Devin went down. His dead weight slammed into the rock floor so fast that dust billowed up around him.
No.
No! Leave him alone!
Every corpuscle in Cyan’s head screamed. Every word that entered her mind dared to lash out and back again. Turned a 360 inside her brain and exited. Gone. No thought. What to do? Who to believe?
What to do?
Dizzying images danced in her head. Her mother. Father. Captors. Night. Her pink nightgown. Just thirteen years old….
Dirty hands. Smelly body odor. Sweat. Grunting over her.
Rape. Her mother had been raped. A silent howl went up inside her body.
She remembered. Cold. Freezing.
Running.
Look for a hole, Cyan, and run like hell.
Never again. The cold snub of the pistol froze to her neck, locked up under her chin, inches above her carotid artery. She couldn’t move. Arms bolted in place. Not moving. Frozen, like the Tin Man on that old Wizard of Oz disc.
Devin moaned on the ground. Coming to. They’d knocked him out cold.
Stall, Cyan. Stall.
Need him. Need him conscious. Need to know more from him.
What a way to live a life. Was it worth it? Was everything her mother and father had done, suffered through… Was it all worth it? To end up like this? Dead at her own hand?
“Don’t hurt him again or I’m dead.” Her gaze bored into Chaco’s, didn’t falter. He glanced away, toward the head honcho, the one holding back a bit. She knew who he was, had sensed his cock-sure manner from the moment he stepped around the computer bank. The leader. Of what, she wasn’t certain. But he was the one who needed to be taken out first, if there was any taking out to be done.
The head asshole jerked a nod.
“All right, Cyan. We won’t hurt him. If that’s what it takes to get you to come with us.”
“I’m not going anywhere with any of you,” she bit out. Loyalty to him, to Devin—she wouldn’t commit either way. Didn’t want them to know where she was leaning. Where her thought processes were going.
Hell, she wasn’t sure herself.
Devin groaned.
“Help him sit up,” she ordered, testing out her authority.
One of the men moved at Chaco’s nod. She backed up. “Don’t come any closer to me asshole. Just help him up.”
For whatever reason, they were listening to her. It allowed her time to get her wits together, form a plan. She was the commodity here. And she had to play it for all it was worth.
“Cyan, put the gun down and just come with us. I promise we’ll leave Devin alone. Our time is short. We need to move quickly. We don’t know who else could have been following you.”
“Don’t…listen to him.” Devin shook his head, weakly said the words.
But Cyan sensed he was stronger than he looked. He rose, slowly, and looked her in the eyes. When he did so, even across the room, the rope of power between them was strong. The bond stronger. She needed his strength right now.
“They are government, Cyan. They only want you for scientific exploration and exploitation. If you think you don’t have a life now, consider what it will be like living as a lab rat. If you’re lucky, they’ll let you out long enough to breed. I’m sure they have a covey of Caucasian males stashed away somewhere. Politics, Cyan. Listen to me. White supremacy at its best. Covered up with politics. Don’t listen to them.”
She swallowed. Shaking. Was Devin right? What to do? Kill herself right now and get it over with? She knew she didn’t want to live like that, locked in a cage.
Chaco stepped between her and Devin. She pushed the pistol deeper into her chin. “So help me, Chaco, don’t take another step closer unless you want to see me blow my head off.”
He halted, narrowing his gaze. “You don’t really want to do that, Cyan. Listen to me, not Devin. We are here to protect you. Devin strayed. He has other plans for you. And they are not pretty. We’re here at your father’s wishes.”
Her father?
She shook her head. “No. My father hired Devin.”
Chaco laughed out loud. “Devin killed your father, my dear, if you remember. Killed him right in front of you. Did you really buy into his bullshit explanation of that?”
Devin shouted, “Cyan, listen! You know the truth. Your father, we had a deal, had come to a compromise…” He shot a look toward Chaco. “She knows everything, Chaco.”
“Shut up, Devin. She’s not going to believe that.” Chaco tossed the accusation over his shoulder. “She saw you kill her father in cold blood. You’re a murderer. And it’s not the first time.” He peered deep into Cyan’s eyes. “And he’ll do it again. When it suits him. For enough money. It’s always about the money, Cyan.”
Something in Chaco’s eyes. Unsettling.
Devin did kill her father.
“He killed your father, Cyan. He’s not to be trusted. I’m the one you need to trust.”
But he protected me. Took care of me. Loved me. Held me close, made me feel like a woman. Made me feel safe and secure. Protected.
Chaco’s voice came smoother, soothing, almost sympathetic. “I know what you are thinking, Cyan. You’ve fallen in love with him. He protected you. Was your captor, actually. Made you dependent on him. There is a term for that. Stockholm Syndrome. When people who are held captive actually begin to trust and care for their captors. It’s normal. But we can help you with that.”
No. It wasn’t like that.
“Cyan, don’t fall for it. Don’t,” Devin begged. He was standing now. Taller. More in control of his body. His voice.
Chaco stepped closer. “Let me help you, Cyan. Give me the gun.”
She backed up. “Stay back, Chaco.” The gun stayed put. Her arms ached, dammit, with the stress of keeping it there.
“Please. Let’s just get this over with so you can move on with your life.”
My life? My life is nothing.
“Look at me Cyan!” Devin. Begging for her attention. “Look at me.”
She did. His dark brown eyes pleaded.
“I don’t know what to believe,” she whimpered.
“He killed your father, Cyan.”
“Yes, I killed him,” Devin interjected. “You know that. You were there. I did it on your father’s orders. When I was hired by your father, was sent to protect both of you, the deal he insisted on was this—when the going got tough, and it was evident that I could save only one of you, not both, I was to kill him. He wanted you to live. He wanted you to have a chance at life. He sacrificed his life for you, Cyan. So you could live.”
Sacrificed. Life. For. Her.
Father. Mother….
Oh, God.
She cannot give up. Her mother gave her life. Her father too. For her. She can’t give up now.
Cyan’s breathing became labored and tears filled her eyes. Her father had sacrificed himself, so she could get away. Dammit.
“I’m just sorry you had to see it happen,” Devin said. “That wasn’t the plan.”
That’s right. Her brain swirled with the events of that night a month ago. She’d burst in on them when everything happened. So fast. She’d flown into her father’s bedroom when the gunshots came ra-ta-tatting in the hallway. When they’d invaded. When all hell broke loose. And watched Devin pull the trigger and her father’s body fly backward just seconds before Devin had grabbed her, pulled her out the sliding glass back door, and whisked her off into the night.
“Make a choice, Cyan,” Devin said softly. “Who do you believe? Chaco or me?”
“The man killed your father!”
“I know!” she screamed. “I know! Stop saying that!”
“Make a choice, Cyan.” Devin wasn’t going to give up. He never did give up on her, did he? “I love you.”
“I—”
“Stockholm Syndrome, Cyan. You don’t love him.”
I do. I do love him.
“He’s only in this for the money, Cyan. The money. That’s why he brought you here. Your father left him money here, at Betatakin. He doesn’t care about you. He’ll sell you to slave traders before the day is through.”
But I love him.
“I’ve never done anything to hurt you, Cyan. Never will. I’ve been nothing but honest with you.”
“He’s a liar. A murderer.”
Devin ignored him. “If I wanted to sell you to the highest bidder, Cyan, I wouldn’t have made love with you. I would have wanted you to stay a virgin. Top choice. Higher price.”
Her arms ached. Her hands were shaking.
“But I didn’t do that. I made love to you. I wanted you.”
Maybe best to just end this. Now. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out.
“Cyan. I love you.”
Trust him. Cyan. Trust him.
Can I really, Daddy?
Finally, she exhaled. Long. She looked at Chaco. Avoided looking at Devin. “All right. All right, Chaco.”
He didn’t quaver. “Good. Right choice.”
“He used me once. I won’t let him use me again.”
She risked one last, long look at Devin. Please understand, Devin. Please.
She started to lower the gun.
“Good girl, Cyan. Let me have it.” Chaco stepped closer. She lowered the weapon a few more inches.
Another step.
Another inch.
Two.
Three.
When Chaco reached about two arms lengths away, she rapidly raised the gun, braced herself, aimed, and shot him square in the chest. Within the next second, she’d angled her stance away from where he fell into a heap and took out the lead guy, who barely had time to lift his heavy rifle. Her shot was dead-on, hitting him solidly in the center of his forehead. He fell backward with a thunk against the stone floor.
Guess all that target practice her father insisted on paid off.
Devin picked up her cue. By the time she’d taken out two of them, he had knocked the legs out from under the man holding him in check, broken his neck, whipped his gun away from him, and shot the other man square in the face.
Cyan stopped, glanced around at the scene, and then flung her gun away in disgust.
I just killed two men.
Devin had killed the other two.
She looked to him, her chest heaving. Doubt, fear, and every uncertain thought imaginable welled up inside her. He stood ten feet away. His chest lifting up and out, sucking in breath after breath.
Had she make the right choice?
Trust him.
She flew into his arms. Devin caught her up, held her tight, and they both exhaled long and hard. He kissed her, held her to him. Devoured her.
“I do love you,” he whispered into her hair.
“I love you too,” she whispered back. She did.
When she pulled away, looking into his face, she saw the mist in his eyes. Knew he was hers. Knew he would never lie to her. Would always protect her. Stockholm Syndrome be damned.
He placed his hands on both sides of her head, looked longingly and deep into her eyes. “Cyan, I didn’t want to kill your father. I did what—”
She placed a forefinger on his lips. “I know, Devin. I know.”
He closed his eyes for a second. “Thank you.”
“What do we do now?”
Devin breathed deeply. “Take a moment to collect our thoughts. Then get out of here. We know we’ve cleared the room of them but we don’t know who else is in the wings. Maybe no one. Maybe not.” He shrugged.
“The way we came in is blocked.”
“Yes. Your father gave me maps, when he and I made the deal. There are other exits. We’ll find a way out.”
“I know my way around here, Devin. Just get me out of this room and I’ll get us to safety. Or, perhaps we can hide here for a while.”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think we should linger. Let’s get somewhere where we can think. Plan. I need to wrap my head around this deal with Chaco….”
She understood. “Where will we go?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know yet. I’ll figure out something. Trust me?”
Yes. She would. They might be on the run, but they had each other. And that meant everything.
“We have to do one thing first, though.” He lifted her necklace from her chest with a forefinger and took the turquoise stone in his hands.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry, but this has to stay here.”
“No,” she said firmly. “It was my mother’s. Not an option.”
He jerked a nod. “I know you are attached to it, Cyan, but—”
She interrupted. “Attached is the wrong word, Devin. I need it. I will not part with it.”
He huffed out an exasperated breath. Well, he’ll just have to be exasperated. I’m not budging on this.
“Look,” he said. “I suspect it has some sort of tracking device in it. That’s why your father told you to always wear it. He was adamant that you keep it on. I suppose in case of our separation, you could be tracked. Unfortunately, I think the government was tracking you too. Better off to leave it here.”
No way. “You don’t understand, Devin. I need it. The turquoise centers me. It’s the only thing I have left of my mother. I feel connected to her through it. That’s why I wore it always, and my father knew how important it was to me. I won’t give it up, Devin.”
He stared at her. Cyan knew she was going to remain strong on this, no matter what.
“They’ll find us.”
“There has to be another way. Besides,” she shook her head, thinking. Might as well tell him now. “I don’t know how there could be a tracking device in this stone. It’s been around my neck since I was ten years old. I’ve never had it off.”
“It may have been there that long.”
“No. That doesn’t make sense. For all of the times I’ve ran away, hiked away in the desert to visit my Indian friends, I would have been captured long ago. No. This stone is not how I am being tracked. I’m not giving it up, Devin.” She lifted her chin and feared he might challenge her.
For a lengthy moment, he stared at her, and then dropped his head in a nod. “All right. You win.”
“Good. Thank you.” Then she added, turning over her right forearm. “Besides, I already know how I am being tracked.”
He arched a brow. “Why? How?”
“This.” She put out her right arm, forearm up, and pointed to the area between her wrist and elbow. Devin’s gaze dropped from her eyes to her arm. “This is what we need to leave behind, Devin.”
“Shit.” His eyes flashed up to meet hers for a second then lowered again as he grasped her arm and ran a forefinger over the raised square patch right under her skin. “This?”
“Yeah. I woke up one morning about six years ago and it was there.”
“How long were you asleep?”
“I lost an entire day. I never said anything to anyone. Never let on like I realized I’d slept for over twenty-four hours straight. That when I went to bed it was Monday, but when I woke up, it was Wednesday. I never asked what happened to Tuesday. And my father? He just went on with life. He rarely knew what one day was to the next, his head generally buried in the computer.”
He grasped her wrist tighter and studied the patch. “So you think this is the tracking device?”
“I’m betting. Maybe more. Possibly collecting data on me? Who knows?”
He agreed. “I know exactly what it is.” He paused for a moment, and then glimpsed up to meet her eyes again. “And none of it is good. It needs to come out. Do you want me to remove it?”
“Can you?”
“Yes, but it will hurt.”
Cyan had already been thinking along these lines. “I don’t care. Just do it.” Suddenly, she wanted it gone. “I just want the damn thing out of my body.”
Devin reached for his pocketknife and flipped it open. He wiped the blade on his pants leg and pointed the tip of it directly underneath the small rise in her skin on one side. He spoke softly. “I’ll be quick. Look if you want but might be better not to. I’m going to slit through your skin and pull the thing out, like slipping it out of a little pocket. And I’m going to do it fast.”
Cyan closed her eyes and immediately felt the prick and slice of her skin. Devin held her forearm tight with one hand and she gritted her teeth against the pain. Squeezed her eyes shut and waited as he tugged the small device from her body and she felt muscle and skin give way. She trembled and thought her knees might buckle.
“It’s done.”
She gasped and opened her eyes. “Thank God,” she whispered. Blood streamed down her arm toward the floor.
“It looks worse than it is,” Devin told her. He peered down at the thing poised between this thumb and forefinger. She watched as he inspected it.
“What you thought?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s a chip.”
“Not good huh.”
Sighing, he gave her his attention. “Not the best case scenario, no.”
“You know more.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re not going to tell me. Are you?”
“Not yet.” He jerked his head up, glanced about them. “We need to find the escape hatch out of this place.”
She nodded. “Devin, I think I might pass out.”
“Shit.” He helped her to the floor. “I’m sorry. You okay? Here.” With his knife he made a rip in the bottom of his T-shirt and tore it all the way around, then made a wrap for her arm. “This will stop the bleeding for now. We’ll tend to this better once we get somewhere. But we need to move. No telling what kind of alarm bells we set off removing that thing.”
He flicked the small, plastic-looking device toward Chaco’s inert body. Cyan noticed the lingering gaze Devin held on his friend.
“You know more about that, don’t you?” She connected with his intense gaze, and saw worry there.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Later.” He grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
She halted, and faced him. “Devin, we’re totally on our own now, aren’t we? No one to help us.”
He turned back and nodded. “We only have each other, Cyan. We only trust each other. No one else. You. Me. We’re all we got.”
She knew that. It didn’t matter. As long as she had him.