Intimate Strangers Read online

  Tiaan threw his eyes open, waiting for them to focus. Steely-grey irises were staring back at him. “Mac?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” A thick finger touched his throat.

  Checking his pulse, he knew. “What the hell happened?”

  Pain crossed his face. “We need to get you out of the vehicle.”

  Head lolling back to the headrest, Tiaan surveyed his surroundings. He was in the backseat of a vehicle – his rental. The one he got for…

  Chelsea.

  Swinging right, he saw no one next to him. Not even the car seat.

  “Ruan!” he shrieked. “Chelsea!”

  “Ruan’s fine,” Mac assured him as crunch of metal and the sound of a saw splintered the air.

  Panic continued mounting in his chest, the sensation like hundreds of rusty needles pricking at his heart. Mac hadn’t mentioned his soon-to-be wife. “And Chelsea? Jesus, Mac, tell me she’s okay.”

  An eternity passed before Mac finally parted his lips. “Let’s get you outta here first. Then we’ll discuss everything else.”

  “Everything else? Don’t fuck with me, man, where is she?” He recognized this dark feeling threatening to take over his body.

  Tightness in his chest.

  Unable to breathe and when he could, he was hyperventilating.

  Severe nausea.

  Tiaan was in the midst of a full blown panic attack which lasted the entire trip back to Mac’s house.

  Twelve

  It turned out that Tiaan’s fears were completely justified.

  Ire, molten and searing, had joined the blood in his veins as the recording sent to the doorstep no more than an hour ago played inside his head again.

  You have something that belongs to a friend of mine…

  The ‘something,’ he knew, was a file. Tiaan had both a digital and a hard copy. The contents would shock anyone who saw or heard. Reynolds had been attempting to sell nuclear weapons to the enemy for a massive sum.

  …and now I have something of yours.

  Those fucking shit-head bastards had taken Chelsea.

  If you ever want to see her alive again, I suggest you pay very close attention to what I am about to tell you…

  For about the thousandth time since he’d been allowed to leave the hospital – idiot doctors sure there was nothing wrong with his leg which had been trapped in a crushed SUV door for about seven hours – he shoved his hands over his head, paused where his hair swirled, and gripped it near the roots. They wanted a trade, Chelsea for the file and all copies he possessed. If not for Mac, he’d have gone out already to do the swap. Valiant, bloody, son-of-a-bitch Mac. Tiaan’s feet kept moving, sliding over the floor as he paced.

  “Carstens, you’re gonna wear a goddamned hole in my carpet. Sit the fuck down or I’ll make you.”

  Shooting a rage-filled glower in Mac’s direction, Tiaan exhaled through his flared nostrils, silently begging his old friend to give him a reason to pop the man’s skull open.

  “Until Chelsea is back here and safe,” the Vancouver police detective intervened, “I’m with him one hundred percent. If it was my wife out there…” Fowler shook his head. Then he directed his gaze at Tiaan. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now but I assure you, I’m gonna do everything I can to get her back.”

  That’s the problem, he thought with a sigh. Your best just might not be good enough.

  Fowler, a man who Christiaan had gotten to know very well though a background search he performed on the other man a few hours ago, was tall and wiry, with hazel eyes that took in everything surrounding him. He seemed quite proficient at what he did and, Tiaan was especially pleased to read, the man had an exemplary record. However, doing things their way and following procedure wasn’t going to get Chelsea back into his arms any sooner.

  That his sweet, darling Chelsea was being held captive at all made him feel violently ill and the mere thought of Sewell’s hands anywhere on her tamped down on his nausea, causing a violent whirlwind of rage to take over.

  Tiaan resumed pacing – the only thing he was allowed to do at the moment.

  The only thing he could control while that tape played out in his head, stuck on a continuous loop.

  “You have something that belongs to a friend of mine, and now I have something of yours. If you ever want to see her alive again, I suggest you pay very close attention to what I am about to tell you. Bring the file and all copies to the shipping yard on the south side of the harbour. You’ll go to row A, the last green shipping container at the end of the row, overlooking the water. Knock three times, wait, knock twice. Put the files down on the ground, turn around, and walk away. Come alone, unarmed. Failure to comply with these instructions will result in me doing whatever I want with your precious girl. And believe me, Carstens, I’ve got a fucked up taste when it comes to sex. I like my bitches to scream, and I like their fear real.”

  Biting back a slew of derogatory terms to describe the son of a bitch in both English and Afrikaans, Tiaan fisted the material of his shirt resting above his heart, his body wracked with agony for his sweet Chelsea. He couldn’t allow anything to happen to her. He refused to.

  But what the hell was he supposed to do, aside from complying? He knew what he wanted to do – get out there and find her; however, Mac wouldn’t allow it.

  ~~~

  In one arm, Hannah cradled Erik to her left hip. Kayla was curled around her right side, offering her comfort and her support. If not for her step-daughter, Hannah didn’t think she’d be able to stand up straight.

  Her lips trembled and she brought a free hand up to press lightly against them. The action drew Mac’s attention from across the room, his head whipping to locate her. Concern flooded his grey eyes and he nodded, as if to let her know that her emotions were normal for this kind of situation.

  Well, it didn’t feel normal! She wanted to run through the streets of Vancouver, screaming at the top of her lungs for the bastards to release her friend. And if no one responded, she’d move on to the next city, and the next. She wanted to run and scream, and keep running and screaming, until Chelsea was safely returned to them, where she belonged.

  A strangled sob choked at her throat and Tiaan jumped, pausing for just a minute second in his pacing of the room. Hannah wished there was a way to help him in this moment too, but what could she possibly do?

  Then it hit her. The same thing she had done for Mac.

  With shaking hands, Hannah gave Erik to his sister, brushed her fingertips against Kayla’s cheek, and crossed the room to where Christiaan furiously muttered to himself, hands clenching and relaxing, feet marching out an invisible pattern.

  She waited until he came to her on the next round of pacing, and Tiaan stopped in his tracks, confusion etched over worry in his expression. No hesitation. Hannah threw her arms around his shoulders, which were stiff and confounded, and she held him fiercely. “We’ll find her,” she whispered in an emotion-clogged voice.

  What she didn’t expect the man to do was exactly the action he took. Tiaan gripped her fiercely in return and released an anguished sigh into the crook of her neck. She fought back tears and cradled the man to her. Across the room, Mac nodded his thanks and his approval.

  Hours later the others had left and the house had fallen silent. Hannah had just left Tiaan in Chelsea’s room but had taken Ruan with her. In his current state of mind – despondent and desolate – he could hardly be expected to care for a two month old.

  She nearly bumped into her step-daughter who was sneaking down the steps. “Crap, Kayla! Don’t scare me like that.”

  So they wouldn’t wake the men, Hannah ushered Kayla – who was now almost a full inch taller than herself – downstairs and into the kitchen. When she flicked the switch, bathing the room in a dim glow, Hannah noticed the fresh streaks going from Kayla’s eyes to her chin. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She hadn’t even considered how this would affect her. Kayla had finally gotten to a place where she could a
ccept her mother’s passing when Chelsea moved in with them and now she must be feeling like her world was coming down around her all over again.

  “I’m sorry.” Kayla twisted the hem of her t-shirt, wringing the material in both hands. Her eyes glistened, filling up. “I can’t sleep. I just…keep picturing these awful scenarios in my head, like, Ruan’s birthday, and Chelsea isn’t here…” Her lip trembled and her breath caught in her throat. “And, he may not know it, but Christiaan needs her. What’s going to happen if the police don’t find her in time?”

  “Oh, honey.” Hannah wound her free arm around Kayla, bringing the teen’s head to her shoulder. “We shouldn’t think like that – I know it’s hard, believe me. You just want to get out there and find her…and maybe punch those jerks in the face a few times. Maybe even kick them in the nuts.” Kayla giggled through her tears. “But the best thing we can do is what we’re doing right now. Erik needs us. Ruan needs us. And God, does Tiaan ever need us right now. Our strength is what will keep everything and everyone together in the days to come.”

  A swift glance at Kayla’s expression told Hannah that she didn’t believe it, but she wanted to be strong. Hannah knew what it felt like, that helplessness overriding all other emotions, drugging rational thought. It had been something she experienced quite often in the beginning of her relationship with Mac, fearing that she’d be unable to reach him completely, to have all of him. He had surprised her though, one night before Erik was born, by opening up and admitting most of his life to her.

  Her attention was brought back to the present by the hungry little one in her arms, crying for his milk. With a heavy heart, she handed Ruan to Kayla and set to work, warming up some of the breast milk Chelsea had expressed before venturing out with Tiaan the other day. Her thoughts remained on her friend, hoping and praying that she was unharmed and would remain as such until the police located her and brought her to safety.

  ~~~

  Chelsea didn’t know how much time had passed since the moment she was brought into this dank and filthy room, but she did know, at the very least, that Ruan was safe. Somehow, Christiaan managed to keep him away from the psychopath holding her captive, and that was all that mattered to her. He might not know much about babies now, but Hannah and Mac would help. They’d see to it that her baby and Tiaan were alright without her.

  She whimpered, realising that she might never see her son again. Never see his dark eyes lighting up when he looked at her, or the way his lips parted in a wide, toothless grin when he was happy. She’d never hear the squeaky sounds he made when attempting to raise his head during tummy time, or feel the softness of his skin when giving him a bath or a light massage to help him get to sleep.

  The tear slipping down her cheek quickly became icy, even before it reached the corner of her mouth. Wiping her smelly sleeve against her face wasn’t something she wanted to do so Chelsea left the salty droplet to be absorbed slowly by her skin. She’d never see Tiaan again either. So much had gone unspoken between them that night. If only she had just told him exactly what she felt, he’d know. Now, he might go through life wondering, questioning himself.

  At the sound of metal scraping against concrete, Chelsea made certain to do as she had been instructed and remain at the far end of the room. One of the guards slid a tray with a tin cup of water, some vegetable mush – if she was lucky she might even find a bit of meat in it – and some kind of bread that could be better served as a doorstop. At first, she ate hurriedly, frightened that someone might come in and take the food away from her.

  By now though she realized they wanted her alive for some reason and Chelsea took her time, savouring the horrid slop while looking at her surroundings. Her cell consisted of a small, filthy, and exceptionally dark room which, by her count, was ten steps by twelve steps in her size eight bare feet. Three of the walls were concrete and one at the front had a heavy metal door, and the rest of the wall was the same hard and damp concrete as the others.

  A man’s voice barking orders carried to her little stone room with the steel door she had almost torn her fingernails off attempting to escape through. It belonged to that horrible man, the one who eyed her with unrestrained want. She swallowed down the bile that was currently rising to her mouth. The thought of his hands anywhere on her made her feel violently ill. If it came down to it, she’d rather end her own life than allow the bastard to even attempt to have his way with her.

  When she heard the clink of a key entering the lock, Chelsea set the rest of her uneaten meal on the tray and braced herself. The door swung open again to reveal the darkened form of the very man she feared the most. His expression intimidating, he entered the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The entire time, his eyes flicked over her body. Had it been Tiaan looking at her like this, Chelsea wouldn’t fear him or what he had planned with her.

  Nostrils flared in ire, lips curled downwards menacingly, he stalked the floor in front of where she sat with his hands on his hips. Finally, he spoke directly to her for the first time since she was brought to this hell hole.

  “I saw you, y’know.” The man stopped in front of her. “On your goddamned knees in the forest, letting that piece of shit traitor fuck your pretty little mouth.”

  Instinctively, she raised a quivering hand to cover her lips. This man had been spying on their intimate encounter! Her stomach roiled at what she knew was going to happen next. She shut her eyes and sent up a prayer, hoping that someone was listening.

  “Since you give it away so freely, I’ll take exactly what you gave him.” Even as he spoke, the sound of his zipper being pulled down thundered through the room. Then the man grabbed her hair close to the roots, pulling it hard. She shrieked in pain. “And if you even think about biting me, I’ll use you in ways that’ll make you wish you were dead first. I’ll record it, and I’ll show Carstens all of it, before I kill him with my bare fuckin’ hands.”

  His knuckles cracked across her jaw, winning another cry from her.

  I wish I was dead, Chelsea thought, hitting the floor with a thud. Please, God. Kill me now.

  A pair of hands pulled her upright and into an all too familiar position.

  It seemed God wasn’t listening.

  “Stay with me tonight,” Tiaan’s voice echoed in her mind.

  Those were the words he had spoken to her, mere moments after the lights came back on in the elevator.

  “Stay with me…please.”

  Chelsea shut her mind off from her body and imagined that she was back in the hotel with Christiaan.

  Twelve

  The same group who worked together to rescue Christiaan nearly twelve months ago was assembling again. Mike Evans, whose nickname in the SEALs was ‘Wordy’ – the moniker coming from the lack of conversation he held, unless it was about something important – spread a map out on the table in the center of the room. Using a black marker, he began marking with an x all the places they knew Chelsea wasn’t being held. Blitz, otherwise known as Will Stanley, aptly named for his love of flash-and-fire scenarios, conferred with Roger – another nickname, his real name was Steve Mason – went over the communications intel that he had gathered over the past twenty-four hours.

  Just as Wordy was halfway through drawing a circle around the docking area across the harbour, Tiaan shot out his arm to stop him, offering only a shake of his head as an explanation. Everyone turned to Mac; they used to call him Commander. He wasn’t actually their commanding officer, but their equal. They looked to him for guidance, sought his advice and approval often. Now was just another one of those times.

  “She wouldn’t be there,” Mac spoke for Tiaan. “They’d never keep her where they were planning on doing the drop.”

  “If you weren’t from Vancouver,” Wordy spoke, “where would you plan your base of operations for a stunt like this?”

  Mac had to hand it to the man. Wordy knew how to get one’s mind on the right track. “If you weren’t from here, you’d plan to have it as close
to your enemy as possible. That way, they’d never see you coming, and they’d assume you’d be too stupid to stay close.”

  Tiaan’s head whipped back to the map and he hunched over it, mumbling to himself in Afrikaans.

  “So we’re currently on Mallory Court?”

  Mack nodded to Roger. Then it hit him. “Baden Powell Trail,” he announced gruffly. Wordy brought a finger north as he located the long hiking trail. “I remember Hannah telling me about a few bunkers that were built in the nineteen-forties. Most of them are still hidden in the trees.”

  “Then that’s where he’d be.” Wordy nodded to Roger who did his thing with the rest of the team.

  The only one of the five men present who was silent then, aside from himself, was Tiaan. Mac had a fairly clear idea of where the other man’s head was at the moment. He had experienced something similar during the two weeks he spent in a cabin in Washington State when he met Hannah and returned to perform an act he didn’t want to, simply to ensure her continued survival. He had planned to live out his days, alone and unhappy – with Kayla, of course – at his home in Southern Oregon, but his daughter had other ideas. Thankfully, he listened, and acted, otherwise he’d never be married to such a fabulous woman nor would he know about his son.

  “So we’re clear then?”

  Mac snapped his attention in Wordy’s direction.

  “Here.” Wordy pointed to a small section of forest with two entrances to a known bunker with underground tunnels. “Our best bet.”

  “Where are you going with all that?”

  Hanna’s voice stunned the group into silence. Mac glanced at Tiaan, knowing full well he was mirroring the pain in his friend’s eyes. “We’re going to get Chelsea,” he told his wife, voice wavering despite his best efforts. “Detective Fowler can only do so much on his end so we’re going to do what needs to be done on ours.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Mac growled, turned on his heels, and grabbed Hannah’s shoulders. “Like hell you are! Erik needs his mother, and if something should happen–”