The Lost Rainbow Mage: Complete Trilogy Edition, page 6
“I’m a hairdresser,” I said.
“What’s that?” Coop scoffed.
“You’ve got to have me confused with some rainbow-headed spy, and I want you to let me out of this car right now,” I snapped. Then I kicked the back of Locke’s seat.
“Quiet down,” cranky Coop barked. “Or we’ll gag you, too.”
My mouth dropped open. Gag me? Cruel and unusual wasn’t the half of it. I bit down on a stream of cursing. I wasn’t worth kidnapping. How could I be worth kidnapping?
“Where are you taking me?”
“I told you to be quiet.”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Locke added, only marginally kinder.
The motion of the car changed, smoothing out as it picked up speed. A highway? I had no idea where we were going. I couldn’t even tell what direction we were traveling in. Definitely out of town, but I only knew that because none of these people belonged in my town.
I rested my forehead against my window, and the vibrations rolled from the engine to the glass and worked through my face. My cheeks wobbled uncomfortably, and I turned my head to alleviate the sensation. Light peeked at the edge of my vision, so I shifted a little more.
I figured out that if I moved a certain way, the sunglasses lifted a little, and I could see outside. Maybe they wouldn’t notice since I wasn’t touching the shades with my hands. Cuffed with my hands behind my back wasn’t an option.
I studied the passing scenery through my periphery. The colors were muted, but the light helped the knot of worry in my chest. I knew the local area well enough to recognize the red barn in the distance, and my mind filled in the usual colors. If I noticed enough, maybe I could plan my route back home. Or at least tell emergency services where to send the cops.
When my forehead started to numb, I pressed my face harder against the glass until the askew sunglasses dug uncomfortably into the bridge of my nose. More light. I hated the dark.
“Red barn,” I murmured. “Red barn, no harm.” Perhaps if I could create a rhyme or something easy to remember, I could navigate my way back somehow.
The water tower we passed had blue writing. I knew that, even though it looked gray today. I tapped my fingers against the glass. The dark sunglasses had done something to my eyes.
“Red barn, no harm… Blue tower, very quick shower.” I didn’t know what I was saying. The words had no meaning.
But perhaps if the rhyme was silly enough, I’d be able to recall it, and it would get me home. The words alone would conjure up images of the landmarks, anyway.
“Sit properly.” Coop’s voice jarred me, and I flinched, mashing the glasses harder against my face. “What are you even doing?” He placed his hand on my shoulder, exerting light pressure as he tried to turn me from the window.
The heat of his hand permeated my thin T-shirt and warmed my skin. He was gentler than I’d expected, especially after barking about gagging me.
“Move away from the window,” he instructed, tugging on me.
As he pushed me back against the seat, the glasses hung awkwardly on my face, and he sighed before nudging them back into position.
So, I probably hadn’t even made it five miles from Sweetwater, and already my plan to plot my route had failed. I turned my head in Coop’s direction.
“Who are you people?”
He didn’t reply.
“What am I accused of?”
Silence.
“No one has even read me my rights.” I paused but didn’t expect him to say anything. “I have actual rights, you know.”
This time, Coop chuckled, and the sound was dark, lifting the fine hairs at the back of my neck, like it was a physical sensation as it rolled over me. Anger quickly followed my flicker of fear.
“Who are you?” I repeated my first question to be met by silence from the front and silence alongside me. “What are the charges?”
More nothing, even though I’d asked my question in as firm a voice as I had in me. Hopefully, Bess had already contacted some legal representation on my behalf. Although knowing my luck, she’d probably retained Matt Granger—the one attorney in town and a man as old as God himself.
Still, any help was better than no help at all. May the good Matt Granger find something easy to work with.
“Charges,” I demanded again. “What are they?”
“Classified.”
I froze. Both at the fact he’d answered and at the word he’d used.
Classified. Classified? What the hell did he even mean? Classified. Did they really think I was some kind of rainbow-haired spy? That settled it, though. This legitimately could only be a case of mistaken identity.
“You’ve got the wrong person,” I said.
Again that chuckle. But frustration coiled inside my chest, and I clenched my sweaty hands behind me. If my glasses weren’t so dark, they’d see my glare.
“Coop and Locke, right?” I asked this question in a conversational tone. “I mean, I think I should probably know the names of the two men who’ve bungled their latest operation. For when I report you to the authorities.”
This time, I didn’t need to hear Coop laugh to know I wouldn’t be reporting them to anyone. Whether I knew their names or not, it didn’t matter. Who received reports on men in suits? The FBI? The CIA? The NSA? Hell, those were men in suits. And these guys probably came from one of them. No one would ever take me seriously.
Instead, once they figured out they had the wrong hairdresser, they’d drop me back on the street and get to pretend it never happened while I picked up the pieces. Shit. After all this, would Bess even take me back? She might not. The realization cracked my heart a little.
Looked like all my hopes were pinned on Matt Granger, Esquire, then.
I settled back against the seat and tried to ease the pull of the cuffs on my wrists. Goddamn. I had no hope. None.
Maybe it was time for a different line of questioning. “Am I under arrest?” If I could understand their reasoning, maybe I’d be able to work something out. Cut a deal. Anything to get back to Sweetwater.
The handcuffs decorating my wrists suggested I was under arrest, but no one had actually used those words. Detained, then? Detained for what?
“Where are we going?” I wanted answers, so I waited, and the silence stretched as long as whatever damn road we sped down.
I turned my head in Coop’s direction. I couldn’t see much of him, and he had sunglasses on, anyway, so I couldn’t see his eyes to guess what he was thinking.
“Classified,” he said finally, but I was fast reaching the point where any response from him was a good response.
It was better than silence, and I liked provoking even one word from him. Or a sigh. Anything suggesting he’d heard me, and I’d made some sort of impact or inconvenienced his day.
I jiggled the bracelets on my wrists. “Are these things even necessary? What am I going to do against two big strong men in suits?” My upper lip curled as the words slipped out.
When Coop hissed under his breath, I didn’t hide my smirk. Locke didn’t audibly react.
We were fast approaching the second location—or not so fast; I could only guess—and I knew all the rules said not to go willingly or make it easy on my captors. So I should at least try to get uncuffed, so I’d have a fighting chance once we arrived.
Again Coop had gone silent, so I shook the unwelcome metal on my wrists once more.
“Can we take these off?” I rattled them again. The cuffs were heavy and uncomfortable, and the edges bit into my skin. What if they meant to keep them on me until they… they…
Panic started to seep outward from the center of my chest, turning me cold as it crept through my body like a poison, until it hollowed out my middle. Bright colors danced across the darkness I’d been trapped in. I sucked at the air, but oxygen didn’t come any faster.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Fabric rustled, and I had the sense of Coop leaning toward me. He rested a hand over mine behind me, where I’d tangled my fingers together in an effort to stop them from shaking.
I needed rigid control to get through this, and I gritted my teeth and tensed my jaw to prevent a sob from escaping.
“They stay.” But his voice was soft and his hand was warm, and some of the fear inside me inexplicably loosened.
eight
We traveled so long that I dozed, and my chin inched uncomfortably toward my chest as my head bobbed up and down with the rolling bouncing motion of the car. We barreled down mostly smooth roads. Still on pavement for now.
Wherever they were taking me could have been a mere twenty miles away, and I wouldn’t have known because the route was so circuitous and contrived around lonely roads. They might be purposefully taking extra turns. Didn’t kidnappers do that?
I must have dozed again because a change in the sound of the road under the wheels woke me, and I lifted my head slowly, wincing at the ache in my neck. I looked in the direction of the window expectantly, but I still wore ridiculous shades with the window tint, and the gloom of nightfall outside. Our vehicle slowed, but we didn’t stop.
So, I shifted my position, my jeans sliding easily over the soft leather of the seat, and squinted through the windshield. A futile attempt, but I had to try. Coop didn’t make a sound, and he didn’t try to readjust my position, and I shot a quick glance at him, while I twisted my head one way and then the other. A pain shot through my neck. Though, I’d caught a slight glimpse of Coop.
He faced forward, but that was all I could tell. I could imagine the rest, though. A small frown would be at home between his eyebrows, and his jawline would be angular and tense.
I’d managed to snag one other detail before my neck put a stop to my stubbornness. The building in front of us rose up like some kind of fortress, and as we drew closer, I tried the periphery trick once more. I lost sight of the flat top of the place we’d arrived. Some of the windows gleamed with dull spots of light, but we passed through huge, solid metal gates and into an enormous courtyard containing nothing at all.
“What is this place?” I turned and glanced out of the rear window, and this time Coop let me. The metal gates clanged closed behind us, and Coop’s lack of reaction to my change of position made sense.
Our new location was a secure one, and we’d all just been locked in. What? A castle? We eased down the driveway.
The courtyard was surrounded by high walls and… When I tipped my head, pain screamed through my neck. I squinted before my irritation flared, and I brushed my hands over my eyes, knocking the glasses from my face before Coop could stop me. Honestly, I didn’t care what the hell he wanted anymore.
He swore as they fell to the floor, and I kicked them underneath Locke’s seat. I grinned as I heard what I hoped was the crunch of the ridiculous glasses against something hard.
“Where the hell are we?” I ground out.
Tall walls surrounded the courtyard, and huge spirals of razor wire topped the perimeter walls. There were guard towers at the corners and at regular intervals between, and one man clutching a machine gun peered down at our car as it crept forward. Since I could see properly, I was able to identify scorched marks on the surface of the courtyard like several fires had burned hot and fast on the bare ground. Short tufts of spiky grass grew here and there, but only often enough to be considered weeds.
“Any more spare glasses?” Coop directed his question to Locke, and I held my breath until Locke shook his head.
Thank God for that. I grinned at the small win. I rarely wore sunglasses, even on Sweetwater’s brightest days, because they seemed to really affect my vision, no matter which tint I tried.
“She’s taken her glasses off,” Coop growled.
Locke glanced up, and I met his sunglasses in the rearview mirror. “So I see,” he murmured. Then he leaned forward and glanced upward, out of the top of the windshield. “Looks like it’s going to be a cloudy night, though. Shouldn’t get a lot lighter. Think we’ll be okay.”
I almost sighed a second wave of relief but wait, what? No more light? They’d be okay? Like I’m the dangerous one in the car.
Coop nodded solemnly.
“What do you mean about being okay?” The question was out of my mouth before I could consider the wisdom of asking it, but neither of them replied.
The shouts of the armed guards echoed around the courtyard as they called instructions from tower to tower, then Locke stopped the car abruptly. I couldn’t see them, but there were guards in the shadows, too.
I scooched forward, the movement smooth rather than jerky because our speed had already been slow. But Coop slammed his arm across my chest, anyway, like he needed to prevent me flying from the vehicle, and I collapsed back against the seat.
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
Locke rolled down his window so he could hear what the guards were saying, and one materialized from some nearby shadows. The other man positioned himself so he could glance inside the car, and his mouth took on a smirk when he saw me.
“Very nice,” he murmured. “Very nice sample indeed.”
Sample? How was I a sample? As outraged as his comment made me, I shrank back from the threat in his tone. Sample meant product, not person. I wanted to fade into the seat behind me. Coop withdrew his arm, and I missed the anchoring warmth and contact.
The guard outside the car hefted his gun higher, putting it directly in my field of view as he cradled it in his arms like he was holding his firstborn. “ID,” he barked, although he probably knew both Coop and Locke.
“All right, Paulson, give us a minute.” Locke addressed him by name, confirming my suspicion. “No need to get snippy.”
Coop tapped Locke on the shoulder and handed him a card, and Locke added another before passing both of them to Paulson.
He barely looked at them before passing them back. That was interesting… A power-hungry guard. Never the best combination of attributes in the same person. He swung sharply to his left and called up to the closest tower.
“Spots.”
“Jesus.” Coop unbuckled his seat belt and lunged toward me as powerful spotlights were suddenly directed at the car. He clamped his hand over my eyes, and I shrieked in surprise as he tucked me against him.
“Easy,” he muttered at my ear, and his voice and touch relaxed me again.
Damn the man. I didn’t want to be relaxed—especially not around someone so grumpy and in a situation so precarious.
“What are you doing, Paulson?” It was the most irritated Locke had sounded the whole day. “A bit high-risk, don’t you think?”
“Procedure.” Even I could hear the ring of insolence in the middle-aged guard’s voice.
“But you know who we are and what we’re carrying.”
“Yeah.” Paulson laughed, and the sound left me needing a shower. “I see that precious cargo.” The lights outside went dark.
I stiffened. That cargo was clearly me. Sample. Cargo. What the hell did they think I was?
Abruptly, Coop released me and seemed to push himself to the farthest corner away from me. Yeah, sure, the spotlights had disappeared, but Paulson briefly shone a flashlight in my face as he whisked it around the interior of the car. He made a motion to roll down the window and then gestured to all of them.
With no glass between us, I shrank away from him again, and he laughed. What kind of guy was okay with being feared? Not a good one.
He leaned in and looked me over. “She could be fun.” He smirked again, and his face took on cruel angles as shadows played across it. “And look at all your pretty hair. Mmmm.”
Coop hissed quietly. “Are you done, Paulson?”
“Procedure,” the guard said again as he lazily brought the flashlight back around.
This time, he didn’t shine it in my face, but the tiny dancing light lingered over my breasts. He was… Holy shit. Paulson was awful.
“Sweet Jesus.” I moved to cover myself, feeling naked even in my clothes.
“Hell’s teeth, Paulson,” Coop ground out. “There’s procedure and procedure.”
Paulson grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the low light. “Like I said.” He turned his flashlight off and nonchalantly swung it into a loop on his holster. “Following procedure. Just doing my job.” He looked toward the guard tower again. “It’s clean,” he yelled, and his voice echoed from the walls, cracking like a whip. He saluted Locke, though the gesture was anything but respectful, and as Paulson turned to leave, Coop flipped him the bird.
Then Paulson strolled away, his footsteps clicking eerily across the space as he returned to the guard tower. Coop grimaced and leaned toward me. “If you promise to not make a run for it, I’ll take the cuffs off long enough for you to wiggle your fingers in your lap and get some blood flowing.”
I gave him a long look. “Why would I agree to that?”
“Because your pinkies are probably numb, your shoulders hurt, and you have a crick in your neck.” He paused. “And this is the last chance to do it before your next stop.”
I chewed my bottom lip. What the hell was this place? Guard towers meant prison, right?
Big, empty, and desolate. And aside from the low purr of the engine as Locke rolled us slowly forward once more, there was complete silence. No traffic noise. Not even a bird call. And the sound of the ocean was missing.
“Fine,” I said and pushed my arms toward him so he could reach my shackles.
Silently, Coop pulled a key from his pocket, inserted it in the lock, and twisted. His hands brushed mine, and some of my panic eased. The pressure on my wrists lessened and then disappeared. I pulled my arms back to my lap, the pins and prickles already starting as circulation returned. Shit. I rubbed my wrists. I hadn’t realized how numb parts of my hands had gotten.
“Come on,” he murmured.
I gave him a long look as I wriggled my fingers. Jumping out within view of Paulson wasn’t viable; the creepy bastard didn’t need an excuse to attack me. And I would hate to become his prisoner. It would be easier to do things with my hands in front of me.
