Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Durango

I continue to pull on the drywall from the small hole in the wall. It keeps coming out in pebble-size pieces, and I'm making little progress. The wall all around it is rough and clearly has been patched. I'm beginning to wonder if it was reinforced with something as well.

If I find an opening behind this, maybe I can get to the restaurant. There will be people there, and I can use a phone. However, if it isn't crowded by the time I get there, that would be bad. No, what am I thinking? I'll go anywhere but the restaurant. I stop and rub my head. I'm still under the influence of whatever they gave me and not thinking clearly.

The door down the hall opens, and I immediately lie down away from the wall and pretend like I'm sleeping.

"Wake up!" It's the same man from last night.

I open my eyes and sit up.

"Now you will tell me everything Damien said to you in the woods."

This man knows I was in the woods with Damien? He likely knows who killed Damien, too.

"Why do you think I was in the woods with Damien?"

The metal slat opens, and before I realize what he's doing, there's a loud pop and intense pain in my arm. That's when I see the barrel of the gun coming through the door.

He shot me. I check out my arm, and fortunately, it appears to only be grazed, but it's a deep enough cut that there's a lot of blood.

"I'm not fucking around. Tell me what Damien told you."

The gun is still pointed at me. I have no doubt if I tell him what he wants to know, he'll finish me off. I need to buy more time.

I place my hand over my wound and apply pressure. "Damien told me he knew where some missiles were."

"Good, now we are getting somewhere." He pulls the gun back and closes the metal slat. "Where are they?"

"Romania," I say.

"I understand he gave you much more detail than that."

"He did. I'm just struggling to remember it all right now. What did you give me? I can't think straight."

He sighs in disgust. "Tell me what you do remember."

I think about how to stretch this information out to give me more time. "He told me his wife doesn't understand Russian." My eyes grow heavy, so I move up against the wall.

"I don't care about that. Tell me where the missiles are."

I frown. "He said there was a convoy. It must be near there."

I slur the last few words, then let my head slump over. Hopefully, he'll believe I passed out. He's not coming in here to make sure I'm not lying.

"Shit!" He takes a few footsteps away. "He passed out again. I need the damn coordinates!" An accent comes out when he's yelling at someone. I can't quite place it.

His shoes shuffle, and I'd bet money he's peeking in on me again to see if I moved. "He better be awake after lunch, or else you get to deal with her." Footsteps fade away, and then the sound of voices and utensils clanging come through. He left.

But I still don't move until I'm absolutely sure no one is coming back. The entire time, I'm wondering who "her" is.

I take off my T-shirt and wrap it around my arm to slow the bleeding. I get back to work on the drywall, moving in the other direction away from the patch job. A large chunk comes off, but unfortunately, there is no window behind it. Instead, I'm staring at a wall of two-by-fours. I keep going, ripping the drywall toward the back of the room. At this point, anyone can see the damage from the window in the door.

Another large chunk comes off, revealing the right-hand side of a window frame. I move quickly, exposing the window. The glass is gone, and someone covered it with plywood from the outside.

It's a tall window, and I'm able to push against the lower part with my legs. It must be nailed on well. I begin using force and kicking at it. The sound is loud, and I'm sure it will draw some attention, so I keep going, kick after kick. Finally, it gives. I continue to push at it until the plywood falls to the ground below, revealing the sidewalk.

"Hey! He's escaping!" someone yells from the door.

I jump out onto the street. I glance to my right to see three men round the corner and run toward me.

"There he is!" one shouts.

I turn left and haul ass. When I hit the next cross street, I turn right and recognize my location.

My arm hurts like hell, but I can't stop. I glance back. They haven't made it to this corner yet, so I run into a college on my right.

I enter what appears to be the main office. Instead of going to the front desk, I stand back from the front windows to see if they come this way.

I reach for my phone, but of course, it's gone. Two of the men run past the window, glancing in all directions. I step closer to the wall and out of sight.

"Sir, you can't be in here if you aren't a student."

I turn to find a security guard staring at me. My chest and pants are covered in drywall chalk, and my shirt is a bloodied mess tied around my arm. "I've been shot. I need to call someone."

The man hesitates. You'd think the bloody arm would be convincing enough. "I'll call you an ambulance."

"No, I need to call Reed Hawthorne. Can I use the phone here?"

He frowns. "Okay, make your call, and then you need to leave." His concern is quickly gone.

I guess I'm not what they want prospective students—or more like parents—to see here.

He leads me to the phone and hands it to me.

"Thank you." I call Reed's cell.

"Reed," he answers.

"It's Durango. I was kidnapped and am now at the college near our office. Three men are on the street looking for me."

"It's Durango! He's at the college with three men in pursuit," Reed yells out. "Are you hurt?" he asks me.

"One man shot at my arm. It grazed it, but it's bleeding pretty good. Other than that, I'm fine." I don't mention I was drugged. As soon as I'm safe, I'll have it checked out.

"Axel and CT are on their way," Reed says. "They should be there in about ten minutes. Can you stay there that long?"

"I'll try." I end the call.

The security guard is motioning for me to go outside.

"Two of my colleagues are coming to get me. I need to wait here for them."

"No, you can't be in here looking like that," the guard says.

"Oh, my! What happened to you? Are you all right?" a woman says from behind me.

I turn around, and her hand goes to her mouth.

"Oh, that looks painful!" She's a little older, and some gray is coming in at her temples. "Rich, you cannot throw this man out. He needs an ambulance!"

"He refused one. He can't stay in here with everyone coming in and out." Rich motions to an empty waiting area.

"Nonsense," she says, motioning Rich away. "What happened to you?"

"I was kidnapped and shot." I motion to my arm. "I managed to break free and ran in here."

Her eyes widen. "Is someone coming after you?"

I glance out the window but don't see anyone. "There are three men looking for me. I just need to stay here for about ten minutes. Two friends are coming to get me."

"Follow me," she says. She leads me down a hallway to an office. "Stay in here. If anyone comes in the main reception, they won't see you."

"Thank you. I really appreciate this."

She nods. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"You need to leave now!" Rich yells. But not at me. He's out in the reception area.

The woman takes a step to leave the room.

"Don't go out there. Those men are dangerous," I whisper.

She glances back at me and nods.

The door opens again, and I'm hoping the men are leaving.

"Durango?" Axel calls out.

I step out and spot the three men who were coming after me standing by the door. The moment they realize Axel and CT are here for me, they exit the building.

"It's them! They grabbed me!" I yell to Axel.

Axel and CT are out the door before I can get to them. I run outside to find one of the men on the ground unconscious and the two others subdued. All three have their wrists and ankles bound by wire ties.

I'm about to thank them when a dark SUV pulls up.

Harding gets out of the passenger seat. "Load them into the back," she instructs.

Axel and CT grab one man. Harding helps me to grab the second. Once they are all in the back, Axel grabs two guns from the sidewalk.

"We got these guns off of two of the guys but didn't find anything on the guy we knocked out."

She takes them. "Thanks. I'll let you know what I find out from these guys. Glad to see you upright, Durango."

"Thanks," I say.

She hops back into the passenger seat, and the SUV speeds away.

"Let's go," Axel says. "I'm parked just up here."

He leads the way, and CT is next to me. "How bad is your arm?" he asks.

"Not too bad. Nothing a few stitches won't fix," I say.

They lead me to Axel's car, and the moment I sit in the backseat, I relax, but only a little. I've been running on adrenaline since those guys grabbed me. Well, aside from passing out last night.

"Hey, did you leave Willow alone?" I ask.

"No, Reed is there at your place," Axel says.

"Can I borrow your phone?"

He hands it back, and I find Willow in his contacts and call her. I stare at the number, forcing myself to memorize it. I should have by now.

"Axel, is Durango okay?" she answers.

Her voice brings a smile to my face. "Hi, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Oh, thank God. I'm okay now. When you didn't come home, I was so worried. And then you were gone all night. So many horrible thoughts went through my head. What happened?"

"Some guys grabbed me and tossed me into a room. I was able to escape."

"Are you on your way home?"

"Not yet." I want to see her, but I need to find out who sent those men first.

Her sniffles carry through the phone. "Okay."

"Hey, Willow. I'm all right."

"It's just been really scary not knowing."

"Is Samantha still there?"

"She is."

"Good. I'll be home as soon as I can. I promise."

"All right."

I end the call and lean my head back. I really wish I could just go home and hold her. But I need to find out about these men and get stitched up.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. What's the story for your arm?" Axel asks as he drives.

I untie my shirt and stare at the cut on my arm. We can't say gunshot because the hospital will be obligated to contact the police. That's not interference Harding will want to deal with.

"He cut it on a piece of sheet metal. You up to date on your tetanus shot?" CT asks.

I nod, thankful I didn't have to think up something.

Then I realize that Moose wasn't with the guys. Not that I needed more help, but it gets me thinking about Harding. "Did Harding meet with Moose yesterday?"

She's wrong about him being a suspect in Damien's death.

"She did. I was sitting in the kitchen. After she left, Moose grabbed his jacket and left in a huff. It was clear he was angry. Do you know what that was about?" CT asks.

I hate to start rumors, but if there is anything to it, I need to know. "Yesterday, Harding told me Moose is on her list of suspects."

CT's brows shoot up. "Suspects for what?"

"For killing a target we were extracting and for following me."

Axel laughs. "That's ridiculous. I've been on many assignments with the guy this past year, and he's as strait-laced as they come. Good guy. Nothing nefarious about him."

"That's what I told Harding, but you know how she gets."

"Yep," CT says.

"I do," Axel says.

"Did she explain how that would make sense?" CT asks. "Did you guys know about this assignment in advance?"

"Nothing more than usual."

"And why would he follow you?" Axel asks. "He knows where you live."

This is true. There was a time when he stayed in my home, protecting my cousin, Piper.

"Well, I hate to believe it's true, but how else do you explain that the guys who kidnapped me knew I was in the woods with Damien and that he told me something in Russian?"

CT stares at me. "You speak Russian?"

"Yes. And so does Moose."

"He does?" Axel asks.

"That hasn't come up on any of your assignments?"

Axel shakes his head. "Not that it would need to, but I guess I figured when we were chatting about our lives, he might bring it up. I mean, I told him about my ax-throwing skills."

CT groans. "Not this again."

"What?" Axel asks. "I'm proud of winning that trophy."

I laugh. He's very proud and has managed to make sure everyone he meets is aware he is the tri-state area ax-throwing champion. Hell, it's why everyone calls him Axel. Although, I'm not too sure how formal the title is, given that he won it at a bar.

Axel drives through a pothole, and the motion makes me carsick.

"Guys, I don't feel so good."

"Don't puke in my car!" Axel yells. "Do you need me to pull over?"

Instead of responding, I lie down in the backseat.

"He's lying down," CT says. "He looks pale. Go faster."