Page 39 of Evening Shadows

“I don’t know, but I don’t think this is about Cody. Yeah, he wants him, but why did he give him up so easily before? He had all those men available and most didn’t engage. And Bev….” He trailed off before outright accusing her friend.

She absently nibbled on her lower lip. Ken had an excellent point. But if not for Cody, then what? Had HIS wronged this man in the past? They didn’t seem to know who Alejandro was, so it had to have been an unintentional act if that were even the case.

She’d ponder that later. Right now, she had to stay the course. “I’ll get us out of here.” Her tone radiated assurance. She would. Somehow. She’d have to figure out how. Maybe when they brought food, she could overpower whomever it happened to be. They might be several meals away before she handled that. Would they drug or poison the food though?

“I don’t doubt you will. Listen in, and remember, someone will always be monitoring the channel, but they’ll only speak every half hour with our set code words.”

“Right,” she said with a nod, her mind flipping back through their hastily drafted op plan. “Scooby-Doo.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, Rylee picked that as one of our sets, and we happened to draw it for this op. We’ll create some of our own now that we’re split. When we have more time to plan, we’ll create different ones per op.”

Standard code words were utilized on every op. Things like capture required a change of code words and they pulled from a few or the team leader created new ones. Ken had already used a standard one to let them know they were in a serious pickle. Making them switch channels at such a crucial time in the op only emphasized the depth of that trouble to the team. A team she’d come to trust and depend upon as brothers in arms when needed. But Jesse and what she’d almost allowed….

Full of restless energy and wanting to reassess their cell, she lifted his head, gently placed Ken’s head on a pillow, and stood. As she paced to the cell door, she placed the earpiece in her ear and, as expected, heard silence. Trying to peek down the hallways through the bars, she jumped back in surprise when a Hispanic man who looked like a thug approached. Too late to remove her earpiece, she tilted her head to cover that side.

In the briefest of moments, she ascertained his friend or foe status and without hesitation deemed him a threat. Not just because he was in the house since someone could be there to free them. But with his size, a big knife on his side, and a pistol on the other, she couldn’t overpower him in her present situation. Unless she fought dirty. A smile twitched at her lips at what Kate and Rylee had shown her—and she would do just that to get Ken and herself out of this prison. But then, she’d have to get Ken out quickly.

Not hearing him approach didn’t bode well for the two of them sneaking out, though. Sure, their footfalls would be quiet, but so would any pursuers’. She had to get a peek outside the cell since she hadn’t paid enough attention to their path on the way inside. While she remembered parts of it, her worry for Ken had overshadowed the cataloging she should’ve been doing.

With a grunt, the man issued clipped orders. “You”—he pointed at her—“back.”

Keeping her eyes on him, she slowly stepped backward. After her butt hit the wall, the thug unlocked and opened the door. Had he really thought her a threat? That almost brought a smile to her face because she could be, but he didn’t need to believe that—just yet.

Another man slipped into the room and went straight for Ken. An emotional pain attacking all her senses whirled through her. On impulse, she stepped over to Ken, attempting to position herself between him and the new man, sure something bad would happen. Her heart and mind told her that.

As the man placed an arm under Ken’s and helped him stand, Ken called back to her, “It’s okay… Sugar.”

As he half-walked while being half-dragged from the room, in her ear she heard, “Daphne.” Their code word for the team regrouping. A burdened sigh of relief escaped her.

“Thank the Lord,” she whispered. If Ken came out of this unscathed, she’d allow him the chance to finish unfastening the love in her heart. She’d been a fool to believe—even if only half-heartedly—that he would’ve intentionally harmed her husband.

So, if Bev lied, why?

16

After Ken endured several excruciatingly painful hours of interrogation, Alejandro Ramirez flicked his wrist in dismissal. “Take him back.”

Even though almost every inch of his body throbbed painfully, Ken would handle whatever they gave him provided they didn’t touch Sam. He’d endure any physical or emotional harm to protect her. But Cody and his teammates also needed protecting.

“Let him think about his answer. We’ll continue later,” Alejandro told the guard.

The implied threat did nothing to Ken. He curled into the shell needed to survive while ensuring he had enough will and ability to escape. And whether it be by escape or rescue, he and Sam would leave—whole.

“Jose,” his host said to his goon, “don’t touch the girl.”

Ken wanted to ask if he meant don’t touch her now or at all, but he didn’t want to bring attention to the fact he cared about her. All special operators were trained on how to protect the op, including watching a teammate die to protect what they must. Said operators would take their last breath at the hands of a captor if it came to that.

In all his years, he’d never imagined someone like Sam—who held his heart whether she wanted it or not—could be the teammate in front of him with a knife to her throat. After the questions he’d been asked, their op had to change. He didn’t know how to get that information out to the team. The team itself didn’t understand that the risk to the team had turned a new corner.

Even though he knew he couldn’t move tonight unless HIS came in and dragged him out, he wouldn’t stop trying to figure out a way to gain their freedom. That didn’t involve providing Alejandro with the information he desired because first, he wouldn’t do that ever, and second, and most importantly, he didn’t believe the man would actually free them.

Dragged from the room where he’d been tied, questioned, and beaten, he acted more injured than his true condition to appear less of a threat. In his current state, threatening didn’t define him so he had no need to pretend worse. However, something gnawing in his gut told him to play the game.

Knowing every nook and cranny of the hallway would benefit their escape. The team—should they be able to rescue them—would already know this, but he and Sam had to be prepared to escape and not wait for rescue. Since the team had to regroup and make a successful plan with the small number remaining, it could be tomorrow before rescue arrived. Nighttime would be to their benefit this time.

If he had more days like today, or they took Sam back, one of them could be seriously injured.Like the searing, painful gunshot wound to your thigh.His heart pounded, not at his wound, but the possibility of what they could do to Sam. If they hurt her, he’d find a way to kill them all.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t even walk by himself. That wouldn’t make for a strong exit, with or without support. The term “liability” fit him and he hated it. He shouldn’t have joined the op. Sam would’ve outrun them and been safe.

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