Chapter 7
That didn’t go well. The thought escaped the fog in Dane’s mind before he opened his eyes. For the second time in two days—the first time at The Black Cigar—he found himself blindsided and waking up on the floor.
He forced his eyes open. He had no time for nursing humility.
He needed to find Shana. There was little to see.
When he sat up, he felt the cuffs on his wrists behind him and on his feet in front of him.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light and his head cleared enough to orient himself, he realized he was not alone.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to come to your senses.”
“Shana?” Dane tried to twist around to see the unmistakable source of those words, but as he tried, he realized that both his handcuffs and ankle cuffs were bolted to the floor and he was sitting with his back leaning against hers and with his knees half bent.
“Jesus H. Christ.” He let the hot relief flood through him like a warm fire against the icy cold. Like the feel of her back against his. He pressed into her as he wriggled his hands to measure the cuffs.
“Don’t get too excited yet,” she said. “We are chained to the floor and stuck in a basement in a heavily armed compound in some godforsaken outback in the Brazilian jungle, after all.”
He snorted a laugh. “We’re not in an outback—we’re outside of Rio.” No matter now true the rest of her words were—and he knew their situation was dire—he couldn’t bite down on his relief at finding her alive. And his profound comfort at being with her.
“You’re an idiot,” she said, but he heard the smile in her voice.
“I always said, girlie, there’s no one I’d rather share a dungeon with.”
“How about sharing a way out? Tell me the posse is right behind you and on their way to spring us.”
“Yes—and no,” Dane said.
“Shit. You are such a goddamn—
“Hold on—where the hell is your confidence in me? What happened to Dane the legend?”
“This better be good.” Shana’s voice had risen an octave. “What do you have up your sleeve?”
“Funny you should say that.”
Dane looked around the small cave-like cell with no windows and one very small dim light over the door.
He saw what he suspected was a surveillance camera in the corner.
He’d have to go for it. He needed to get at the gadgets in his Belleville 610 hot weather tactical combat boots. He took a deep breath and set his jaw.
“Hang on a minute.”
Since he was more right-handed than left, Dane decided to dislocate his left thumb to squeeze his hand out of the cuff. He clenched his teeth and did not cry out. When he heard the slight snapping sound of his thumb joint, Shana jolted and said, “What the hell are you doing, Dane?”
She jiggled behind him, struggling to turn. For the moment, all he felt were the beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. Then he pressed his thumb back into place.
“Goddamn that hurt.”
“What? What did you do?” Shana’s voice was half alarmed and half admonishing and it made him smile in spite of the excruciating pain.
He ignored her, flexed his fingers and winced, biting his lip rather than give her any more indication of his pain.
With his left hand searing and swelling up, he reached forward to untie his bootlace, his right hand still locked behind him.
It was a custom lace Acer had outfitted him with that hid a lock pick inside the end.
It was made of a plastic polymer that would pass through a metal detector if need be.
Dane had no idea what precautions the Tavares men had taken before locking him up, but luckily they left him with his boots on.
“What the hell are you doing, Dane?”
“I’m unlocking my ankle cuffs—don’t worry, I’ll get to you. Keep it quiet and see if you can block the view of that monitor up in the corner.”
Once he had the pick removed, he flexed his hand again and worked on unlocking his feet.
He could block most of the view of the camera while he was bent forward, but once he started unlocking his other hand and then got to Shana, they would find out if the guy monitoring the surveillance footage was asleep on the job or not.
It seemed to take several minutes to unlock the cuffs at his two ankles. His fingers worked, but the pain caused him to fumble and he dropped the lock pick twice.
“Hurry it up, will you?” He felt Shana leaning sideways to block the camera. His wrist throbbed and swelled. He checked his watch. Funny they hadn’t bothered taking his far-from-ordinary watch. The face lit the time. A little under a minute and his ankles were free.
“I’m going to unlock my right wrist now. Lean over that way as much as you can to keep blocking me from the camera.”
His voice sounded strained, to his chagrin. He turned and, clenching his teeth, stuck the pick in the lock in one motion, gave it a twist and yanked it open. He shook it off and jumped to a squat behind Shana, ready to work.
By the time he got to Shana’s second wrist, his hand shook and sweat trickled down his temples. Not from the heat, but from the pain.
“Let me do it.”
The statement was mild but he felt like the oxygen had been sucked from the room, leaving his chest empty. He forgot about the surveillance camera, turned and looked at her.
She met his eyes and then darted a glance at his hand.
It was deformed with swelling and he held it against his belly.
It throbbed. His heart throbbed in his chest in an unnatural galloping beat.
This was a moment of truth. Or a moment where he admitted his vulnerability to her.
But he’d done that before, whether he wished to recall it or not.
“You going to be okay?” She glanced again at his hand.
“I’ll live.” He gave her the lock pick.
“I hope we both live, but the jury is out. We need to find a way out of here without being stopped by any of the guards. How did you get this past them—never mind.”
She worked fast and freed herself from the cuffs, trying to stay in place. The groan of relief almost did him in. Whatever throbbing pain had been overwhelming him before disappeared as the realization slapped him. She’d been chained here all night.
“Are you okay? Never mind me. How long have you been here?”
“I have no idea. I’ll be okay. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I had my moments, but…”
She stopped and turned to the camera, then leaned back against him the way the men had left them.
“But what?”
He should leave it alone and move on. They needed to get out of there while the getting was good. They’d need to disable the camera—if it was even operational because Dane was beginning to have his doubts. Either it was a bluff or the watcher was dozing on the job. He twisted around again.
“Tell me, Shana. But what?” He pulled her face around to look at his.
“But I forgot all about the pain and the exhaustion and the worry and even the moments of despair the instant they dragged your sorry ass into the cell and propped you against my back. Then I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Strange, huh? We were still stuck here after they slammed the dungeon door behind them and yet I couldn’t help feeling…
” She hesitated a beat and when he thought he was going to have to wring the last bit out of her she whispered, “happy.” It almost didn’t matter that the admission was at odds with the miserable look on her face, but it did matter.
“Misery loves company?” He pushed.
She shook he head. “More than that.” Then she pulled away from him. “Let’s get out of here.”
He stood, hiding the creaky inflexibility of his knees and lower back as he did so.
Damn, he was getting old. He held his right hand out to her and helped her unfold from her position on the floor.
She stretched to her full height without too much trouble after being bent and sitting on the floor for unending hours.
“Don’t worry, girlie. If they were really monitoring us they’d have pounced on us by now. Our trouble is going to be getting their attention so they open the door and we can get out.”
“But at least now we have weapons.” She lifted a chain from the floor and toyed with it. He couldn’t help the adolescent thought that popped into his head about what he’d rather be doing with that chain and her.
She read his mind or so it seemed by the half laugh, half snort.
“You’re incorrigible, Dane Blaise.” She walked to the dungeon door and peered out the grimy window.
He was right behind her. Literally. She pushed back and elbowed him for space, so he pushed her aside and peered into the surprisingly well-lit hallway.
Although, good lighting was not necessarily their friend right now. He checked the door handle. It rattled. He pushed down on the lever. It didn’t move. He banged against the door and it rattled but not enough to keep banging himself against it.
“Ideas? You got any more tricks up your sleeve?”
He grinned at her. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Acer had given him several gadgets, not all of which he figured he’d need, but he saw an immediate use for the plastic explosives hidden in the heel of his shoe. He bent and, using his good hand, took his shoe off.
*****
Shana watched Dane as he removed a square hunk of what she assumed was C-4 plastic explosive.
“Goddamn those are some special boots you have there.”
“Courtesy of Jeremiah Acerman.” He spoke in a low voice—in case.
“God bless the man. Remind me to give him a big fat kiss when we see him next.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Dane said.
He smiled and put his boot back on as he got to work pushing the malleable explosive into the seams of the door.
“Before we set that off—do you know where we’re going?
Because we’re going to have to move pretty damn fast—I got the lay of the land on the outside, but I’m a little fuzzy on the details inside. I was out cold. You?”
“I memorized every step we took as they dragged me down here, but I don’t think we’re going to want to leave the same way I came—through the main salon.”