“Look,” he said softly. “All I want to do is get you out of this house and away from these people. But first you have to trust me. Do you think you can trust me, Olivia?”
No. Yes. Olivia wasn’t sure. All she knew for certain was that as bad as her captivity had been so far, at the hands of someone else it could be a thousand times worse.
She was still debating her options when the floorboards creaked above.
“Shit.” The man tilted his head toward the ceiling. Footsteps echoed, and a door somewhere above slammed shut.
Olivia’s heart rate shot up.
“Stay here.” He pushed to his feet and quickly disappeared.
Confused, Olivia drew away from the wall and looked for him, unsure what he was doing. Seconds later he was back, kneeling in front of her again. “We need to get moving.”
He shifted around, tugged something from his back. Olivia tensed. Then he flicked a switch, and a beam of light spread over her dirty, bare feet.
A flashlight. He was holding a flashlight.
“Hold still.” He put the end of the small flashlight in his mouth and tugged something else from his back. Light shone over her butterfly tattoo and the metal cuff around her ankle. A click echoed, and she looked down and watched in surprise as he used a long metal object to pick the lock.
The cuff sprang free. He tucked the lock pick back in his pack and pushed to his feet. He was tall. Really tall. Taller than the others who’d come down here. He held out a hand. “Can you stand?”
Olivia’s heart raced. Indecision warred. She was free. Free for the first time in days. With a complete stranger who might or might not be another psychopath.
“Cellar doors lead to freedom, Olivia. You’re either with me or you’re not. It’ll only be seconds before they find that door upstairs open.”
Freedom. The word sounded elusive. A fable. A fantasy. She looked down at his wide palm, dimly lit from the light near the stairs, and made her choice.
Her hand slid over his. Warmth rushed into her skin. His fingers quickly closed over hers and tightened, holding her in a fierce grip, tugging her to her feet and closer to his broad body.
His chest was huge. His arms thick and muscled beneath the long-sleeved top. And his legs . . . dear God, they were like tree trunks. Panic consumed her. His other hand landed at her waist and slid around her back. The spicy scent of leather and musk filled her nostrils. The air grew thicker the closer she drew to his body, and her heart rate picked up speed.
She’d made the wrong choice. He was one of them. He was going to hurt her. He was going to—
Shouts echoed from above. His head swiveled toward the stairs, and he muttered, “Fucking A.”
Light from the stairs spilled over his profile, and she caught her first glimpse of his face. A nose slightly crooked as if it had been broken once or twice, full lips, a strong chin and sculpted jaw. She couldn’t tell what color his hair was, but his skin was shades lighter than the men who’d been holding her in this prison, and even in the dim light, there was something solid, reassuring, hopeful about him.
His gaze snapped back to her, and she found herself wondering what color his eyes were. “I have to let go of you. Don’t fall.”
She didn’t have time to answer. He released her waist and hand and reached back for his pack. Weak, Olivia swayed on her bare feet, but her adrenaline kept her upright. Footsteps pounded above. Running. Growing louder. Growing closer. Her gaze darted toward the stairs.
The man—Miller? Had he said his name was Miller? Or had she imagined that?—pulled something from his pack. His fingers moved quickly in the dark, and then he grasped her at the wrist and pulled. “Come on.”
They were heading toward the stairs. Sweat burst all over her skin. He couldn’t possibly mean to—
They reached the base of the stairs. A body stepped into the light at the top. One she recognized. The man who’d hit her relentlessly. She tensed. Tried to pull back out of the grip at her wrist. The man yelled in that same foreign language she didn’t understand. Miller threw whatever was in his hand up the stairs.
The sound of an explosion echoed through the basement, shaking the walls. A blinding light erupted above. Miller tugged hard on her arm. “Now!”
Olivia stumbled. Gasped. Tried to keep up. He dragged her across the basement, then stopped in front of what looked like a steel door. “Turn away.”
She didn’t know what he was doing, but she listened. Two more bangs, then the sound of metal shattering. She looked back just as he was shoving his shoulder against the door. It gave with a crack. Cement steps let up to cellar doors, which he quickly pushed open. Then warm sunlight rushed over her body, warming her frigid skin and bathing her in light.
Relief trickled through every cell in her body. She sucked in a deep breath, but the grip on her hand jolted her out of any celebration she wanted to lose herself in. “No time to fuck around,” Miller said to her. “We have to keep moving.”
Bright light blinded her, but she looked his way and realized he was holding a gun in both hands, scanning the area behind them.
“Head toward the fence,” he directed.
Grass pressed against the bottom of her feet as she forced her muscles forward, running for the fence. When she reached it, her heart sank.
The thing had to be at least ten feet tall. And metal, straight up. No footholds. She’d never scale it.
A dog barked. Inside the house, voices echoed and shouted. Footsteps pounded.
“Up, let’s go, come on. We’re running out of time.” Miller holstered the gun and then leaned over and cupped both hands together, creating a step for her.
“I can’t—”
“Fuck can’t. You wanna live? Then haul ass, woman. We’ve got seconds before they’re here.”
Olivia’s heart jumped into her throat. She gripped his strong shoulders and slid her foot into his hands. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.” He didn’t even grunt as he hefted her up. Her fingertips grazed the top of the fence, and she clawed for a tight grip. “Throw yourself over.”
Throw herself over? She managed to get one leg over the side of the fence, then made the mistake of looking back.
Three, four, no . . . five men spilled out of the house, guns drawn. Somewhere a dog snarled and barked.
“Go!” Miller screamed.
Fear froze every muscle in her body.
Gunfire erupted in the yard.
Zane’s pulse shot into the stratosphere as he slid his arms into both straps of the backpack. He’d counted four men heading toward them from the direction of the parking lot, but they were already splitting up.
Eve’s hand gripped his shirt and tugged him back into the cover of the trees.
“How many?” Carter asked.
Eve took up space near Zane, gun drawn and ready, eyes scanning the park beyond. She was in black ops mode, and all he wanted to do was shove her behind him where he knew she’d be safe, but he knew there was no way in hell she’d ever go for that.
“Four,” he answered.
“Civilians?” Natalie asked, pulling a Colt XSE from her holster.
“They’ve scattered.” Zane squinted through the trees. “I can’t see them anymore.”
“Let’s hope to God they had the sense to get out of here.” Natalie gripped the gun in both hands. “Four against four. Those aren’t bad odds.”
“Four that we can see.” Zane glanced her way. “Packing M14s and who the hell knows what else.”
She grinned. “Makes it all the more fun.”
“You should leave, Natalie.” Eve’s strained voice met Zane’s ears, but he refused to turn and look. “This isn’t your fight.”
“I’m not leaving the three of you on your own.”
Yeah, but they needed Natalie alive so she could help clear Eve’s name. “Listen,” Zane said, “maybe Eve’s right.”