Elite Dragoons 1: New Recruits (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (5 page)

“Do you think we’ll ever be found?” Nicole asked in a whisper.

“I don’t think the sheriff will give up looking for us until we’re found,” Sara answered.

“I hope you’re right. I don’t know how much longer I can stay here before I fall apart,” Nicole sobbed.

“Don’t give up hope, Nicole. Someone will come for us.”

“What do they want us for?” Nicole turned to face Sara. “I don’t have any money.”

“I don’t either.” Sara scooted off the bed and walked over to the window, studying the gouges she’d made when trying to pick the lock. When that hadn’t worked she’d started trying to remove the screws securing the lock into the wooden frame.

It was nighttime again, but her eyes had long since adjusted to the dark. Everything in the house was quiet and she was determined to work through the night again. She knew it was probably a useless endeavor, but she wasn’t about to give up. “Where is the nail file?”

Nicole lifted the mattress, came over to stand beside Sara, and handed her the metal nail file.

“Do you think we’ll ever get the lock open?”

“Anything is worth a try if it means we can escape from here.” Sara-Jane placed the tip of the file into the small screw, which secured the window lock in place, and turned it. She’d done this every night for the past three nights and still the screw remained firmly in place. Her hands had nicks and cuts on them from the file. God knew how many times she’d slipped and cut herself, but that didn’t matter. Using all the strength she could she dug the file into the screw and twisted. It slipped out of place, but she was sure that she had felt movement. Finally the screw turned a whole turn.

When she heard footsteps approaching she pushed Nicole toward the bed and scrambled in after her. She’d only just managed to get in bed and pull the covers up, with her eyes the only thing exposed, before the door was opened. She held her breath and waited, hoping whoever was checking on them didn’t come any closer. After what seemed like hours but had to have been only seconds the door closed quietly and the lock was engaged.

“Oh God that was close,” Nicole whispered.

“Yeah.” Sara flung the covers back and got out of bed. “I need you to stay near the door and listen out. Before this night is over we are going to get out of here.”

Now that she had finally loosened it, it didn’t take Sara long to remove the screw. She had to grab for the locking mechanism when it moved. The last thing she wanted was to knock it onto the floor and bring their kidnappers running. Trying to be as quiet as she could, Sara pushed the window out. There was no resistance, and she was going to have to hold it open so it didn’t bang closed on her.

“Nicole, let’s go.” Nicole was beside her in moments. “You climb through first. I’ll hold the window open and then you can hold it for me.”

Nicole nodded and then lifted a leg over the window frame. “I’m not going to be able to hold it open. There is nothing for me to stand on and I won’t be able to reach it from the ground. “

“I’ll think of something,” Sara whispered. “Go.”

Nicole took a deep breath, brought her other leg off the sill, and looked back to Sara.

“I’ll be fine. Go.”

Nicole jumped. Sara heard her feet land on the ground and hoped that their abductors hadn’t heard the dull thud. She hurried to the bed, grabbed a pillow and then climbed out the window. She looked down and saw Nicole waiting for her. Sara placed the pillow over the windowsill, pushed the framed glass out of her way and jumped. The pillow had done the trick and stopped the window from making much sound as it tried to slam back into place.

Sara bit her lip hard as she landed with a dull thud and held in her cry of pain when her ankle twisted. She didn’t have time to worry about being hurt just now. They had to move and they had to move fast.

* * * *

Dalton watched as Hay came out of the trance and looked at him and Whit.

“They’ve escaped,” Hay stated.

“Thank God,” Whit said. “Did you recognize any of the landmarks?”

“No, but if I can reconnect with her maybe we can work out where they are.”

“Let me try.” Dalton held out his hand for the wisp of hair and then carefully wrapped it around his thumb. Instantly he was pulled toward Sara. He felt the excruciating pain in her ankle and the fear which lent flight to her limbs. Adrenaline was pumping through her, and even though she was gasping for air and was hurting she didn’t stop moving. It looked like she and Nicole were running along the edge of a highway and she glanced toward her left. The sign caught his eye and he read it quickly.

“Museum of the Fur Trade. I’ve heard of that and only recently. Get the map.”

“Don’t need to,” Hay said. “It’s less than four miles west of town.”

“They’re heading east toward Chadron. Let’s move.”

* * * *

Sara didn’t know how much longer she could keep going. Her ankle was killing her. Each time she put weight on it shards of excruciating pain pierced her ankle and up her leg. She had a stitch and couldn’t seem to fill her lungs even though she was gasping for breath.

A rumbling noise drew her attention, and she glanced back over her shoulder. In the distance she saw headlights, and in her gut a lump of fear formed, causing more adrenaline to spike through her system. She knew that time had run out.

Glancing around, she tried to find someplace to hide. She and Nicole had to get away from the road if they were going to survive. Her eyes alighted onto a grated drain just off the side of the road. Although it was the last place she wanted to hide, it was the closest and least obvious.

“Nicole, help me pull this grate up.” Sara grabbed hold of the thick, heavy metal grate and pulled. The thing didn’t budge. She sobbed in panic, but then Nicole was beside her, and with the added strength they were able to lift the metal. “Get in and shimmy down into the tunnel.”

“Oh God,” Nicole sobbed. “You know I have claustrophobia, right?”

“Now isn’t the time to worry about your fear of being closed in, Nicole. If we don’t hide we won’t live long enough to be afraid.”

Nicole nodded and scrambled into the drain. She wiggled and squirmed until she finally disappeared. Sara looked toward the headlights and knew she only had about thirty seconds before those lights illuminated her position. She jumped down in the hole, and with a bit of contortionism and squirming she managed to wedge her body into the drainpipe. Thank God it was big enough for her and Nicole to squeeze into.

Nicole let out a squeak when Sara’s foot connected with her head. “Don’t make a sound,” Sara told Nicole just loud enough for her to hear as the vehicle came crawling past.

Tires crunched gravel on the road mere yards from where they were hiding and Sara held her breath in case her heavy breathing was audible or amplified by the drainpipe. The last thing they needed was to be caught in their hiding spot with no place to go. Doors slammed and voices spoke, but it wasn’t English. Sara held in her gasp of pain when Nicole’s hand clamped around her injured ankle. She bit down hard on her tongue so she wouldn’t cry out in pain.

Footsteps were practically on top of them, and Sara quietly breathed out and then inhaled just as slowly. Her heart was beating so hard the pounding was roaring in her ears, but she wasn’t going to gulp in the air she needed until she knew they wouldn’t be heard. The hand around her ankle tightened, and Nicole whimpered. Sara held her breath once more, hoping the sound hadn’t carried. But all of a sudden Nicole’s whimper turned to a scream.

Excited voices and running footsteps headed their way, and Sara knew they had been found. A flashlight beam illuminated the hole she and Nicole were hiding in, and she hoped like hell that her head couldn’t be seen. She heard tires from more vehicles screech to a halt and more footsteps, but they were running this time.

“Hold it right there and put your hands up,” a male voice commanded.

Oh God. What’s going on?

Gunfire erupted in a rapid staccato in the night air. The barrage of bullets echoing around them was loud and hurt her ears. Tears streamed down her face from pain and fear. Her breath was rasping in and out of her mouth rapidly, and she began to feel light-headed. Pings as bullets hit close by sounded, and Sara-Jane prayed that they didn’t ricochet into the tunnel. A sting lit up the top of her arm and shoulder, and then there was blessed silence.

What’s going on? Are they gone?

“Sara-Jane, Nicole, it’s safe. You can come out now.”

Sara whimpered at hearing the American voice, but she wasn’t sure if she should move from her hiding place.
What if it’s a trick?
But it can’t be. They must have been sent to rescue me and Nicole. How else do they know our names?

“Sara, Nicole, I’m Whitmoor Cartwright and we work for the American military. We were sent to find you. It’s safe to come out now, ladies.”

Light appeared near the entrance to the drain tunnel. Even though adrenaline was still running through Sara’s system, some of the tension left her body. Her muscles relaxed slightly, and the pain in her ankle and upper arm amplified tenfold. But she pushed her aches and pains to the back of her mind and began to inch her way out of the tunnel. The light from the flashlight blinded her momentarily and then it was shifted to the side. Sara blinked a few times, trying to adjust her eyesight as she tried to wriggle from her tight hiding place.

Strong hands gripped her upper arms, causing Sara to grit her teeth as pain shot through her arm and shoulder, but then she was gently pulled up and out of the drain. The flashlight swept over her and the tall, muscular man holding her, and she relaxed totally for the first time in days. The man holding her was definitely American, and even though he wasn’t dressed in a military uniform a little voice deep within let her know he was who he said he was.

“Nicole, come out,” Sara said as loudly as she could so that her friend would hear her. Nicole didn’t reply, but Sara could hear her moving in the tunnel. Nicole’s action was almost frantic, and Sara knew that Nicole was in a panic.

“Let me go,” Sara rasped. “I need to help her. She’s claustrophobic.”

“My brother is already helping your friend. We need to get you back to our motel so we can check you out,” Whitmoor said.

Sara tried to step away from him, but she cried out as her painful ankle gave way. The next thing she knew she was being swept up into Whitmoor’s arms.

“Ty, Thorpe, you and your brothers stay here and inform the sheriff what happened when he arrives. The rest of us will be heading back to the motel. These women need medical attention. You can bring the sheriff with you when you are finished here.”

“Sara,” Nicole called out.

Sara peered over Whitmoor’s shoulder to see Nicole in the arms of another man. “Are you okay, Nicole?”

“Yes,” Nicole sobbed. “Thanks, to you. I can’t thank you enough. You probably saved my life.”

Sara didn’t know if that was true or not, though she suspected it was, but she hadn’t been alone. Nicole had helped her save them both, too. She was the one who’d had that nail file in her pocket.
Thank you, God.

Whitmoor carried her to a large truck and eased her into the backseat. Once she was buckled in he walked around to the driver’s door and got in. Two more men got into the truck, and Sara studied them now that she could see a little better since the overhead light was on.

Whitmoor had light-brown hair and green eyes. When he had held her arms once she was out of that drain, he had towered over her and she figured him to stand around six three. He was muscular all over but wasn’t linebacker huge.

“This is my brother Dalton.” Whitmoor indicated the man sitting in the front passenger seat. His features were similar to Whitmoor’s, but his physique was more muscular than his brother’s and his hair was a dark brown, as were his eyes.

“And sitting next to you is my other brother Hayward. You can call us Whit, Dalt, and Hay.”

Sara turned to Hayward. He had to be taller than his brothers since his head was higher than theirs when seated. Hay had black hair and blue eyes, and he was more muscular than both his brothers, which reminded her of a bodybuilder but without being over the top.

“Thank you all for coming to our rescue. I don’t think we would have gotten out alive if wasn’t for you all.”

“You managed to escape by yourselves.” Hay reached over to pat her shoulder and then his hand halted in midair. “Whit, get back to the motel fast. Sara’s been shot.”

“Fuck,” Whit said as he, too, noticed Sara’s shoulder, then slammed his door closed, quickly started the truck, and planted his foot on the accelerator.

Sara looked down where her arm was throbbing and saw blood mixed in with dirt from when she had hidden in the drainpipe. Now that she looked at it, it began to throb like a bitch. Hay released his seat belt and knelt up on the seat beside her. He gripped the collar of her shirt and ripped it.

“It’s just a graze but we need to clean it.” Hay pulled his T-shirt off over his head and folded it up and then placed it over her torn, bleeding flesh.

Sara hissed in a breath and ground her teeth so she wouldn’t cry out with the pain.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to try and stop the bleeding.”

Sara couldn’t have spoken right then, so she gave a slight nod of her head. Not once in the ride did Hay relieve the pressure on her wound. By the time they stopped in the parking lot of the motel, sweat had popped out on her brow and Sara thought she might be in danger of passing out for the first time in her life.

Whit and Dalt were out of the truck, and then Whit released her seat belt and lifted her into his arms then carried her into what she presumed was their room. He carried her over to one of the three double beds and placed her gently on it. Hay kicked the door shut, and Dalt hurried over to a cupboard and pulled a medical bag from the closet.

“Are you injured anywhere else, honey?” Dalt asked as he sat down on the bed beside Whit.

“My ankle,” Sara replied. “I twisted it when I jumped out the window.”