Devil's Gold (36 page)

Cassidy twisted her neck to the left, trying to break free from the chains of her nightmare. Scared. A buzzing noise tickled her ears, and she whimpered. Fear flashed, and the pressure of being held stole her breath. “No. No.” Blue eyes pierced her heart with a vicious jab, and she bolted upright, wide awake and sobbing. Her forehead connected with a hard object, prompting a masculine grunt to emanate from above. Pain slashed through her temple and blurred her vision.

“Cassidy, be quiet.”

She heard Jake's words, and it was a few seconds before she realized he held her pinned to the chair, his hand gently covering her mouth. Cassidy blinked twice and focused on a pair of vibrant blue eyes. The curve of his cheekbone and set of his chin familiar and frightening.

“It was you,” she said when he released the light pressure on her mouth.

“Be quiet. There's someone outside the plane.”

The meaning behind his words didn't penetrate. “You killed Anna.” More shock. More disillusionment.

His eyes hardened, and an angry fire burned within their depths. “So you've said.”

“No,” she argued. “I never thought it was you.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She didn't think there was anything left in her heart to break.

She was wrong.

Cassidy gazed into his face, unable to break eye contact. The emotion that flickered within the depths of his eyes triggered a traitorous response from deep within her soul, but she refused to acknowledge it. Didn't want to consider what it meant. Who was he?

“I thought you'd already guessed it was me.” He held his fingers to her lips. “Please be quiet. I've sent Steve to search the perimeter.”

She turned her head to the side and dropped into silence. The only light in the plane emanated from tiny amber globes that lit either side of the center aisle. She needed to distance herself from Jake. He gripped her arm when she attempted to slide from beneath him.

“Don't move.”

Gazing into his eyes, everything about him finally made sense. Her awareness of him went beyond the normal déjà vu experience. The feel of his hands upon her skin and rough edge of his cheek, his stance and arrogance all wrapped into the package of someone she'd targeted to despise.

Another tear followed the salty trail down the side of her face. “I believe my humiliation is complete.”

“Cassidy, you don't know everything.” His voice was low and hushed within the confines of the plane. He touched her chin with his thumb and dropped a tender kiss upon her lips. She fought the need to take more, taste more. “For whatever it's worth, that is real.” Jake pulled her hand between them and placed her palm upon his chest. She felt the beat of his heart beneath her fingers. “And so is this.”

“Captain?” Steve popped his head around the corner of the door and wagged his brows. “We're not alone.

Jake frowned and nodded. “Duh.” He slid his body off Cassidy and reached down to pull her to her feet. “How many?”

“Only shadows, but it appears to be about a half dozen.”

She followed him down the aisle, ducking to peer out one of the windows. “I don't see anybody.”

Jake's shoulders were tight and his body bent forward in preparation for attack at a moment's notice. He was tense and on high alert, which scared Cassidy. “I don't think they'd be parading around in plain sight.” Jake frowned and held her hand. “Stay close.”

Cassidy glanced down at the vice grip he had on her and rolled her eyes. “Like I have a choice?”

He tossed her one of his snarky grins and winked. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Jake peered out. He surveyed the area then slipped away from the opening, pointing at Steve and signaling where he wanted them positioned. Jake turned in her direction and pointed to the hatch that led into the compartment below the plane. “Go!”

Before Cassidy could react, a blinding light shot through the door. Jake pushed her to the ground, rolling them both back toward the other side of the cabin. Men charged through the door. Cassidy heard a familiar voice, and fear stole her breath.

“You make my job incredibly easy.” An ominous ripple of masculine laughter filtered within the confines of the plane.

Cassidy turned to say something to Steve. His face was emotionless, anger twisting the warm brown of his eyes into hard wood. Nick Fowler slammed the butt of a machine gun into his temple, and Steve fell to the ground.

The brutality of the scene stunned her, and she struggled to calm her breathing before she hyperventilated. “Steve!” Cassidy reached for Jake but was yanked to her feet and blocked by a man who appeared from behind the plane door. His breath stank of stale beer and cigarettes. He leered at her, then spun her around and secured her hands behind her back with rough-edged rope.

Terror at being bound and incapacitated had her pulling against the cuffs. Her heart felt as if it were about to break out of her chest. She gasped and was slammed against the wall as Jake rushed Fowler. Her forehead snapped against a hard edge, bringing forth a flash of dark then thousands of shooting stars beneath her eyelids. Cassidy shook her head and blinked away the pain. The NWP lackey pointed a gun and fired.

Cassidy screamed. “Let go of me.” A surge of emotion slammed against her chest, and she struggled against her restraints to reach Jake.

Foul breath hit her face-on. “Quit yer whining, bitch. He's not dead.” Fowler gripped her arm painfully.

Shivers of relief cascaded down her back as she focused on the slumped body of Jake. There was a dart jutting out of his shoulder. A tranquilizer. Cassidy felt her knees buckle and leaned against the wall of the plane for support.

“We have time for a little fun?” The disgusting brute who'd secured her hands ground himself against her backside. She twisted around and planted a solid foot smack into his family jewels.

“Get off me.” She spun on her heel and began another drop-kick, but Fowler intercepted her. He gripped the edge of her foot, twisted, and threw her flat on her back before she could retaliate. The restraints on her arms made an even battle ground difficult. “What,” she gasped, “is going on?”

Fowler knelt and pushed her hair from her face. “Sorry, bitch. You should of just done as you were told in Africa.”

Cassidy tamped down the burning terror that had her senses whirling and shook her head. Her heart pounded and adrenaline coursed through her veins, making clear thinking difficult. “You're behind the release of this virus into Yellowstone?”

“Stop whining.” He bent forward and whispered against her cheek. Her stomach clenched, and she gagged. “You need to provide us with a bit of information, and when you do maybe you'll get to live.”

“What information?”

He yanked her roughly to her feet and pushed her down the plane's exterior stairs. She stumbled against the railing, the cool metal biting into her arm. With a resolve that was entirely concocted, Cassidy moved confidently down the remainder of the metal steps. When she reached the bottom, he dragged her to the left. Her eyes widened at the sight of a military-looking helicopter.

She glanced around, searching for hope but found only deserted hangars. Her stomach heaved again as the dire situation ballooned into a full-fledged nightmare. No way out. Fowler picked her up and tossed her roughly onboard. She struggled to her feet and landed heavily on a wire mesh bench. Cassidy watched, stiff with terror, as Nick signaled to the men dragging Jake and Steve across the tarmac. She ran a million and one escape plans through her mind and discarded every single thought.
Don't panic
. But the wild beating of her heart and short breaths contradicted that statement.

Fowler reached down and pulled Jake onto a bench opposite her. She glanced at the line of blood dripping across his forehead, her fingers itching to feel his pulse. His vulnerability undid her. She stared at him and willed him awake, wanting nothing more than to see that snarky grin light his face. But he didn't move, and she bit her bottom lip in despair.

“You see,” Nick spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, interrupting her thoughts. She detected the hard anger that lay behind his words, and it chilled her. “There are things happening within the Niger Delta. No more will our country be dependent upon others. But you”—he shoved his rifle into her gut—“wouldn't write the fucking report the government wanted. Instead,” he sighed, “you screeched about the dangers of oil production.”

Cassidy began to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. “How much?”

“Money?” A man spoke from behind her, and Cassidy twisted in her seat to face him.

She tried not to gape, but the sudden appearance of New World's president scattered what little sense she'd been making of this situation. With a will she didn't know existed, Cassidy shut down her fear. The exposure of Cole's identity didn't bode well for her predicament. “Cole.”

He laughed, and the rest of his men joined in. “It's not about the money, Dr. Lowell. It's about freedom from OPEC and the ever-rising fuel costs. It's about being in the forefront of the twenty-first century gold rush.”

She closed her eyes and tamped down on a fresh bubble of terror. “So you're going to shoot me because I wouldn't write a damn report? Don't you think that's a bit extreme?”

He bent over and dropped a wet kiss on her cheek. She moved her head away, swallowing against the nausea his damp lips provoked. “I'm not going to kill you, sweetheart. I'll just offer you a helping hand out of the chopper.”

“And them?” Cassidy nodded toward Jake.

“Them, too. After all, I'm not a monster. You should have some company during your slow death in the wilderness.”

Cassidy furrowed her brow. What the hell did he mean? She was afraid to ask.

The silence of predawn was shattered by the rhythmic whirring of helicopter blades. Cassidy bent her head and whispered a soft prayer, calling on the soothing memories of her mother. The machine vibrated, and she dug her fingernails into her palm as it rose from the tarmac and swept into the sky. A blast of cold air snatched the ends of her sleep-tossed hair, whipping it around her head in Medusa-like tendrils.

She swore against the idiocy of not having refastened her hair the instant she'd awakened. Small details gained advantages. With her hands tied, there was nothing she could do about the thin strands of hair striking her face and blinding her.

Cassidy blinked and twisted her neck, clearing a mass of tangles from her eyes. She scanned the interior of the chopper, ignoring the lewd gestures and words being spouted by the occupants.
Think. Think. Think
. Four men dressed in black camouflage outfits sat on the narrow metal benches that flanked the interior of the helicopter. The largest and most threatening man was positioned directly to her left. Nick Fowler.

His eyes roamed across her body, stopping often at the curve of her neck. The fire within their bleak depths spoke of a lunacy Cassidy could only guess at. Death wasn't indifferent to him. It was a neighbor, a trusted friend.

Steve and Jake were directly in front of her across a narrow stretch of riveted metal. Jake's head lay slumped to the side, his hair hanging in matted clumps across his face. Cassidy worried her bottom lip. She ignored the fear that raked her heart at the thought of his death and convinced herself her concern lay solely in their combined safety.

Her stomach flipped as the chopper flew through the turbulent wind current of the Tetons. Cassidy swallowed and fought against the bile that rose in her throat. She glanced across the aisle. Steve sat next to Jake staring out the open door, his face hard and unreadable. She didn't recognize him. He held himself straight and still, no foot tapping or fidgeting. His quick smile and easy laugh were gone, replaced with anger and hatred. He glanced in her direction and shook his head, indicating she needed to remain quiet.

Cassidy's mind churned over the past few years. Glimpses and pockets of their numerous late-night chat fests whirled in her mind. She concentrated but found no trace or link to this side of him. This soldier.

Robert Cole sat on Steve's other side. He held a gun loosely upon his lap, pointing it directly at Jake's heart. Cole turned his head and stared at her. Cassidy didn't flinch, didn't offer a silent plea. She'd be damned before she laid her fear at his feet. His eyes were cold and flat. Another blast of air whisked through the doors and forced her to bend her head and block the stinging lashes of her hair.

She felt rather than heard Cole approach her. His black scuffed boots were less than six inches from her bench. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head back. Her eyes watered, and she glared defiantly into his face. “What?”

He didn't answer but gathered her hair, pulling and yanking on the wild locks. Robert stripped a bandana off his neck and secured the mess of golden curls on top of her head.

“I suppose I should say thanks, but somehow I don't think that was an act of kindness.”

He grunted and motioned with a lift of his chin to the brute seated next to her. “Better, Nick?”

The strange man laughed bitterly, sending a sliver of fear down her spine. “If it hit my face one more time I was gonna shove her out that door … now.”

Cole shrugged. “Those aren't my orders.”

“Fuck the orders.”

“Fuck you.” Cole turned and grabbed his gun from one of the other men's laps. He seated himself back in place, prodding the tip of the cold metal into Jake's stomach. The biologist didn't move.

Cole and Fowler debated softly, their attention temporarily averted from Cassidy. She swept her eyes across the interior of the helicopter, noting a cluster of bags at her feet. By their size and shape, she figured they were basic gear bags that contained flashlights and other miscellaneous small items. The why and what questions as to the necessity of these bags tickled her mind, but she shoved them away.