Bounty

Chapter 6

My eyes flew open. Brodie and I were entangled. Our limbs were woven together, and he was not suffering from the closeness. He was half asleep, as well, and reacting to my touch.

"Brodie," I said. I tried to move away, but I couldn't budge him.

"Mmmm."

"No, don't Mmmm. Brodie!" I hissed.

Brodie's eyes opened. He took stock of the situation and flew back as far as the small tent would allow, as if he had been electrocuted. It was the first time I saw him disconcerted.

"We don't have much time," he said, looking at his watch. "Quick breakfast, and we're on the road. Right?"

He clapped his hands together and got busy. He took down the tent and de-camped, allowing me to get ready in relative privacy.

Within minutes, we were back on the road. This time, however, we were definitely going toward something. Little huts appeared sporadically at the side of the road, and there were more cars and people.

After a couple of hours, I could see a town in the distance. My heart pumped, and my mind raced. I was ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

The town turned out to be one paved street with one- or two-story buildings, surrounded by open markets and a small house, here and there. I kept my eyes peeled for a police station. The town was small, but I was sure they would have some kind of law enforcement, and that could be my ticket to freedom.

We drove down the street past a few shops and stopped in front of a one-story stucco building. "Very Good Restaurant" was written on a hand-painted sign in front. I hoped it wasn't lying. I was starving.

The lunch crowd was crammed inside. Through the window, I could see at least fifty people sitting at tables. I planned on ordering and then announcing to everyone that I was being kidnapped. Surely there had to be one Good Samaritan in the crowd.

Brodie parked, let me out and pinned me to the car door. He faced me down, his expression homicidal.

"You're on your best behavior," he said. His voice was so quiet that I strained to hear him, but the message was clear. "I don't mind bringing Gurzhikhanov a bride with shot out kneecaps. The pay is still the same, kneecaps or no. Besides, Princess, no one is going to help you in there."

I pulled my foot back and gave him a kick in the shins with all my strength. It was going to leave a bruise, all right. Brodie flinched and closed his eyes for a moment but didn't say anything. I didn't say anything, either. Enough said. It was time for action.

Brodie let me up, and we entered the restaurant. It was packed with middle-aged men, intent on their lunches. Brodie ushered me to a table in the back where Jake Logan, Brodie's lieutenant, was sitting. He rose when he saw us. Brodie and Logan shook hands and shared a greeting. Then Logan turned his attention to me.

"Good afternoon, Miss Williams. I must say you do look lovely, a sight for sore eyes. No one would guess that you have gone through such an arduous journey."

He smiled. His teeth were blaringly white. His blue eyes twinkled. He didn't have a hair out of place. He took my hand, kissed it gently, and pulled out a chair for me. He was the picture of gallantry, but he wasn't there to save me. That much was clear. This was a planned meeting between Brodie and him.

I was screwed.

Logan continued to do his best to charm me. If it weren't for the fact that he was obviously aiding and abetting Brodie in kidnapping me, I would have sworn that he had stepped out of a Jane Austen novel with the sole purpose of courting me and making my life perfect.

I was livid. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. How dare he stand by and let this happen? I sat across from him with Brodie at my side.

"I hear the pizza is very good," Logan said, his attention on me, his smile never wavering.

I gurgled something incoherent and blushed. How humiliating. I could feel my whole face go up in flames. I was probably beet red.

I sputtered and coughed and tried to focus. "Mr. Logan, Mr. Brodie is kidnapping me," I finally managed.

"Is that right?" Logan asked. He flashed a look at Brodie followed by a wink at me.

"It is right," I said, my voice rising. Brodie lightly touched my hand, and I quieted down. "Mr. Brodie has drugged me, kidnapped me, and is selling me to a Chechen warlord."

"That is dramatic," Logan said.

"Miss Williams," Brodie said. "Logan is already apprised of the situation."

I wagged my finger at Brodie. "You told me you were doing this alone," I said. "You told me you wanted nothing more to do with Montou. He was a politician, you said. You're the big shot mercenary who is getting a lot of money from the Chechen guy. That's what you said."

"Dear me, Brodie," Logan said. "Usually you're so shy and retiring. I guess Miss Williams brings out the conversationalist in you."

The silence that followed was deafening. A dangerous current passed between them. Finally, Logan spoke again. This time he was all business. I was forgotten, his focus only on Brodie.

"We seem to have a bit of a problem, mate," he said to him. "You know a fellow by the name of Taylor?"

"Jamie Taylor, Tory, House of Commons, weapons appropriations. What about him?" Brodie asked.

"Dead. Murdered. And the word on the street is that you killed him. Left your weapon next to his corpse with your fingerprints on it. That was convenient of you."

Brodie took the news like Logan had told him about the weather. His face registered no reaction. I didn't know if it was good news or bad news, but I assumed that being suspected of murder of a parliamentarian was not like winning the lottery. I had no doubts that Brodie had killed before and would happily kill again, but I didn't think he would leave his fingerprints behind on a murder weapon.

The plot thickened, but I didn't give a damn. It wasn't my plot. My plot was heading to Chechnya, and I needed to veer off as soon as possible.

The waiter came over, and Brodie ordered pizzas for all three of us.

"No, I want a hamburger," I told the waiter.

"No, she'll have the pizza," Brodie said.

"No, I'll have the hamburger," I said, a little louder.

"Pizza."

I stood up. "I want a hamburger!" The waiter walked away, and the restaurant paid no attention to me.

"Princess," Brodie said and touched my knee in warning. I sat back down. I had grown attached to my kneecaps, and I wanted to keep them.

"I'll contact Gairloch," Brodie told Logan. I was forgotten again, and they were back to the murder in England.

"I don't think so, mate," Logan said. "Gairloch is on the committee to find you. You've made a big splash. Politicians are taking a lot of heat. Wonderboy of British intelligence gone bad and all that. First a mercenary, now high-level internal assassinations. Shame on you, Iain. This is going to make and break a lot of careers. Possibly a change of prime minister. Didn't think you were that important, huh?"

Brodie wasn't fazed. "I didn't know I was that important to frame."

"I was thinking that maybe Montou is pissed off," Logan said, glancing over at me. "But it's not his style."

He left it off as a question. If Montou wasn't the enemy in question, Logan was asking, who was? Who would hate Brodie enough to frame him for murder? Ha, that should be easy, I thought. Just follow the trail of kneecaps, and you're sure to find someone who hated Brodie.

"This will have to wait until I have more time," said Brodie. "Nothing changes for now. But keep your ears open to the wind. s**t, I'm starved."

"Oh, look. A bathroom," I said. "I would love to use a real toilet and clean up a bit."

The two men flinched, as if they had forgotten that I was there or had the ability to speak.

"Too many people," Brodie said. "I won't be able to go in and supervise."

"Funnily enough, I was planning on doing it all on my own," I said.

"Let her go, Iain. Where's she going to run off to?" It was the first time I heard anyone order Brodie to do anything. By the look of his clenched jaw and his furrowed brow, he wasn't used to it, either, certainly not by his subordinate.

"You have ninety seconds," Brodie informed me. "And then I come in after you."

I hopped up out of my seat and sprinted to the bathroom. I nearly cried when I saw the piddly little window high up the wall near the one-toilet stall.

This was my chance at escape, but how on earth was I going to get through that window?

Why had I skipped all those cardio classes? When Sarah from advertising asked me to join her at the six-week boot camp program, why did I say no? Instead of doing push-ups with the upper echelon of Manhattan, I stayed home, watched Law & Order reruns and ate Fritos. Now, I was completely incapable of scaling a bathroom wall, and no way was I going to fit through the window.

What the hell.

I had to give it a try anyway. I climbed onto the sink. I stood, teetering, on the edge. As soon I got my balance, I jumped to the window and grabbed onto the windowsill.

I made it. It was a miracle. I was Mission Impossible material. I was James Bond with highlights.

I was congratulating myself on my physical prowess when I lost my grip and fell to the ground, bruising my knee.

I didn't care about my injuries. Time was a-wasting. I knew I had time for one more attempt before Brodie would come to find me. I climbed up on the sink again. It was easier the second time. I stood at the very edge and jumped with all my strength. I flew through the air and succeeded in grabbing onto the windowsill again. I got a better grip this time and was able to do a swinging maneuver to help me pull myself up until I could crawl through the window.

I scrabbled through quickly. Freedom was on the other side, and nothing could stop me from reaching it.

But halfway through, my hips got stuck. I was wedged firmly in the window. I pushed and pulled but couldn't move any further.

"This can't be happening," I said. I did everything I could. I pushed. I pulled. I tried turning my body around. I held my breath. I sucked in my stomach.

It was too late.

I was stuck, and I didn't need to turn around to know that the steely hand around my leg was Brodie's. With one tug, he pulled me free, and I fell down into his arms.

"Would you believe I was just getting some fresh air?" I asked. Brodie held me tighter.

"Princess," he said.

"Are you going to shoot me in the kneecaps?" I sniffed. Something in the bathroom must have irritated my eyes because they were watering pretty good.

"You are in luck, Princess," he said. "It was so enjoyable to see your fine, fat bum wedged in that window that I'm not going to shoot out your kneecaps. I'll even let you relieve yourself before you go back out there and eat your pizza."

He let me down gently. I dabbed at my eyes with the hem of my shirt. "I wanted a hamburger."

"If you ate a hamburger from this place, you would be begging me to shoot you. Have to be mad to eat meat from here. Pure poison. Pizza is safer."

"Oh." I thought he was being bossy, but he was really saving me from salmonella. There he went again, doing an almost thoughtful thing, like he did with the shower. Perhaps he wasn't that bad after all.

And then it hit me. "Hey, what do you mean, my fat bum?"

Logan rode with us in the Range Rover. No one spoke during the ride. There was no more discussion about the dead politician in London and Brodie's smoking gun. Nobody said a word about me, either.

The air was thick with the finality of my situation. Wherever I was going, I was almost there. I couldn't fit through the window, and I couldn't convince my captors to set me free.

"Dead man walking," I said out loud to no one in particular. They didn't comment. What was left to say? It was the truth. I was a goner.

We arrived at a small airstrip a few miles out of town, and Brodie drove up to a black helicopter. It was there for us, and we got on board with our belongings.

"I've never been on a helicopter before," I said.

"See that," said Logan. "It's not all bad. You got a chance to try something new. It's your lucky day."

"I hope I get airsick and throw up on you, Logan."

I didn't get airsick. We flew for about twenty minutes and landed at a much larger airstrip. This time, a big transport plane was waiting for us.

"Good luck to you, Miss Williams," Logan said.

"You're not coming?"

"No, I'm going my own way, but Iain will take care of you."

I clutched onto Logan's shirt. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. This can't be it. I can't really be going anywhere. I can't do this. Don't you understand? I can't do this!"

"You'll be fine," he said.

He worked to peel my hands off his shirt, but I grabbed more material. I was not about to say goodbye to him and get on the plane. A primal instinct took over, and I lunged for Logan. I leapt into midair and landed on him, wrapping my limbs around his waist, holding on for dear life.

Logan swayed a bit on impact, but he managed to stay upright.

"I will not go on the plane. I will crush you with the power of my limbs," I announced. What was I saying? I was going crazy and powerless to stop myself. "Now take me home, or I will be forced to do you harm," I continued, my voice doing its best Darth Vader impression. I gave Logan a squeeze to show him that I meant business.

Logan shook with laughter. My escape attempt was giving him fits.

"Get down, Princess." Brodie put his hands on my waist and tugged, but I held on. Meanwhile, Logan was giggling loudly. "It won't do any good," Brodie said. "You must let go of Jake."

I didn't listen. Nothing was going to make me let go.

"You give me no choice, Princess."

I heard a crackle. My limbs locked, stiff as boards, and I fell to the ground. "You Tased me, bro," I said and passed out.

We were already in the air when I woke. I lay on a bench in the plane, my head nestled on Brodie's lap. A parka covered me, which was good because it was cold. It wasn't a passenger flight. Brodie and I were the only passengers, as far as I could tell. Instead, we shared the plane with crates and boxes, and they didn't pipe in the heat for cargo.

"You can go back to sleep. We won't be there for another four hours or so," Brodie told me.

"My head hurts."

"Go back to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."

"Is this really it? Are you really going through with it?" I asked.

"A job's a job, Princess."

"But-"

"The sooner you accept it, the sooner it will be better for you. We all have to accept the hand we're dealt."

It was a harsh reality, and a foreign one. I had thrown away the hands I was dealt and built a new life. If I had accepted my so-called fate, I would have spent my college years in a commune, planting wheat grass.

Despite his words, Brodie's presence comforted me. He was so strong and capable. My head rested in his lap, and his arm draped over my body. I didn't want to move. I hoped the plane trip would last forever. We were a strange couple-kidnapper and kidnapped. But we were more similar than not. I theorized that Brodie didn't accept his cards any more than I accepted mine.

"This is it." The back of the plane opened, and Brodie pulled me toward a waiting Humvee. He handed me a pill. "Take this," he said.

"What is it?"

"It's Valium. Take it. It will help." I held it in the palm of my hand.

"How do I know it's Valium?"

We rode in the back of the Humvee. A Chechen driver and his machine-gun toting escort were in the front. We made our way through the streets or what was left of them. Chechnya made Simoros look like Disneyland. Buildings were half destroyed. Infrastructure was bombed beyond recognition.

"My God," I whispered.

"Yes, quite," Brodie said. "Take the pill." He took the pill from my hand and gently pushed it past my lips. After I swallowed, he took my hand in his and stroked my palm.

A group of armed Chechen fighters stopped the Humvee. They waved their Kalashnikovs and shouted things I couldn't understand. Brodie got out and pulled me toward him. He held up my hand and yelled, "Nashkha!"

A cheer erupted from the crowd, and they came for me. "Bye, Princess," Brodie said. "Good luck." And that was the last I saw of him. The group swept me away into the shell of a building.

I looked back desperately for Brodie. He was my kidnapper, but he was familiar, and I needed something to calm me. I couldn't see anything beyond the mob, and I couldn't hear anything besides the cheers of "Nashkha! Nashkha!" It got louder, as more people joined the crowd.

Just as quickly as they erupted in cheers, the crowd became eerily silent. They parted, giving me a view of an ancient looking man, who was walking toward me. Old, grizzled, stooped over, dirty with rotten teeth. Surely, with my luck, this had to be the man I was doomed to marry.