Dangerously Broken (Aegis Group Lepta Team Book 4) Page 2

  Who was he? And why was he so calm?

  He drew in another breath, his gaze roving over the room, picking it apart. Just as she had.

  Whoever he was, being kidnapped hadn’t shaken him.

  Priscilla licked her lips. She could only do so much as one woman on her own, but if he was in good enough shape to help her, could they get out of here?

  The guard paced back down between the cells. Both Priscilla and Big Guy glanced toward the man who now had a new, unopened bottle of water.

  The child let out a wail that brought tears to Priscilla’s eyes.

  “Just give him the damn water.” She straightened and glared at the man.

  Her arms weren’t long enough to reach the guard. She’d already tried that. The guy had spat in her face for trying.

  The young mother cradled the child closer, head bent over him, murmuring soft words. The father was in no shape to do anything. They’d done a real number on him.

  “Hey.” Priscilla grabbed the chain link. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

  The guard continued to ignore her.

  If she could just get reach the guy.

  While the cell was fairly well constructed, there was too much room for the door. She could easily reach out from between the bars. But there was nothing to get to. A chain secured the gate in place. She couldn’t exactly escape that way.

  A warm, firm hand settled on her shoulder.

  Priscilla sucked in a breath and turned to see that Big Guy had gotten up. Someone that size should not be that quiet.

  The guard was also unaware of the danger lurking behind them. Between the guard and Big Guy, Priscilla found her cell mate a lot more intimidating.

  Big Guy tested the space between the post and door.

  Priscilla’s mouth went dry. Couldn’t the idiot guard sense danger was lurking?

  The mother and father were staring past the guard now at Big Guy. Priscilla was fairly certain they were all holding their breath.

  Somehow Big Guy’s whole arm fit in the space.

  Priscilla bit her lip. It was like waiting for a trap to spring. The predator to pounce.

  Big Guy moved so fast Priscilla jumped, startled. He grabbed the guard’s shirt and yanked the man off balance, pulling him up against the chain link of their cell. He grabbed the man’s shirt with his left hand then delivered a short, hard jab to the guard’s face.

  The unopened bottle of water dropped to the ground.

  Big Guy shoved the guard back then bent to retrieve the bottle.

  The guard staggered away from them, one hand pressed to his face, gaping at Big Guy.

  “His keys,” Priscilla blurted.

  “They’re on the desk.” Big Guy held out the bottle of water to the family. “I’ll roll this over to you. Ready?”

  “H-he’s going to hurt us,” the young woman whispered.

  “No, he’s not.” Big Guy sounded so certain even Priscilla wanted to believe him. “This asshole won’t do anything. He’s a chicken shit. And if he tells anyone what just happened all his buddies are going to laugh at him. Isn’t that right, chicken shit?”

  The guard continued to glare. He didn’t utter a threat, he didn’t yell or anything.

  This guy understood them. He hadn’t said a word of English since she’d been there, but it dawned on her in that moment that he really did know what they were saying.

  Hell.

  “Come on.” Big Guy waved them over.

  The young mother put her child down then tiptoed toward the cell door, watching the guard.

  “Beat it,” Big Guy ordered.

  To Priscilla’s surprise the guard turned and stormed back to his desk.

  She watched Big Guy roll the water bottle across to the mother. A tiny bit of faith in humanity was restored.

  Priscilla watched her cell mate return to where he’d been sitting before and lower himself to the ground. He didn’t have to get involved. In fact, he could have saved that little move to get himself free. Instead he’d used his one opportunity to help a child.

  Be still my heart...

  There just weren’t enough good guys left on the planet, and here she’d found herself trapped with one. Maybe her luck was turning.

  2.

  THURSDAY. UNKNOWN, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

  Brenden needed to get up and move or his limbs were going to go numb. He had to pick his moments carefully. So far, the kidnappers had mostly forgotten about him, too busy with the family across the way. But they were gone now. Soon enough their attention would be on Priscilla or Brenden. When that happened he needed to have a plan.

  He knew there were two entrances, the double doors he’d come through and a smaller door behind a pillar that looked rusted shut. The windows overhead could be reached via a catwalk and the latter to climb up there was to their right. The electricity keeping the lights going was from a generator which meant there was always the chance for a distraction. There was only one guard on them at any point in time and the new one on duty hardly looked at them.

  What he didn’t like was how secure this cage was. The poles were cemented into a new floor. The anchors were solid. They even had a basic toilet though it was out in the open. It was the middle of the night and no one had turned off the lights, so he couldn’t move around in secret even inside the cage. Their only way out was through the gate. While it wasn’t a great fit, he also knew neither he nor Priscilla were getting through there without the key.

  He was certain he could handle the one guard. It was the half dozen guys on the other side he wasn’t sure about or what was beyond them.

  The very basic plan for retrieving Priscilla was to locate her, assess the situation then signal the guys using a device Melody had sewn into the pocket lining of his slacks.

  He’d found the asset, but he wasn’t going to bring his team in here unless he knew they had a clear exit.

  Priscilla paced the width of the cage into his line of sight.

  Her company picture didn’t do her justice.

  For a moment he just looked at her, forgetting her significance and just appreciating the sight of her. It wasn’t just that she was attractive. Physically she was. But the remarkable thing that kept drawing his attention wasn’t something he could point at or label. It was just something about her.

  At twenty-nine it was hard to fathom how someone so young could be in charge of a million dollar charity organization. Brenden hadn’t understood, at least not until he’d met Priscilla. Sharing space with her was more accurate. She’d stayed away from him, barely speaking since he’d arrived.

  He tracked her movements, watching her while doing his best to appear as if he were sleeping. There was a presence about her, a strength that a photograph didn’t capture. She was a woman who commanded the attention of a room and your respect. She reminded him of those sleek dangerous cats he’d seen in South Africa, waiting, watching for her moment to strike. Her clothes betrayed the days she’d been held a prisoner with stains and rips. She’d pulled her thick, long hair back into a ponytail held in place with what looked to be a string. He noted that her shoes were sensible, leather ankle boots. When the time came, she’d be able to run.

  She turned abruptly toward him, her assessing gaze raking over his body. He let his lids close the last millimeter and just listened. Her footsteps were soft thumps. She didn’t want to make too much noise.

  His skin prickled at her nearness.

  That was new.

  When was the last time a woman really registered on his radar?

  Brenden didn’t like that reaction. She was a client. This was a job. He shouldn’t feel anything for her or think anything about her. Things would be easier that way, but he couldn’t control how she affected him.

  So he was physically attracted to a woman? Big deal. It was simply inconvenient.

  “Are you awake?” she whispered.

  “Hm?” He opened one eye and looked up at her.

  Her stare was neither friendly
nor hostile. Curious was a more apt description. “Who are you?”

  The question wasn’t an introduction. She might as well have asked what he was instead of who.

  Why?

  “Who wants to know?” he countered. He wasn’t going to risk informing her he was here to rescue her. Judging by how she’d followed the company’s directions he wasn’t fully convinced she wouldn’t try to pull a stunt.

  Her face creased, displeased with his answer. She bent and leaned closer until her breath warmed his cheek as she spoke for his ears alone. “Something isn’t right.”

  He perked up, interested in her assessment. “Why do you say that?”

  “You’ve been here too long. So, who are you?” Her head tilted to the side, and she seemed genuinely curious.

  “What do you mean I’ve been here too long?”

  “They scout you, follow you then pick you up and take you to an ATM, drain your money and that’s it. If they think you’re worth more, you come here and wait for the ransom. So, who are you?”

  “Brenden.” He had an alias set up, but they’d opted to use his first name to keep things simple. He held out his hand.

  She eyed it, but didn’t take it. “No offense, but I don’t know when the last time either of us washed our hands.”

  “Point taken.” He chuckled. He vaguely remembered being concerned about things like cleanliness when he’d been a prisoner the first time, but that had died after a week or two.

  Her tone remained serious. “What do you do, Brenden? What do they want you for?”

  “I’m a security consultant.” It was close to the truth at least.

  Priscilla’s gaze finally left his face. She glanced at his shoulders then back to his face. “What were you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  The light glinted off her curling brown hair, making the strands of lighter brown seem to glow. “You were military, right? You don’t look like one of those gym meat heads, so I’m guessing you were military.”

  She was something else.

  “Navy,” he replied, keeping it circumspect.

  “Let me guess?” She turned and sat next to him, her back up against the cinderblock wall. He’d passed some sort of test. Would she trust him now? “SEAL?”

  Well, so much for circumspect. “Yeah.”

  Her tone changed, hitting a note he didn’t know and couldn’t interpret. “You look like a badass.”

  Brenden didn’t turn his head to look at her, but he was acutely aware of her nearness.

  He was the badass when she was the one who had outright refused her kidnappers demands?

  In her shoes he’d hand over the money. It was a faster, more economical way out of a hairy situation than the one they’d found themselves in now. Money could be replaced. It couldn’t make the scars or nightmares that came with an experience like this go away. But he couldn’t tell her that, not now when the situation had escalated this far.

  “So how did they get you? I would have thought someone with your training wouldn’t make mistakes like us mere mortals.” Her words were light. She was pushing forward, attacking him with questions because that kept her from having to answer any.

  She was afraid. Maybe she blamed herself for getting kidnapped?

  Knowing what he did about her past, he couldn’t let this slide.

  Brenden turned his head and waited for her to look at him. “Everyone is vulnerable.”

  Priscilla stared into his eyes and he was fairly certain he got a fleeting glimpse behind the curtain. She was strong, smart and scared. With her history, and knowing what he knew about her, she’d probably done everything right to not get kidnapped again.

  He made a split second decision. “I was held for six weeks after my unit was ambushed. Just because you know the right things to do doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen to you.”

  “You—what?” Her eyes widened and her lips parted.

  Brenden didn’t expand on that fact of his life. Nothing good would come from discussing that chapter, as he’d learned during his mandatory therapy. His best method was putting all those experiences in a box, sealing it up and shoving it into the recesses of his mind.

  “I guess this isn’t as bad as...?”

  “No.” He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her and look anywhere else. “These guys just want money.”

  “How did they get you then? Where were you?” She shifted, her shoulder bumping his as she got comfortable.

  This he could answer. “I’d just wrapped up a meeting. Went out the wrong door, took a wrong turn and then there they were.”

  Truth be told, Brenden was surprised how fast the kidnappers had acted. Lepta Team had orchestrated a full day with intermittent opportunities for him to be picked up by the kidnappers and they’d gone for the earliest possible chance. It made Brenden think the group had someone working at his hotel or the restaurant he’d dined at.

  “How long were you in the country?” Priscilla asked.

  “A few hours.”

  “Where were you staying?”

  “Over off the beach. Some place called Emil Rio?”

  “Emiliano Rio. Shit. Yeah, if you’re staying there they’d be watching you for sure.”

  “All I did was put my bag down. Is it nice?” Brenden vaguely remembered a lot of white tile and beige walls. Hotels all blended together in his head.

  “I wouldn’t know.” She chuckled. “I’ve only passed by it. I’m more of a budget hotel kind of girl. I saw a picture of their bathrooms once. Huge tubs.”

  “Well when we get out of here, you’re more than welcome to use mine if you like.” He winced, realizing how that sounded only after it left his mouth.

  She turned her head. A rueful smile curved her lips. “Right, because going to a strange man’s room after all of this to soak in his tub would be a smart thing to do.”

  “Just offering.” He held up his hands.

  A smile teased her lips. “I’ll consider it.”

  “My tub is your tub.”

  Her gaze flicked down then up again. “Who are they going to call to demand a ransom?”

  Brenden’s canned answer was work, but somehow he didn’t think that was what she meant. Had she just checked him out for a wedding ring?

  “If they want money, my boss,” he finally answered before elaborating. “My parents are retired. My youngest sister is a stay at home mom. The other one is a law clerk. They don’t have the kind of money these people would want.”

  “No girlfriend? Wife?”

  “Nope.” He shifted, uncertain where this was going. Women didn’t see him. They weren’t interested in him.

  They lapsed into silence, him unsure what to say and her just sitting there. She seemed softer now, more approachable.

  “Do you see a way out of here?” she asked softly.

  “Through that door.” He flicked his fingers toward the entrance to their cage.

  “You can’t pick the lock without them seeing it.” She glanced at him. “Could we force our way out when they open the gate?”

  “You tell me.”

  “No. They don’t open the gate unless there’s two or three of them. They’re careful.”

  He wanted to tell her that all she had to do was stay close to him, that he’d get her out. But he couldn’t. Maybe it was time to call for a pick up. The team was out there, waiting for his signal. It would only take a moment to call them in.

  How many thugs would be here in the middle of the night?

  Brenden didn’t really think these kidnappers would be any problem for his team. He was probably being overly cautious. None of the guys would appreciate him hesitating to signal the rescue because one of them might get hurt. That was just part of the job. They all knew the risks.

  The double doors leading to the area opened and a group of four men entered, led by a man in slacks and a polo shirt. He stuck out in this group of T-shirt wearing toughs.

  Brenden remained where he was while Priscilla s
hoved to her feet.

  Sometimes it paid to be underestimated.

  The group approached the cage, the man in the polo intent on Priscilla to the point he didn’t even note Brenden’s presence.

  Polo Shirt spoke, but not a single word of English. Instead, one of the younger men translated for him.

  “We want for you to help us. You work for the company that owns a local drug store. Help us get what we need and we will let you go.”

  “Get you drugs so you can sell them on the street?” Priscilla crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, not going to happen.”

  Brenden groaned inwardly. While he admired her strict adherence to her morals, he wished she’d be a little more interested in her wellbeing.

  “No. Not that.” The younger man held up his hand. He said a few words to the others, they went back and forth, some frustration bleeding through. “We want medication for um, sick-sick people. They need...” He tapped his arm. “Shot for their sugar.”

  “Insulin?” Priscilla frowned.

  “Yes. And for the sick who have eidz.”

  “Eedz?” Her frown deepened.

  “AIDS.” The word clicked for Brenden. He wished he could stuff that word back in his mouth. He did not want to help their cause. Whatever this was, they were trying to manipulate Priscilla. Again.

  Priscilla gaped at him then the other people.

  “He means HIV drugs.” Brenden grimaced.

  Shit.

  He could see the struggle. She was an advocate. Her thing was bringing healthcare to impoverished areas. Insulin was expensive for everyone. The drugs for both things could save lives.

  These guys were good.

  Their first attempt to wring Priscilla dry hadn’t worked so now they were coming at her with a new angle.

  Brenden pushed to his feet and took a step toward Priscilla so he could speak just to her. “This isn’t a store smash and grab. This is something bigger than that. They’re probably playing you, you know that?”

  “You know how long a diabetic lives without insulin?” She tipped her head up to look at him.

  Fucking hell.

  She knew.

  She knew, and she didn’t care because they’d figured out what she cared about more than herself.