Dusk (Dangerous Web #1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,9

don’t want to know who my husband is.”

“Honey,” the woman replied, “I don’t give a fuck who he is or who you are for that matter. Currently, you’re nothing more than an irrelevant inconvenience.”

“He’ll pay,” Araneae replied. “My husband will. Name a price.”

“We’re not after money.” Her shoes clipped over the concrete. “But...this has possibilities.”

The woman’s steps moved farther away. With the light on, I took inventory of what I could see by raising my chin. It wasn’t much, but the small gap near my nose allowed me to see the two men’s boots, the legs of their jeans, and the woman’s shoes and slacks. I could also see that across the room, roughly twelve feet away, was a toilet and sink. If I turned my head a bit, there appeared to be a bunk bed—I could only see the bottom bunk, but the structure suggested an upper bunk too—similar to what I’d seen in movies of prisons or jail cells.

We were in a prison cell.

“They’re fucking morons,” the woman declared.

Who did she mean?

“You kidnapped us. Who’s the moron?” Araneae asked.

The woman quickly stepped back to Araneae. “Listen, bitch. Right now, your days are at my disposal. If you’re really pregnant, I suggest you keep your damn mouth closed.”

“She is,” I volunteered.

“Get her ice and” —she stood between our two sets of bound legs— “if you two can behave, this might work out. When Jet comes back, he’ll have ice and bottles of water. Keep your mouths shut and don’t fight. It’s either your lucky day or your luck has run out. Neither of you is who we want. When he returns, Jet will cut the tape on your arms and legs. Once he’s out of the room and the door is locked, you can take off the blindfolds. Do it sooner and the privilege is gone.” She again reached for my chin and lifted it higher. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” I answered, fearful Araneae may fight.

She was a tiger and now a caged one. However, in our current position, fighting wouldn’t do either of us any good. I loved my friend, but the difficulties she’d experienced in her life were tame compared to where Mason and I had grown up.

I wasn’t a pushover, but I also wasn’t stupid. The best thing for us to do was cooperate, figure this shit out, and get free.

“You?” the woman questioned. “Deal?”

I nudged Araneae’s arm.

“Yes,” she mumbled through clenched teeth.

From the slit below my blindfold, I watched as all three sets of feet moved to the far side and disappeared behind the closing door. To my joy, the light was still on. I whispered, “Can you see at all?”

“I want them all dead.”

I nodded. “I agree, but we have to cooperate.”

“I want Sterling to—”

“Araneae,” I interrupted, “what did you get out of that question-and-answer session?”

Her voice changed. “You need ice. Lorna, why do you need ice?”

“My face...my cheeks feel swollen and sore.”

“Fucking—”

“No,” I said. “Price, Edgar Price, and then they said Pierce. That woman said we weren’t who she wanted. She wants—”

“Laurel,” we both said together.

Reid

The plane touched down at the closest excuse for an airport near Mason’s ranch. Truth be told, it wasn’t much of an airport. While the two runways were recently paved with expensive-looking lights, the only building nearby couldn’t even pass as a hangar. Marianne would need to fly to Bozeman or Butte for fuel before flying Garrett back to Chicago. I supposed we could have flown to one of those cities and traveled here, perhaps via helicopter. That would have required more time, time none of us were willing to sacrifice.

As I descended the steps, I found myself too consumed to notice the beauty that this landscape usually provided. The mountains held my interest for less than a second. The dried grass, brush, and fences were lost to thoughts of my wife.

Even in the summertime, the mountain peaks in the distance were capped in white snow. It was as if the writer of the song “America the Beautiful” had pictured these mountains when she created the lyric, “purple mountain majesties.” For a moment, I recalled how much Lorna had loved the views when we were here for Mason and Laurel’s wedding and then again, a couple of weeks ago before we’d separated.

During that stay, Lorna and I rode a couple of Mason’s horses, just the two of us, into a valley, a bowl he called it. We’d packed a picnic and stopped near a river. It was