Saving Emmy by Rayne Lewis
Chapter 30
Blistering pain came from Ember’s temple and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Opening her eyes, she saw blackness. Nothing. Not a sliver of light. She checked her faculties, mentally running a checklist, ignoring the throbbing radiating from within her head. She was lying on her side and felt like throwing up. Concussion? Anxiety consumed her. She tried to suck in a breath but couldn’t.
She worked her jaw. Fuck! Her mouth was taped shut. She inhaled through her nose and a putrid stench hit her. She felt the bile rise in her throat and tried to swallow it down, but instinct won out. With nowhere else to go, the vomit shot from her nostrils. She instantly gagged and choked.
Panic overtook her and she flailed, but her hands were bound, zip-tied behind her back. Whoever tied her was not gracious. The plastic bit into her flesh, zipped so tight her hands were numb. The sensation of choking on bile burned her lungs and throat. Her eyes watered profusely. Her cries, muffled by the tape, were of no use and she strained to see anything she could in the pitch blackness.
Control yourself.Soldier mode kicked in.
First, she had to control her breathing or she’d pass out. As best she could, she inhaled deeply through her nose, then blew out as hard as she could, clearing any remains of vomit. She sucked in another breath, this one deeper than the last, and got the much needed air into her lungs. It was difficult, but she controlled her heart rate, something that was usually second nature to her. She tried to take in her surroundings again. The coolness of metal pressed against her cheek. Only the sound of silence filled her ears. Concentrate. Still, nothing. No distant sounds, nothing familiar. Nothing. That’s what she heard. Nothing.
She rolled to her back, her hands digging into her spine, and lifted her knees as high as she could to her chest. She pulled her shoulder blades together and pushed her bound hands below her butt and wiggled each cheek over her wrists. She pulled and strained, hoping the plastic ties would give and break under the pressure, but it only made the skin of her wrists tear. She gritted her teeth. The burn was tolerable and the wetness of blood let the ties slide and the bite wasn’t as bad. She succeeded in getting her hands below her thighs. Ember rocked herself into a sitting position, then brought her leg into a figure-four and slid her knee beneath her elbow, pulling her elbow inward and bringing her wrist over her foot.
Success! One leg free.
The pain from the ties was now excruciating, and she felt the slickness of blood oozing onto her hands. She didn’t care. She needed to free herself. Repeating the same motion, this time it was easier to maneuver and she got both legs through and her arms in front of her. She immediately tore the tape from her mouth.
Son of a bitch!Duct tape did not come off like a Band-Aid or as easily as in the movies. It stung and instant heat seared her lips. She spit the vile remains of the vomit from her mouth. It was heaven to be able to breathe freely again. The blood from her wrists ran down her forearms, and even in the pitch darkness, she knew the damage was bad.
Ember lifted her wrists above her head and in one fast, swift motion, she brought them down over her abdomen, pulling her wrists to each side, using her body as a wedge. Instantly, the ties severed and fell to the ground. Even with her adrenaline pumping and her hands tingling with numbness, the pain was intense. Her skin sliced and tore some more, adding to the already gruesome damage to her wrists.
Patting herself all over, the phone she kept in her back pocket wasn’t there. Shit! Then, she lifted the hem of her shirt and reached for her Glock. Gone.
Fuck. Fuck. Double Fuck!No phone. No weapon. Damn it! With arms stretched out in front of her in the darkness, she had to learn her surroundings. She took a few shuffled steps hoping to feel...something. Nothing. She shuffled some more, waving her hands into the void. Still nothing. She knelt to the ground and coolness met her finger tips. Metal. She wanted to stay quiet in case her captors were near, so she hummed low and soft. Listening, she heard the reverberation. She shuffled forward and once again, coolness met her palms. She ran her hands up and down and side to side. The wall was metal too. She slid her hands along the wall and shuffled her feet quite a distance then came to a corner.
I’m in a box. A crate. Some sort of container.Despite the throbbing in her head, her thoughts were clear. She walked the perimeter and stumbled over a raised section. Running her hands over it, she knew it was a wheel well. Fuck! I'm in a box truck, a moving van. This isn’t good.
Centering herself, trying to remember how she got here and what had happened, made her head pound. Nausea built again. She staved off the bile threatening to come up. Think. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mind to conjure her memory and thoughts. Please, remember. Pleeease!
Gun shots! Rapid succession.The sound filled her memory. Two, then three. Ember smelled the gunpowder. She had fired the shots. Why? Thoughts overwhelming her, she crumpled to the ground, the pain intense in her head. She cradled her head, not caring blood was smearing her forehead. Images flashed, jumbled, not making sense, making the throbbing worse. She took a cleansing breath. Control yourself. Calm yourself. Clear yourself. The mantra she used as a sniper centered her being.
Her mind cleared.
The hardware store.
Her memory materialized.
* * *
“Got the lights.” Ember flipped the breaker and the lights in the hardware store dimmed, leaving only the night safety lights glowing.
“All right, got the deposit and I’m good to go.” Mitch shut the office door turning the handle a few times, double checking to make sure it was locked, and met his daughter at the back door. “You’re always on your phone.”
She sent the text.
“Eli?” He pointed and she smiled. “Ah, young love.” He placed a hand on his heart. “Oh, to be young again.”
“You’re still young, Dad.”
“Not as young as I once was.”
“Fifty-seven is still young. You don’t even look your age, let alone act your age.” They both laughed knowing it was the truth. “You’re fit. You’re spry and not in the grave yet. So that’s a bonus!”
“All things to be grateful for.” Mitch dug his keys from his front pocket while he punched in the code to set the security system. “We’re hot! Set and ready.”
Ember turned the knob and pushed open the door with her shoulder, leading her dad into the parking lot behind the store. The door shut behind them and he pulled the handle to double check that it latched and locked.
Mitch fell to the ground, twitching and convulsing as a rapid, repetitive snapping sound cut through the air.
“What—Dad!” Ember’s yell pierced the night when she saw two leads stuck in her dad’s arm and back.
A taser.She stopped herself from touching him and spun around, drawing her gun from its holster, pulling it level, ready to fire. And, she did. Two shots exploded in a millisecond. One person dropped, the two others flanked her.
Fuck! She tracked the one closest to her, firing two more rounds. As she squeezed the trigger, the third shot fired and a flash of white pain met her temple. As her body fell, pain enveloped her. Then, as fifty-thousand volts slammed into her body she convulsed.
Her earlier intuition came to fruition.
* * *
“Thanks, Maven. I’ll let you know when I know something.” Eli disconnected and dropped the phone onto the coffee table. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Where are you?” He asked the question to no one.
Ember hadn’t come to his place after work like they’d planned. It was going on ten-thirty, only ninety minutes after the hardware store closed, but he was worried. It wasn’t like Ember to be late. Ever. And, on the few occasions she was ever late she called, even if it was a ten-minute delay. Something wasn’t right. Eli picked up the phone to dial her mom, when his phone rang.
Mom 2.SusanHayes' picture displayed across the screen.
“Hey, Mom. Are they there?” Eli’s voice sounded hopeful.
“No,” she paused, “Eli, I’m getting really worried.”
Susan was Eli’s first call when Ember didn’t arrive an hour after closing. It wasn’t unusual; sometimes things came up and she and her dad would stay later, so an hour late wasn’t alarming. But Ember always called him, just as Mitch would call Susan. But, now, an hour and a half late was worrisome.
“I’m going to head to the store. Maybe—”
“Do not go to the store.” Eli cut her off with the direct warning.
“But, El—”
“Absolutely do not go to the store. I don’t need you out traipsing around in the dark. I’ll go check things out.”
“I don’t want you alone. I can meet you there.”
Eli was already formulating a plan. “No, Susan.” Susan, not Mom. He stressed her name. “I’ll get the guys to meet me and I’m sending someone over to your place, too.” He’d call King’s friend, Chase Jackson, to go to Susan’s and stand guard. He needed the rest of his team with him. The hair on the back of his neck tingled and the taste of something foul brewed in his gut, turning his stomach. The same churning that happened when doom lurked in battle, or when an op was about to turned bad. “Where’s Rhys?”
“Rhys? Um, probably home at her place.”
“Call her and let her know I’m sending someone over. Not to let anyone in without them knowing the password.”
The password was a safety word Mitch and Susan derived when the girls were little. If anyone came to school, home, or anywhere the girls were, wanting them to go with them, the person would have to know the password so the girls knew it was legit to go along.
“Fighting Irish.” Susan repeated the password they’d used.
“Yup. I’ll let Trip know.”
“Which one’s Trip?”
Eli knew Susan was on edge because she was familiar with the team, but he answered anyway, “It’s Jayson. Jayson Reeves.”
“That’s right, Jayson Reeves,” Susan repeated. “Do you really think it’s necessary to send someone to her townhouse? I don’t want to alarm her...I mean, they could just be running late.” Susan didn’t believe it, just as much as Eli wasn’t buying it.
“What’s the address?”
Susan rattled off Rhys’ address.
“Stay put, Mom, and I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
“Okay.”
He was just about to hang up when Susan’s voice called him. “Eli?”
He brought the phone back to his ear. “Yeah?”
He heard her swallow, “Be safe. Be smart…”
“...Come home.” He nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “I know, Mom. I will.” He hung up.
Be safe. Be smart. Come home.It was what she told him each time he deployed. Whether it was in person, over the phone, letter, text or email, it was always something that bought him comfort. Susan’s little way of telling him goodbye, without saying it.
Eli dialed Cypher. He could track Ember’s phone, something that he should’ve done right away when he first realized she was late, but he didn’t want to be that boyfriend. With the hair on his neck still standing on end, he made the call.
Next, he called Trip and gave him the info on Rhys. Climbing into his truck, he called T-BAR, who would alert Arctic and Creed, knowing they would meet him at the store even though it was late. He didn’t call King. With Mary pregnant, Slate didn’t want him to leave her and have Mary worried. He had enough backup with the guys.
* * *
Ember felt around what she assumed was the back door to the truck and felt for a latch or handle, anything that would open it. She found a thick, heavy nylon loop, meant to pull the overhead door down, but when she pulled up on it hoping it would lift the door, nothing. Nah-da. Damn it! She pulled harder, yanking the tether with all her might, feeling pain radiate in her wrists. No way out. She was screwed. She couldn’t get out. She’d have to wait until someone came in.