He quickly hid the tiny, six-inch-long piece of bone that was their last chance of escape, the last remaining piece of the poor bastard that had occupied this hellhole before him. Progress was slow, but he wasn’t giving up. He would get them out of here, or he would die trying.
What would it be today, he wondered grimly? More torture? Or perhaps just another few slices of that moldy shit they kept shoving at them and some of that rancid water. His stomach cramped just thinking about it. But as bad as it was, they would eat it. He wasn’t going to give the bastards the satisfaction of starving to death.
Then he heard it. A string of vile curses – in English! He shook his head, sure that he’d misheard. But no, there it was again! Every swear word he’d ever heard, ringing through the air like the most beautiful music, barked in deep, masculine American voices.
Brian forced himself to his knees and gripped the bars, afraid to breathe. Lights. He saw lights, heard heavy footsteps approaching double-time along the narrow passageway. The beam of a powerful flashlight flicked over the interior, into his cage. His arms flew up to protect his eyes.
“McCain?” a deep voice had asked. He wanted to weep with the pure joy of it, but he simply gave a jerky nod instead.
“How many with you, soldier?”
Brian lowered his arms and opened his eyes slowly, getting his first look at the men filing into the cave. Seven of them. Huge fuckers. Black shadows in the darkness, making no sound but for the spoken words.
“Two besides me. We’re the last. Who are you?”
Brilliant white teeth flashed. “We’re the ones who are going to take you home, Brian.” It was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.
He thought he was dreaming, finally having succumbed to the inhumane conditions they’d been forced to endure. But when he opened his eyes again he was on a stretcher and being moved. He was in and out of consciousness for a while, had vague recollections of being washed and bandaged.
When he woke up again, his next clear memory was of a man sitting beside his cot, holding out an honest-to-God, ice-cold Coca-Cola for him. “The beer and burgers come later,” the man told him with a knowing smile. “Mick says your stomach can’t handle the real stuff yet.”
Brian grabbed it greedily. “Easy now. Just sips, yeah?” He had never tasted anything as heavenly. He looked at the man, certain that he was one of the ones who had saved him and what was left of his team. A brief glance to the right showed one of his men sitting up, giving him a thumbs-up. The other was still prone, but he appeared to be awake and talking to someone.
Brian turned his attention back to the man beside him. His jet black hair, too long for standard military. Black cargo pants, skin tight black T, Celtic tat with the scales of justice on a substantial bicep. But it was his eyes that really drew his focus. There were a unique shade of blue, at once fiery and cold.
He looked around again. The guy talking to his buddy on the other side of the room had the same outfit, the same build. So did the one talking on a SAT phone, his fingers flying over the keys of a jet black notebook computer. And the two standing guard at the door, looking more like archangels than men.
“My brothers,” the man said quietly, catching his gaze. “Your extraction team.”
“Who are you?” Brian’s voice was rough, unused for so long and permanently damaged by the screams he hadn’t always been able to contain.
“Shane Callaghan,” the man answered. Callaghan. Brian knew that name. It was the name of a family from Pine Ridge. From home.
“How’d you find us?”
“Your sister,” Shane said, smiling, and Brian knew in that moment from the look in the guy’s eyes that he was more than a mere acquaintance.
“Lacie...” It could have been Corinne, but Brian knew with certainty it had been Lacie that found him. Moisture pooled in his eyes. He should have known she would never give up on him.
Shane nodded, confirming his thoughts. “She refused to give up, said she knew you were out there, waiting for someone to come get you.” He grinned. “Sorry we’re a little late.”
“No problem,” Brian answered roughly. He had all but given up hope of ever being rescued alive. “Better late than never, right?”
“Right.”
“So.”
“So,” Shane echoed.
“My sister.”
“Yeah.”
“Do I need to shoot you, man? ‘Cause I have to tell you, I don’t want to.”
Shane chuckled. “Not unless you don’t want to be invited to the wedding.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Lacie, it’s good to see you again.” The multi-hued blonde offered a warm smile as she wiped down the bar and pulled out two bottles. It was only then that Lacie realized her feet had carried her into Jake’s Irish Pub. Shane had been gone more than a week. Lacie supposed her subconscious led her here, needing to be close to him.
Lacie nodded, accepting the light beer. Her eyes were drawn once again to the familiar green eyes of the dragon tattoo that seemed to stare at her over Taryn’s shoulder. “You, too, Taryn. Missing Jake?”