The Sharpshooter's Secret Son. Mallory Kane
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that was why, although he needed to know what he was up against—deserved to—she couldn’t tell him. Not until she absolutely had to.
Like the coward she was, she planned to put off that revelation as long as she possibly could, because scalding water didn’t begin to describe what Deke would throw at her when he found out she was pregnant—with his child.
“Deke, we’ve got to get out of here. The guy told me he’d be watching me. He’ll be back anytime.”
“Yeah, we do. Can you move? Turn around. Let me see your hands.”
Could she move? Hah. Not too well, she wanted to answer. Like an overloaded supply plane, she was carrying heavy on the front end.
She twisted until her back was to him, working to suppress the grunts and groans that went with everything she did these days.
By the time he said “That’s good,” she was breathing hard.
“Min, are you sure you’re okay?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “It’s the drug,” she said as evenly as she could. “It’s making me light-headed. And I’m hungry.”
He chuckled. “No surprise there.”
Mindy bit her lip against the poignant memories that bombarded her. The sweet teasing, the tickling matches, the kisses. Dear heavens, she’d missed him. It didn’t matter how many times her head reminded her heart that they were as compatible as jet fuel and an ignition source.
He twisted on the wooden crate until he was facing her back. Then he bent double to look at the ropes binding her hands.
He uttered a short burst of colorful curses. “Damn it, I can’t see anything.”
“Can you bite them like you did the gag?”
He sniffed in disdain. “My teeth aren’t that good. Stay still.”
Mindy waited. It soon became obvious that Deke was scooting around until his back was to hers. Then he shifted closer and twisted some more, until they were pressed together like bookends.
She felt his hands on hers, big, warm, protective, as they explored the ropes.
He let go a string of colorful curses. “…Those sons of bitches,” he finished.
Mindy’s pulse skittered. “What is it Deke? What’s wrong?”
“Nobody’s this stupid. Everything about this, from the moment you called, has been too easy,” he muttered. “Too pat.”
“Too easy? How is this easy?”
“They used your phone. Didn’t even bother to keep the call short. Like they were telegraphing their location. And now, these knots are just strong enough to be frustrating. If he’d wanted to, he could have used knots I’d never be able to untie.”
“That makes sense,” she rasped. “I tried to warn you that it was a trap to lure you here.”
“Trust me. I’d already figured that out.”
Deke’s hands moved over hers, touching and manipulating as he worked to loosen the knots.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. My thumb got a little twisted.”
“I’m almost done.”
She listened to his labored breathing as he worked. “Deke, why do they want you? You know who they are, don’t you?”
She winced as the knots began to loosen and the circulation increased in her fingers. “This is connected to a case, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. She had her back to him and she knew he’d done it. Was it a movement of the air, a rustle of his clothing? Or was it the connection they’d always shared? Even when they couldn’t share their dreams or their heartbreaks.
“I’m not on a case right now. I’m trying to stick close to the ranch. Irina’s not doing well. She’s stopped searching for Rook.”
“What? Oh, Deke. I can’t believe she’d ever—Did she find out something?”
“Ran out of money.” He pushed air out between his clenched teeth, a sure sign he was frustrated about something.
“She stopped because of money?”
“She either had to stop the search or fire at least two specialists and cut back on voluntary cases.”
His fingers strained against hers as he picked at one of the knots. His breath hitched and he grunted quietly.
Mindy knew what he was feeling. His arms were tied behind his back, just like hers were, and she couldn’t even imagine the pain in his wrists from working against the stiff ropes. She wanted to say something, to at least acknowledge the pain he was going through. But Deke Cunningham would never admit pain. Not pain. Not hurt. Not heartache.
“But Rook’s her husband. I can’t believe she’d quit for any reason. I’d never—” she stopped, biting her tongue—literally. Never give up was what she’d been about to say.
But she had. She’d given up on them.
“Well, she did.” Deke’s curt answer told her that he hadn’t missed what she’d almost said. His breath hissed out between his teeth again. A sure sign that he was hurting.
Not knowing what else to say, she kept talking about Irina Castle. Maybe if he got irritated enough with her, it would distract him from the pain in his wrists.
“She must be devastated. It would be bad enough to give up if she knew it was useless. But not to know, and to have to stop because of money. When did she make that decision?”
He didn’t respond, just kept working silently.
He didn’t want to tell her. Dear Lord, she knew him so well. “When, Deke?”
At that moment she felt the ropes give, releasing the strain on her shoulders, arms and wrists. Pain shot through her muscles as they relaxed. She bit her lip and tried to suppress a groan.
“Easy,” Deke muttered. “Don’t move too fast. You’ll regret it, trust me.”
It was one of the cryptic remarks that reminded her how little she knew about this man she’d loved as long as she could remember. She slowly flexed her arms and shoulders, clamping her jaw against the pain, as her brain filed that tidbit of information away with the others she’d collected over the years.
He knew how it felt to be tied up for hours—or days.
He twisted around. “Turn around this way. I need you to get my knife,” he said. “It’s in my left boot, if they didn’t strip-search me while I was out. They took my gun. Thank God I ditched my cell phone.”
She twisted awkwardly around until her shoulder bumped his. “They didn’t search you after they brought you down here. They didn’t have time. One of them got a phone call, but he obviously didn’t want to talk in front of me, so they left.” She looked down, but the tiny window didn’t provide enough light for her to see that close to the ground. Still, she knew she couldn’t bend over far enough to reach his boot.
“Good. See if you can grab my knife.”
“No,” she said flatly. “I can’t.”
“Come on, Min. It’s sticking down in the side of my left boot. You remember where I keep it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She bit her lip. She’d put off the big reveal as long as she could.
“Are you injured? Too stiff? What?”
She