2:03 p.m.
Hands clasped behind his back, Isaac stared at a chair, the chair that had held the woman. Both of them were tied tightly. He brought a hand around and ogled the white bandage on his finger. The doctor had done his best, but he was no surgeon. If Isaac were lucky, he would be able to keep the end intact; however, he would most likely never be able to bend the first joint again. They couldn’t have freed themselves. They must have had help. He squinted at the throbbing digit. That whore—
“Mr. Wells, what do you want us to do?”
Isaac returned his hands to their former position and greeted his lieutenant. After a long and steely glare, Isaac went to the window. The sun was shining. The waves farther offshore were rough. A storm’s coming. He was not a weatherman. No trick knee provided advance warning. He had simply watched a news report earlier in the day. Gulls flew across a blue sky, punctuated with puffy clouds that would soon turn dark. The calm before the storm.
“Sir?”
Staring out one of the many small panes in the window’s glass, Isaac turned his head, glimpsing the man out of his peripheral vision. “I want every inch of this island searched.”
“Yes sir.”
“Get every man and scour every building, every room, every inlet…”
“Yes sir.”
“Leave nothing unturned. I want them found.”
“I’ll get started right away.”
“And Captain,” Isaac squared his shoulders with the man, “if you fail me, I will take you out to sea, tie you to a long pole and dangle your head inches above the water,” he paused, “right after I’ve loaded the waters with chum. Do you understand how badly I want these people?”
“I do.” He hesitated. “Is there anything else?”
Facing the window, Isaac dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. A moment passed, and he regarded his wounded finger. Where are you, Miss DelaCruz? A crooked smile washed over his lips as he recalled what he had planned to do to her. We have unfinished business, you and I. He put his hands behind his back, rocked backward on his heels and watched the gulls swoop to the water’s surface. Pleasurable for me…you, not so much.
… … … … …
2:15 p.m.
Special Agent Cruz opened her eyes. The darkness played tricks on her mind. The faint light from the lantern showed blackened walls of stone, and she remembered her situation. Shadows danced on the other side of the light source, and she jumped.
“It’s okay, Cruz. It’s me.” Hardy held out his hands. “It’s just me.”
“Where’d you go?”
He slipped under the emergency thermal blanket from one of the go bags, and put his back to the wall. Once Pence had left, Hardy had thrown a second blanket onto the cold floor and, using a first aid kit, cleaned Cruz’s cuts. After downing some water, she had drifted off to sleep halfway through a power bar.
He cradled her in his arms. “I did some exploring.”
Lying on her side, her hands wedged into her armpits, Cruz nestled a leg between his legs and buried herself deeper into his body. “He told you,” she mumbled, “not to do that.”
“I know. I just don’t like the idea of being trapped in here, not knowing a way out.” He rested his chin on her head. “I wasn’t gone long. You were out, and I didn’t want to wake you.” He turned his head back and forth. Even with the lantern, everything was dark. “How are you feeling?”
She scratched her cheek on his t-shirt. “I’m cold…and my head hurts.” She breathed deeply. “I’m fine.”
Hardy smiled. Of course you are. You’re one of the most resilient people I know. After fumbling to get a hand under the lapels of his jacket, which was still around her shoulders, he rubbed her arm.
“How long was I asleep?” Cruz’s body shuddered. “That feels good. Don’t stop.”
“At least an hour.”
“How much longer before sunset?” She was waking up, and her voice was more coherent.
“I would say we have about four more hours.” He held her for several silent minutes, staring at the blackness of the hidden chamber, thinking of their ordeal. “I’m sorry.”
Cruz retracted a hand from her armpit and, “Sorry for what?” hugged his waist.
“I’m sor—” air left his lungs when she squeezed, “…ry for everything. I got you into this situation, and I wasn’t there to protect you from that sick bastard. This is all my fault.”
Cruz tilted her head back to see him. “What are you talking about? How is this your fault? You didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly. I didn’t do a damn thing to stop any of it.”
Cruz pulled away and brought the lantern closer. “Where’s this coming from? We were unarmed and outnumbered. We had no—”
“I should have done something. I could have fought back. I could have tried to fight. Instead, I just let them take us.” He pulled her head back to his chest. “Forget I said anything. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No,” Cruz pushed his hand aside and righted her head, “I want to talk about this.”
“I’m not in the mood for any of your God talk, okay? Just drop it.”
Her eyes narrowed and her lips drew tight.
Hardy’s gut twisted into a thousand tiny knots. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m not myself right now.” He waited a beat, the hand on her shoulder balling into a fist. “Damn it, I should have been there for you. I should have been the one lifting you from that chair…not Pence. Your safety is my responsibility. I should have—”
“Wait a minute,” Cruz lifted a hand, “stop. Is that what’s going on here…you’re jealous of Pence?”
He glanced at her. “No, I’m not jealous of Pence…or anyone. All I’m saying is that I’m the one who does the saving and the rescuing, especially when it comes to you. That’s my job.”
Cruz shut her eyes and slowly nodded her head. “I get what’s going on here.” Her mind replayed his words. “You used an awful lot of I’s and me’s and my’s just now.”
“What? I’s, me’s…” Hardy scrunched his eyebrows, “what are you saying?”
“I’m saying this really isn’t about me at all. It’s about you being the hero. Or, rather not being the hero.”
“You’re not making any sense, Cruz. Of course, it’s about you. You were tied to a chair and I didn’t do anything—”
Cruz raised a finger. “There you go with the capital ‘I’ again.” She tapped his chest. “You don’t like being on the receiving end. You don’t like being the one who has to be saved slash rescued.”
Hardy looked away. “Who does? It’s humiliating.”
“And there it is.” She poked him a couple times. “It takes a humble person to accept help from someone else. I’m not saying you’re a bad person, Hardy. You’re just so used to being the savior, the one who helps everyone else, that you can’t take assistance when it’s needed.”
Hardy rested his head against the wall, staring into the blackness. The absence of light helped him focus on her words. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m a proud s.o.b., who…what…prefers to act instead of sitting around with a finger up my nose, waiting for someone else to act. What’s so wrong with that?
Cruz put fingertips to his chin and turned his head toward her. “Listen to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve done a lot of good, helped a lot of people, since I’ve known you…and that’s only been seven or eight months.” She felt his fist on her shoulder and leaned closer, until their noses touched. “Relax your hand, Mr. Hardy, and let go of the anger. You’re a good man, a strong man,” she paused, “but you’re not a perfect man…nobody is.”
Something about the feel of skin on skin—even if it was only the tip of their noses—made him do as instructed. He opened the hand, and a small amount of tension left his body. His chest falling, he shot out a short burst of air.
Cruz straightened the neckline of his t-shirt. “Even though I know this is silly to say…” she placed a hand over his pectoral muscle, “you don’t have to worry about me. I knew what I was signing up for when I took this job.” She bobbed her head. “Well, most of it that is. At any rate, don’t take so much onto your shoulders. We’re a team—all of us—and we look out for each other. We take bullets for each other. That means Dahlia, Cherry and me looking out for you as well.”
A team…We take bullets for each other. Hardy smiled, thinking of the many times he had said the same thing to her and the others. The ‘each other’ part echoed in his brain a little longer. “Using my words against me, I see.”
Cruz went in for a quick kiss. “If the shoe fits, baby…”
Hardy scooted farther down the blanket, pulling her with him, until they were lying flat and holding each other. “Thank you. You seem to know just what to say.” A moment passed. “I’m lucky to have you, Cruz.”
“Yes you are.” She patted his chest, “Now it’s your turn to get some sleep. I’ll wake you in an hour.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Yes ma’am.”
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
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