Chapter 23 What to do with Drew
Chapter twenty-three
What to do with Drew
Jenna had no idea how much time had passed since she’d been shoved into the cage with Steph.
It felt like days. They were sensory deprived with the rigid artificial lighting and surrounding, unyielding darkness.
Her arms had gone numb, even the burning in her wrists, and her legs ached to be stretched.
She and Steph had adjusted so they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, their backs against the backside of the cage.
Steph had her legs bent up at the knee, feet flat on the floor.
Jenna had gracelessly managed to shift her legs out to the side, bent and angled.
At the time, it had been comfortable in the way that relief from the old and uncomfortable thing was by default comfortable.
When that faded, Jenna realized she may well have immobilized herself.
With six armed cartel guys and one piece of shit in a badge lounging in the center of the space on honest-to-God camp chairs with probably semi-automatic rifles across their laps and what she feared were beers in their hands, Jenna wasn’t so upset about the cage.
But she was very upset about her inability to move the way she might need to if the situation changed.
Never in her life had she more wished Jon could communicate back through water the way he could be communicated to. She wished she had at least that hope, that if she just kept licking her lip, she might hear his voice whispering to her any moment. But that was impossible.
Something wet dripped onto her already chilled skin, splashing onto her cheek and rolling down her chin to drip onto the skin not covered by her shirt.
Jenna barely held in her gasp. The cave was underground, but the closest water source she was aware of ran wide of the entire cave system. There was no reason, no explanation, for anything wet to be dripping onto her face like a small, isolated drizzle of rain.
Except for one.
As soon as she thought it, the water that had pooled at her collarbone defied all logic and gravity and slid up toward her unnaturally bent shoulder.
It glided across her skin as it moved down her arm, leaving only dry fabric in its wake.
And for as odd as she thought it should have been, it felt exactly like water rolling in rivulets over her body, so it wasn’t bothersome at all.
It was almost comforting. Then it reached her cuffed wrist and that comfort turned into a sharp sting as the metal shifted, however fractionally, and the water curled around her wrist like a small buffer.
Seconds later the same sensation repeated on her other wrist.
Tears stung Jenna’s eyes and her heart beat faster. Jon’s here. And despite all his preparation, despite his confidence, Drew didn’t stand a chance. He’d never comprehended Jon’s power.
But the scene surely about to unfold wouldn’t be pretty.
She remembered the way Jon had so efficiently taken out those two cartel men in the parking lot.
So, she leaned a bit more—as carefully as she could—into Steph’s shoulder and swallowed to wet her throat before speaking in a whisper.
“Curl up tighter and tuck your head down, honey. Something’s coming. ”
Steph looked up at her, her eyes wide enough that the edge of the light caught some of the red-rimmed whites. Her mouth opened in question, but no sound came out.
Jenna motioned for her to move.
One of the men made a noise, like a startled grunt, and someone shouted something in Spanish. All she and her one-year-of-Spanish-in-high-school could tell was that it sounded angry.
Then she stopped caring, because what had been a blurry movement on the edge of the darkness a second earlier became clearer. And though she’d known he had to be nearby, the sight of Jon walking into the sphere of the dual spotlights brought hope surging through her veins.
Six armed men jumped to their feet and even Jenna recognized the sound of weapons being hoisted and readied.
Jon made a show of sweeping his unreadable stare across the space, letting it linger in the direction of the cage he probably couldn’t see into well.
Drew set down his beer and unfolded from his chair without any urgency at all. “Now, now, boys,” he said, “this here is Jon. We invited him, remember?”
Jenna sucked in a breath. She’d had enough time to remember that photo he’d taken of her, and him typing something out. That was the most likely time he’d done it. There wouldn’t have been anything she could have done, though, even if she’d known what he was up to.
Steph leaned closer as the cartel guys lowered their guns about halfway and whispered, “I-is that … the military guy?”
“Yes,” Jenna replied with a small wince. “And he’s here to save us.”
“Good of you to join us, Jon,” Drew said, his voice pitched and his arms out like he was greeting a friend at a dinner party.
“Parker,” Jon said, the anger carrying on that single word alone. “Did you lock my woman in a fucking cage, like an untrained dog?”
One of the cartel guys snickered.
Drew outright laughed and planted his hands on his hips. “Yes. Yes, I did. Are you interested in the conditions for her release?”
Jon folded his arms across his chest. “I’m almost impressed. You have some idea what I’m capable of, and you had the balls to call me out with just a few poorly armed amateurs for backup.”
Another of the cartel guys spouted something in response, gesticulating with his weapon.
Drew opened his mouth. “They don’t like—”
Jon spoke over him, responding to the other man. In Spanish.
Of course he kept up with his Spanish.
The realization that they didn’t have a secret language they could speak in front of their foe seemed to make the entire group uneasy, and several of them raised their guns again.
Jon didn’t look bothered.
Drew sputtered, waving an arm toward his comrades and losing his composure. “I don’t know what you’re feeling so confident about, Johnson. There’s not a drop of water here.”
“You’ve been drinking,” Jon said, his tone even.
Jenna rolled her lips between her teeth, anticipation crawling up her chest.
“Beer and soda,” Drew replied.
“Are you really that dumb?” Jon paused, but he didn’t let Drew respond again. “You were drinking liquid.” Jon pointed out, in the direction of Drew’s chair and the beer resting in the cupholder. “Beer? Soda? Just water with some shit added in.”
Drew barked out a laugh. “You can’t be seri—”
“Come to think of it,” Jon continued, “that pretty much sums up all of you.”
Drew fell silent.
“Nothing more than water with some shit added in.”
Drew’s fists clenched at his sides and Jenna knew Jon’s words had snapped whatever cool, calm, and in-control plan he’d tried going in with.
He took one step backward, pivoting partially around, and said, “You know what? I’ve had a change of heart.
You both die today.” His arm extended out, pointing to the cage.
To her.
“Kill the bitch.”
Steph gasped and scooted into the farthest back corner.
Jenna had to latch her shaking, half-numb fingers around bars of the cage to keep herself from falling sideways. She saw a cartel guy peel off from the crew and swing his gun around as he took a step closer. She wondered, almost absently, how he could be so certain of his aim in the poor light.
A gunshot exploded, echoing in the chamber of the cavern.
Jenna jumped, eyes blowing wide as she watched her would-be assassin crumble to the ground. His gun clattered to the stone floor.
But Jon isn’t holding a gun. And he couldn’t have made a shot from that angle. And—
“What the fuck?” Drew shouted as weapons went up and men adjusted to put their backs together, leaving Drew the odd man out.
Jenna exhaled, calming as realization dawned.
“See, Drew,” Jon said, stepping forward and talking loud enough for his voice to carry.
“When I got your message, I did what any good boyfriend would do. I put my foot to the gas and drove straight here.” He reached out and took hold of Drew’s uniform collar.
“What sucks for you is that I had a truck full of Marines at the time. You lost the moment you laid hands on her.”
Jenna had the perfect angle to see Drew reach down for his holstered weapon.
Jon raised his voice. “Move in!”
“Oorah!” The word bounced around the cave from multiple voices seconds before more figures moved into view and gunfire burst everywhere.
It was deafening … for about twenty seconds.
Then the cave was so silent Jenna could easily hear Steph’s heavy breathing as the poor girl tried to keep herself composed. And she couldn’t say she didn’t understand. Knowing they were being rescued did not mean the rescue itself was a fun experience.
“Billy, find the goddamn keys!” Jon snapped, his voice unexpectedly closer.
Jenna turned her head, feeling as though she needed to orient herself and blink her vision clear to understand what changed during the cacophony.
“Yes, sir!”
She watched a man with dirty blonde hair lope up to one of the bodies on the ground and start patting it in search of pockets, or something within the pockets.
Then movement and a gentle voice at her back consumed her full attention. “Jenna, I’m here.”
Tears rushed to her eyes and she bit back a sob, her fingers trembling worse as she attempted to retain her hold on the bars. Relief surged hot through her system, emphasizing all her aches and pains even as it chased the chill from her skin.
Jon laid a hand over her fingers and gave a soft squeeze. “Let’s get you out of these fucking cuffs. Hold still just a second, okay?”
She only trusted herself to hum.
Jon was so livid his entire body shook. He’d never had a lot of respect for Drew Parker, but what the bastard had done that day was a whole new fucking low. He was going to beat the shit out of Parker before he let the fucker die.
But it was too soon for that.