Not Another Soldier (25 page)

I swear aloud at everyone who stalls me. The traffic
isn’t bad and I gave myself enough time but I’m itching to get to her. If I can
just see her, be by her side, I can protect her. At the moment, she’s all alone
and vulnerable. It makes my insides coil in horror. Who knows what they could
be doing to her? They’re criminals after all. I doubt they have any sense of
common decency.

“I’m coming, short stuff,” I mutter over and over. “Be
brave, babe.”

It sounds stupid but I feel like our connection is so
strong, surely she can hear me or sense me in some way?

With the docks up ahead, I pull over and tug out my
cell from my front pocket. The number takes me straight through to the
detective’s desk. I suppose I could have called 911 but I’m hoping the
detective will handle this with a little more finesse than showing up, all guns
blazing.

“Detective Matthews.”

“Detective, this is Nick Jackson. We met when you
dealt with the drug find that Sienna Wright called in.”

“Oh yeah. I remember. We’re still sending patrol cars
by, you know?”

Yeah for all the good that did. “Well, it didn’t work.
She’s in trouble. This Mr. Johnson they belonged to has her and is threatening
all sorts if he doesn’t get his drugs back.”

“You know we can’t just hand them back over…” he says
cautiously.

“Yeah, I get that. But you need to understand this,
Detective, Sienna is in trouble and I’m going to get her. This guy says I have
to go alone and frankly I don’t want a ton of cop cars coming down and scaring
him.” I sweep a hand through my hair and sigh. “But I could probably do with
some backup.”

“Nick, now don’t do anything stupid. Sit tight and
wait for backup. Where are you? We’ll send some guys down and we’ll get her out
of there.”

“Listen, he’s threatening to kill her if I’m not there
in,” I glance at my watch, “ten minutes. I’m not waiting around for you guys to
go in and end up in a standoff. I’ve seen how these things go.”

Detective Matthews makes a sound of frustration and
mutters something under his breath about ‘damned cop shows’. “I’m coming down,
okay? And I’ll bring our negotiator down. We’ll get her out of there, just tell
me where you are.”

“I’m down at the docks. But, Detective, I ain’t
waiting around. My girl is in there and I’m getting her out.”

I hang up and start the car again. I’ve done what I
can. Now I’m going to pray luck is on my side. If I have to shoot every one of
them to get to Sienna, I will.

When I pull up to the gates, I wait for the security
guy to come ask me what I’m going there but he remains inside his little hut.
Instead, a hulking red-haired guy—I almost grin when I recognize him as the one
I scared off—approaches and motions for security to open the gate. He motions
me in and I wind down the window as the gate closes behind me.

This is it, I guess. My palms are clammy, my pulse
races. I need to see Sienna and I’ll be okay. Once I know she’s alive, I can
figure out my next move. I eye the guy while he approaches.

“You got the stuff?”

I nod and indicate with my head. “Yeah, in the trunk.”

He comes around, opens the door and presses his large
body into the passenger seat. “Drive.”

I do as he says, my gut bunched in knots. I flex my
fingers on the wheel in anticipation and also to control my urge to wrap my
hands around that fat neck of his. I say Sienna’s name in my head over and
over, making sure I keep my focus. Only when we’re away from the gatehouse does
he draw out a pistol and motions with it to a large warehouse up ahead. The
morning sun glints off the windows and blinds me slightly. Crates surround us,
all different colors and I tense. I have my doubts the detective will find us
in this maze. Have I just made the biggest mistake of my life?

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

I smirk
. It might be too fucking late.

“Pull over here.” He motions with his gun. I wish he’d
stop waving that damned thing around. Doesn’t he know how dangerous they are?
Still I can always hope he accidentally shoots himself.

I pull the Jeep to a stop and glance up at the large
building. It’s grim and grey and far too big. I could probably knock this guy
out and then try to find Sienna but I’m not sure I like my chances. I’d
probably get shot before I get anywhere near her and I don’t know how many
lackeys this guy has.

The choice is made for me anyway as when I step out, I
spot Sienna being dragged from the warehouse by a well-dressed man and another
guy with a skinhead. That guy, I definitely want to kill for what he did to Sienna.
He’s the only one holding a gun but I’m willing to bet The Suit has one
concealed. Johnson doesn’t look that bad, but from the little research I did,
he’s up to his elbows in shit.

Bile rises in my throat as they draw close and the
large sidekick comes to my side, pistol aimed for my torso. I lean back against
the car in feigned nonchalance, mostly to hide the Beretta under my T-shirt.
Thank God the idiot at my side didn’t think to search me.

Sienna’s gaze meets mine, tear filled and clearly
terrified. She looks like she wants to speak but keeps flitting her gaze to the
men either side of her. Rage, scalding and suffocating, fills me when I notice
the bruises flaring on her cheeks and under both eyes. I have to fight the
tightness in my chest and the mist rising in front of my eyes. Anger won’t help
me right now. I need to be calm and in control. I make a silent promise to
myself to ensure someone pays for hurting her later.

Her hands must be tied behind her back and as I study
her, I see her feet are bare, dirty and scratched. She must have put up a
fight. I can’t help feel a little proud of my girl.

“Nick?” The Suit asks.

“Yeah. You’re the Mr. Johnson I’ve been hearing about
I guess.”

“That would be me. You have the drugs?”

“I do.”

He grins slightly. “You want to get them?”

“Give me Sienna first.”

Johnson shakes his head with a wry laugh. “You realize
I could just kill you both and take them.”

“You could.” I glance around deliberately. “But I’m
willing to bet blood and dead bodies outside your warehouse wouldn’t look too
good. Especially when the cops are planning on stopping by. Plus I don’t know
what deal you’ve got with the security around here, but I very much doubt
everyone here is in your pocket. Gun shots would draw some attention.”

“You were meant to come alone.”

“I’m alone. If we get this done, we can be on our way
and the cops will have nothing to find will they?”

He shifts his hand to Sienna’s neck and gives it a
little squeeze, causing her to whimper. “I don’t need a gun to kill her.”

Jaw clamped shut, I try to convey some kind of promise
to Sienna. One that says I’ll get her out of here and love her forever, but at
the moment I’m still hunting for a plan. I just need her in my arms and then
I’ll get her to safety. I’m not so sure if I can say the same for myself but
I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’s okay.

We eye each other for a moment. It’s a dangerous game
I’m playing. I’m banking on the fact this guy probably plays a legit business
man and doesn’t want a mess on his doorstep. Finally, he releases Sienna and
shoves her into my arms. I instantly take her into them and she emits a small
sob into my neck. I kiss her face and murmur into her ear as I unbind her
hands. “Get in the car ASAP. If anything happens, just drive.” Then louder, I
say, “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you.”

Johnson smirks and holds out his hand. “The drugs are
in the car I take it?”

I nod, shove Sienna behind me and make a show of
fishing in my pockets for the car keys. I reach around the back of my trousers
and carefully wrap my free hand around my gun. In my other, are my room keys.
With a grin, I throw them at Johnson. They go wide and the larger guy jumps for
them.

As quickly as I can, I force Sienna into the car and
draw out my pistol. Skinhead brings his gun up so I fire. He goes down, a
bullet in his leg and his screech is pretty satisfying though I don’t have time
to think about it. Sienna has already scrabbled over and is screaming at me to
get in.

I duck to clamber in and that’s when it happens. My
ears are still ringing from my shot but another bang crashes through my skull.
Hot, searing pain explodes through my chest. I grimly remember the feeling
though weirdly I’m sure my leg hurt more. I glance down, half expecting to see
my chest torn in two. Instead there’s blood seeping across the green of my
T-shirt. Sienna’s cries are fuzzy to my ears and my legs shake.

“Go,” I manage to mumble. “Go!” I say again before
collapsing back. I don’t even feel the ground strike my head.

Soft hands scrabble at my clothes. Sienna. Why is she
here? She should be safe. Wasn’t that what I was meant to do? Make her safe.
She sounds like she’s crying. I try to pull open my eyes because I want to see
her face but my body won’t cooperate. Darkness pulls me under and the pain is
quite distant now.

I remember why I ache now. I wish I could look at her
again. If I’m going to die, she’s definitely the last thing I want to see. Her
hands are gone now and coldness swallows me. Far away, Sienna screams my name.

Sienna

That
moment I expected—the one you picture when you first say yes to a solider. The
one you imagine when you’re dancing at your wedding. The one you see in war
films. That was now. It was the one where the man in uniform knocks on your
door and tells you your husband has been killed in action. Except I never
expected it to happen like this. Crippling agony consumes me when Nick falls
back. My knees give out and I clamber out of the car to his side. Hands flat
against his chest, stickiness coats my shaking palms.

Blood. So much blood. The sound of the shot still
rings in my ears and even my own cries are muffled. Rough hands wrap around my
arms and haul me away. I fight against them, my focus remaining on Nick’s
motionless form. I can’t even see him breathing.

This is that moment.

My life has just fallen from beneath my feet.

I need to get to him but now another set of hands is
on me. I scream and fight the hold of the two men. Everything’s a whirl. The
hands trying to control me, the angry shouts of Mr. Johnson, the sight of Nick.

Dead.

Is he dead? I scratch and struggle. A hand comes
across my lips and I bite down. The metallic tang of blood invades my mouth and
Al yells in surprise and releases me. Though he still holds me, it’s enough for
me to tear forward and come to Nick’s side again.

“Nick? Oh, Jesus, Nick! Wake up,” I beg. I put a hand
briefly to his chest again, hoping to feel the rise and fall of his breathing
but I’m hauled away again.

I sag against the arm pining me across the waist. It’s
Al—Meathead. The fight has gone from me. I’ve got nothing to battle for now.
The high-pitched sound in my ears is slowly dissipating, bringing back with it
the real world.

“Fuck’s sake.” Mr. Johnson comes to stand in front of
Nick and motions angrily to Mike—Skinhead—who is rolling around on the ground,
hands clamped around his side. “What the fuck were you thinking? What are we
going to do with him? I’m going to have the cops swarming this place soon and
I’ve got a damned dead body lying around.”

I retch at the way he refers to Nick so dismissively.
I can barely hold back the bile in my throat.

“We’ll stick him on the ship. Throw him overboard.
Same as we said we’d do to her,” offers Al.

Mr. Johnson stares at him and the nods. “Get her on
board and then come back for him. And get someone to grab that idiot.” He
motions to Mike. “
And
have someone clean up this fucking mess before the
cops get here. I’m going to tell the captain to get a move on. We need to get
the ship out of here.”

Al presses his arm into my waist and I retch again as
it digs into my stomach. I fight briefly to break free of his grasp but my
energy has gone. Without Nick, I’m nothing. He drags me up the gangplank to the
ship and the smell of grease and stale air invades my nostrils.

Cold white walls greet us. I’m barely walking, just
being dragged. I’m aware of pain in my feet but it’s not really registering.
Maybe if it did, I’d try and walk properly. At the moment, all strength has
been sapped from me. I think Nick took it with him.

Is he really dead? Images of blood and his pale face
swim in front of me. He can’t be. How am I meant to continue on without him?
Not that it matters. I’ll be dead before long. What was it they said? They’re
going to throw me overboard?

He continues down a maze of barren corridors. Metallic
sounds and the loud rumble of the ship’s engine echo around us. He shoves open
a door and flings me onto a single bed. The sheets are rumpled and are tinged
with the odor of sweat. Al doesn’t even bother to say anything as he slams shut
the door.

I push up to sitting and clamp my arms around myself,
willing the nausea to calm. I’m going to die, all alone. Drowning in the middle
of the ocean. It’s got to be the loneliest of deaths. Maybe I’ll be lucky and
break my neck or something when they throw me over. Or perhaps I’ll freeze
first? I’ve heard freezing can be quite peaceful once you get over the cold.
But drowning… you hear these things from the guys at the morgue. Drowning is
meant to be agonizing. My lungs ache thinking about the sharp stab of water
invading where it shouldn’t.

Or is that just the pain that still lingers in my
chest? I’m tense, my body throbs with the need to cry but I can’t seem to. I’m
numb in some ways and wrapped in this incredible blanket of despair in others.
It is nothing like when Rob died. This is like an actual chunk of me has been
torn away.

I scan the grim room. The only sign of color is the
blue bedding I’m on and a matching couch. It’s not a nice one. It’s hard and
leathery. It probably converts into a bed. Everything else is cheap fake pine.
A freestanding closet sits in one corner and even the door to what I guess is
the bathroom matches. The chill that’s been invading me since I was snatched
has truly taken hold and I can’t stop shaking. What a place to spend your last
moments alive. This really wasn’t how it was meant to happen. I’m a nobody.
Hardly any friends and no family nearby to worry about where I am at the
moment. I work, sleep, eat, that’s it. There is nothing remotely interesting
about my life. At least there wasn’t until Nick. When I end up missing,
everyone will be baffled.

I straighten as the door clicks open again and this
time Al is carrying someone else.

Nick.

Well, barely carrying. Nick’s a big guy and Al might
be wide but he’s clearly not strong enough to lift Nick. So he’s being dragged.
He dumps him on the floor and glances at me, a sick smile on what has been an
expressionless face up until now.

“Enjoy your time together. We’ll be leaving in a
while. As soon as we hit open waters, you’re going for a little swim.”

I barely acknowledge his words. I can’t take my eyes
off Nick. The door slams shut and I jump to his side and roll him over. Blood
already stains the floor. Those tears that wouldn’t come hit me with full
force. I sob—big ugly gagging sobs, the kind where you can barely breathe. I
flatten my head against his chest. He’s still warm. God, I wish he wasn’t so
stupidly heroic. I wish he’d just left me alone. Then he’d still be alive.

I wish I’d not been so scared and treasured every
moment with him.

Through my erratic cries, the rumble of the ship
increases and another noise sounds—a groan. I hold my breath for a moment and
become aware of my head moving slightly. I leap back and flatten my palm
against Nick’s chest.

He’s breathing.

“Shit!” I scrabble to tear back his ragged shirt.
“Fuck.” I can’t believe I’ve been sitting here, letting him bleed to death. The
shock must have knocked him out. “Nick, wake up,” I beg and grimace as I expose
his bloodied shoulder.

I see raw flesh and lots of blood. Pressing the fabric
of his T-shirt down on the wound, I manage to pry him away from the floor
enough to view his back. It looks like the bullet went through his back and out
the front but I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. I may be a nurse but I’ve
never worked the emergency department and we don’t get many gunshot wounds in
the stroke center.

He groans again and I jump to my feet. I need to stop
the bleeding. Dashing over to the closet, I tear open the door but only spot an
orange life vest and some overalls. I swipe along the top shelf, but it’s
empty. With a cry of frustration, I stumble into the bathroom and throw open
the medicine cabinet. A few band aids, that’s it. Then I duck under the sink
and toss aside the few toiletries on the shelf underneath.

“Yes!”

A first-aid kit. Snatching it, I hurry back to Nick’s
side and drop onto my knees beside him. He’s still making incoherent noises but
he’s not awake. I tear open a wipe and set to work cleaning the wound. There’s
a lot of blood but I keep myself detached, pretend it’s just another patient.
Nick’s expression contorts into one of pain which must be good, right? Once the
wound is cleaned, I’m relieved to see it doesn’t look as bad as I thought. The
blood flow has slowed and I doubt it hit an artery or I’d know about it. I peel
apart a gauze pad and press it firmly to the gash before lifting his shoulder
and working on the entrance wound. This is harder as I can barely lift him but
I manage to pry him away from the floor enough to clean and dress it. I apply
two more pads to both sides, just in case.

Drained, I slump back and study him. His skin is ashen
and he looks like he’s aged a couple of years. Whether the dark circles under
his eyes are from the gunshot or worry or stress, I’m not sure, but they must
match the ones I have.

I lean forward and press my palms across his cheeks,
as if trying to warm him. I don’t know why but I guess I’m hoping it will wake
him. The sounds of the ship filter in again and my exhaustion disappears.
Instead, anger and determination fill me. I feel all hot and tense, my breaths
grow ragged.

Nick loves me. I’m sure of it. I saw it in his eyes
when he came to meet us and if those dark circles are anything to go by, he’s
been missing me as much as I’ve missed him. He was willing to die for me. Just
like I would for him.

But now I need him to live and if we don’t want to die
today, we have to get off the ship.

“Nick,” I try again and this time I press a firm kiss
to his lips. A grumble emanates from him and I draw back, hands still clasping
his face.

His eyelids come slowly open but his eyes are
unfocused and dimmed.

“Wake up, Nick. I need you,” I urge.

His lips move soundlessly and air rasps between his
lips. I see the cloud of unconsciousness clear from his eyes and he snaps his
gaze to me.

“Shit, I died.”

A hysterical burst of laughter bubbles up from inside
me, I clasp his face gratefully and kiss him furiously. Nick makes a noise of
protest and I release him, offering him an apologetic look. I can’t help myself
though. I’m shaking from head to toe with… I don’t know what. I feel like
crying and dancing all at the same time. Or maybe just killing the people
responsible for hurting him. Either way, he’s alive.

 A furrow appears between his brow. “I’m dead,
right?” he asks hoarsely.

“If this is heaven, then you’ve not been a very good
boy.” My voice comes out slightly high-pitched and strained.

He shakes his head. “Nu-uh, looks like heaven to me.”
Gazing up at me, he puts a hand to my cheek.

I pin it to my face with my hand and nuzzle into his
palm, enjoying the warmth. Then I lift his tattered shirt and eye his wound,
satisfied the gauze seems to be doing the job. But we still need to get him to
the hospital.

“Nick, we need to get you help. And we must get off
this ship. They’re going to chuck us overboard if we don’t.”

He rolls his gaze around and his frown deepens.
“Ship?”

“Yeah, they dragged us on board. Nick—” My voice
cracks. “I thought you were dead. What were you thinking?”

“Just thinking of you, babe,” he replies flippantly as
he struggles to sitting but I hear the strain in his voice. He’s in a lot of
pain and trying to hide it.

I rummage in the first aid box and hand over some
pills. “Take these. They’re not going to do a lot but they’ll help eventually.
Hopefully. You’ll have to swallow them dry.”

Nick puts a hand to his shoulder. “It doesn’t feel
that bad at the moment. What happened?”

“You’ve got a hole in your shoulder, Nick! Just take
these. It must be the adrenaline or something. It will hurt soon enough.”

He takes the painkillers from me and chucks them back,
grimacing as he swallows. We both clamber to our feet and Nick takes a moment
to find his balance.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Of course.” He winks at me. “I’m Superman, remember?”

I narrow my eyes at him. I don’t remember ever
admitting to thinking that about him. “Let’s just get outta here.”

“Deal. I don’t much like the sea anyway.”

We approach the door and I suck in a breath. “I don’t
think it’s locked. I mean there’s no locks on the outside so unless it’s
barricaded…”

“I guess they were relying on me not being able to do
much and…” he shrugs, “you not getting very far on your own?”

“Or there’s someone outside,” I whisper.

“Yeah, more likely. Okay, stay behind me and keep your
head down. I really don’t want to be ducking bullets again. And, short stuff?”
He hooks an arm around me, his hand burning into the base of my back, so alive,
so strong. “If I say run, do it, okay? No arguing this time.”

“If I’d have left, you’d definitely be dead.”

“And I’ll thank you later, but for the moment, please
just do as I say. I may not deal with drug dealers everyday but I’m still trained
to handle hostile environments and, babe, this is a real hostile environment.”

I nod. I’m not sure that I’d run and leave him, but
I’ll cooperate as much as I can. Nick does have the upper hand here after all.
He releases me and pushes me behind his back. With one swift movement, he pulls
open the door.

Sure enough, a white-haired man is standing on guard.
I don’t recognize him and he looks just as surprised as he turns to see us.
Nick swings at him, striking him across the jaw and he goes down. Before the
man can react, Nick jumps on him and brings his fist across his face. Though
his opponent tries to fend off the blows, there’s no way he can defeat this
soldier. In spite of his injury, Nick is clearly stronger and more determined.
It’s frightening, the ferocity behind his punches but I don’t feel any sympathy
for the man when he finally sags, unconscious.