Edge of Surrender Page 2

  What time was it? The drugs had made her lose track. It could have been hours or days.

  A fresh wave of fear washed over her, and she tried to sit up. Wherever she was, she’d been here too long. What did they want with her?

  Emma’s chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe. She sucked in air through her nose, but it wasn’t enough, and the darkness around her started to spin. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, thunking it against the wall.

  Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.

  Ryan’s voice in her head made her dizzy with relief. But it was in her head. He wasn’t here.

  Tears burned her eyes. Ryan had betrayed her trust. He’d gone behind her back and secretly contacted her father after she’d specifically asked him not to, after he’d promised.

  His actions still stung. He’d been arrogant and meddlesome and infuriating, but she couldn’t focus on any of that now. She needed to calm down and make a plan. She forced a breath into her lungs and tried to organize her thoughts.

  What did she know?

  She was in a dark, damp room that smelled of mold and sweat and urine. She wasn’t the first person to be held here. The realization came with its own set of worries, but Emma shoved them aside.

  Earlier, she’d heard footsteps. And then a door had creaked open and someone had shone a flashlight in her eyes. She’d pretended to be unconscious, and the footsteps had retreated.

  But she couldn’t pretend forever.

  She had to come up with a plan. She had to get out of here. If Ryan were here, he’d find a way out in no time. He was trained to deal with anything, to overcome impossible odds. She’d seen him do it.

  Come on, Emma.

  His voice was in her head again, and again she forced the tears away. Tears wouldn’t help her. She had to think.

  She brought her bound hands to her face again and pressed them against her cheek. Definitely duct tape. Two of her fingers peeked out of the bindings. She touched her fingertips to the strip of tape covering her mouth and managed to find the corner. She pinched it and tugged. Her skin burned, and she tugged again. She got a firm hold on the tape and gave a fast pull, swallowing a scream as her lips seemed to catch fire. She closed her eyes until the pain subsided.

  Her mouth was uncovered now. She could scream her head off, but who would hear her?

  She shook the strip of tape off her fingertips and went to work on the bindings, gnawing them with her teeth. The tape tasted gluey and sour, and she spat little fibers on the floor. The first layer came loose, and she felt a surge of hope. Could she really do it? Could she really tear herself loose?

  But then what?

  The squelch of a radio outside the door made her go still. Icy darts of fear went through her. The guard on the other side of the door mumbled something into a walkie-talkie. She held her breath, waiting for him to come in again, but nothing happened.

  Emma’s heart pounded as she started gnawing again, determined to get through the endless layers of tape. Finally, she felt her wrists loosening and managed to yank her arms apart.

  Freedom!

  She groped around in the darkness, elated to have use of her hands again. But the euphoria soon faded as she realized she was in a closet-sized room without any openings besides a door that was manned by a guard.

  He was there. Still. She could hear him muttering into his phone or his radio. He had to be armed, and if he was anything like the men who’d kidnapped her, then he was big, too, much too big for her to take on alone.

  She paused to think for a moment. She was wearing low-heeled shoes. She slipped them off and kicked them into the corner.

  A loud squelch. Emma went still. Through the door, voices. She strained to listen.

  “She’s still asleep,” the guard said with a grunt.

  Static over the radio. Then “—wants to talk to her—” More static. “—are ready now.”

  Panic shot through her. Emma grabbed the strip of tape off the floor and pressed it back over her mouth. She clamped her wrists together and lay back down in the position she’d been in earlier, pretending to be asleep.

  The door creaked open. Heavy footsteps. She held her breath, heart thundering, as the man stared down at her in the darkness. Then a light shone in her eyes. She let her lids flutter open and squinted into the glare.

  “Up,” he ordered.

  She feigned confusion, but what she really felt was terror. What if the tape fell off when she lifted her head?

  “Now.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her roughly to her feet.

  Emma made a muffled yelp as he spun her toward the door and gave her a shove. Mustering her courage, she made a sound of protest and nodded toward the back of the room.

  The guard towered over her, scowling in the dim light of the hallway. It was the man from before, the one who’d kidnapped her, and he was in the same dark suit, only this time his gun was holstered at his side, not digging into her ribs.

  She made another muffled noise and nodded at her shoes on the floor.

  He turned and muttered a curse, then bent to retrieve them.

  The instant his back was turned, she gave him a mighty shove and slammed the door, then bolted down the corridor. It was dark and narrow, and her bare feet flew over the concrete as she sprinted for an exit, ripping the tape from her mouth as she went. She didn’t see a way out.

  Behind her, a door smacked open. She darted around a corner as she heard the guard lumbering after her. She looked around, trying to find a way out. Another corner. She ducked around it and spotted a door at the end of the hall. She raced for it, heart pounding wildly at the thought of what she might find on the other side. But she had no other choice. She could hear the guard’s footsteps behind her and his labored breathing as he yelled into his walkie-talkie.

  She yanked open the door. Stairwell.

  She tried a door on the other side. Locked. The only option was up, and she took the steps two at a time, grabbing the metal banister to help her. It looked like the stairwell of a parking garage, with big red numbers painted on each landing. The door on level two was locked, too, so she kept going. She reached for the next door just as voices sounded on the other side.

  Emma dashed up another flight of stairs. And another. And another. How far could she go?

  A door slammed open below. Yelling and pounding as more men charged up the stairs.

  She hit another landing and yanked open the door.

  She found herself in a large open space crowded with office furniture but not a person in sight. Emma raced across the room, dodging around desks and chairs and cardboard boxes filled with files and office equipment. She spied a phone on a desk and snatched it up.

  No dial tone.

  She darted a look over her shoulder as footsteps thundered up the stairwell. She looked around frantically. She could hide under a desk or in a closet, but it would only be a matter of time before they found her. She saw a glowing EXIT sign on the far side of the room. She sprinted for it.

  A loud boom as the stairwell door burst open. Emma ducked through the EXIT door and found herself in another stairwell, this one even darker than the first. She flew down the stairs, leaping around the landings, hoping against hope that they hadn’t spotted her. The stairwell was lit only by the EXIT signs, which cast an eerie red hue over everything. She tripped down the steps, gasping for breath, then reached the bottom and lunged for the door.

  Light.

  She rushed outside and glanced around, shocked to find herself in a narrow alley. At one end, a chain-link fence with razor wire on top. At the other end, a pair of men in jeans and leather jackets.

  One of the men turned slightly. The machine gun in his hands sent her heart skittering.

  She looked back at the chain-link fence. No way out, just guns or razor wire. She scanned the building across the alley. Bes
ide a Dumpster, she spotted a door, but it was probably locked.

  “Hey!”

  She looked over her shoulder as the men with guns rushed toward her.

  Emma sprinted for the door.

  ———

  Ryan swung into the alley and parked beside Jake’s pickup. Jake was bent over the hood, examining a paper map and comparing it with something on his phone. He glanced up as Ryan jumped out.

  “What’d you get?”

  “I reconned the whole area,” Ryan said. “Of the three buildings owned by Orion Shipping, only one appears to be a legit business.”

  Ryan looked at the satellite map on Jake’s phone and zoomed in on their location. “See this one? Two blocks north of here—that building’s operational. It’s a corrugated-box factory. These other two buildings? Both unoccupied, but they’ve got men stationed at the doors. Looks like they’re guarding something.”

  Jake shot him a look. Men guarding something was good news. If that something was Emma, then she was alive.

  “What do you hear from Mays?” Ryan asked.

  “Finally got her on the phone. She has no idea we’re here. She’s still being tight-lipped about everything, but she told me someone spotted the black Land Rover used in the abduction. They’re following up on that now.”

  “Which means they’re staging a raid,” Ryan said.

  “That’d be my guess. Maybe they plan to go in after dusk?”

  Ryan checked his watch. “That’s in about ninety minutes. We need to get moving.” He looked at Jake’s phone again. “Okay, see here? This building’s our best bet. The doors are guarded, but it’s total amateur hour—only one guy per door, and they’re zoned out with their phones.”

  “Perfect,” Jake said.

  “We’ll start with this entrance.” Ryan traced the route. “You distract the guard, I’ll slip inside, and—” A distant noise caught his attention.

  Jake looked at him. “Shit, is that—”

  “Gunfire. Let’s move.”

  ———

  Emma sprinted up the stairwell, heart thundering. Gunfire. They were shooting at her now!

  A door below her slapped open. Terror spurted through her, and she took another flight of stairs two at a time. She reached a landing and shoved through the door.

  This building was empty, too. God, where were all the people? She raced across a room filled with empty cubicles. There were plenty of places to hide, but they’d eventually find her. She needed to get out.

  She spied an EXIT sign and sprinted for the door just as it burst open.

  Emma halted in her tracks. Ryan rushed toward her, dodging around the empty cubicles.

  She stared at him, paralyzed with shock. What on earth was he doing here? Could he be with them?

  “How did you—”

  “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward a side door.

  Another door slammed open behind her.

  Pop.

  Emma crashed to her knees as Sheetrock exploded beside her head.

  Ryan hauled her to her feet and shoved her in front of him. “Go, go, go!”

  ———

  Ryan pushed her into the stairwell. She started down the steps, and a door below them smacked open.

  “Up!” he yelled, pulling her back to the landing, then pushing her ahead of him. Emma tripped up the stairs. He followed so close he was almost on top of her.

  Ryan’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he jerked it out.

  “They’re converging on the east side of the building,” Jake told him. “Where’s Emma?”

  “I’ve got her. We’re in the east stairwell. How many?”

  “Four, maybe five guys, armed with AKs.”

  “Where are the feds?”

  “No idea. Need me to pick you up? I’m about half a click from my truck.”

  Emma reached the top and darted a desperate look over her shoulder. “It’s locked!”

  “Stay available,” he told Jake. “I gotta go.”

  Ryan tried the door just to confirm as Emma shot him a frantic look. He dug out the same pocketknife he’d used to slip into her hotel room just a few hours ago. He slid the blade into the doorframe and maneuvered it around the latch.

  Boots thundered below them. Had to be at least three guys running up the stairs.

  “Hurry!” she squeaked.

  The lock popped. He wrenched open the door, then pushed her through in front of him.

  They were on a rooftop. Ryan glanced around and hauled Emma behind the cover of an air-conditioning unit as he tried to get his bearings. He jogged to the edge and peered over.

  “We’re three stories up!” Emma said.

  “Four,” he corrected, looking around. The closest neighboring building was across the alley, a good thirty feet away. He met her gaze. “You ready?”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean . . . ?”

  He nodded at the alley below. She took a tentative step toward the ledge to peer over. She swayed backward, and he caught her around the waist.

  “Emma.”

  She looked up, her face white with terror. She didn’t think they could make it.

  “You hesitate, you die,” he told her. “It’s that simple.”

  Those big brown eyes stared up at him, and he felt a pinch in his chest.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Her pretty mouth fell open, but she didn’t answer him.

  “Do you?”

  He saw the battle going on, and for the hundredth time, he realized he’d played this all wrong. He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Hell, no, I don’t trust you. Are you crazy?”

  He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Emma, honey . . .”

  “Don’t honey me, you—”

  He grabbed her hand and jumped. “Feet first!” he yelled, but she probably couldn’t hear him over her bloodcurdling shriek.

  They landed in an open Dumpster on a heap of black garbage bags. One of the bags burst on impact, and the smell nearly knocked him out.

  “Whoa, that’s rank. You okay?” He turned to Emma, who was leaning back against the pile.

  She blinked up at the sky, then blinked at him.

  “Emma, you all right?”

  She sat forward, eyes widening again as she took in her surroundings. With a trembling hand, she peeled a slimy ketchup packet from her arm. “I’m . . . I’m . . .” She looked up at him. “Did we just jump off a building?”

  Grabbing the side of the Dumpster, he hauled himself up. He threw a leg over to straddle the box and held a hand out for her. “Come on.”

  She stared at him.

  “Now, Emma. They’re right behind us.”

  His words seemed to slap her out of her shock, and she rolled to her knees and picked her way across the lumpy bags. She reached up for his hand.

  “Straddle the side of it, like me. I’m going to jump down first so I can help you, all right?”

  He dropped to the asphalt and waited for her to position herself, which wasn’t easy in her snug-fitting skirt. She swung her legs over and stared down. It was a short drop, but she was shaking all over and probably not thinking clearly because the stench made it tough to breathe.

  She jumped, landing in a heap at his feet. He pulled her up as shouts drifted down from the rooftop.

  Ryan dragged her behind the cover of another Dumpster. They pressed their backs against the brick wall of the building.

  “Did they see us?” she whispered.

  He didn’t know. But the voices sounded confused, so he took that as a good sign. When the shouts faded, he grabbed Emma’s hand.

  “Let’s move.”

  THREE

  * * *

  She didn’t know what time it was. Or what day. She didn’t even know what city
they were in as they jogged on the sidewalk along a congested street. Ryan had her hand clamped in his, and Emma struggled to keep up, but she kept glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was after them.

  They reached a strip mall, and he tugged her through a parking lot.

  “Ouch!” She stopped and looked down at her foot.

  “Shit, where are your shoes?”

  She looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time.

  He wore jeans and heavy work boots that somehow didn’t slow him down at all. His black T-shirt was plastered to his chest with sweat, but that was his only sign of stress. He wasn’t even breathing heavily.

  He took his phone from his pocket and checked the screen, then tucked it away.

  “Come on.” He caught her hand and pulled her toward a convenience store. She followed his lead, too shocked and shaken to protest whatever plan this was.

  The store was cold inside and smelled like hot dogs, and Emma became acutely aware of her own unique fragrance, a combination of sweat and fear and rotting garbage.

  Ryan stopped in the candy aisle and nodded at the restrooms. “Go clean up. I’ll meet you in front, okay?”

  She limped down the aisle, looking anxiously around the store as she made her way to the bathrooms. She stood in front of the sink for a ridiculously long time, scrubbing her hands and arms and feet with soap until her skin felt raw. Then she spent a few minutes finger-combing her hair.

  Her reflection scared her. Her hair was a wild mane again, like it had been the day Ryan found her in the rain forest. Her white silk blouse was soiled and torn, and she had a smear of red down the side of her Donna Karan skirt. Not blood. Or ketchup. Maybe barbecue sauce? She tried to rub it away but only managed to make the stain worse.

  She looked at herself and sighed. At least she was clean. Relatively speaking. Now she needed to go back out there and make Ryan tell her what the hell was going on.

  As she walked back through the store, she noticed the stack of newspapers beside the cash register. So they were in Los Angeles. And it was still Monday. Just those two small tidbits of information had a calming effect.