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CHAPTER NINETEEN
FINN WANTED TO open his eyes, but they wouldn’t obey. Was he dreaming? Stuck in a dream where he couldn’t wake up. A shiver ran through him. It was cold. The floor was hard and bone-chilling beneath him. Concrete, by the feel of it. Clearly not in his nice, snug, swag tangled up with Indy’s warm body, then. So where was he? Rolling from his front onto his side took a great effort, but he managed it, wincing as the cold floor hit his naked skin. Why was he naked? Well, nearly naked, he was still wearing boxer shorts. And what was going on with his arms? It took him a few seconds to realize they were tied behind his back. An experimental shuffle of his feet told him his ankles were tied, as well.
“Finn, are you awake? Oh, God, please say you’re awake.” That was Indy. What was she doing here? Was he still dreaming? He forced his eyelids to open this time, but groaned, as a bright light hit his eyes and pain shot through his temple until he shut them again with a snap.
“Finn, please.” The barely restrained terror in Indy’s plea plucked at his soul.
“Indy?” He croaked.
“I’m over here,” she replied.
Where was here? He lifted his head a few inches and cracked open his eyelids again. It took him a few seconds to focus, his head was pounding so hard, he could hardly concentrate. They were in some sort of square room, with a concrete floor, and blank walls, a single wooden door, the only light coming fromthe window up high. A shaft of late afternoon sunlight beamed in through the window, hitting him almost directly in the face. Indy was propped up in one dim corner, her hands and feet also tied; her face an indistinct, pale oval in the gloom.
“Are you okay?” He needed to get over to her. With a heave, he rolled back onto his stomach, and then over again, a bit like a tumbling caterpillar. Every movement caused a sharp pain, like a knitting needle being rammed through his eye, but he found that if he kept his movements slow and controlled, it wasn’t so bad. At last, he rolled once more and came to rest against Indy’s thigh.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, tilting his head back so he could look in her face. It was tear streaked and the left-hand side was bruised, her lip cut and swollen, her eye bright red, and puffy. Her hair was half out of its ponytail, sticks and leaves matted into the strands, as if she’d tumbled on the ground. What the hell had happened to her? “Shit. What have they done to you?” He tried to sit up, but it was a vain effort, and he had to lie still for many moments before the pain level in his head subsided once more.
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “At least we’re both still alive. I think they drugged you. You’ve been asleep for a long time. It’s nearly dark now, and I’ve been trying to wake you for hours. You can worry all you like about my injuries later. Right now, we need to get out of here. Before they come back.”
“Before who comes back?” he asked groggily. Drugging him would account for the cotton wool still clouding his brain, and the weakness in his limbs.
“You don’t remember?” Why did she suddenly sound so unsure? “Somebody hit you. Don’t you remember who it was?”
“No.” He went to shake his head and stopped just in time before another needle spiked through his brain. Wait… A memory came back, sharp and clear as crystal. Garrett callinghis name, right before he was knocked unconscious. “Garrett,” he whispered.
“Yes,” Indy confirmed.
“But why…?”
“I don’t know. But he seems to be holding a grudge against you.”
That might be putting it mildly. If his team succeeded in bringing down this drug ring, and Garrett was involved—which it seemed highly likely he was—it’d put an end to his lucrative business; at the very least, put a large dent in his career as a drug smuggler. And then there was that look on Garrett’s face as he’d walked away the day he’d come to visit Kayleigh. Perhaps if Garrett was holding a grudge, Finn brushing him aside like that certainly hadn’t helped. It took his bruised mind a few moments to catch up.
“Wait, so you’ve met Garrett?
“You could say that, yes.” Her lips tightened into a firm line of disapproval. And something else he couldn’t quite fathom.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you. I was going to tell you. But it’s…complicated.”
“So I gather,” she replied smoothly. “Time for all that later.”
“Agreed.” He groaned and tried to sit up again, this time using the wall, slowly shuffling until he was upright next to Indy. “I can’t believe I dragged you into this. There aren’t enough words for my apology.”
“I know.” Her mouth lost its twisted grimace and softened as she turned her head to look at him. “Again, there’ll be time for that later, Finn.” Now he was level with her, he got a good look at her face, and he winced. Someone had hit her. More than once, by the looks of it. If he found out Garrett had harmed her, he wouldneverforgive his brother. “I’ve got some more interesting news. Swampy was driving the vehicle that transported us here,” she said.
Finn blew out a long breath. “Wow. Mike won’t be happy when he hears he missed that one.”
“Yeah, I’ve had a bit of time to think it over in my head. He played the part pretty well,” Indy agreed. “Pretending to warn us about his missing mate, Wombat, when really he must’ve known what was going on all along. It’s no wonder he was in such a hurry to get out of the camp once the police arrived.”
“Yep,” Finn mused. “But Brian told us it was Ronaldo who murdered Wombat. I’m not sure how Swampy fits in. Maybe he’s just a driver, nothing more. Maybe it was sheer luck he wasn’t transporting drugs that day and his truck was clean. Or maybe he was there to keep an eye on Wombat. Who knows?”
“I’ve considered all that, and more,” Indy consented dryly. “But my gut tells me he’s a whole lot more involved than just as a simple driver.”
They stared at each other for many silent seconds, digesting their predicament.
“How’s your head?” she asked, a tiny frown creasing her brow as she seemed to remember he’d received a head knock. “You might have a concussion.”
More than likely, but she didn’t need to know that. A little concussion wasn’t going to stop him from trying to escape. “I’ve got a headache,” he admitted. “But I’ll live.” If she could ignore her injuries, then so could he. It was time to change the subject and work on getting out of here. “Any idea where we are?” he asked without much hope.
