Maya Banks - Hidden Away

Sophie returned carrying a huge baby bag slung over her shoulder and an additional bag with her things in her other hand. “I’m ready.”

Marlene rose. “We’ll take my van. I had Frank install a car seat for Charlotte so she’s all set.”

The women hustled from the house and Marlene settled Charlotte into her seat in the back. They tossed Sophie’s bags in the rear compartment and Marlene started for the driver’s side. To her surprise, Sophie stopped her and pulled her into a huge hug.

“Thank you,” Sophie whispered. “I told Sam to go. I wanted him to go. But after he left, all I could think was that I didn’t want to stay in that house alone, worried out of my mind that something horrible has happened.”

Marlene squeezed her back. “You’re welcome, honey. That’s what family is for.”

When she pulled away, tears shimmered in Sophie’s eyes. Then she smiled. “You know, I’m getting used to it. I never had a real family. It feels ... nice.”

“Well come on then. Let’s stop with all the emotional girly stuff and go get Rachel.”

Fifteen minutes later, Marlene pulled into the driveway of Ethan and Rachel’s house. Before she could get out, Rachel came out onto the front porch, her face pale and her eyes troubled.

“You stay here with Charlotte,” Marlene said to Sophie. “I’ll leave the van running. We won’t be but a minute.”

She hurried out and Rachel met her at the bottom of the steps.

“Have you heard anything? What’s wrong?”

Marlene took both of her hands in hers and wished like anything she could get rid of the shadows that still lurked in Rachel’s eyes. “Nothing’s wrong, baby. Nothing at all. I just decided that at times like these, family should stick together. I’ve come to collect my daughters and we’re going to drive Frank out of house and home for the next few days. Now go pack a bag. You’re coming with me. None of us should be alone right now.”

The relief was staggering in Rachel’s eyes. It was as if she was prepared to hear the very worst.

“I’m so worried about Garrett. And now Ethan. God, Marlene, what could have happened? I hate not knowing.”

Marlene pulled Rachel’s hands together and squeezed a little harder. “They’re coming home to us, Rachel. Just like you did. My boys are fighters. They fought for you. They fight for others. They damn well will fight for each other. Now go get your things. Sophie and the baby are waiting for us in the van.”

Without another word, Rachel turned and hurried up the steps. Marlene sighed, pulled herself together and turned back to the van to wait. A few minutes later, Rachel came running out and climbed into the middle seat beside Charlotte’s carrier.

Marlene glanced over at Sophie and then over her shoulder to Rachel. “Okay, girls. Let’s go home.”

Both women smiled and Marlene drove out of the driveway and turned toward home.

When they pulled up to Marlene’s house, to her surprise, Rusty was sitting on the front steps. She rose when the van came to a stop but remained where she was as she watched the women get out and get their bags.

“I could use some help with Charlotte,” Marlene called to Rusty.

Rusty moved forward, looking a little hesitantly at the baby in Marlene’s arms. “You want me to take her?” She glanced over at Sophie and then back at Marlene.

Marlene arranged the baby in Rusty’s arms, gave her the necessary instructions about supporting the head and then shooed her toward the house. Rusty had a mixture of terror and wonder in her eyes as she slowly turned away and went up the steps into the house.

Marlene shook her head as she went to the back to help Rachel and Sophie with their things. “I swear, you give a teenage girl a baby to hold and it’s like an exorcism.”

Sophie and Rachel both burst into laughter.

“There now, that’s better,” Marlene said, offering a squeeze to both their arms. “We look like we’re heading to a wake.”

As they started to the house, Frank appeared on the porch. He simply held out his arms to Rachel and Sophie and pulled them both to his chest in a tight hug. “How are my girls?”

“Better,” Rachel said softly.

Frank kissed her cheek. “Well, good. I’m going to fire up the grill later. Thought we’d have steaks for supper.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Sophie said.

“And you,” Frank said to Sophie. “You’re going to get some rest, young lady. You look tired. That granddaughter of mine is cute as a button, but she’s got her days and nights mixed up from the look of you.”

Sophie gave him a wry smile. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

“Leave your bags on the porch. I’ll get them in a minute,” he said. And with that, he turned, still holding both of the women to his side and pulled them into the house.

Marlene stood for a moment simply watching her family do what they did best. Then she turned her eyes heavenward. “Take care of my boys,” she whispered. “Bring them home to us. This family isn’t whole without them.”

SARAH sat on the floor beside the mattress, knees drawn to her chest as Garrett dozed beside her. She didn’t want to be scared, but the truth was she was terrified. She didn’t want to not believe that she and Garrett would be rescued, but despite her efforts, doubt crept insidiously into her mind.

He’d been right so far, though. Throughout the long day, their captors had left them alone in the dark and silence. No sounds could be heard through the door. No food. No water. The food didn’t bother her yet, but she was thirsty.

Thoroughly humiliated by the fact that there was no place to relieve herself, she’d waited until Garrett had nodded off before crouching in the corner. She’d die if he’d been awake to witness her mortification.

She put her head down on her knees and rocked back and forth, trying to keep her focus, trying not to let panic overwhelm her. Garrett needed her strong, not helpless.

Not knowing the extent of his injuries worried the hell out of her. Every so often, she leaned over him to hear the reassuring sounds of his breathing. And then she resumed her vigil, sitting and waiting. Watching over Garrett as he’d watched over her.

Garrett stirred and she picked up her head to see him raising his head to look around. His gaze found hers, and he reached for her hand as if to reassure himself she was there and safe. She took it and squeezed.

“How are you?” she whispered.

“I’m good. Don’t worry. Just sore. I don’t think it’s as bad as it felt like at the time.”

The cheer he forced into his voice melted her heart. He was doing everything he could to keep her spirits up and keep her optimistic.

“So you’re ready to go kick some ass then,” she teased.

“What are you waiting for? I’m sure between us we can break the door down.”

“Maybe not that chipper yet,” he said dryly. “Can you help me sit up? I want to test the ribs out.”

She got to her knees and looped his arm around her shoulders. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

He grunted once as he pushed to a sitting position.

“Are you okay?” she asked anxiously.

He sat there for a moment catching his breath and then rubbed his hand over his midsection. “I’m good. Just bruised, I think. They seemed pretty careful to rough me up without breaking anything. Nothing feels broken anyway. Just stiff and sore.”

She kept his arm over her shoulders and leaned into his side. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against him.

“I know you’re scared, Sarah. But we’ll get through this. I promise. My team will come.”

She pressed her lips together for a short moment and then asked the question plaguing her since the night before when he’d told her the same thing. “How will they know? I mean, how will they know where to find us?”

He turned his face into her head and pressed his lips to her temple. “Tracking device. Our SOS system, so to speak. I activated it when we hit the roadblock and tossed it under the front seat of the SUV.”

“So you knew,” she murmured.

“That we were in bad shape? Yeah. And if it had turned into a false alarm, I could have always checked in, but nothing about that situation looked anything but fucked-up.”

She laughed softly. “Anybody ever tell you that you have a way with words?”

“All the time,” he drawled.

He reached under her chin and nudged upward. “Come here,” he said as he lowered his mouth.

She went willingly, fusing her lips to his. Before she’d been achingly gentle with him, not wanting to hurt him. She’d wanted to offer comfort—and her love. Now, she kissed him desperately, wanting and needing his warmth and comfort.

He let his hand slid up to cup her face, and he held her there as he fed from her mouth. He was every bit as impatient as she felt, hungry and a little wild. He took her breath—returned it—then took it again, the exchange of hot, moist air elevating the itchy desire that grew with every moment she spent with him.

He drew away and stared down at her, stroking her cheek. “I hope to hell this isn’t one of those situations where you go a little crazy because we’re in a bad situation and you don’t think we’re going to get out so you do stuff you’d never dream of otherwise. Because baby, when we get out of here, I’m going to spend two days doing nothing but make love to you. And it won’t have a damn thing to do with anything but the fact that I want to be inside of you more than I want to breathe.”

Her breath hiccupped and stuttered. Her chest grew tight and she swallowed under the intensity of his gaze. Then she reached up to touch his face, allowing her fingertips to trace the strong lines of his jaw.

“I kissed you because I wanted to. That won’t change tomorrow.”

“It’s a good damn thing,” he growled.

He leaned in to kiss her again when a noise outside the door made him go rigid.

“Get behind me,” he ordered. “Do it now. Don’t make a goddamn sound. Don’t talk. Don’t react. You pretend you’re invisible. You got it?”

Every single part of her wanted to argue like hell, but she did what he asked and scrambled behind him and made herself as small as she could against the wall.

The door burst open bringing with it a blinding flood of light. Garrett bolted to his feet, and she didn’t know how he’d done it so fast and with such ease. It had to have been excruciating.

He stood, in an almost a casual pose, but his hands were fisted at his sides. A stream of Spanish erupted from the doorway and two of the men came into the room and took Garrett by the arms.

Fight, she silently willed him. Don’t take it. But oh God, he went willingly and she knew why. She closed her eyes as the door shut and rage billowed inside her. He didn’t want to do anything that would draw their attention to her. He didn’t defy them, because he feared they’d retaliate by hurting her.

She rammed her fist into her mouth to stifle the sob that swelled like a malignant growth. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give in to the despair. Garrett would need her. Strong and steady. Like him. She wouldn’t fail him. Not when he was sacrificing so much for her.

Bolting to her feet, she ran to the door and pressed her ear against it, straining to hear. She had to know. She didn’t want to, but she owed that much to Garrett, to know what was being done to him.

The murmur of voices continued forever. They were questioning him in broken English and his answers were clipped, noncommittal, the subtle version of go fuck yourself. After each negative response he gave, she tensed, expecting to hear the sound of them beating him.

But the questioning continued. She sagged against the door for what seemed like hours. Her legs were numb, her knees shaky and her entire body was bathed in perspiration.

And then it started. She flinched when the first sound of violence reached her. She held her breath until she was lightheaded. More questions. Another strike. They were slower and seemingly more measured this time.

Through it all Garrett remained silent, and she didn’t know how. How could a person’s will be so strong that they could suffer such pain and not give in to the urge to scream? When finally she heard the scrape of chairs and the sound of footsteps approaching the door, she flew back to the far wall, there next to the pallet. And she waited.

The door flew open, but this time, there was only one man and no sign of Garrett. He stared at her for a long moment and then crossed the room. He spit out a stream of Spanish and she never looked up, refusing to meet his gaze or to let him see how terrified she was.