Mia Darien - Good Things

Weakness, however, came in the form of the other small voice in her head wishing they’d never reach their destination, because she’d have to give him up. They were forced to sleep like this because of the tiny single bed in the room. Otherwise, Cain hadn’t touched her again since that kiss. Every so often, she’d catch him watching her with a strangely intent expression. Did he remember? That he was the one who saved her from her captors? She hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had he.

“We docked last night.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrated under her cheek.

“I heard the anchor drop.” Hard to miss the heavy battery of metal on metal as each massive link of the chain attached to the anchor unreeled. After three days of using the boat’s system to communicate, she’d finally been able to tap into a cellular signal. “I’ve alerted Max. They’ll be waiting.”

A soft buzz preceded the lights blinking to life, and she squeezed her eyes closed at the sudden brightness. With a reluctant shove, drawing a grunt from Cain, she sat up. “When all this is over—”

“You’re going to take a shower and put on clean clothes.”

Quinn chuckled because she’d been saying that every day. She’d washed herself at the sink as best she could, washed her undies too. However, that didn’t help much. They were both rank, and her hair was a greasy mop pulled back in a ponytail. No wonder Cain hadn’t wanted to touch her.

“No. I’d like to—”

The lock to their door clicked, and she let her words fall away. Rather than breakfast being slid in on the floor, however, the door was opened wide and four men stood in the corridor, each with a pistol trained on her and Cain.

The shortest of the bunch waved his gun at them, indicating the far wall. In Sumerian, he said, “Hands on the wall.”

She caught Cain’s glance as she turned. “He said to put our hands on the wall.”

Like before, when they were put on the boat, they had their wrists strapped behind their backs and blindfolds roughly tied over their eyes.

As they clomped through the inside corridors of the boat, Max’s message came through.

—In position now.—

—Being led off the boat.—

A distraction for their captors might not be a bad idea. “Is where you’re taking us going to have a bath? We stink.” She used Sumerian to speak with the demons who held them.

“Humans always stink,” one of them spat.

“Right, because smelling of rotten egg is so much better.”

And angry hiss sounded from behind her.

“Might not be a good idea to piss them off.” Cain’s rebuke was conversational. Not that he’d understood a single word, but the hiss was a decent hint.

“Demons always smell of sulfur to me. Don’t they to you?” she asked in English now.

“The few I’ve run across smell like rotting meat to me. Putrid.”

Finally, they made it outside. A humid breeze feathered across her face, and sunlight penetrated the rag tied over her eyes. The hushed murmur of surf rose in the distance.

“An island?” She pretended to not know where they were. The ground tilted under her feet as they led her down what she assumed was the same gangplank she’d used to board.

—Get down.—

“Cain. Drop!” she yelled as she allowed her body to go limp, doing a great imitation of a potato sack as she rolled to the ground.

The whistle and burst of bullets was drowned out almost instantly by the thunder of an explosion. Heat kissed her back. Then running feet, and someone cut her hands loose. Quinn yanked away her blindfold to see their four escorts on the ground with bullet wounds to each head, the only way to kill one. A series of low buildings were on fire along the docks. Cain, now on his feet, held out a hand to help her up. She stood and threw her arms around Max.

“Hey, we helped too! I’m the one who blew shit up,” Shaw complained.

Sawyer slapped him on the back of the head, but she laughed and hugged the brothers too. “Thanks for coming to our rescue.”

Cain accepted a Beretta from Max. No samurai sword for this rescue, as when he’d saved her, she guessed. He glanced her way. “You stay here with Sawyer.”

“The hell you say!”

He crowded her. “I can’t protect you and lead my team at the same time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who says I need protection?” She looked at Max with raised eyebrows, glad she’d already asked him to bring her a weapon. Reluctance pulled at his mouth, but he pulled out a .357 Magnum.

“We don’t have time for this.” Anger and another emotion—fear maybe?—gave Cain’s words a dark edge. She refused to back down though.

The sounds of screaming pierced the air above the roar of the flames. “Max?” Cain demanded.

Max shook his head. “Radios are down, boss.”

“I can hear them,” Quinn said. “They’ve split up. Two of ours are engaged with four demons at the far side of the complex in some sort of lab. The others are across the island dealing with a larger group.”

She implored Cain with her eyes. “Let me come. I may come in handy.”

He nodded at Max, who placed the gun, grip first, into her outstretched hand. Without hesitation, she checked the chamber, then unloaded four shots into the bodies on the ground with absolute accuracy.

Cain’s jaw could’ve been hewn from granite. “Fine.” He pulled off the tactical vest Max had handed him and passed it over to her. The man had a hero complex, but he was letting her come, so she wouldn’t argue. With efficient motions, she strapped it on over her t-shirt and yoga pants, once again glad the demons had taken her during a workout. She also accepted several mags from Max, tucking them into the vest.

Cain tipped her chin up. “You stay close to me.”

As a unit they moved, silent and swift with weapons at the ready, past the row of burning buildings and into the complex beyond. They entered through a side door, careful to check the corners. “Clear,” each murmured in a low voice.

Moving quickly, they navigated a series of hallways—generic, with cream colored tile, white walls, and white doors every ten feet—when suddenly, Quinn pulled up short. “Wait.”

The network of computers here wasn’t as secure as it could’ve been. The demons had become arrogant and lazy on their own island. She talked to the array of servers, sifting through data. “This way.”

Cain grabbed her arm. “I lead.”

“Do you know where you’re going? Can you see with the security cameras?” If those blue eyes had been lasers, she’d be dead about now. “Because I can.”

He didn’t take long to debate the point. “Go.”

Using the information at her fingertips, Quinn led the team through the buildings. Mostly dark, the only light coming from small windows close to the ceiling—someone must’ve cut the power—the buildings were strangely office like. Or maybe the best comparison was a hospital, with its long corridors shooting off from a hub at the center. “Two around the corner,” she said, as they neared one of the hubs.

Shaw and Sawyer stepped forward, as Max guarded their rear. Cain stayed beside her. “Where?” Shaw whispered.

“Either side of the door, crouched low.”

“Got it.” Sawyer’s face contorted with concentration until, suddenly, the two creatures on the other side of the double doors howled in pain. With speed and precision, Sawyer and Shaw burst through and took out their opponents with two quick pops.

Cain waved her ahead, and she moved around the corner and through the swinging double doors. She glanced down at the demons as she passed and couldn’t help but notice the blackened burn marks both bore on their hands. A demon’s primary weapon was an energy ball they could form at will, then throw at their enemy.