Page 20 of Vision of Truth

“Yep.” The second man certainly wasn’t chatty, but his voice sounded so rough and abused she wasn’t surprised.

She took stock of her injuries as they moved. Her head hurt the worst, her ribs a close second. Her legs seemed to be tied, because she didn’t have feeling in her injured ankle or the other. A cry caught in her throat as she was bounced up and down against Briggs’s shoulder. Definitely a broken rib or two.

They had entered a bulkhead and were taking the stairs towards what she guessed was the cellar. Outside, the bite of winter had snapped at her exposed skin. Here, though, the chill was accompanied by a dampness that leached the warmth right out of her body. Or maybe it was the copper tang that intensified as they were carried deeper into the cellar. A scent that spoke of human suffering. If only Sabrina could be spared from this, she’d gladly take whatever was coming for both of them. Twin streams of light bobbed up and down as they walked. Fighting the pain in her head, she forced herself to look where the glow of the flashlights cast an eerie haze. Steel bars. Stained floors. Puddles where the ground slanted and dipped. The men slowed. Keys rattled and a lock gave way. The light caught the nearly naked form of a man crumpled in the corner of the nearest cell.

She was jolted again as Briggs took a few more steps. He leaned to the right, and she was slipping off of his shoulder. With her hands tied, there was no way to protect herself from the unforgiving concrete. The pain made her want to cry out, but the impact of smacking against the ground rendered her lungs temporarily ineffective. A tear burned down the side of her nose as she focused on forcing in shallow breaths.

“Welcome home,” Briggs said from above her. “Hope you enjoy your stay.” He laughed at his humorless quip. Metal on metal clattered together as the cell door was slammed shut. She waited until the footsteps had faded before rolling to her side. She winced and fought to sit up, then scooted across the floor to Sabrina. Her breath shook as she took in the child’s too still form. She couldn’t feel for a pulse. Her hands were too numb to feel it. Julie leaned in and laid her cheek against hers. Another tear, one of profound relief trickled over her skin. Sabrina was warm. She could feel the girl’s breath against her face. Maybe it was a blessing that Sabrina was still unconscious. She didn’t want her to experience any of this. A low groan had her moving again, this time toward the bars shared between cells. Without their captor’s flashlights, the space was plunged in darkness, but she had an idea of where she needed to go. “Excuse me? Are you all right?”

There were a few labored breaths. Maybe the man was beyond speaking. “Tyler,” the man croaked out.

Her breath hitched. “Agent Dawson?” she lowered her voice, afraid someone might be listening.

There was some rustling in the other cell. A few muffled curses. “Wasn’t sure what happened to you.” His words were shaky and weak. So different from the Agent who’d showed up at their house, confident that their local field office would be the safest place for her and Sabrina.

“Failed you. Failed the girl. So sorry.” His voice broke and a wedge of pain clogged her throat.

“Don’t blame yourself. Listen, I know you’re in rough shape, but I had a gun and a knife when Sabrina and I were abducted. Obviously, the gun is gone, but maybe they were in a hurry and overlooked the knife. Are your hands tied?”

“No. They’re assuming I’m no threat to them at this point. Where were you keeping the knife?”

“My ankle, but the strap was loose, so I pushed it up around my lower calf.”

“Any chance you can fit your foot through the bars?”

“My legs are tied, but if I flip and put my leg along the bars, do you think you could feel to see if it’s still there?”

“Okay, yeah. Give me a minute.” It was more than a minute before she felt two fingers prodding at her through the bars.

“Holy shit. I think they missed it.”

“You do? It’s still there?”

“Yeah. I’m going to try to get it, but fair warning, my hand’s bleeding. I’d use the other but I can’t feel a damn thing.”

“I don’t care about blood, but I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

The breath he sucked was labored. The sudden pressure on her ankle was warm and wet as Agent Dawson fumbled for the knife. He’d downplayed his injuries significantly.

“What did they do?”

“They wanted to send a warning to the FBI. Decided my pinky and ring finger would fit the bill.”

Tears stung her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“At least I shoot with my right. And if we get out of this I might get my assistant to take pity on me and type up my reports.” His breathing was forced, and her leg was soaked with blood. She wasn’t sure if someone could bleed out from losing fingers, but the moment her hands were free her first order of business would be wrapping his hand. He’d been naked except for his boxer shorts. She had enough fabric on her clothing she could cut for a makeshift covering.

Tyler let out a grunt, and the pressure suddenly dropped from her leg. “Tyler?” Nothing. Just heavy breathing. Oh, God. She couldn’t stand the thought that his attempt to get the knife had been too much, had taken the last of his strength. When she shifted, the clang of metal echoed through the cell. She held her breath, half expecting the cavalry to rush in at the noise, but nothing happened. Tyler had gotten the knife loose. Now it was her turn to help him. It took her a few frustrating minutes to flip over and search for the knife with her numb hands. She let the sound of the weapon scraping over the floor guide her. Once she had it between her hands it seemed like hours before she got the rope to give way. Pins and needles were quickly replaced by pain. Her hands were sticky with blood from where she’d cut herself over and over trying to loosen the bindings around her wrists. As long as she hadn’t nicked something vital, she didn’t care. She started on her ankles next.

The lack of light made it difficult, but she made quicker progress with her hands in front of her. After checking Sabrina, she crawled back to the bars where she’d left Agent Dawson. His hand was still sticking through the bars. Using the knife that had proven invaluable, she sliced the large center pocket off of her sweatshirt, then removed the string from the hood. The pulse she found at the base of his hand was faint, but there. She finished wrapping up his hand, securing the covering with the string, then removed her hoodie, stuffing it through the bars and draping it the best she could over the badly wounded agent. The distant creak and slap of a door had her scurrying back to Sabrina. She tucked the knife back into the holster then backed into the furthest corner, pulling the little girl’s limp body into her lap.

Boots thudded along the corridor. She was taking fast, choppy breaths. If she didn’t calm herself down, she was going to pass out, and then she’d be no use to anyone. There weren’t going to be many opportunities to escape. Right now, she had the knife and possibly the element of surprise. When the men had left, her hands and legs had still been bound. If whoever was approaching came into their cell she could either comply or attack. Both were risky options. She had no idea where they were being kept and the chances of getting Sabrina and Agent Dawson both out were slim, but there was no way she would allow anyone to hurt the girl in her arms. She continued to war with the pros and cons. Fight or flight. Until the slap of the shoes stopped in front of their cell, and the clank of the lock told her the time for making decisions had just run out.

Chapter Fifteen

Isaac did a head count of the men lying on the ground in front of Rowan’s cabin, hands zip-tied behind their backs, and let out a foul curse. They’d estimated the number of intruders from the video feed inside the safe house. At least two of them were unaccounted for, which meant they retreated, were lying in wait, or had knowledge of the below ground hideout and were trying to breach it. It was the last that had him sprinting back to the tunnel from which they’d emerged and easily—maybe too easily—subdued their visitors.

Fear immobilized him as he noticed tracks going toward the tunnel, ones he and Rowan hadn’t made. The men exchanged a glance and took off at a dead run, opting for speed over stealth. If they discovered the worst, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Wouldn’t be able to live without Jules. A sick sensation coated his gut and ropes of anxiety bound tight around his airway, making it difficult to draw a breath. They skidded to a halt at the end of the tunnel. Dread pooled in his stomach. The men hadn’t been able to move the heavy steel door, so they’d blasted their way through.

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