Jaime
Hours ago, when I was pulled from my home and watched my poor husband beaten, I was pretty much convinced my life was over. It was singularly the most terrifying experience of my life.
Now, after having spent over five hours with these idiots, I’m pretty sure this will end up being a grand adventure I can laugh at one day.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m still scared and nervous. From what I understand, though, my brother has somehow miraculously come up with the money he owes these thugs—presumably from my parents—and there should be a safe exchange, thereby ensuring my freedom. But these guys aren’t truly master criminals. They’re young, stupid, and think they’re cool living their life of crime.
They’ve spent hours here in this warehouse congratulating themselves on such a well-executed plan, even giving continual high fives as they were not expecting Cage to be there, and they’re overly impressed with themselves for neutralizing one man when the other four had guns. I suspect they all have tiny dicks and are over-compensating.
Another way I know they’re not hardened criminals—although they’re definitely on the right path—is they’ve treated me fairly well. I had thought I might be tied up and mistreated in some way, but they’ve actually left me free to roam around the empty warehouse space.
Within reason.
Mostly, I sat on a chair and worried about Cage. He’d taken quite a beating, and the leader of this motley crew, who goes by the name Glen, bragged about knocking him unconscious before he left. What has me worried the most was that Brian seems to be orchestrating my rescue, which means Cage isn’t involved.
Which could potentially mean he is seriously hurt and still unconscious in my apartment.
What if he has a brain injury?
What if he’s dead?
My heart feels like it’s going to explode thinking about it. Every minute that goes by until I’m released is another minute Cage could be in serious jeopardy. My only real hope is Brian understood my anxiety in those few moments we talked by phone when I asked after Cage, and he sent someone—anyone—to my apartment to check on Cage. Surely my brother is smart and empathetic enough to do that for me.
“It’s getting close, boss,” Tommy says to Glen. Over five hours, I’ve learned their names. They kept their masks on so I couldn’t identify them, which was a good sign they fully intend to let me walk out of here once they get their money.
I wasn’t sure the same could be said for Brian, because the one thing I’ve learned from hanging with these guys for several hours is they’re pissed they were forced to do this just to get their money from him.
“About another twenty minutes,” Glen says, looking down at his watch and smiling through the small gap in his knit mask. “Then we’ll have our money, and we can celebrate.”
The other guys whoop, obviously feeling victory close at hand.
Twenty more minutes, and I’d hopefully be on my way home to find out if Cage is okay.
There’s a knock on the metal door that extends out to the loading dock in the rear. It’s where Brian was instructed to come.
“He’s early,” Glen says with a mirthful shake of his head. “That asshole never could follow directions.”
None of the other guys move. Two are still seated at the table while one exits the bathroom, still buttoning up his pants. Glen has his gun tucked into his back waistband, the two sitting have theirs on the table, and the one who just came out of the bathroom… I haven’t seen a gun on him.
Because, of course, Brian isn’t a threat to them.
Still, I’m nervous because it’s going down now. Even though a peaceful transition has been negotiated, there are still guns capable of firing bullets that will kill.
Glen saunters over to the door—more like a strut—and what I wouldn’t give for Brian to punch him in the gut after all this is over. But that’s not going to happen.
Almost as if they realize they should be a bit more active in this, the two men at the table stand, guns ignored. They don’t think Brian is a threat any more than I do.
Glen unlocks the door, which is a slide bolt, and pulls it open. Brian stands there, a satchel hanging over one shoulder. His eyes wander the room, coming to land on mine.
“Sorry I’m early,” he says quietly, then a bit louder, “But I just needed to get my sister back.”
It’s hard to describe what happens next, but there’s almost a whistling sound coming from my left near the four windows made of splintered wood and rectangular panes of glass. I narrow my eyes when I see a shadow being thrown from the streetlight. It gets larger and larger until it’s right at the window.
Then, with a resounding crash that causes me to scream in fear, something comes barreling through the window. It hits with such force, the entire wooden frame crashes inward. There’s just a split second—barely a moment—where I realize it’s a man swinging through on a rope.
There’s hardly time to digest the fact before he hits the ground, leans forward, and rolls to stop his momentum.
My eyes flare wide as he pops to his feet right in front of the chair where I’m sitting… and I realize it’s my husband.
“Close your eyes,” he orders before curling his body over mine, placing his hands over my ears.
I do as he says. Despite the covering over my ears, I hear three loud explosions and see flashes of light under my eyelids. When I jerk, Cage curls around me tighter. I can hear men yelling, “Get down, get down,” and “Hands up, asshole.”
I’m so confused. I can’t comprehend what’s going on. Is Cage here with Brian to rescue me?
And how in the hell did he come crashing through the window?
And for that matter… why?
Cage releases me, kneeling so he can look me in the eye. Smelling acrid smoke, I start to turn my head toward the doorway to see what happened, but Cage grips my chin so I’m forced to look at him. “Are you okay?”
I nod, barely able to think of anything to say. I feel like I’m in a dream.
“Are you sure?” he demands.
Jerking my chin away from his hand, I snap, “I’m fine. Now, what the hell is going on?”
Cage stands, taking me by the arm and urging me out of the chair. When we turn to face the door, I’m stunned to see all four men who kidnapped me on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Two men dressed in black fatigues, black shirts, and black combat boots are holding guns on them.
Brian stands off to the side, clutching the bag in front of himself, looking terrified.
More activity starts… more men come in with guns drawn, wearing navy jackets with yellow letters spelling out FBI.
I twist to look at Cage. He’s dressed like the other guys in black.
I glance at the FBI, my brother, then to the men on the ground.
“What the fuck is going on?” I manage to say.
“This is your rescue,” Cage murmurs, and I whip back around on him.
Eyes narrowed, I ask, “Rescue? You’re a car salesman. What the hell are you doing crashing through windows?” I throw my thumb over my shoulder. “Are those your fellow workers from the car dealership?”
Cage tips his head back and laughs, because, yes, I know that sounds ridiculous. What the hell else am I to conclude, though?
“I have a lot to explain to you,” he says, pulling me into his arms and giving me a hard hug. Except there’s nothing within me that wants to hug him back. I have the weighted feeling I’ve been played for a fool by this man.
I shrug out of his embrace, noting the way his eyes cloud over. “Who are you?”
“I’m Cage Murdock,” he replies quietly. “Your husband.”
A growl of frustration rumbles within me as I shake my head. “No. I mean… who are you really?”
His expression turns grim. “We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do,” I retort, my anger growing profusely, although I have no idea why. I just know that Cage is not who I thought he was.
“Cage,” a man says from behind me. We both turn to see an FBI agent. “I’m going to need to take Jaime in to get her statement.”
Cage issues a growl of frustration, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…okay.”
He then takes my arm, pulling me slightly toward him, but not so much that I’ll jerk away, which is my inclination. “This is Agent Brandeis. You go with him, and I’ll be along shortly.”
Something comes over me, and I jerk out of Cage’s hold. Whirling on the FBI agent, I ask, “Will you please just give me a few moments with my husband?”
Granted… I almost spit the words “my husband” out.
Agent Brandeis nods. “Sure. I’ll wait over by the door for you.”
I watch as he walks away, then turn my gaze over to the rest of the action. The other FBI agents are cuffing the men who kidnapped me. The other two men dressed like Cage converse with my brother.
I need to know what it all means.
Pushing past Cage, I stomp over toward the wall, next to the broken window my husband came crashing through like Rambo or something, then move even farther away so no one can overhear us.
Cage follows. When he’s close enough, I demand in a harsh whisper. “I need to know right now… who are you?”
“I’m an agent for a private security firm called Jameson Force Security,” he says, his eyes pinned on mine.
I shake my head, confused. “What does that even mean?”
“It means we provide a wide variety of services for the private sector. It could be something as simple as providing security for a VIP to contracting with the government to going into foreign lands to battle terrorism.”
My eyes go round as I gape at him. Cage fights terrorism—that’s about the farthest thing from a used-car salesman as possible.
“I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to tell you for a very long time,” he says.
“Bullshit,” I snarl. “You’ve been keeping this a secret for a very specific reason.”
“Because I was afraid of losing you,” he insists. “That’s the only reason.”
“I don’t buy it.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to think back over the last several weeks if there were signs I missed. Then an idea strikes. “You married me with this lie between us.”
Cage’s face flushes. “I’m sorry.”
“You absolute son of a bitch,” I yell, and it’s loud enough to carry so everyone hears it. “You tricked me. Deceived me. I don’t know what your end game was in all of this—”
I stop, a sudden idea horrifying me.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, taking a step back from him. “You used me to get to my brother, didn’t you?”
To my surprise, Cage rolls his eyes. “Your brother isn’t high enough on the bad-guy scale to even interest my company.”
“I don’t believe you,” I reply, because how can I believe anything he says?
“Look,” Cage says, his voice sounding tired and defeated. I have no sympathy for him because I am beyond exhausted myself. “Let’s talk when we get you back to our apartment.”
My head shakes hard, hair flying, and I hold up a hand. “Wrong. That’s my apartment, and you’re not welcome there.”
Cage’s eyes narrow and turn dark. “That’s not fair, Jaime. You’re not giving me a chance to explain.”
“You’ve explained it well enough. You’ve lied for weeks, and you were too cowardly to come clean. You think I want to be with someone like that?”
Cage just stares at me, either unwilling or unable to argue. He merely lifts his chin toward Agent Brandeis. “You better go.”
I couldn’t agree with him more. I turn on my heel, and don’t even look back as I walk away from him.