Chapter 11 #2
He shook his head. “I’ll stay here and work with Kyla to find out more about Dillon, where he bought his Corvette and how he paid for it.
Moe and Breely left the war room and returned to the lodge porch.
Moe lifted his glass of lemonade. “I could use a fresh glass. The ice is melted, and there’s a bug in this one. You too?”
Breely nodded. “Yes. Then I want to call my father and catch up with them.”
“Do we need to go back to our room to get your phone?” he asked.
Breely patted her back pocket. “No. Got it right here. We just need fresh drinks.” She collected her glass and followed Moe through the lodge into the kitchen.
Cookie stood at the eight-burner gas stove, stirring something in a big stock pot.
Onion, garlic and chili pepper permeated the air.
Moe inhaled deeply. “Smells good, Cookie.”
“Damn right it does. It’s my prize-winning chili. It’s what’s for supper, along with jalape?o cornbread.” He tipped his head toward the commercial refrigerator. “Lemonade is in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Cookie.” Breely took Moe’s glass out of his hand, rinsed it and placed it in the dishwasher. She took another glass from the cupboard, put a couple of cubes of ice in it and added a cube to her glass.
Moe brought the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and poured the liquid into the two glasses. When they were full, he returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. “Porch?”
Breely nodded.
Together, they walked out of the kitchen, through the open lobby toward the back porch.
Moe liked spending time with Breely. Sitting on the back porch, drinking lemonade might be boring to some, but he cherished the quiet times as much as the passionate ones.
In one week, he found himself falling hard for the pretty redhead.
And he’d stopped fighting it. Yes, she was the client, but she was much more than that.
She was a part of him, fully entrenched in his heart.
He hadn’t thought it would be possible to love again. Not after his first wife had left him.
Breely filled all the empty places in his soul. After only a week with the headstrong woman, who was as passionate about life as she was in bed, he couldn’t imagine life without her.
“Do you mind taking my glass?” Breely held out her cup to Moe. “I need to use the facilities.”
She turned and hurried to a short hallway where the restrooms were located, eager to return to the porch and Moe. As she passed the pretty alcove with the huge pot containing a massive, majestic palm, something moved between the thick layer of palm fronds.
Breely slowed and stared into the shadows created by the broad leaves. Whatever she’d thought had moved didn’t move again.
She shrugged and moved on, pushing through the restroom’s swinging door.
After relieving herself, she washed her hands and was drying them on a paper towel when a thunderous boom cracked the air and shook the floor so hard beneath her feet she clung to the counter to steady herself.
Dust and smoke drifted beneath the door into the bathroom.
What the hell had happened?
Where was Moe?
A sob rose in Breely’s throat, strangling her vocal cords. She ran for the door, flung it open and stepped into a thick fog of dust that blinded her and filled her lungs.
She pulled her shirt over her mouth and nose then closed her eyes as much as she could and still see light.
Dull light.
The dust mixed with smoke was so thick she couldn’t see two feet in front of her.
She moved deliberately to her right until her hand touched the hallway wall.
If she followed it to the end, she’d reach the lobby.
And if she followed the other lobby wall, she’d eventually come to the door leading out onto the porch and clear, clean air.
And please, let Moe be there.
With her hand on the hallway wall, she shuffled her feet along the tile floor, moving slowly. If she lost the wall and ended up in the open space of the lobby, it would take her even longer to get outside.
The hallway wall took a sharp and unexpected detour. A wave of panic threatened to overwhelm Breely, but she couldn’t give in to it. Not now. Not when she didn’t know where Moe was or if any of the others had been caught in the explosion.
A waxy, smooth surface brushed against her hand, making her jump. Then she remembered the alcove and the huge plant, and she laughed at herself, coughing into her shirt. Touching her fingers gently to the palm fronds, she felt her way around the alcove until she found the hallway wall.
The sound of shuffling feet alerted her to the presence of someone else.
“Hey,” she called out. “Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you,” a muffled voice responded. A flashlight beam attempted to pierce the thick cloud only to be swallowed without providing sight of a way to cut through to the other side.
A hand clamped on her arm. In the shrouded mist of dust and smoke, a man wearing a worker’s gray coverall and ball cap appeared in front of Breely.
He had a kerchief tied around his face, covering his mouth and nose, and he wore goggles over his eyes.
“Come with me,” the muffled voice said. “I’ll get you out. ”
Without waiting for her consent, he dragged her back the way she’d come. Down the hallway, past the restroom, he pulled her with one hand on her arm, the other on the wall.
After they’d gone several yards, Breely dug in her heels. “No.” She coughed into her shirt. “Moe. Gotta get to Moe.”
The hand on her arm tightened. “It’s too dangerous. Let’s get out this way and circle back.”
He was right. The smoke had thickened, burning her lungs. She let the man lead her further down the hallway. If her memory was correct, there would be an emergency exit at the end.
When she thought her lungs could take no more, Breely heard the metal clank of the door lever being pushed. Then she was out of the lodge.
She sucked in a lungful of clean, clear air and coughed.
A gray pest control van stood in front of her, the side sliding door wide open.
Breely turned and started for the side of the lodge, her only focus on getting to Moe. She hoped he’d gone out on the porch and not back to the kitchen.
She only made it two steps before the man in the gray coveralls blocked her path.
He didn’t say a word, just stood there,
“Move,” she demanded and coughed, the smoke and dust she’d inhaled making her voice coarse. Her eyes watered and stung. She blinked to clear them.
Coverall man grabbed her arms.
Breely tried to knock his hands away.
His grip tightened.
She backed away and ran into a wall.
Only it wasn’t a wall. It was another man. His arm wrapped around her, trapping her arms to her sides. A meaty hand clamped over her mouth. He lifted her and carried her toward the van.
“No!” Her cry was muffled beneath the sweaty palm. The nightmare of her previous encounter with two men and a van unfolded in front of her.
Breely fought with every ounce of strength she had, kicking and twisting.
The man who’d blocked her path grabbed her ankles.
Together, the men climbed into the van with her. The one holding her feet released his hold, slammed the van door closed and dove into the driver’s seat.
The guy behind her flipped her onto her stomach and pressed his knee into her back.
With her chest smashed into the metal floor of the van and the big man leaning hard into her spine, Breely couldn’t move…couldn’t…breathe.
She tried to buck and roll, but the man’s weight kept her pinned.
The vehicle lurched forward and increased speed, carrying her away from the lodge. Away from the Brotherhood Protectors. Away from Moe.
Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t give up. In the chaos of the explosion, they wouldn’t know she was missing. How long would it take Moe to realize she was gone?
Any amount of time was too long as the van put more and more distance between her and Moe.
He wouldn’t be there to rescue her this time. She’d have to get herself out of this situation—which meant focusing.
She studied what she could see around her, hoping to locate something she could use as a weapon. There were hoses and plastic containers filled with pesticides. Surely, she could make something work.
First, she had to get the man off her back. Fighting hadn’t dislodged him. His weight pressing down on her wasn’t making it easy for her to get air into her lungs. If she didn’t get out from under him soon, she’d pass out.
Breely stopped fighting, closed her eyes and went limp. If he thought she’d passed out, the big guy on top of her might move away.
She lay for a long time, praying the man would move.
For her plan to work, the big guy had to notice she’d passed out.
If he didn’t move soon…she would lose consciousness from lack of air.