An outline shifted above him, and Cash’s hand seemed to move of its own accord in survival mode. He clutched one of the stack weights and brought it forward. A scream nearly punctured his eardrums as Tiny’s hand folded as easily as a dish towel against the steel. No. He wasn’t giving up. There was something deep down that wouldn’t let him—a drive to make this right. He’d given Elena his word that he’d bring her brother home, and that was exactly what he was going to do. Whether he was dead or alive for their reunion.
Cash struggled to his feet. Blood dripped from his mouth, adding to the stains already taking over the cement. The four other soldiers were down for the count, and they wouldn’t be getting back up. He grabbed Tiny by the hair and pried the man’s head back on his shoulders. “You’re going to tell me where you’re keeping my dog. Then you and I are going on a field trip.”
Chapter Eight
She could feel him staring at her. The man Metias had left behind to watch her.
I have a matter that needs attending to. I’ll give you some time to think about my offer. Her husband had kissed her forehead then, as though merely telling her he’d be late for dinner, and closed the door behind him. The unspoken warning in his tone filtered through her head on a loop. He’d given her time, but patience had never been one of his virtues.
She could either run back to him—submissive, apologetic and weak—or lose her brother forever.
And Cash... Where was Cash? Where was Bear? Were they still alive? Part of her had lit up at the possibility that the matter Metias needed to attend to involved the private military contractor and his Rottweiler giving the cartel hell. Cash would fight. In the limited amount of time they’d known each other, she knew that much. An internal mission drove him to overcome any situation—especially any that involved his K-9 companion—but what that meant for Elena, she didn’t know. Would their deal still matter to him here? On the surface, she wasn’t in physical danger. Metias wouldn’t outright kill her for escaping their marriage. But if she refused to return to his side, would that give him reason to add her to the list of dead at his hands?
Her body ached. The ropes around her wrists had cut through skin and were rubbing her raw from the tension. Every move Elena made, every sound, was being catalogued by the brute guarding the door, but she couldn’t stay here.
Because she’d already made her decision.
She’d made it the night she’d run from that house. Metias hadn’t expected that of her. He’d been counting on her being too weak from starvation and dehydration and fear. That was why he’d agreed to let her have a few minutes of privacy to wash away the blood, sweat and tears from three days in that cellar. He hadn’t counted on her climbing through the window, contacting someone for help or avoiding the perimeter patrol of men he’d set to keep the unwanted out.
She wasn’t going back.
But that left Daniel at the mercy of a man who didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. A man who would want to keep his leverage as close as possible.
Elena scanned the bunker office for the dozenth time. Metias had left the lamp on. He’d given her that much, at least. Books, a desk, the chair. None of it would help her out of these ropes. But something like a pen or a letter opener would do. She just had to give herself the opportunity to search. A fresh water bottle, complete with beaded condensation running the length of the plastic, stared back at her from the desk. Her husband would’ve placed it there on purpose. To break her, to remind her that her life was once again in his hands.
She’d surrendered her power for the chance of a family and a new life outside of Alpine Valley. She’d betrayed herself, but knowing Daniel’s life depended on her, knowing Cash and Bear would do whatever it took to see this through, it was time for her to take it all back. To stop hiding. Stop playing the role of victim. To take a stand against the virus infecting the town and people she cared about.
Sizing up the massive boulder-sized man ahead of her, she cleared her throat. There wasn’t any scenario in which she’d be able to overcome him physically, but she didn’t have to. All she had to do was outsmart him. She’d done it with Metias. She could do it with a guard. Elena nodded toward the bottled water sweating against the desk. “Could I have some water?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even seem to comprehend her question for a series of moments. Maybe considering the repercussions if he gave in to her request, then those of not giving in. Would Metias want him to give her water or not?
She licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. Her voice softened at the slightest provocation. “I’m really thirsty. I won’t tell him, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just... I can’t think when my throat is so dry, and he wants an answer soon.”
He gruffed and hiked his shoulders a bit higher, which exaggerated the tendons fighting for release along his neck. He wasn’t like the others she’d met when Metias threw his parties and forced her to mingle with his friends. Most, if not all of them, came from the same handwoven rug as she did—umber skin, dark hair, even darker eyes. Sweat built along his skin that suggested they shared some kind of ancestry, but the guard’s eyes pinched at the edges slightly. More Asian than Mexican. Out of place in Sangre por Sangre. Trying to fit in.
He didn’t respond. For the stretch of what felt like two full minutes, her plea died between them, but then...he was reaching for the water bottle. Small ticks around his jaw testified of the internal battle waging inside his head. He still wasn’t sure he was making the right choice, but Elena couldn’t think about what would happen to him after she escaped. Not right then.
Survival. She was good at that.
The guard closed the distance between them and unscrewed the lid. Offering it to her, he set the screw threads against her lower lip and tipped the bottle upward. Liquid drenched the front of her clothing and settled between her thighs.
As she’d intended. She pulled back. “I can’t... I can’t drink this without my hands. I need the ropes off.”
The battle contorted into outright war across his expression. This was the moment that would decide her life. He knew the risks. She saw it in his face. If he let her free, his boss would punish him. If he let her become delirious from dehydration, his boss would punish him. There was no right answer. Every choice ended with a consequence, but he needed to decide which one.
“Please,” she said. “You know what he’s going to do to me. To my brother.”
She wasn’t asking him for water. He must’ve seen it in her face, heard it in her voice. He stared at her, trying to devise a motive or weighing the possibility of getting out of this alive from her expression, but she didn’t have anything left to give. He had no reason to follow through. In fact, he had every reason to walk right back to his position at the door, but he didn’t. The guard rounded behind her.
In a frenzy of doubt and uncertainty, Elena closed her eyes. The sound of a blade skimming against leather—something she’d grown all too familiar with in her marriage—pricked at her nerves. Right before the ropes fell from around her wrists. Blood rushed back into her hands.
“I’ll stall them as much as I can. Tell Ivy something for me.” He kept his voice so low, she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right. “Tell her Echo got off his leash.”
“What?” What the hell was happening? She’d asked him to release her hands. Now he was helping her? She felt the need to turn around, but every second she tried getting answers was a lost opportunity to escape. “You know Ivy?”
“You don’t have much time.” He shoved to his feet behind her, a serrated blade inches from her face. The guard pulled back his shoulders and watched the door as though preparing for an oncoming fight. “Metias keeps the new recruits on the second floor on the south side of the building. Your brother should be there. But I need you to do something first. You have to stab me.”
“You’re out of your mind.” Elena got to her feet.
“If Metias comes back and it doesn’t look like I tried to keep you here, he will kill me, and years of undercover work will be for nothing.” He took a step into her, handing her the blade handle-first. “Just imagine I’m your husband. Should make it easier. And make sure to take the knife with you. You’re going to need it.”
“Ex-husband.” Elena sucked in a deep breath. She’d never stabbed someone before, and her gut soured at the idea. Trying to get her balance, she shifted her weight between both feet. The knife felt too heavy in her hand. She was going to have to do this. Trust him. “Any preferences on location?”
“Right here. Not too deep.” He tapped just below his right pectoral. “My liver will grow back someday.”
“Just promise me you’re not going to die.” Was she actually considering this?
“We’re all dying, Elena. It’s just a matter of when and what we do with the time we have left,” he said.
That was too philosophical in a moment where a stranger she’d believed to be a cartel member was asking her to stab him. “Who are you?”
“You’re out of time.” He notched his chin higher. “Metias will be back any minute. Stab me, then get to your brother. Now.”
Elena pressed the tip of the blade into the spot he’d indicated and glanced up to gauge his reaction. “Thank you.”
She pushed the blade through T-shirt and flesh.
His groan would stay with her for the rest of her life, but even worse, the sound his body made as she withdrew the weapon. Blood coated the once flawless steel. She’d thought the knife was heavy before. Only now it would weigh on her from this moment forward. “I’m so sorry.”
He dropped to the floor, doubling over, and she backed away. “Tell...Ivy what I said. Go!”
Elena lunged for the door, clothing clinging to her from the water drenching her down to bone. She ripped it open without looking back and pumped her legs as fast as possible. Bunker-like lights flickered as she raced along the corridor. Second floor. Second floor. How did she get to the second floor?
Low voices echoed down the hall, and she pressed herself against one wall. Out of breath, she tried to keep her heart rate under control, but it was no use. She’d just stabbed a man at his request. Echo got off his leash. Echo got off his leash.
The voices had drifted farther away now. She took a single step toward an upcoming corner, blade pressed against her chest in defense, and rounded into a perpendicular corridor.
Confronting the man who’d sworn to have her in sickness...and in death.
* * *
SHE HAD TO be here.
Cash blinked to keep himself conscious, but he was losing the battle faster than he expected. He couldn’t recall the turns he’d already taken or how long ago Tiny had finally collapsed. There were too many hallways, and he was on his own, but he wouldn’t stop. Not until he put Bear and Elena in his sights.
His shoulder made contact with the nearest wall. He took a second to clear his head, but the only image his brain could come up with was of Elena. Of her passed out in the back of his SUV, then the horror on her face as he told her she’d mistaken Bear’s allergy meds for an Oreo. Of her smile and the way it’d tunneled past his guard as he’d invited her into his personal space. A space he hadn’t let anyone else—not even his team—step foot in.
Hell, she’d taken on a fight no one had ever won. Just imagining the trouble she was giving her ex and the soldiers in this very building was enough to make him shove away from the wall and keep going. Elena Navarro was everything he’d tried avoiding over the past year and the one person who could drive him to keep going. She challenged him in ways that messed with his head but strengthened his moral code. The kind of woman who protected those she cared about, who stood alone against an army determined to tear her to pieces for the chance to do the right thing. Who carried everyone around her with her strength. Because that was how she quietly survived. That was how she kept moving forward. And he needed a healthy dose of that strength now.
Pain arced through his back as he pushed along the corridor. His right leg dragged behind him. He was getting close. He could feel it, and with two more turns through the maze, he froze.
Barking.
Incessant. Distant. Undeniably familiar. Bear.
“I’m coming, little lady. Keep it up.” Cash picked up the pace. For as much pressure squeezed the oxygen from his lungs at the thought of putting off finding Elena, he wasn’t going anywhere without his dog. Bear had been there. Suffered at his side after the explosion that got her kicked out of the DEA. Even temporarily blind and through the painful nights following her injury, she’d refused to leave his side. Because she’d known. She’d known his loss. She’d felt it herself when they’d recovered Wade’s body miles from the raid site where he’d died. The Colombian cartel had done a good job of making his brother unrecognizable, but he and Bear had known the moment they’d seen him. The whine of a K-9 that’d lost her handler would stay with him for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t put her through that again. He wasn’t walking away.
An alarm sounded overhead.
Piercing agony ripped through his head in a swirl of red lights and sirens.
Covering his ears, he made out heavy footfalls coming down the corridor. Cash took a sharp right turn to get out of their path, his back against the wall. A group of armed men sprinted in two straight lines down the hall, hustling as though the building were about to collapse.
