Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
August 23 rd
1:26 A.M.
Kill.
That was the word that echoed through Connor’s head as he ran through the torrent of rain pounding down around him.
Every single one of those men who had dared to put their hands on Becca, hurt her, scare her, they all deserved to die.
Slowly.
And painfully.
But since he wanted Becca safe more than he wanted those men to suffer, he’d suffice for just dead.
As badly as he wanted to run to one of the cabin windows, confirm that Becca was alive, and see what they were doing to her, he couldn’t risk it. Not only would it waste time they didn't have, but if one of them caught sight of him before he was ready, it would ruin his plans.
So instead of following his instincts to creep up to the cabin, he bypassed it, circling it at a safe distance and heading for the small shed out the back.
Thankfully, when Cade and his then girlfriend had first bought this place it had been a wreck, about two steps up from dilapidated. The whole family had spent a lot of fun hours out there, rebuilding the cabin, crafting furniture to go inside it, sleeping under the stars at night, and cooking around an open fire. It had been wonderful, brought them all closer together, and even though he could never have foreseen how his life was going to turn out, that Becca would be back in it, and they’d both be there fighting for their lives, it meant that he knew every inch of the place.
Knew where the tools were. Was able to snatch up a hand saw without needing to be able to see where it was in the wall of tools inside the shed. It also meant he knew the perfect way to create a distraction that the men in the cabin couldn't attribute to him.
Once he had them outside, not only did it give him a clear shot at eliminating them, but it also lessened the threat to Becca.
With the saw in his hand, Connor barely noticed the rain, the screeching wind, or the throbbing pain in his shoulder as he ran for the tree closest to the cabin. When they’d been rebuilding the place, they’d debated for almost three weeks whether to leave it where it was or have it cut down. It was a beautiful old tree, and it provided shade for the cabin on hot summer days, but there was also the possibility that in a storm such as this, it could either topple over or lose a branch and damage the cabin.
Exactly his plan for tonight.
Well, he was going to do his best not to damage the cabin, but he also needed this to be real enough that it would get everybody’s attention.
Climbing the tree in the middle of a raging storm with a saw in his hand and one of his shoulders messed up wasn't as easy as he would have liked, and he lost precious seconds. Once he was high enough that he could reach one of the branches that fanned out over the cabin, he sat, wrapped his legs around it, and shuffled his way along. When he was about halfway, he got to work.
The rain made everything slippery, and he almost lost his grip on the handle of the saw several times, but he was determined, which helped him fight back against the storm’s advantages.
Becca was counting on him, and he wasn't going to let her down.
Not again.
Not ever again.
Nothing was going to stop him from saving her.
With a groan, the branch he sawed began to wobble, then with the most exhilarating sound, it broke off and slammed into the side of the cabin with a crash.
Because he hadn't cut off anything too big, damage to the cabin was minimal at best, not that Cade would care if he’d had to destroy the thing. Family. That was what was most important. The people you loved who loved you back, they were what life was all about. Raising his daughter alone after losing his wife meant Cade knew that better than most.
Fueled by adrenaline, Cade didn't bother climbing back down the tree, he simply jumped.
The landing was hard, but he barely felt the pain that ricocheted up his legs, and the now-soaked and muddy ground helped to cushion his landing, preventing him from breaking anything like he might have if he’d jumped that same distance twelve hours ago.
Just as he hit the ground, he saw the cabin door open, and four men came spilling out.
Four to his one.
Perfect odds.
Two of them ran for the branch that had just hit the cabin.
“Think it was the storm or him?” one of them yelled out, his voice getting carried by the wind so Connor could hear his every word.
“Probably the storm,” another answered confidently.
“Where’d you hit him?” a third asked.
“Couldn’t tell because it was so dark,” the first man answered.
“If he’d given us the tools we needed, we could have finished this job properly,” the fourth man huffed, clearly irritated.
“You know he said he didn't have time to pull everything together. Once he found out where they were he had to act right away,” the confident man said.
“Yeah but we don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”
“If he’s alive he’s plotting something.”
“We all served, we have training,” the confident man bragged.
“Yeah, but he’s a SEAL, man, a freaking SEAL. You know those guys are trained way harder than we were,” the man who had shot him said. “If I’d had the night vision goggles like I requested, he’d be dead, and we wouldn't be worried about it.”
“Relax, dude. We have the girl. We have our fun with her like he told us we could, and then we kill her and cut up her body and send it to the family as a warning. If he’s still alive, we at least know we hit him. When the storm lets up, we’ll go looking for him,” the confident man said like it was all that easy.
Rage burned inside him as he listened to their plans for Becca.
Not happening.
None of it.
“We should look for him now,” one of the men insisted.
“Fine.” The confident man sighed, long sufferingly. “Dingo and Mad, you two go looking for him, just in case it was him. Ridge and I will check the damage caused to the cabin, make sure it won’t fall down or anything.”
Perfect. They were going to split up and make his job so much easier than it would otherwise be.
Following the two men who peeled off from the cabin, he didn't even have to sacrifice speed for silence thanks to the storm.
The first man never knew what was happening.
One second, he was walking through the woods, the next, his hands were flying to his neck as Connor sliced the saw blade through his carotid artery.
Leaving the man to bleed out, he darted up to the one a few yards ahead of him. The man turned at the last second, probably to say something to his now-dying teammate.
“What the?—?”
The man never got to finish his question. Connor plowed a fist into his solar plexus, shoving all the air from his lungs.
“Shouldn’t have put your hands on my girl,” he snarled as the other man sagged to his knees, attempting to gulp in oxygen. “The only easy day was yesterday. You'd know that if you were a SEAL, and you would have insisted on having the equipment you needed. Now you and your friends aren't going to be alive by the time the sun rises.”
This time he used his weapon, firing a single bullet into the man’s head, killing him instantly.
Echoing through the storm, he hoped the sound carried enough to reach the cabin.
Two men were outside and two inside, and while his SEAL training was indeed far superior to theirs, there was still the storm to consider.
A few seconds later he was rewarded by the sound of a voice.
“Was that a gunshot?”
“Just thunder,” the confident man replied.
“Really? I know your nickname is Cocky but come on, dude,” the other snapped irritably. “That was no thunder. Couldn’t have been. Had to be a gunshot.”
“Hey, you asked the question, so you don’t know either,” Cocky snapped back. “How the hell am I supposed to know anyway? It was supposed to be an easy job for a lot of money. Break the generator and kill the man when he came out to check. Then get the girl. This storm is ruining everything.”
Actually, it was going to save his life, Connor thought.
Two shadowy figures came into view, and he dropped his saw and focused. At this distance, with the wind and the rain, it wasn't going to be an easy shot. He had to take out both before they could return fire.
Apparently, mother nature was on his side because right at that moment, a bolt of lightning lit up the night, and he took aim, going for the man called Ridge first since Cocky seemed too arrogant to be smart, Connor fired.
Then without wasting a single second, he fired again into the oppressive darkness right where he’d seen Cocky before the lightning had disappeared blanketing them in the dark again.
He’d hit them.
Neither of them had fired back which meant they were dead or dying.
As badly as he wanted to get to the cabin, he had to confirm though. He didn’t want any nasty surprises popping back up.
Taking the saw with him in case it came in handy again, he closed the distance to where the two men were. Finding their bodies he confirmed both were deceased, then he took off at a dead run to the cabin.
I'm on my way, moonlight.
August 23 rd
1:31 A.M.
“What the hell was that?” one of the men asked, a hint of panic in his tone as though he feared the storm.
“Just the storm,” the one who appeared to be the leader said in that lazy tone. He didn't seem fazed by whatever had just shaken the cabin. In fact, he’d taken off his wet shirt and tossed it carelessly onto the kitchen counter and was standing there eyeing her up like she was a piece of meat, and he was starving.
A gust of wind suddenly ripped through the cabin making her shiver as it made the wet clothes clinging to her feel like ice.
“Looks like a branch came down,” someone called out from the door.
“See, just the storm,” the leader drawled.
“Could be the guy,” another countered. “We don’t know how badly he was hit.”
Please be Connor.
Please be Connor.
Please be Connor.
Becca chanted that over and over again. Because if Connor was responsible for a branch coming down and hitting the cabin and not the storm, it meant not only was he still alive, but he couldn’t have been badly injured. Even if she was still consumed with anger toward Connor like she had been when he showed up in Cambodia, she still would have trusted him implicitly to get her out of this mess alive.
If anyone could do it, it was him.
Sitting tied to a chair, dripping wet, shaking uncontrollably, terrified of what these men were going to do to her, it finally sank in.
She trusted Connor.
Completely.
With everything.
Including her heart.
Despite everything else, Becca smiled. It felt so good to trust Connor again, to know that things were back to how they’d been before, how they were always supposed to be.
She would survive this.
She had to.
It didn’t matter what the odds were, she had to survive because she had to say the words, had to tell Connor she trusted him again and she absolutely wanted to give him a second chance.
Determination flooded her system, and when the gun man stepped up close to her, nudging her chin, she met his eye squarely. She was still terrified, but she wasn't giving up and she wasn't giving in. Everything they took from her they were going to have to fight for.
“What are you smiling about, girl? You like the idea of playing with my gun as much as I do?” he taunted, dragging the tip of the weapon down her cheek and along her neck to her chest. He circled both her breasts and then pressed the muzzle above her heart.
While her heart rate increased, she maintained his gaze.
She wasn't backing down.
Connor was out there fighting for her, she was going to do the same in there.
“Cocky, Ridge, Mad, Dingo, go outside and check the damage, I don’t want this cabin falling down around us, so we have to wait out the storm in the rain,” the guy in charge ordered.
Please let the gun man be one of those he just mentioned.
Of all of the men in the cabin, gun man was the biggest threat to her because she absolutely didn't want to play his sick games and get raped by his weapon.
But he wasn't one of the men who headed out the door, he was still standing in front of her, still holding his weapon pressed to her chest, still leering at her with that expression that made her skin crawl.
The door slammed shut, taking the wind with it, but leaving behind that icy chill.
If it was Connor who had taken down that branch, she had no doubt he was going to kill the four men who had just headed back out into the stormy night. But that still left these two inside with her.
Did she have what it took to kill them if she got a chance?
When the man had attacked her in the camp she’d acted on instinct, stabbed him before he could hurt her.
This would be much more premeditated.
“Can I untie her?” gun man asked.
“She’s scared, but she’s got that determined glint in her eyes that says she’s going to run if we give her a chance,” the leader replied as he strolled over to her chair and studied her like she was a specimen under a microscope.
“So, I’ll make it so she can't run,” gun man said, and he lowered the weapon and knelt before her. “Don’t think you’ll be needing this.” Removing her prosthetic, he flung it across the cabin, laughing when it hit the wall and bounced to the floor over by the fireplace.
Damn it.
He had stolen her ability to run.
She could hop on one leg, but she was easily catchable, and there was no way she could hop her way to safety outside in that storm with the ground so muddy and slippery.
“Problem solved,” gun man sing-songed, and when the leader shrugged and drifted away to the kitchen, he made quick work of untying her other bonds.
Excitement danced through her blood.
He’d made a mistake.
Just because gun man didn't know it yet didn't change that fact.
She might not be as strong as Connor and didn't have his training or experience, she was a fighter and she wasn't going to give up.
Not when the future she’d always dreamed about was back within her grasp.
“I’m going to have fun with you, girl,” gun man told her as his hands went to the hem of her sweater, and he tugged it over her head. In his eagerness to rid her of her clothes, her long, soaking wet hair tangled with the sopping wet top and she felt a sting in her scalp as he roughly yanked it free, tossing it aside.
The T-shirt she wore didn't do much to hide anything, it was plastered to her skin, and she was sure if the way gun man was practically drooling at her that it was half see-through as well.
His hardening length nudged against her knees, and then he was standing up, dragging her with him and lifting her onto the table. A hand on her breastbone shoved her back to lie against the smooth wood, and he wedged himself between her legs, forcing them open.
“So beautiful,” he mumbled as his gaze drank her in, making her feel dirty as it lingered on the part of her that was only supposed to be touched with her permission.
But this man didn't care about permission.
In fact, he probably got off on the fact that he didn't have it.
“This is going to be fun.” He grinned at her as he moved his weapon between her spread legs, dragging it along her center as though he thought that was going to turn her on.
There had to be something she could do to stop this. If she could just get her hands on that weapon, maybe she stood a chance. It wouldn't be easy, there were two of them, but she was going to try.
If nothing else, she was going to have to endure this sick man’s games until Connor showed up and saved her.
Then gun man made a stupid move.
While he continued to stroke the weapon between her legs, he pressed his mouth to hers to kiss her.
Not happening.
Sinking her teeth into his bottom lip, Becca clamped her jaws together and didn't let go as he howled, and blood flooded into her mouth.
At the same time, the sound of gunshots echoed outside.
Knowing this was the opportunity she needed, Becca reached down and managed to grab the weapon, yanking on it as she shook her head from side-to-side, tearing through gun man’s lip.
He howled again and backed up, his hands flying to his torn mouth as she lifted the weapon.
The other man stormed toward her so she aimed at him first and fired.
He dropped.
Without hesitation, she aimed at gun man. Realizing how stupid he’d been and the magnitude of his mistake, he charged at her, causing her to scuttle backward on the table and fall to the floor.
That was probably the only thing that saved her.
Pain darted up her back from the hard landing, but Becca shoved it away and lifted the weapon, firing at the man who had clambered up onto the table and was reaching down to try to grab hold of her.
He slumped down on the table, and she dragged in a breath, trying to calm her racing heart and refill her lungs with the oxygen panic and adrenaline had used up far too quickly.
Knowing she couldn’t stay there in case the other men returned, Becca crawled to where her prosthetic had been thrown, and with trembling hands, put it back on. Then she shoved to her feet and ran for the door.
This time, she wasn't making the same mistake. She kept the weapon clutched in her hand as she threw open the door and stepped back out into the stormy night. With no idea where she was going, knowing only she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the cabin, Becca ran into the woods.