Shadows and Silk Read online

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brant pulled out of her and let her legs fall to the ground, but he didn’t let her move away as she started to straighten her clothes. He picked her up and carried her over the broken glass into the bedroom, and he sat her down next to the bed.

  They were both subdued, and she didn’t look at him as she removed the tatters of her dress. He looked at the clock and then began removing his own clothes, their time before they had to leave dwindling.

  “We’ve got to meet the others soon,” he finally said. He sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted and wishing he could just hold her for one more night. No sex. Just the feel of her in his arms. “You should go ahead and get dressed.”

  She nodded and then went to the closet, and he watched her closely every step of the way. She looked as defeated as he felt. Darcy startled in surprise when she opened the closet door, and he saw why when she pulled out a neoprene suit in her size and the black waterproof pack that matched his own.

  “They’d have dropped it off while we were at dinner,” he said, answering her silent question. “You’ll need to go in like the rest of us. Have you ever worn a suit like that before?”

  “I’ve done some diving,” she said.

  She moved around the room silently, gathering a bathing suit and then grabbing the powder from the bathroom so she could put on the diving suit. She seemed completely unselfconscious about her nudity, as if she’d stripped everything bare and had nothing to hide from him.

  Brant knew what he needed to do to fix the mess he’d caused. Darcy had been right—he was a coward. He loved her with every breath in his body, and he wasn’t going to be able to let her walk away. He’d let his experience with Vivian destroy what could have been made between him and Darcy, and it was no one’s fault but his own. She was no longer a child, and he was no longer the man who’d try to escape her hold. But would she believe him if he told her how he felt now? Or would she just think he was trying to hold on a little longer?

  Darcy pulled on another of those tiny bikinis she seemed to have in spades—this one in bright red—and she did a quick check through her emergency pack to make sure she had everything she needed. He was just about to tell her the words she longed to hear when his phone started buzzing and the panic alarm on his watch shrilled.

  “Get down, get down!” he yelled, reaching for his gun and rolling towards Darcy.

  The windows blew in and shards of glass rained down on top of them, and he shielded her to keep her from being cut. He felt the small slices of several shards against his own nakedness, and he hit the switch on his watch to silence the alarm. His ears were deafened by the concussion of whatever had blown the windows in, and he knew without looking the same thing had happened to the windows in the other rooms of the villa. They were surrounded.

  The lights went out, and he kept Darcy beneath him. If the backup SEAL team didn’t get to them within another couple of minutes they were going to be in big trouble. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and he could see the outline of men as they searched the villa, weapons in their hand. Darcy lay still beneath him, but he could feel the panicked breaths she was taking. He squeezed her hand, trying to comfort her, and she squeezed it back to let him know she was okay.

  They were hidden partially behind the bed, and they’d only have a few seconds before they were found. Boots crunched over glass and several men stood only a few feet from where they lay. He held his gun up at the ready, knowing if he took a shot they’d see their hiding place and likely return fire. And with Darcy only shielded by his body, he couldn’t let that happen.

  He lowered his weapon, and the lights flashed on as suddenly as they’d gone off. In the split second it took for his eyes to adjust, men grabbed his arms and lifted him off of Darcy. He struggled against them, bringing one of the men to his knees, and he fought harder as more men grabbed Darcy and pulled her away. She struggled against them, digging in her heels and clawing at their eyes, and he roared as one of them struck her in the face.

  He had no way to overpower them all. They came at him from all directions, and he fought furiously as he tried to keep his eyes on Darcy. The snaps of broken bones and the grunts of those on the receiving end of his fists didn’t slow them down. When he took one to the ground there was another ready to take his place. One of them had a knife, and he felt the sharp sting of a blade cut his arm before he broke the soldier’s wrist and dropped him to his knees.

  Darcy lay limp against one of the soldiers, her eyes dazed and a bruise already forming on her cheek. The soldier picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, and her head jerked up so he could see the final look of fear in her eyes before she was taken away.

  He was losing too much blood and his left arm was all but useless, so when a fresh group of soldiers came to restrain him, he didn’t have the strength to fight back.

  “Darcy!” he yelled, still struggling as they brought him to his knees. “I’ll come for you.”

  He could only thank God she wouldn’t be able to see them kill him. Enrique Luna’s evil black eyes met his and he laughed. He heard Darcy’s scream as they took her away, and then it was lights out. This time there was no seeing through the darkness.

  ***

  Brant woke with a start, a dull ache roaring through his head and a pair of furious grey eyes staring at him from above. Nausea rolled through his stomach and he rolled to his hands and knees while sucking in deep breaths. He tried to stand and Declan grabbed him under the arms and pulled him to a standing position.

  “Darcy?” Brant said, his mouth dry and his vision blurry. He couldn’t have been out long, but he had to pull it together. Only one thing mattered now. Getting Darcy back. To hell with the rest of the mission.

  “Gone, but we’ve got eyes on her.”

  “Where the fuck was backup?” he demanded.

  “Dead,” Declan said. “All of them. SEAL Team 2 was completely obliterated. Someone fed Ramos their location.”

  “We’ve got a mole?” Brant asked, his voice quiet and deadly. He could see the fine tremors of rage coursing through Declan’s body, and it wasn’t all because of Darcy.

  “I’ll take care of it. He’s a dead man.”

  “They were on us too fast, and there were too many of them. I couldn’t stop them from taking her.”

  Declan looked at the bodies that littered the floor of the bedroom, and Brant followed suit. He hadn’t realized he’d taken out so many before they’d gotten her. The fact that they’d left him alive was a miracle.

  “You’re not Superman. Though you’d probably be dead right now if we hadn’t shown up when we did. They scattered like rabbits. Some of Max’s agents were able to pin a couple down. Can you hang or do we leave you behind?”

  “Like hell you’ll leave me behind,” he said, getting in Declan’s face. “She’s mine. And I’ll bring her back.”

  Dec nodded sharply. “Let’s go then. I’ll sew you up once we’re in the air.”

  Brant looked down at the cut on his arm that was slowly oozing blood. Damn, Dec was right. A band aid wasn’t going to be enough.

  Declan tossed him some clothes and he dressed quickly, lacing his combat boots in record time and checking his weapons as they crunched over glass and through what was left of the villa.

  He saw Max and Jade, as well as a few other agents he recognized from DHS and the DEA, looking for survivors to interrogate or clues that would give them identities. Smith and Huxley were doing a perimeter check of the house, and Shane’s SEAL Team was also present. Though they’d have widened the safety net to keep the curious at bay until they could leave. The last thing any of them wanted to do was deal with local law enforcement. And if they didn’t get out of here soon, that’s exactly what they’d be doing. This group of men and one woman was the team Declan trusted the most, and it was up to them to bring Darcy back.

  There was no need to protect their cover any longer, and two black helicopters sat on opposite e
nds of their private beach. Declan tossed him an earpiece and he slipped it in while they ran out the back door.

  “Pull out,” Dec said.

  Shadows moved from the trees around him and Shane and the rest of his team appeared out of nowhere, heading for the chopper on the right side of the beach. Max, Jade, Smith and Huxley ran behind Brant and Declan to the one on the left. Brant had purposefully left his shirt off until he could be stitched back together, and he was glad he did once he’d settled in his seat because his arm was bleeding freely again.

  Jade tossed him a bottle of water and he caught it with his good hand, taking off the cap and drink greedily before pouring the rest over his wound. He stared straight ahead as Dec sat beside him and pulled out the first aid kit, and he didn’t even flinch as the sharp bite of the numbing antiseptic or the needle as it pierced his skin. The pain meant he was alive, and being alive meant he could save Darcy. He had to save her.

  “Shane,” Dec said. “Do you copy? I’d prefer to brief everyone at the same time.”

  Brant knew the SEALS would be on a different frequency. Their orders were given by their own commander, and sometimes their plans strayed from the norm if things went to shit.

  “Copy,” Shane said. “We’re switching over now.”

  “Ramos knows we’re all here,” Dec said. “He knows your name, Brant. The reason he left you alive was so you’d have to search for her. It’s the same as his other games. Our only hope is that he doesn’t know we’ve found him yet. They left glyphs drawn on your shower door.”

  “How the hell did he find out Brant’s name?” Shane asked furiously. “He’s an undercover agent. That cover should have been protected.”

  Declan finished stitching up his arm, and he covered it with gauze before wrapping a bandage around it. Brant put on his shirt and caught the dark green tube of paint Dec handed him to camouflage his face.

  “Ramos found the girl we questioned in the alley,” Declan said. “Elena Nayal. They tortured her severely until she told them about the American soldiers.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Shane said softly.

  While they tortured her, they showed her pictures of Brant and Darcy when they went to the ruins the first day. The ruins were closed because Ramos had set a trap, waiting to see if anyone might be interested in the glyphs besides his men. He had cameras everywhere. Elena recognized Brant from the photos because he was with us when we questioned her that night. From the things they did to her, there’s no way she would have kept the information to herself.”

  “No one blames her for that,” Brant said. Even the strongest agents could break under the right torture.

  “Did they kill her?” Shane asked.

  “They tried,” Dec answered. “She was beaten severely and raped repeatedly. And then they left her in the middle of the street in front of her home. She was awake and able to speak when I saw her at the hospital—barely. She’s a fighter. But it’s going to take her some time to heal.”

  “I saw Enrique Luna right before they knocked me out,” Brant said.

  Dec nodded. “That’s where our intel failed us. We were looking at Marco as being the one Ramos was training to step in as his second in command. The Luna money would have been a big help. But it was Enrique who’d become the protégé. He’s barely eighteen years old, and his pockets are deep thanks to his trust fund. But his father has the other accounts blocked until he reaches a certain age.”

  Declan pulled out what Brant knew was one of the latest technology gadgets only a few agents and military commanders with high enough clearance had access to at the moment. It was a tablet a little larger than an iPad, but when Declan turned it on there was a complete 3D rendering of the ruin location. It gathered all information—topographical maps and satellite images—and meshed them together for a complete picture. At least as complete as they could get without seeing it in person. Brant knew Shane and his team were looking at an identical screen in the chopper in front of them.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Declan said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Darcy moaned as she felt the bile rise up in the back of her throat. Her head felt like men were taking jackhammers to her skull, and her stomach was on a never ending rollercoaster ride. Her jaw ached where she’d been struck, and she spat out blood from the cut inside her mouth.

  They’d given her something—not Rabbit, thank God—but some other kind of drug to knock her out. She’d fought them for as long as she could before one of the soldiers had backhanded her. Another had jabbed a hypodermic needle in her arm filled with the drug and it had been lights out.

  Her head and limbs felt leaden, and she tried moving her arms, wondering why they’d gone numb. She lifted her head and the nausea rolled through her once more, but she gritted her teeth and breathed in and out through her nose. Once the room stopped spinning, she saw that her hands were cuffed above her head and attached to a long chain that was anchored to the ceiling.

  She pulled and tugged, hoping the chains would loosen, but the cuffs rubbed her wrists raw the more they moved. Tears coursed down her cheeks and desperate sounds escaped her throat as she struggled. She finally gave up, her head dropping to her chest and her body shaking with sobs as she tried not to become hysterical.

  The chains were raised high enough so she had to stand on the balls of her feet, and the muscles in her calves cramped and knotted as she tried to relieve the pressure. She still wore the red bikini she’d had on before they kidnapped her, but terror gripped her as she remembered what Ramos liked to do to his victims.

  The room was numbingly cold. Chills broke out across her skin and her teeth chattered uncontrollably. She tried to get her wits about her, to start thinking instead of cowering with fear, but it was harder than she imagined.

  She closed her eyes and pictured Brant as he’d been before they’d covered her eyes. He’d been fighting like the devil himself, and she prayed that he was all right. She had to keep hope that he’d come for her. It was the only thing she had left to keep her sane in this nightmare.

  Darcy took in a deep, shuddering breath, and then she repeated it several times until the fog cleared from her mind and her fear was contained—at least for now. She looked around, wanting to have a plan in mind if they let her out of the chains.

  The room she was in was perfectly square. The floor and walls were gray concrete, and it was obviously temperature controlled to stay cold. A gray metal door was the only way in or out, and there were no windows or natural light, only the bright fluorescents that hung overhead. Long sterile tables lined two of the walls, and she knew enough about chemistry and the equipment used to know she must be in one of the cartel cooking labs.

  They’d taken her to Kaminaljuyu. In Guatemala. Though she had no idea how long ago that was. She could have been out hours or days. Darcy tried pulling at the cuffs once more, and she winced and cried out as her wrists became slicked with blood.

  “You’ve damaged yourself,” an accented voice called out. “Naughty girl.”

  Darcy gasped as she looked at the man who’d come into the room like a wraith. She hadn’t even heard the door open he’d been so silent. Or maybe her fear was just that loud. She didn’t recognize him, but she recognized the evil in his ice cold eyes. He was average height and whipcord lean, and he wore gray trousers the same color as the walls and a white lab coat. His hair was so blond it was almost white, but it was thick and long enough to pull back in a tail. He looked like a painting she’d once seen of the angel of death.

  She couldn’t place his accent. Not German, but something similar. She had to pull it together. There was no way she’d ever be anyone’s victim willingly. She just had to hope and pray she didn’t lose her nerve.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Doctor Lindberg.”

  “Is that supposed to mean something special?” she asked, ignoring her fear and giving him an unimpressed stare. “Never heard of you.”

  �
�Tsk, tsk, Doctor MacKenzie. I’ve heard you can be quite—difficult to control,” he said, giving her a smile that didn’t help the shudders wracking her body. “You might as well save your energy. You’re going to need it.”

  He turned back towards the door and flicked the heavy lock, the click deafening in her ears with finality.

  “Tsk, tsk, yourself, Doctor Lindberg. I don’t think Alexander Ramos would want you to lock him out of a room. He seems like the possessive type. And if I know Ramos, you’re just one of the many people who take orders from him. Why have I been stuck with you and not the top dog?”

  Darcy felt satisfaction as she saw the brief flash of rage cross Lindberg’s face, but it was gone almost as soon as it began. He gave her a cold smile and walked toward her, his fingernails scraping along the edge of the metal tables.

  “Alexander Ramos is a petty thief. He’d be nothing without me, and he knows it. This is my drug. And I can take it away just as easily as I make it. The power is in my hands. Not his.”

  “Sure, honey. Keep telling yourself that. I don’t recall anyone ever referring to it as the Lindberg Cartel. You’re just the hired help. I bet Ramos can find any number of scientists to cook for him. Now run along and get Mr. Ramos. I’d like to speak to him face to face.”

  He laughed and the sound slithered up her spine. “You’re something else, Darcy MacKenzie. A pain in the ass for sure, but you’re entertaining.”

  “So my brothers tell me often.”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves, snapping them in place with quick familiarity, and Darcy felt her blood run cold. He smiled at her when he saw her fear, and she stilled like a statue as he reached back into his coat pocket.

  “Do you know what this is?” he asked, holding up a gold pillbox that fit in the palm of his hand.