Chapter Six
Silence.
Nothing but her words hanging in the thick air, the odd cricket kicking up a tune as Buck stared at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. He glanced at Dalton, then back to her, hints of red creeping up his cheeks.
Tierney braced for the worst. The guarded stares, the carefully chosen words that clearly suggested she’d lost her mind without actually calling her crazy. That somewhere between heading out this morning and running for her life, she’d lost her grip on reality. Had fully succumbed to the darkness staining her soul like old blood
Buck stepped closer, took her hand in his. “Guy’s dead. I don’t care how long it takes me to track his ass down, but I won’t stop until he’s a memory you can bury.”
She stilled. Had he really just implied he believed her? No asking if she’d imagined it. If the fatigue and stress had gotten to her. Just a promise that he wouldn’t let her down. Wouldn’t stop until she was safe. She opened her mouth to check, but nothing came out.
Buck cupped her jaw, wiping away more tears. “I recognize the look, and no, you’re not crazy. And you’re not broken. You’re a survivor, and the sharpest person I know. If you think that voice is the guy who held you captive, that’s enough for me.”
Dalton shifted closer. “Take it from someone who’s been there. Some memories hit harder than others. Smell. Touch. Sound. Most of my time inside that compound’s a blur. But the stench of the men? The feel of that scratchy mattress. How they rang that fucking bell every morning?” He rolled his shoulders. “Those never go away. We’ll find this guy. That’s a promise.”
Buck motioned toward the exit. “If going inside is too much, I’ll have the others come out here. But if you think you can tell them even a bit about this asshole, it might help break this thing wide open.”
She glanced at the door, remembering the feel of the walls closing in, the guy’s voice echoing in the air before drawing herself up, walking forward. Her heart thrashed, a wash of panic prickling her skin until Buck pressed his palm to the small of her back, giving her a physical anchor as she stepped inside.
A blast of ozone with a hint of lemon citrus filled the air, the room seemingly twice as small as it was before.
Nick sighed when they walked back in, spearing his fingers through his hair before stepping toward her. “I’m sorry, Tierney. I never should have pushed.”
She stopped a safe distance away, wrapping her arms around her chest. “It wasn’t you.”
Bodie shouldered up beside Nick. “It’s been a long day. You two must be exhausted. We can pick this up again in the morning.”
“No, I…” She glanced up at Buck, then back at his teammates, ending on Sloane. “Sloane? Can you please play that clip one more time.”
Sloane nodded, hitting the keyboard. The audio sounded over the speakers, the guy’s voice chilling Tierney to the bone.
Buck leaned closer, brushing his lips across the shell of her ear. “Still, right here.”
She nodded, way too fast, but he didn’t call her out. She sucked in a breath, then another, trying to find the words when anything other than screaming seemed impossible.
Nick eased forward. “You recognize the voice, don’t you.”
It wasn’t really a question, more of a realization.
She shifted until her side pressed against Buck’s, the sheer strength of him quieting some of the voices still shouting in her head. “From the compound in Colombia where I was held. He was one of the men in charge.”
“Shit.” Nick scrubbed his hand down his face. “Do you know who he is?”
Memories flashed in her head. The orange glow of the lighter flame illuminating a hard jawline. The snick-clink of the matte-black Zippo sounding in the dark. The smell of cheap antiseptic and rich tobacco laced over the coppery tang of her own blood.
She clenched her jaw, fighting to hold Nick’s gaze. “They always stayed in the shadows. I only saw silhouettes and glimpses of them. Nothing concrete.”
“If we found photos, would that help?”
“Maybe.” Her shoulders drooped as she pushed out a harsh breath. “I was kept in a cellar. Isolated from the rest of the compound. If that storm hadn’t knocked out the power that night…”
She never would have escaped. Would have been sold and transported god knew where.
Nick shook his head. “It wasn’t the storm or luck that saved you, Tierney.” He kicked at the floor. “And it sure as hell wasn’t me.”
“Nick, I…” She wanted to say she hadn’t expected anything. That she would have assumed she’d been killed, too, if she’d been in his position. But the lie wouldn’t form on her tongue. Because, realistic or not, she had been waiting for a rescue.
Bodie cleared his throat. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”
