chapter 34
Gabe’s wrists were on fire. Cursing, he opened his eyes and squinted into darkness. He was facedown, his cheek pressed against vinyl, his wrists bound at his back.
He twisted upright, and pain shot through his head. A little gift from the gas in the lab, he figured.
“Summer?”
No answer.
He had a knife secured in his boot, but his legs were bound, too. He would have to—
Something bumped his shoulder.
“Gabe?” Her voice was unsteady, inches from his head.
“Right here. Keep talking.”
“I feel like throwing up.”
He had to smile. “Me, too, honey. Feels like the mother of all hangovers, believe me.” Gabe felt her leg and then rolled sideways, working his hands upward. The movements were difficult because his wrists were bound. “Are you hurt?”
“My head feels like a merry-go-round on fast-forward, and my elbows ache. Otherwise, I’m just chipper. Where in the heck are we?”
“I think we’re in the backseat of a truck.” Gabe refused to think about the grinding pain at his knee. “Are your hands tied?”
“Tight.” Summer laughed grimly. “Duct tape, I’m afraid.”
“No problem. I’ve got a knife stashed in my right boot, but I can’t reach it with my hands bound behind me like this.”
Summer wriggled closer. “Okay, I can feel your boot.” Her bound hands covered his leg, digging beneath his boot. “No luck. I can’t get any lower. I had a razor and a nail file in my purse, but it’s gone now. How about your belt?”
The prong, Gabe realized. “I knew there was a reason I liked hanging around with you. Other than your great legs, of course.” He grimaced as her fingers slid upward, digging at his waistband. “Watch where you’re jabbing, honey. You may want that part of my anatomy fully functional sometime soon.”
“Promises, promises.” But Summer’s voice was grim as she struggled to free his belt from its clasp.
Gabe vowed it was no idle promise. Once they got the hell out of Mexico alive, he’d prove that to her, preferably until they were both sweaty with exhaustion.
Metal clanked somewhere nearby. Was it machinery? Before Gabe could be sure, the sound faded and Summer went back to work, driving her taped wrists onto the prong of his belt. Each time her hands scraped against his groin, Gabe savored a few choice mental curses.
“Pass go and collect two hundred dollars for not complaining,” Summer said tightly. “That’s got to hurt.”
“I’ll live.”
“How’s your knee?”
Gabe didn’t want to think about it. “Not a problem.”
“How about the truth this time, Morgan?”
“Okay, it’s pretty stiff.” The truth was, his whole leg hurt like something important had pulled loose, but there was no point in telling her that.
“What happened to you?”
“A training exercise. My parachute screwed up.” Gabe didn’t elaborate. How did you describe the shock of plunging out of the sky in a dead drop, with your chute damaged and your guts knotted in terror?
“HALO?”
So she knew about high-altitude, low-opening jumps? Points for the Feeb. “Bingo.”
“If you weren’t fully recovered, why did you agree to come and handle this situation for the senator?”
“This is a piece of cake compared to what I usually do. Besides, I couldn’t turn down Tate Winslow. I owe him and his family too much for that.”
“Anything you care to discuss?”
As Summer’s hands slid back and forth over his belt, Gabe felt her breath, warm and moist on his cheek. “I’m not sure.” He cleared his throat. “By the way, it’s a good thing you aren’t married or I might have had to arrange a mercy killing.”
“Mercy for whom?” she whispered.
“For me, damn it.”
“Homicide won’t be necessary.” Summer took a breath. “I’m not married. Never even came close.”
All they had to do was stay alive for the next few hours, Gabe thought. When they didn’t check in on time, Izzy would initiate an immediate search, using the imbedded transmitters in Gabe’s regular cell phone and the small backup phone, which was hidden inside his boot.
No way to reach it with his damned hands bound.
Wedged together as they were, he felt Summer’s heart pounding against his chest. “Any luck?”
“Not yet. The tape is too thick. Your belt prong keeps slipping.”
Gabe glared into the darkness, with something hard pressing at his back. He wanted to help her, but his hands were useless.
“Okay, I just made a small hole at one edge,” Summer said quietly. “How about telling me how you know Senator Winslow.”
There was no noise or movement around them, and Gabe decided distraction was a good idea, considering the current position of her bound hands. “My father and Senator Winslow’s father met in the army. My dad saved his life a couple of times, and Randall Winslow never forgot. Afterward, Randall set my parents up on their first fifty acres.” Gabe shifted restlessly. “Can we stop talking now?”
“No. Are you married?”
“Not now.”
Summer’s hands stopped moving. “But . . . you were?”
“A long time ago.” Gabe sifted through painful memories. “We met in high school and got married that same summer. We had a daughter by Christmas.” It hurt to remember, even now. He was sure it always would.
“And?”
“And it only took a shit-for-brains drunk driver twenty seconds to kill them both.” Gabe glared into the darkness, assaulted by bitter memories. “One moment they were laughing in the snow and the next they were caught in a ball of burning metal when the driver jumped the curb.”
He heard Summer’s breath catch. “I’m so sorry, Gabe. I—didn’t know.”
“Not many people do. Rosalita—well, she was full of joy and wonder, the hardest worker I ever met. I was young and reckless, but I loved her, and our baby girl was the most beautiful thing a man could ever hope to see. Both of them always loved the snow. Funny, I forgot that until now.” Frowning, he pulled his thoughts back from images of dark eyes and soft laughter. “Afterward, I got in my car and started driving, with no particular plan. Two weeks later I ended up in a beachfront bar in Mexico, stone drunk and robbed blind.” After a moment, Gabe went on. “That night Tate Winslow’s dad came down and dusted me off, literally and figuratively. Three days later I was in basic training. If he hadn’t tracked me down at that bar, I’m not sure where I’d be now.”
“Randall Winslow sounds like an interesting man.”
Gabe laughed softly. “Yeah, he was that, all right. The man just kept coming, working at you until you saw his way of thinking. He and Amanda, Tate’s mother, always believed in getting involved and staying involved. When Tate needed my help, there was no way I could refuse.”
“Because it was personal.” In the cramped space, Summer dug her hands against his belt. “Sorry if this hurts.”
“Do what needs to be done. Forget about me.” Without warning, light burned into Gabe’s eyes. As he’d guessed, they were inside the extended cab of a battered pickup truck, and two people were walking toward the truck.
The woman in front was the receptionist who’d argued with them at the clinic. The man beside her had been running cable.
“Company,” Gabe whispered. “Stay down.”
“Almost free,” she said breathlessly.
As the uniformed man headed for the driver’s side door of the truck, light struck the revolver holstered beneath his shoulder. “Do it fast,” Gabe whispered. “Our options may be starting to dwindle.”