Wicked for You Page 3

  Then he was gone, slamming the wobbly door behind him. Mystery stared out the window, watching him go. He walked away with a purposeful stride, toward an ATV. He mounted it, sent her a mocking salute, then disappeared.

  The moment he rolled out of sight, she released the breath she’d been holding. Adrenaline bled out. She shook all over. What was she going to do? Her pampered life hadn’t prepared her for this. She knew how to shop, how to play hostess for a party, how to pose when the paparazzi showed up. She didn’t have a single survival skill. Did she want to run through the desert with no footwear, huddled in a coat meant purely for decoration, and carrying limited water, hoping she’d encounter a Good Samaritan? It didn’t sound like a fantastic idea. Then again, hanging around here, waiting for that asshole to come back and end her didn’t sound smart, either.

  The probably slow death or the almost-certain quick one?

  The quandary filled Mystery with icy-sharp dread.

  She paced over to the food and ate every bite of the ham sandwich and the accompanying apple, then she downed one of her two bottles of water. God knew how long she’d been without hydration.

  The sustenance helped her to think, to realize that she’d be best off to set out shortly before sunrise and walk all day, even if she’d do it barefoot, and try to find civilization. She’d hang onto this second bottle of water. It might be all she had to see her through a hot day.

  She found the little bathroom next. It was tiny and disgusting and she refused to actually sit on the toilet, but it flushed. The dilapidated shower worked, but on second thought, did she really want to get naked when her captor could come back at any moment?

  Then it became a waiting game. A couple of hours slid by. The sun brushed the horizon, and Mystery realized there wasn’t a single light in this little shack. She’d pass the whole night in utter darkness, unable to see if dangerous critters—or the asshole who’d taken her—sneaked up on her. The thought added a whole different layer of fear.

  Just before darkness fell, the door opened again, and Mr. Ski Mask appeared.

  “What?” she demanded. Had he come to kill her now? Who’s orders was he following?

  “Change of plans. Boss doesn’t want you going anywhere.” He grabbed her and jabbed another needle in her arm. “Nighty night.”

  The last sound she heard was his chuckle as he shut the door and the world went black.

  * * *

  FOR the next two days, her routine fell into exactly the same pattern. By day three, Mystery knew she’d have to break it. Her captor didn’t touch her—thank goodness for small miracles—but he liked to scare her with knives. When he’d brought her yesterday’s meal, he’d hinted that he should soon know her fate. Every attempt to question him about why he’d drawn her blood and why he was holding her hostage he countered with threats or silence. She didn’t know who was paying him or if they’d even made a ransom demand to her father. Poor Daddy had to be going insane, wondering where she was and if she was alive. She almost hated her captor as much for worrying her parent as she did for scaring the hell out of her.

  Mystery watched out the window for her nemesis. He’d soon be coming with her food and hydration for the day. She’d consumed the water he’d given her and saved the bottles, refilling them in the bathroom sink. Amongst the junk in this little shack, she’d found an old duffel bag. It was small enough that she could fashion it into a backpack of sorts. She still wasn’t sure what to do about shoes—a must in the desert—but she’d rather take her chances with the elements.

  Finally, as the sun began heading for the horizon, Mystery saw the asshole who kept her prisoner climb off his ATV and stroll toward the shack. With a jaunty step, he opened the door and let himself in, plunking the paper bag with her usual sandwich, fruit, and water on the table.

  “Well, the boss wants to see me when I’m done here. Maybe that means our ‘special’ time together is over.” He sidled closer, leering in her direction. “If he tells me to end you, I promise I’ll give you a wild fuck before I do.”

  When he cupped her breast and pinned her to the wall, Mystery screamed and struggled, kicking him. He just laughed and adjusted the bulge in his crotch before heading out and slamming the door behind him. She watched out the little window, waiting for him to straddle his ATV and roll away so she could make her final preparations to start her trek through the desert.

  Suddenly, the sound of gunshots exploded through the air. Her captor froze, then ran for the ATV, rolling to the ground and using the big metal frame to shield his body. He poked his head up and aimed over the vehicle, shooting toward a target Mystery couldn’t see. More bullets flew, some ricocheting off the metal of the four-wheeler, others kicking up sand.

  Someone was shooting at her captor. Who would be out here in the middle of nowhere, trying to kill him? Had his enemies hunted him down? Or was she being rescued? Her head raced. She didn’t know what to think and didn’t want to reveal her presence in the event the guys shooting now were badder than the criminal who’d taken her. Still, she had to be prepared in case they killed her captor and she was forced to walk through the desert to find civilization.

  She gathered the duffel with water bottles and a canvas she’d found on the old vinyl floor yesterday, hoping the scrap of sturdy cloth could serve as footwear or covering for her head as needed, since she didn’t have any sunscreen, either.

  After looping her arms through the handles, she peeked out the window to see two men in camo running toward the ATV, guns blazing. One of them ducked behind the vehicle, then inched up to shoot at her assailant at the other end of the rolling tin can. That was all the time her captor needed. He shot one of the new arrivals, and the man jolted, jerking with the impact before crumpling to the ground, unmoving.

  Mystery gasped, then slapped a hand to her mouth. She doubted anyone would hear her over the wind and the din of the shots being exchanged, but if they did . . . she wouldn’t come out of this alive.

  The second of the two combatants she’d seen grabbed a big rifle from his fallen comrade’s back, shoved in a new magazine, then quietly sneaked toward the front of the ATV.

  Her captor obviously didn’t trust the silence. He leaned around the front of the vehicle, and when he spotted the enemy, they exchanged another hail of gunfire.

  To her right, the door to the shack burst open. The wood slammed against the wall, making the whole structure shake.

  Then a big, dark shadow fell across the threshold, blocking most of the sun slanting behind his huge form. Mystery shrieked and scrambled back, looking for a way to escape whatever he’d come to do to her. But she already knew from her days of captivity here that no other path to freedom existed. The shack had only two small windows, which he obstructed, and no other doors.

  The huge man stepped into the beams of light streaming through the window, gripping an assault rifle, ready to shoot. A small pack hung around his beefy shoulders. A tight khaki T-shirt stretched over a powerful chest. His hair was so short, she could barely discern the color, but it was something with a golden tint, glinting under the waning sun. His sharp blue gaze zeroed in on her immediately. She shrank back.

  “Don’t be afraid. We’re here to rescue you. Your father hired us.”

  Jubilant relief poured through Mystery. She trembled so hard, she couldn’t quite stand steady. She’d known that Marshall Mullins wouldn’t wait for the police to rescue her. Doing nothing had never been his style. On the other hand, this man was a total stranger. Why should she believe him?

  “Wh-who are you?”

  “Axel Dillon. I served two tours of duty in Afghanistan and now I’m private hire. Your father contacted my CO day before yesterday. We’ve been looking for you since. Are you hurt?”

  Mystery wasn’t one hundred percent sure she believed him. And she could still hear gunshots pinging outside at a furious, fatal rate.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Axel roared. “Stay here and hidden. I’m going to end this son of a bitc
h.”

  He turned around and marched out of the shack. She watched the retreat of his wide shoulders and narrow hips. Everything about him shouted that he was a soldier, just as he’d claimed. But did that mean he was her father’s soldier-for-hire? Mystery didn’t know, and after being abducted, then threatened with murder and rape, her trust was admittedly thin. Exhaustion and hunger were wreaking havoc with her logic.

  She ran to the window again, watching as he raised his rifle, peered through the scope, and fired. Her captor feinted just as he pulled the trigger, but the shot still managed to hit the asshole. He slapped a hand to his side and tried to climb the hood of the ATV and scramble into the driver’s seat.

  Axel’s sidekick leapt onto the vehicle and fired his handgun. Her assailant must have seen or sensed trouble coming because he rolled out, back to the hard sand, then took off on foot, heading away from the shack. He fired off a shot every few steps over his shoulder at the other man in camo.

  Where did her captor think he was going? He’d said himself there was nothing but desert for miles. Had that been a lie? Or was he simply hoping to escape into the expansive landscape as night fell, then limp his way to safety?

  Axel darted toward the dueling pair, but the other soldier was closer, scrambling into the driver’s seat of the vehicle so he could head off in hot pursuit of her captor.

  Mystery watched, her stomach twisting. The bastard who’d ripped apart her world . . . he wouldn’t get far. She wasn’t a mean or violent person, but sudden death was too good for that thug. She kind of wanted to watch someone beat the shit out of him or drive the ATV over him again and again until the life left his body.

  As the other soldier started the mini four-wheeler, it leapt forward, kicking up sand behind it. Her captor looked over his shoulder, then tried to run faster. But he was no match at all.

  As if he’d figured that out, he stopped dead in his tracks and faced the oncoming vehicle as it ate up ground, on a collision course to run him over in seconds. Instead of fleeing in another direction, he reached into his pocket and withdrew something, then aimed it at the vehicle, almost like a remote control.

  The ATV and Axel’s fellow soldier burst into a big orange ball of flames, instantly consumed in a conflagration. She gasped in horror.

  Her captor laughed beneath his ski mask as he palmed his gun again and pointed it at Axel, now running toward the killer who had already murdered his two brothers in arms. Both Axel and her captor aimed and pulled the trigger, but the bastard who had abducted her didn’t have a weapon made for long shots. The handgun was no match for the high-powered rifle at that distance.

  The asshole who had taken and tormented her jackknifed back, then fell to the ground. He didn’t move again.

  Now she was alone with Axel, a man who could save her life—or end it.

  She swallowed, her heart racing, her veins running with pure adrenaline, as he jogged toward the first of his fallen peers. He checked the pulse at the man’s neck, then sighed heavily and rose to his feet. Bypassing the burning remains of the ATV, he aimed his rifle at the unmoving form of her captor, cautiously approaching as he checked for signs of life. Apparently, he found none because he began searching the asshole’s pockets.

  Slinging his rifle onto his back, Axel turned and made his way toward her, his gaze sharp and focused.

  Mystery trembled. God, she hoped he was one of the good guys, sent by her father, as he claimed. Because if it was a lie to win her trust, he could do whatever he wanted to her out in this godforsaken desert. Cut her, rape her, strangle her . . . Snapshots of all the hideous ways he could murder her flashed through her brain. He could leave her bones to bleach out in the potent sun and walk away without anyone the wiser. This gun battle certainly had no other survivors who might rescue her—if they’d ever intended to.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. On the one hand, she realized that she was probably being overly dramatic and the odds of three men hunting down someone else’s captive to brutally murder her made very little sense. Why would he try to trick her into trusting him just for that? On the other hand, some small part of her mind realized that after everything she’d been through in the last few days, she wasn’t exactly prepared to be rational. Thoughts raced. Terror clung. She just wanted to go home, feel her father’s arms around her, get back to normalcy, which seemed a million miles away right now.

  Axel turned and headed her way. She screamed.

  He took off at a dead run for her. Mystery panicked and sprinted out of the shack. The wind whipped through her hair, kicking dust onto her skin. The sand felt hot on the bare soles of her feet, and she knew right away that days of being undernourished and afraid to sleep would catch up with her quickly. Axel’s pounding footsteps behind her drew closer and closer, and she felt powerless to keep him from capturing her.

  It seemed as if mere seconds had passed before his arm snaked around her waist and he hauled her against his big, solid body.

  “Don’t run. I’ve got you. I know you’re scared, but I’m going to save you.”

  He panted against her neck, and she felt his chest rising and falling with every breath. She couldn’t seem to suck in enough air, either. Her heart beat furiously. Fear spiked her veins.

  “Let me go. I just want to go home.”

  “I know,” he assured, his voice surprisingly soft for someone who looked—and felt—all soldier. “I’ll take care of you. But you can’t charge through the desert without shoes. It may look dead around here, but I assure you, the land is very much alive, and you’d be no match.”

  In her head, Mystery knew that. At the age of nine, she’d been with her dad on their way to Palm Springs for some celebrity event when their car had broken down. Even being stranded on the roadside for a few hours had been hot and harrowing. She’d never been so aware of the harsh elements and her inability to survive them.

  Until now.

  The fight left her muscles, and she nodded miserably.

  Gently, Axel set her back on her feet and turned her to face him. She was almost afraid to look at him, worried she’d see cruel glee on his face just before he ended her. Instead, she saw a well of patience. He knew she’d had it tough and he empathized. The human kindness Axel showed her was the first she’d seen in seemingly forever.

  Mystery burst into tears again.

  “Hey. Hey!” He cupped her face and thumbed tears from her cheeks. “Shh. I know you’re on emotional overload, but we can’t do this now. Breathe with me.” He fused her gaze to his and demonstrated by dragging in a long breath, then letting it out. He did it again, waiting patiently until she followed suit.

  Calm slowly made its way through her panic. With each breath and every second she looked into his eyes, she relaxed a bit more. Her mind wasn’t a constant explosion of chaos and terror.

  As soon as the adrenaline dissipated, she felt incredibly weak. Her muscles no longer seemed able to support her, and she sagged against his chest.

  “That’s it,” he crooned. “Nothing to be afraid of. I need some quick information, all right? Tell me if the man holding you hostage had any help? Anyone else who assisted him in keeping you captive?”

  She shook her head. “H-he talked about someone who hired him, but I . . . I never saw him.”

  “So it was just the two of you?”

  Mystery nodded.

  “Good. That gives us some breathing room. Come with me. We’ll go back to the shack and map out a plan.”

  Plan? “I don’t want to go back. He kept me there. He—”

  “I know.” Axel took her hand and slowly led her back to the place of her captivity.

  She tried to dig in her heels, but he was far stronger. In fact, her legs gave out from under her, and without breaking stride, he bent and carried her against his chest, taking huge, ground-eating steps until the shade of the little outbuilding sheltered them again.

  Gingerly, he set her on her feet, then kicked the door shut. “There. Now, another deep br
eath. Let’s talk this out rationally, okay?”

  His deep voice soothed her. Mystery felt herself sliding slowly off the pinnacle of panic. She nodded at him.

  “Listen to me. I was an army medic, sent as part of this rescue crew in case you need medical attention. But you have to be honest with me. I can’t help you to the best of my ability if you’re not. Understand?”

  Again, she nodded.

  “I need you to be verbal with me. We don’t have room for misunderstanding here. Say ‘Yes, Axel.’”

  She swallowed and stared at a spot of smudged dirt on his T-shirt. “Yes, Axel.”

  “Good. Did your captor beat you? Tie you, restrain you, or otherwise put you in any position that might have caused injury?”

  “I was cuffed with my hands behind my back when he first brought me here. My shoulders ached for a bit. I’m all right now. He never struck me or restrained me again.”

  Axel nodded. “Did you hurt your feet running outside barefoot just now?”

  Her soles smarted, but nothing more serious than when she’d played barefoot in the backyard as a kid. “No.”