Chapter 14

The last thing Kane remembered was flying through the air and hitting the road—hard. He’d fought to remain conscious and recalled voices and running footfalls. Confused by the memory, he didn’t move a muscle. No vehicles were on the blacktop or parked alongside the ranch’s private road. Instinct called on his years of training to assess his situation before opening his eyes. He inhaled with caution, smelling damp. A solid wall pressed against his back and cold seeped through his jeans, so not a hospital bed. Pain niggled at his shoulders because his arms were extended but not hanging in midair. A band of discomfort encircled his head. The image of a tree coming straight for him made sense now. The collision had knocked him out cold even wearing a helmet. He hadn’t been sedated. He had none of the usual hangover from a hit of drugs strong enough to render him unconscious. Someone had abducted him for whatever reason. Making them believe he hadn’t regained consciousness would give him time to assess his situation. He checked his body, tightening muscles and assessing the damage. No broken bones, that pain he knew only too well. Bruising, well that happened after being propelled from a Harley going eighty miles per hour. He’d call himself lucky to survive but he hadn’t hit anything… unless someone had rigged up a trap.

Kane opened one eye and peered from under his lashes. He’d been chained to a wall using metal manacles, but the bolts had been hammered into the old red bricks. No telltale ring of mortar circled the chain. Green moss covered parts of the wall, so maybe the room wasn’t underground. He listened intently, hearing nothing. Was anyone in the room with him or did they rely on a CCTV camera? People breathed, moved around, scratched themselves, and there was always some noise or sense of them being there, and he didn’t feel anyone in the room with him.

Why had they taken him? Convinced this wasn’t an old enemy, because he’d been captured and interrogated more than once during his missions. It had started from the second they’d caught him and had been relentless with endless days of torture, no sleep or food. They’d been good but careless, and only he remained to tell the tale of what had happened the day he escaped. These people, whoever they were, had missed a crucial advantage. Attacking when a person was vulnerable and weak was usual practice and they’d left him to recover. He was wearing his leather jacket and gloves, but the weight of his M18 pistol was missing from his shoulder holster. The thought of him being used as a bargaining chip seemed ludicrous—so why? He ran cases through his mind and came up empty. Most if not all the killers they’d convicted were locked away for life or had died.

He rolled his head to the other side, slowly scanning the small room. Old boards covered a window and on a chair against the wall sat a lamp. No cameras. Needing to assess his physical condition, he pushed himself up into a standing position. He flexed his arms and bent his legs. Bloody knees poked through the rips in his jeans, along with a long scrape and black bruising down his right hip. His leather jacket was damaged but had protected him well. His neck was a little sore, so he’d hit the tree head-on. It made sense. He could remember everything, which was a positive. The metal plate in his head hadn’t been damaged and the headache was slowly dissipating. The hard smack in the chest had thrown him from the seat but he’d seen nothing and had made a point of removing any low branches from that road to prevent any accidents.

Escaping his priority, he pulled at the chains. They allowed some movement, but punching would be a problem. Wrapping one of the chains around his hand, he tugged and small fragments of brick spilled from around the attachment to the wall. It might take time, but he’d be able to loosen the bolt. A long chain would make a lethal weapon. Jenna’s concerned face brushed his mind and he pushed all thoughts of her away. His duty was to get back to her and not worry about her or Tauri. She would be safe and they’d discussed plans to put into action if anything like this happened. Jenna understood she must secure herself and Tauri. By now she’d have contacted Wolfe. She’d place herself in the company of Rio and Rowley and hopefully Carter. She knew the drill. He tugged again at the chain and then spun it around, the motion loosening the bolt. Footsteps sounded outside. They came from a distance, more than one man wearing boots that clattered on a hard floor. Kane dropped into the zone. He had endured torture by experts and survived. Whatever these clowns wanted, he doubted they were military trained. They’d already made mistakes and likely didn’t know the true identity of the man behind the deputy badge. He spread the dust from beneath the loosened bolt with the toe of his boot—his steel-capped boots he always wore when riding his Harley—and smiled to himself. They might have taken away his weapon and his arms, but he could sure do a ton of damage with his legs.