Deceiving Lies

She wrapped her hands around my neck, letting me hold her, and her voice was shaky when she said, “I don’t know what you did before you came into my life, and I don’t care. You may have done some bad things, but you’re not a bad person. You’re caring and brave, and I will never forget what you’ve done for me.”

My chest tightened and I pulled back enough to look at her face. It took all my restraint not to crush my mouth to hers again right there.

“Get us out of here, Trent,” she said, and the hands around my neck slid down my arms. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it was enough.

I choked out a cry of pain and tried to turn from her, but one of her hands went up to my shoulder and stopped me. The other didn’t leave my bandaged arm.

“Trent . . . what . . . what is this? Are you—are you bleeding? You said they didn’t hurt you!”

“I’m fine, we need to go.”

“No!” she cried, and the tears that had been threatening earlier began falling down her cheeks. “No, you can’t be hurt, tell me what happened! Why would you lie to me?”

“It just grazed me, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine!” she hissed and pulled her hand away from me to inspect it in the dark. “You wouldn’t be bleeding through whatever this is on your arm if it just grazed—” She broke off, and a muffled cry came from where her clean hand was covering most of her face. “Trent . . .” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I told you, I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

Before she could stop me, I bent and gritted my teeth through the pain as I shoved the workout machine away from the door. More blood flowed past the bandage, and Rachel’s hand slipped down my arm when she grabbed at it.

“Trent, stop!”

“I’m all right, but we need to get out of here, we need to stay quiet. Okay?” When she didn’t say anything, I grabbed her bloodied hand, and squeezed it once. “I’m going to be fine, Rachel, I swear to you.”

She nodded, and I turned quickly away from her. I hated lying to her, everything about it was wrong. I knew if we could get out of here and find a hospital, I would live and have no problems from the gunshot wound. But while I knew I would go down fighting to make sure she escaped, I didn’t believe for one second that the guys would let me live. If by some miracle we both got out, I would be arrested as soon as I got her to safety. Once I was in prison with Romero and the others, my life would be over. They would already know what I’d done to the rest of the crew; it would all just be a matter of how and when they killed me.

Opening the door, I held up my rifle, my arms so weak I could barely keep it out in front of me. “Stay behind me, Rachel,” I whispered over my shoulder.

I stepped out with Rachel clutching my shirt, and began making my way toward the entrance of the underground building. We made it past the kitchen and the room I’d spent over a month in with Rachel, and had barely gone another dozen feet when the eerie feeling of being watched washed over me.

I stopped and listened for a few seconds before continuing forward—but the closer we got to the door that led upstairs, the worse the feeling got. It was too quiet, even with five of the guys dead. Something was wrong; they wouldn’t have let us come out of both rooms without bombarding us. The guys weren’t calculating enough to be stealthy and to wait for you to come to them. They were impatient and wanted nothing more than to get what they want. Granted, they would have waited for us to come out of the rooms, but they wouldn’t have stayed hidden like this.

The entrance that led upstairs came into view in the dark hallway, but I immediately stopped advancing and drew Rachel back instead.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s too quiet, it’s not right. They have to be waiting outside that door.” I turned to face her and waited, listening for any other noise. My quieted breaths and her hushed sniffling were all that filled the space around us before I spoke directly in her ear so my voice wouldn’t travel down the hall. “There were thirteen of us here, that leaves seven after the five I took out, and myself.”

“Is there another way out of here?” she whispered back, and I shook my head.

“Not out of the underground part. Once we’re on the main floor there are three ways to get in, but they’re worried about the door right behind me. Not the others. Stay here, Rachel.”

I stepped back, and her panicked voice filled the hall. “What are you going to do?”

Grabbing behind her neck, I pulled her close again. “If they’re all waiting outside that door to ambush us, I’m not willing to have you in the middle of that. Stay close to the door, but don’t follow me out until I come back for you.”

“Trent—”

“If someone ends up being down here with you, just scream. I’ll be back for you.”

She was quiet for so long, I thought she wouldn’t answer. Just as I started to pull back, she nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

A deep ache filled my chest, knowing this would most likely be the last time I saw this brave, and frustratingly stubborn girl. Grabbing the back of her neck, I captured her mouth with mine . . . but this time, I didn’t pull away immediately. She met my kiss easily, and I almost groaned when my tongue met hers.

I could have stayed there with her forever. But I knew we didn’t have much time. Reluctantly, I broke off the kiss, and pressed my forehead to hers as I whispered, “Rachel, I know you’re not mine to take, and I know I’ll never hold a part of your heart the way he does . . . but thank you for giving me a little taste of what loving you would be like.”

A choked cry left her, and one of her hands, which had been resting against my chest, covered her mouth as she gathered herself. Her voice was so soft, I could barely hear her next question. “Why are you acting like this is good-bye?”

Because it is.

Taking a step back, I pulled the rifle up and kept my eyes on her face as long as possible as I said, “Stay.”

“Freeze,” a low voice ordered, and I felt the muzzle of a gun press up against the back of my head. My hands released the rifle so it was hanging in front of my torso, and I raised my hands in the air. Counting down the seconds before I could go for my guns waiting in the shoulder holster, I looked at Rachel’s shock-frozen body and silently vowed to fight to keep her safe until I stopped breathing.

“No.” Rachel’s horrified whisper reached my ears at the same time I saw a large, tattooed arm wrap around her chest. “No!”

17

Kash

MASON AND I FINISHED ZIP-TYING numbers six and seven, and made sure they wouldn’t be waking up for some time before we silently made our way back down the stairs. After thirteen hours at the department, Mason and I had rushed back to the building and wasted no time in coming in to find Rachel. The bad feeling I’d had the night before had only increased, and with each member of Juarez’s gang we came upon, I knew I was getting closer and closer to my girl. Capturing the first seven members had been easier than expected. None had heard us approach them; they hadn’t even been expecting us. It was almost like they weren’t worried about anyone getting in the building . . . they were making sure someone didn’t get out. I knew who that someone was, and I was about to get her back. Putting my ear up against the door at the bottom of the stairs, I counted to ten, and when no sounds could be heard from the other side, I nodded my head at Mase. He opened the door and we hurried through with our guns drawn.

Making our way to the large, metal door where numbers six and seven had been stationed, we repeated the same process and opened the door. There was an old mattress pushed to the back wall. Other than that, it was empty.

We retreated out of the room and walked down the hall, clearing rooms and a kitchen. I heard a low snap and looked over to Mason. He was pointing down at the floor, and for the briefest of seconds, he flipped on the light that was mounted onto his firearm.