Defensive Action. Jenna Kernan
Ryan tugged her close to his side and whispered, “Do you really want to be the cause of that young man’s death?”
Haley made a sound in her throat that he interpreted as alarm but she did not cry out as they moved across the road and alongside the main lodge. He used the blanket to muffle the sound of his elbow breaking the windowpane that allowed him access to the lock. Once the window was open he lifted Haley through the gap and maintained control of her arm as he stepped inside behind her.
Either by design or accident, the young man had left a light on in the hallway that flanked the large fireplace on the right. So Ryan could see that they’d entered into the main meeting area, judging from the rows of folding chairs and a large central stone fireplace. To the left of the fireplace was a return station for trays and food, indicating a cafeteria beyond the closed double doors. To the right lay the lighted hallway. He assumed this led to restrooms and possibly an equipment storage facility.
He headed for the kitchen. He had not eaten since shortly before his capture earlier in the day and he was dehydrated and low on fuel. The kitchen door was flimsy and burst open with one kick. He dragged Haley along inside, closed the door behind them and then risked turning on the light.
“Food,” he said and quickly located supplies. He filled his stomach with water straight from the tap of the large stainless steel sink. Next he located a tray of muffins, corn, blueberry and bran, along with a variety of breads.
He set the loaves of bread aside and ate two blueberry muffins in rapid succession. When he looked up it was to find Haley staring at him in stunned silence.
“What?” he asked.
“When did you last eat?”
“Early this morning.”
Her response was a sharp intake of breath. Then his little captive began scouring the walk-in refrigerator and brought him milk and orange juice. Kindness again. She was unexpected as sunshine in a cave.
“See if you can find portable food. Cereal, soup.”
“Granola bars,” she said, now standing before the stainless steel shelving. “Two kinds. Oh, and graham crackers. Hershey bars! And marshmallows. I remember these!”
He started putting supplies in a nylon bag he located hanging on a peg on the back wall beside some aprons. When the bag was full he moved on. He grabbed several dish towels and a carving knife, which he tucked into his rear pocket.
She had something in her hand, a white plastic case. “First-aid kit,” she said.
“Take it and let’s go.”
He flicked off the light and they returned the way they had come. As predicted, the hallway yielded both a men’s and women’s bathroom.
“Um, I have to go,” said Haley.
He motioned her toward the women’s bathroom and surprised her by following her inside. Then he shut and locked the door and then flicked on the light.
“I can’t go with you here.”
“Your choice,” said Ryan as he turned on both faucets in the sink. He used liquid soap to wash his face, hair and torso. Abrasions burned at the contact of the water. He did the best he could to scrub out the gravel and succeeded in making most of the abrasions bleed again.
Haley had decided to use the toilet after all and then joined him at the sink to wash her hands.
“Would you like me to wash the wounds on your back?”
In answer, he turned, presenting her with his back. Her touch was tentative at first. He flinched as she picked away pieces of gravel that tinged against the porcelain in the sink.
“Your back is covered with bruises,” said Haley.
“Not the sort of treatment you’d expect from an agent from Federal Drug Enforcement,” he replied.
He heard her pull of breath. Was she beginning to believe him?
“All they have is a hand dryer.”
He rummaged in the supply bag and handed her a dish towel.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
“I’d imagine so.” He glanced at her in the mirror. Her brow was furrowed as she dabbed at his back.
“Ready?” he asked.
“For what?” She met his gaze in the mirror. “Are they really the bad guys?”
“I’m not letting you hang around to find out.” He turned to face her, taking hold of her free hand. “I should leave you right here, Haley. It would increase my chances of getting back to the drop. But I have absolutely zero doubt that, if I do that, you will be picked up and tortured and killed.”
Her eyes went wide at that. She shook her head.
“Seems a poor thank-you. The thing is, I can drag you along with me. But I can’t be on the lookout to keep you from sneaking off. I’m going to need to sleep soon and I can’t take the risk of you giving away my position. So you have a choice. Stay here and take your chances or I’ll bring you along and, if you don’t slow me down, I’ll do my best to see you live through this.”
She cocked her head and stared as if he’d sprouted horns.
“How do I know if I can believe you?”
He shook his head. “What you witnessed back there is my proof. Law enforcement officers don’t behave that way. You have to know that. So if they are not who they say, maybe they are who I say. Mercenaries hired by Siming’s Army to recover the intelligence stolen by my contact.”
She was dragging her full lower lip through her teeth again. It was distracting as all get-out.
He growled. “You can admit that they’re dangerous.”
“You’re dangerous, too.”
“True. Uncle Sam spent a lot of money to see that I am...prepared for such situations. So, you coming or staying?”
She glanced about as if the answer would materialize in the small restroom. Confusion blanketed her delicate features. Those eyes looked cobalt blue under the artificial light.
Why had he given her the choice? He knew what his operations commander would tell him. She’d tell him to ditch this woman and never look back.
Haley drew a deep breath and he found himself holding his. Only at this second did he realize that he really wanted to keep her alive and with him. That made no sense. Was it because she had stopped to help him? Or because he wanted to kiss her?
That wasn’t it, or wasn’t all of it. He feared it was more.
“Okay, I’ll come with you. But I have to call my dad.”
He blew away his breath. “Let’s go.”
She handed the dish towel to him and pointed toward the blood running down his shoulder.
“I need to find a shirt.” Ryan flicked off the light and they continued on to a locked room marked Equipment.
The padlock was solid but the connection to the frame and door was not. Ryan was inside in less than thirty seconds. With the door closed and the light on, he found what he was looking for. Climbing ropes, carabineers, chocks, helmets, backpacks, mess kits, flotation vests, archery equipment and paddles.
He paused at an acrylic box designed to sit on a counter and hold brochures. Inside, the bright yellow-and-green banner of the top pamphlet announced: Adventure Camp.
He lifted the brochure and read from the text. “Plenty of adventures await. Outdoors...”
He turned the bullet list to her. “You going to do all this?”
She glanced at the columns that had sent dread down her spine since Hanukkah.
Outdoors:
Hiking