Page 60 of Fighting for Valor
“The two of you always were the stubbornest sons of bitches on the planet.” The short, rough laugh isn’t much, but it feels good. Almost normal. But the feeling only lasts a few seconds before I blink and see the terror in Cara’s eyes.
Dax rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head. “You’re giving us a run for our money.” After a beat, he continues. “Look, I’m not trying to stop you. But you’re not alone now, Rip. You have friends. Family. We can help.”
“Dax, I don’t remember half of what Faruk made me do. It’s blank. Ry’s memory tricks? I knew ‘em all. Still do. I remember every minute after we landed back in the States. But before? It’s this dark hole that’s going to pull me down so deep, I might not come out again. I’m pretty damn sure all those secrets are locked in my head because they’re so awful, I can’t face them.”
I blow out a breath. Despite how scared I am, admitting my fears to Dax turns the massive weight on my shoulders into something lighter. Something I can almost carry. “I can’t delve into all that shit in the middle of Ry’s apartment. I need to find Charlie, and I need to do this next part alone.”
With a nod, Dax extends his hand. When I take it, he pulls me in for a quick clap on the back, and I hold on. “Just promise me one thing, Rip.”
I know what he’s going to say, and I head him off. “I won’t go after them alone. The minute I have what I need, I’ll be back. I promise.”
At the top of the stairs, I hear his reply. “Come back safe, Rip. That’s an order.”
Cara
I can’t stop shaking. My arms ache, and I have to keep moving my fingers so they don’t go numb. It’s like a sauna in here, the sun beating against the walls, seeping through painted-over windows—the only light in here other than a bare-bulb lamp plugged into an extension cord.
But the worst part of where I am? The smells. This building feels huge, and it’s definitely been abandoned for years. As Jessup dragged me out of the trunk of his car, up some stairs, and into this massive space, I saw a dead bird, at least three live rats, and something big…a raccoon or coyote or something, half-decomposed in the corner of the room.
The floor’s coated with dirt, leaves, and God knows what else. The air’s so thick, it makes it almost impossible to breathe, and at some point, Jessup took off his necktie, doubled it over, and used it to gag me. That awful cologne he wears? The tie’s saturated with it, so much I can taste it.
I keep retching, and the only reason I haven’t choked to death is that I don’t have anything but a small amount of bile in my stomach. So far, I’ve been able to spit it out around the gag.
The incessant drum beat of my heart is getting faster and faster. I don’t know what time it is or how long I’ve been here, but my meds didn’t have time to kick in before I threw up the first time when Jessup grabbed me.
Think.
My captors left the room a few minutes ago, and I rest my temple against the angled metal bar. It’s slightly cooler than the surrounding air, and it eases the pounding in my head. I can’t get out of the handcuffs. This is some kind of material chute that exits the ceiling maybe fifty feet away and then disappears into the wall above my head. No gaps.
As soon as Ripper gives Jessup and Parr what they want, they’ll kill me. I have to find some way out of here. Under the stench, there’s a hint of seawater, and I think I can hear it lapping against the shore. But I could be five minutes or a couple of hours away from Pike Place. I passed out seconds after I saw Charlie wriggle through the gap in the fence.
A door bangs, and I suck in a sharp breath through my mouth, then immediately regret it. My stomach turns, and I struggle not to retch.
No. Not Jessup. Not again.
I can’t handle any more of his disgusting cologne. But as I blink rapidly and try to focus, I find a small measure of relief. Parr. As he approaches, I curl inward, trying to make myself as small as possible, though the way I’m bound leaves me little ability to move.
“Can’t have you dying yet,” Parr says. He sets a bottle of water next to me, then grabs my hair and turns my head so he can untie the gag. I make it a point to spit more bile on his shoes, and he grumbles something that might be “bitch.” But then he twists the top off the bottle and holds it to my lips. “Drink.”
Anything to get the taste of Jessup’s cologne out of my mouth. I suck down half the bottle before he pulls it away. Panting, taking short, shallow breaths, I peer up at him and whisper, “Please. I need my meds. They’re in my bag. My heart…”
His eyes widen for a split second. “We tossed your bag. You’re going to have to calm down on your own.”
“Doesn’t…work like…that, asshole.” The dark, disgusting space starts to spin around me, and I can’t hold my head up any longer. Even if Parr uncuffed me right now, I couldn’t run. I don’t think I could even stand.
He crouches so we’re almost level, and his voice softens—just a little. “We need you alive until Richards gets our money. I don’t have your meds. Tell me what else to do.”
My mind races, thoughts flying so fast, I can’t pluck a single one from the garbage heap of my brain. And then it hits me. “Music. There’s an app…on my phone. BrainRadioWaves. Helps…”
“I’m not that stupid, Caroline. Richards could track your phone’s GPS. No way. It stays off until the deadline.”
My tears lend a shimmer to the dirty, industrial space, and for a moment, it’s almost pretty. Think, Cara!
All I want to do is feel normal. Stop my racing heart, my frantic thoughts. But I can’t. I’ve failed. Everything I tried to do. Leland’s probably dead—they wouldn’t tell me. Ripper’s going to die. Or go to prison, and that would kill him. And Charlie…
A gentle melody floats over the air, and I blink hard to dash away the tears. Parr holds his own phone up, the BrainRadioWaves app on screen. “This the right one?”
I nod, so grateful for this single act of kindness, I don’t even protest when he ties the disgusting gag around my head again. Setting the phone a good twenty feet away—too far for me to have any hope of reaching it, he gives me one last glance as he stalks out of the room. “It’s almost one, by the way. Ten hours left.”
