Rescued E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Moriona Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

There’s a corner of the world that few people know exist. 
The Laird makes the rules and no one is allowed to break them… 
 
Shea Bonne didn’t ask to be stranded in the isolated wilderness. Her plane crashes, the pilot dies, and she’s alone… or is she?
 
Injured, she’s sure the men who pick her up are there to rescue her. But, their definition of rescue is not the same as hers.
 
Imprisoned, she must follow the rules, the same as all the other inmates. Except, Shea isn’t like them.
 
She’s an anomaly; a first.
 
Only the Laird can make exceptions, and he never has before.                                              
 
There’s one hope for freedom. Shea has to prove she’ll go to any lengths to play by his rules. If she goes far enough, maybe he’ll be willing to bend them… or maybe he’ll break her instead.
 
 
Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.

**HEA STANDALONE**

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2019 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2019

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2019

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

www.scarlettfinn.com

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

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Enjoy!

CONTENTS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

ONE

Shea Bonne didn’t remember the plane hitting the ground. She didn’t remember coming to. The only imprint she had was a vague mental image of the pilot still strapped in his seat with a tree branch impaled through his torso.

She couldn’t remember climbing out of the plane either, but somehow remembered the cool drops of rain hitting her face, merging with the warm blood that was running from her forehead.

How she knew it was blood was anyone’s guess. Common sense dictated that after surviving impact, she’d have to be wounded. The thick ooze trickled downward, assaulting her with its metallic stench.

But there was no time to dwell on her injuries or survey the mangled plane wreckage. With double vision and a foggy mind, she stumbled through trees, over fallen trunks, and past foliage.

Shea couldn’t keep track of her thoughts. Everything was fragmented. It was dark; that meant night. She could smell nature, so she was outside, in some kind of damp wilderness. But, the overwhelming twist of sickness in her gut wouldn’t let her focus on one thing for more than a few seconds.

Being in a plane crash hadn’t been on her bucket list. On boarding the tiny craft, she’d been swamped by the sensation of impending doom. She should’ve known better than to ignore her instincts. But, refusing to get on the plane wasn’t an option. The flight had been chartered for her and her alone and having been summoned to corporate headquarters, her livelihood depended on her reaching her destination.

When the man she’d been on her way to visit bounced around the globe, he used a swanky new Gulfstream. Apparently, she hadn’t been good enough for an aircraft built in this century. Boarding, with that prickling unease of doubt rousing the hairs on the back of her neck, Shea had wondered if she’d looked beneath the hood of the plane if she might find nothing but rubber bands and duct tape holding it together. Given that it had fallen from the sky, she couldn’t have been far from right.

Falling over a rock, she stopped thinking about the past and tried to clamber back to her feet. But, she fell again. Shock and exhaustion were taking over. When she tried to put weight on her foot to rise, her ankle screamed. Shooting agony radiated from her heel to her hip.

Rolling onto her back, Shea fought to catch her breath and had to close her eyes against the pounding rain that was picking up pace.

Her chest was sore and her head filling with heat. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her eyelids got heavier and began to sink. All she could hope was that they’d open again.

The noise of an engine was the first thing Shea became aware of. It took a good few seconds for her to realize that it was a vehicle, like a truck or a jeep, something bigger than a regular car, but definitely not a plane.

Warmth in the air made her feel safe, and she was pleased to smell people, men. Yeah, they weren’t wearing expensive colognes, and under other circumstances, the smell of their sweat would be offensive, but if there were people there, she had to be saved, they had to be the rescue party.

Before even trying to open her eyes, Shea wanted to talk, but her lips wouldn’t part. She couldn’t figure out why they were stuck together at first and tried harder. That was when the nip of pinched skin on her cheek filled her with alarm.

Something was stuck to her face… duct tape. Shea tried to move her hands only to find her wrists were tied at her back. And when she did manage to open her eyes, all she could see was blackness. Something was covering her head, like a hood, that was why she was so warm.

This wasn’t a rescue party… not like any she’d ever heard of.

She couldn’t scream, couldn’t move. Her body felt heavy too, maybe it was as a result of the injuries from the crash, but now she was scared of what these men might have done to her.

Wriggling onto her side, she tried again to scream and pull and fight. She wasn’t on a gurney or a bed, she was on a floor, a hard metal floor, bouncing along as the noise of the engine betrayed they were picking up speed.

“Hey, calm it, Sexpot. We’re taking you to paradise,” one gruff voice said.

A bunch of male snickers echoed around her. “Give her another shot,” another guy said. “Keep her out until we get back to the compound.”

Something pierced her arm and though she did her best to wriggle away, it was too late. Her muscles loosened, her mind began to fog, and she lost consciousness again.

The next time Shea woke up, it took her a while to come around and longer to remember what had happened. Even in spite of the daze and disorientation, she eventually recalled glimmers of what had brought her there. The plane crash, falling unconscious on the forest floor, of the truck, the men.

Panic made her sit up. To her shock and relief, her hands weren’t bound anymore. She wasn’t in a vehicle either. In fact, she was on a concrete bed in the corner of a concrete room. Her eye was drawn to the thick metal door in the middle of the wall opposite her. With a small circular window near the top and a long shallow rectangle in the center, covered by another piece of metal, it almost looked like…

Confused apprehension made her attention ascend, but it took only a few seconds to absorb the features of the sparse room.

Clarity came slamming down on her. “I’m in a cell,” she whispered.

Grabbing the skinny mattress beneath her body, she used her hold on it to scoot to the edge of the bed. Her foot seemed to be weighted. She couldn’t figure out why until she raised her head and noticed a cast around her left foot and ankle. Was it broken? Had the men who’d bound and gagged her given her medical treatment? Why would they do that if they were just going to lock her up?

Shea didn’t have time to dwell on their motives. Planning a way out of here was the priority.

Quickly cataloging what she did know, Shea wasn’t encouraged. She couldn’t hear a thing or see outside. The air smelled clean. It was impossible to figure out where she was, but nothing about this set up told her pounding heart it was somewhere safe.

Waking up in a prison cell was another item not on her bucket list. So far, none of her recent new experiences had been pleasant, but she had to keep her wits and not become a victim. If Shea was going to get out of here, she’d need a plan.

Being locked up limited her options, and she didn’t have a clue where to begin, but rolling over and playing dead wasn’t in her nature.

TWO

Standing at the glazed wall overlooking his compound, Raiden Laird sipped his espresso. Set on stilts, half hidden by the trees of the forest, his home was a manifestation of how he lorded over those he commanded.

Not that he’d meant it to be so literal, but there was logic in having a view over the compound. The four wings were arranged in a square around the central courtyard, and all of it was his responsibility. On the other side of the glass, between him and his kingdom, was his twenty foot long balcony that stopped just a dozen or so feet from the roof of the south guard tower. From there, he could see everything.

Surveying his realm, Raid was pleased with what his family had achieved. It had taken generations to build this place into what it was. Every inch of it was a testament to the hard work and sacrifice of him and his kin. It was a compound to be proud of, even if others might consider it abhorrent.

This was his empire in his own hidden corner of the world.

Diego, his number two, approached from behind, but said nothing.

It was unlike Diego to loiter. “Give it to me, Diego,” Raid said. “You’ve never hesitated to share what’s on your mind in the past.”

“The men, uh… they found a woman in the amber quadrant.”

Surprised, Raid put his cup aside and turned to see his colleague was experiencing some kind of anxiety that was making him sweat. Something else he didn’t normally do.

“The plane we picked up on radar?” he asked. Diego shrugged. “Must have been. Nothing else has come in or out… What do we know about her?”

“Nothing yet. She was injured, head wound, fractured ankle. We kept her sedated, patched her up, and put her in isolation.”

Efficient.

Raid nodded once and turned back to his window, picking up his coffee again. “Good. Keep her there. Feed her. Give her medical care. If she becomes a problem, sedate her in the infirmary.”

“Yes, sir.”

This was a day for firsts. A woman on the compound… it was unheard of. But, Raid knew better than to appear uncertain. Showing weakness was the first step toward losing respect, and without that, there was a high chance of getting killed.

“You weren’t with them,” he said. “When the men picked her up?”

“No,” Diego said. Raid was considering this development when his lieutenant spoke again. “In other news—”

“Leave the report there,” he said because he liked to read and absorb in his own time. Diego usually only gave him a headline or two if the day’s news warranted it. There was no way anything else in the report topped having a woman on his property. “I’ll read the rest myself. The men need a drill. Search and rescue isn’t in our purview.”

If there were any threats to the compound, they were supposed to be eliminated, not brought inside and fed. Procedure dictated that anyone found in the forest who wasn’t sanctioned should be executed on sight. That his men had deviated from procedure so completely was concerning.

It was half in his mind to tell Diego to terminate the woman immediately. Except they’d invested in her, and it might be worth finding out why, and how, she’d come so close to their secret. There would always be time to erase her later if they had to.

“Yes, sir,” Diego said, a smile in his voice.

“Enjoy.”

Raid knew how Diego loved to put the men through their paces. His lieutenant was tough, and didn’t shy from breaking a sweat, just the way Raid liked his men to be.

Diego departed the house leaving Raid to wonder about what he’d do with this “woman.” She was going to cause problems, females always did. There was no procedure for having a female under their roof, but he’d have to come up with one fast.

If there was one thing Shea knew how to do, it was make a nuisance of herself. The first part of the plan she’d come up with involved getting more information. The only way she knew to do that was to talk to someone.

After calling out for hours and receiving no response, she’d clambered off the bed and sat on the floor to bang on the door demanding attention.

No one came.

It wasn’t much of a plan. But, getting someone to acknowledge her was the only way she could get some answers. As she tired, she sat against the wall and began to sing the loudest, most annoying songs that she knew. Someone would have to come to her eventually. She wasn’t going to give up.

Except, when someone did come, all they did was post a food tray through the door and tell her to shut up. Ha. Silence wasn’t part of the plan. She tried to ask questions but was ignored. The metal flap was shut over the door, and she was left alone.

Shea wasn’t deterred. Ignoring the food, she kept on singing.

Staying up as long as she could, she sang until her voice was hoarse, pounded on the door some more, and kept calling out. There was no clock in the cell, but she had to have been at it for hours. Hours and hours. But, she kept on going until they brought her more food.

Whoever was on the other side of that door faltered when Shea posted the first food tray out untouched. Her jailor loitered a minute, posted the new tray, and eventually left without speaking.

She wasn’t going to eat their food, not until she got answers. Pounding some more, Shea made animal noises, recited poetry and Shakespeare, and screamed out every joke she knew at the top of her lungs. Anything she had in her arsenal that could help her draw attention to herself, she used.

Mad as all hell that these people had imprisoned her without reason, she would make sure they had to acknowledge her, even if it took the rest of her life. Crying and pleading weren’t options; she was pissed and her anger only got hotter the longer she was left there.

Sure, she was scared, she’d be insane not to be. But, she had considered everything that had happened so far while coming up with her plan of action. The conditions were clean and the people who’d found her had put her back together again, so they couldn’t be all bad. That was the theory she’d continue working from until something happened to make her reassess.

Her confidence grew the longer she sat there. Yeah, sure, they hadn’t come to give her an explanation, but they also hadn’t come to put a bullet in her head either.

As long as she had breath, she vowed to keep going until someone out there relented.

“Some are born great, some achieve great—”

A thud behind the door cut off her words. Quieting, Shea crawled away from the wall, being careful not to knock the cast on her leg. On her hands and knees, she was facing the door when it swung open.

Holding her breath, she waited for someone to reveal themselves. Her eyes widened and a gasp passed her lips when she registered the size and build of the man on the cell’s threshold. Six and a half feet tall, his shoulders were as wide as the doorway, and his biceps bigger than both her thighs put together.

Her lips dried when she noticed there were two other men in the shadows behind him. It was dark out there, so deciphering specifics was tough, but she guessed it had to be some kind of passageway. Though it was difficult to pick out any more details. She couldn’t see past the huge man with the scar intersecting his brow who was bearing down upon her.

“What’s your name, Pest?”

His voice was so deep it hit her with the force of an explosive aftershock. But, she wasn’t going to shrink. This was what she’d been working for and if she wasted the opportunity and portrayed herself as some kind of weak pushover, these men may never come back.

“Who’s in charge around here?” she asked, using the floor and her one good leg to climb onto her feet.

It wasn’t easy. She swayed, but didn’t let her chin drop or the certainty in her eyes fade. If confidence was what it took to get out of here, she was going to prove she had it in spades.

“Far as you’re concerned, I am,” he said and folded his arms, increasing the bulk of those biceps.

But, he could glare at her as much as he liked, she wasn’t going to be intimidated. “Which means you’re not. I want to speak to your boss.”

A vague snicker came from the hallway and the hulk’s head moved a fraction toward it, but then his attention came back to her. “My boss isn’t interested,” he said. “My boss told me to sedate you. The boss is big on routine and you are screwing with it.”

Her lips parted, just a fraction, to draw in a breath that she hoped didn’t reveal her trepidation. If they sedated her, she wouldn’t be able to make a nuisance of herself, and she would be at the mercy of every man here.

“Why should I be sedated?” she asked. “And, why should I be locked up against my will? I don’t deserve to be in prison. My plane crashed, I was injured. I’m not a criminal. I’m a reporter.”

Something flickered in his eyes though they didn’t move. In the silence that followed, she wondered if she’d made a misstep with that admission or if it intrigued him. “Freelance?”

The unexpected question made her think for a second. “Uh… yeah,” she said, but pulled on her gumption. “But, don’t think that doesn’t mean someone isn’t looking for me. I was on my way to a meeting with a very important man. A very important, very rich man. If it’s ransom you want—”

“That’s not what we do around here.”

If these people were going to make her eliminate possibilities one by one, it would take a while for Shea to figure out the purpose for her captivity.

Sometimes being direct was a better course of action. “What do you do?” she asked, hopping toward him and wobbling until she almost lost her balance, but she didn’t let it stop her. “This facility isn’t on any map I’ve seen. Granted, I don’t know exactly where we are, but I know we’re still in North America. There wasn’t any prison on our flight path.”

“You weren’t on your flight path when you went down.”

That stoked her professional curiosity and she peered at him. “How do you know that? What is this place? Is it some kind of secret government facility?”

“Secret? Yes. Government? No,” he said. “I’m not here to answer your questions. I’m here to tell you to eat… and to shut the hell up.”

The corner of her mouth rose. “I might be more willing to do both… if you’d answer some questions. Or you could just let me go.”

“There’s nothing but wilderness for a hundred miles in every direction,” he said. “So sure, we’ll kick you out the front gate, but how long do you think you’ll last out there? We’ve got traps and weapons everywhere.”

“Traps?”

“Yep,” he said. A sort of pride spread on his face. “We have mines, automatic weapons, laser nets, not to mention video surveillance, FLIR, and audio monitoring. There’s all sorts of tech spread around the complex and sharpshooters all over. You’d be lucky to get ten feet before you got yourself killed.”

It was incredible that she could have stumbled across such a place or that such a place could even exist without the public knowing about it. And where would an organization get funding for this?

“Who built this place?”

“Dedicated people,” he said, his pride going nowhere. “You should know that you’re in solitary confinement. Singing and banging are annoying, but we can pull our men and just leave you here. You’re not going to annoy anyone if you’re alone under twenty feet of concrete. There’s not much chance of you escaping. Even if you do, you won’t last long in the forest. But, while you are here, you do have to eat.”

Damn, he was taking away the only string in her bow. If they could isolate her, she’d have no way to get their attention. “Why?” she asked. “Why do you care if I go on hunger strike?”

“Because the Laird has rules and if you don’t eat, I have to make you eat… or else we sedate you and put in a feeding tube. Those are your options… You don’t want him to classify you as hostile… hostiles don’t last long.”

“Hunger strike is a peaceful form of protest. I’m protesting my incarceration. I should have a lawyer. A phone call. A—”

A whisper of a laugh left his lips. “You haven’t figured out yet that none of this is legal? Protest of any kind isn’t sanctioned.” He leaned toward her. “We don’t give a damn about your rights.” How did she reason with that? “So, what will it be?”

“I want to talk to this Laird.”

“I’ll put in your request,” he said. Shea sensed that she shouldn’t hold her breath for a positive response. “But, you’ve got to eat something.”

“I’ll eat something after I talk to him.”

“I’ll take that as a request for sedation,” he said and stepped back out of the door. “I’ll give you another night to think about it… and I’ll get a bay prepped for you in the infirmary.”

The door swung shut and locked with a clunk before she could think of anything else to say. Her proverbial cards weren’t great, giving her little choice in how to play her hand.

Shea wasn’t going to win the first round, but somehow, she knew getting close to the Laird was the key to making sure she wasn’t the first one at the table to lose.

THREE

Raid was in his office reading background information when Diego swung in. His lieutenant came striding over and sat down opposite him at the desk.

Raid closed the file and tossed it over to him. “In the mood for Supply and Capture duty?”

“Whatever you need, boss.” Diego cleared his throat. The sign of uncertainty made Raid’s eyes pop to the top of their sockets to search for clues as to why his lieutenant was edgy. “If I’m off base, someone will have to take care of the girl.”

“The girl,” he said and then recalled their conversation yesterday morning. “She isn’t under sedation?”

“Not yet,” Diego said. “She spent yesterday driving the guys nuts. I told her if she doesn’t check herself and eat something, she’ll move into the infirmary tomorrow.”

His chin lifted. “She isn’t eating?”

Diego showed both palms. “I know how you feel about anyone breaking the rules. But, she’s new around here.”

Narrowing his eyes, the heat of anger filled Raid’s belly, which had never worked out well for anyone. “New doesn’t get a pass. Since when do we give inmates choices?”

“She’s not a typical inmate,” Diego said.

Raid was aware that sometimes his mood made him unreasonable. But, Diego never questioned him, and had never gone to bat for anyone. On occasion, when he was in a particularly bad mood, Raid would give out harsh orders that he’d later consider could have been an overreaction, but he wouldn’t reveal doubt to anyone.

Even in spite of that, Diego never flinched, never once. He always did what he was told… he’d probably seen what happened to the men who didn’t follow orders too many times to risk his own neck for a cause.

“Because she’s got tits?” Raid asked.

“Because no one’s paying us to hold her. She hasn’t been vetted or approved or catalogued. To be honest, sir, none of us are sure what to do with her.”

So, there had been some chatter about this. Raid shouldn’t be surprised; women weren’t common around there. In fact, this one was unique. His men weren’t the only ones navigating uncharted waters.

Diego might be acting out of character, but his number two had been loyal to him all his life; Raid wasn’t about to dismiss his concerns out of hand. Given that he was the only man on the planet Raid might consider a friend, Diego had earned the right to be heard. But, that didn’t mean Raid would adopt a softer stance without cause.

“Options are limited,” Raid said, sitting upright and linking his fingers together. “If you pitch her into gen pop, there will be chaos. You could toss her in the yard and let the Zoo out, that’d take care of the problem. I wager she’d be dead within the hour.”

“We’ve wasted resources on patching her up.”

Raid narrowed one eye. “Is that an argument for or against feeding her to the animals?” But, he didn’t wait for an answer. “She’s a drain on resources. In solitary, we have to use men and power monitoring her and keeping her alive. If she wasn’t there, that whole section could be dormant. Same could be said of the infirmary. If she’s troublesome, it will be expensive to put her in a coma and feed her against her will. But, in that section, there’s also a chance inmates will see her. We don’t need whispers about a woman being on site.”

Women weren’t allowed near the compound for this very reason; they were disruptive and distracting.

“Letting her go isn’t an option,” Diego said.

Something they agreed on, but Raid didn’t have to say that yet. This was a good climate for a test. Did Diego really mean that or was he hinting that the woman should be freed?

“Are you sure? I’ve just authorized you to take a troop back to civilization for supply and capture. You could drop her somewhere. She was tranquillized when she was brought in, so she doesn’t know where we are.” Everyone who hadn’t taken the pledge was sedated for transport in or out. Rules like that one were sacred and the punishments for violating them were biblical. “She wouldn’t have any way to get back here, so she can’t lead others to us. Why can’t we just release her?”

Another throat clear and Diego shifted to the front of his seat. “She’s a reporter,” he murmured.

Caution, as opposed to alarm, prodded him. Raid knew a thing or two about being careful; having a nosey reporter on his land was akin to having a spy in his midst.

“No,” Raid said, maintaining his cool because he’d never reveal his inner self to his men, even Diego. “You mean she was a reporter. Nothing much to write about out here. No one who lives in our cells ever leaves. The only sentence here is life.”

“Then life she gets,” Diego said. “But, uh, given all you’ve said…”

“Yeah?”

“There are only two kinds of people here, inmates and employees,” Diego said. With a slow eye blink, Raid nodded once. “Maybe we could put her to use… that way keeping her wouldn’t be violating our code.”

Just having a woman present was a violation of the code. But, protecting the compound’s obscurity was primary in their mission. This place needed to be anonymous and he’d do everything in his power to make sure it stayed that way.

“You want me to employ her,” Raid said, knowing his closest colleague enough to understand what he was angling at. “What do we need a reporter for? I know the men joke that we’re our own country, but I don’t think we need our own newspaper.”

The optimism of Diego’s hope was concerning. Raid had never been one to expect the best. “If she’s a reporter, she’s good with words. Maybe she has a background, a specialty we can use. Hell, she knows her alphabet, let her file. Let her cook or clean, whatever keeps her out of the inmates’ way.”

There was a flaw in Diego’s plan. “And she can bunk in digs with the guys?”

His employees lived in one wing of the main compound. Most slept in communal barracks, but there were private rooms and luxury recreation spaces. Because they were surrounded by some of the most beautiful landscape in the world, if a trusted comrade wanted to be alone, they had options. Otherwise, they were stuck inside, so he made the internal environment as comfortable for his men as he could.

“We can give her a room or put her in an outbuilding. We could leave her in isolation… until you trust her. It’s not like we’re short of beds around here.”

That was a point he couldn’t argue against. Raid was careful about monitoring capacity. For over a minute, he looked at Diego. One thing Raid never got was uncomfortable. Other men might squirm in silences or become intimidated under another’s stare, but not him. It came from having always been in control. Control gave him confidence. That and the fact that he knew he was capable of anything, literally anything. Nothing scared him.

So, while he weighed the pros and cons of Diego’s suggestion, Raid said nothing. It could have been as many as three minutes before he spoke.

“A woman wouldn’t last long in our ranks,” he said. “The men would smell weakness.”

Diego almost snorted. “Not in this one,” he said. “She would’ve gone toe-to-toe with me if she hadn’t been outnumbered. I’m almost sure of it.” Interesting. “You should’ve seen it. She didn’t flinch. She looked right past me to weigh up her chances of rushing. No idea where she is, no clue what we might do to her, yet she sang and made noise all night long. She’s no wallflower.”

Damn it, he was intrigued. Raid expected any woman who spent a night under the compound roof would be a sniveling, whiny, weepy mess by the morning. Why was this one so confident?

“Okay,” he said. “If you think she’ll be useful, put her to work. But, she stays in isolation when she’s not under your supervision. She’s your project. Your responsibility.” Diego nodded once and took a step back but stopped when Raid lifted a hand of warning. “If she causes any trouble, any, we’re putting her in the ground.”

“Understood.”

“And no man is allowed to touch her.” Surprise moved Diego’s brow, almost making Raid smile. “I don’t give a fuck about her virtue. If she starts fucking the men, she’ll fuck with my ranks. I don’t need her pitting my men against each other. She fits in as one of the guys or she doesn’t fit in at all. And if she hasn’t taken the pledge inside three months—”

“We’re putting her in the ground,” Diego said. “Understood, boss.”

FOUR

“It’s amazing,” Shea breathed out, looking through the window at the men chained to each other in the central courtyard below.

The man who’d come to her cell to retrieve her was the same hulk who’d visited her before. He’d surprised her by declaring he was taking her on a tour of the building. With her goal being to gather information, Shea wasn’t going to say no and followed when he led her out to guide her around the concrete structure.

Shea found it was magnificent in its efficiency. Explaining how the compound was four connected wings arranged around a central courtyard, he reminded her again of the security measures planted in the land around the inside and outside of the concrete perimeter wall. It was arranged like almost any other prison could be, but this was a city in itself with resources available to support the workforce and prisoners alike.

Guard towers stood in the corners, above both the inner building walls with a view of the courtyard, and the perimeter wall which separated them from the forest and mountains beyond. With automatic weapons and men always on patrol, this place was humming with the possibility that anything might happen at any moment.

Diego, the man who’d kept her at his side since leaving the cell, had walked slowly, showing her where the men worked, the offices and even the security command center.

Each wing consisted of four floors and a two-story basement space, which it turned out was where she’d been kept in isolation. He showed her a deserted cell block and how the inmates were kept in individual cells, each with their own toilet facilities. Though he had explained not every hall of the prison was the same. Some inmates were kept in communal cells, some had to use communal showers and bathrooms too, but he hadn’t explained how the men were separated or what they’d done to find themselves there.

The cellblock he’d taken her through was empty because the men had been moved into the courtyard for her tour. Diego explained that he was second in command; everything she saw was under his purview, which might explain why so many of the workers had averted their eyes when he strode by them.

Though she hadn’t seen many guards, Diego had said there were a hundred employees, and she wondered if other areas of the building had been cleared for her tour too, not just the one prison block.

Standing in this fourth floor office, she watched the inmates amble around in the courtyard and struggled to absorb what she’d stumbled upon.

“How do you get funding for something like this?”

“Finance isn’t my department,” he said.

Turning away from the window, she peered at him. The office they were in was almost empty. There was a desk near the window and an empty bookcase on the side wall. Shea guessed this room had been picked to give her a view of the courtyard, but also because it didn’t appear to be in use, so there was no risk of her catching a glimpse of work product.

“That’s your boss’s purview?” she asked and he nodded once. “Who is he? He must be rich to do something like this… Why would he do something like this?”

“He was born into it,” he said. “And that’s all I’ll say about the Laird.”

Interest took her a step closer to him. “Is that what they call him?”

“Yep,” he said. “All I’ll say except to offer a warning.”

Shea folded her arms having expected the threats to begin at some point. “What’s that?”

“He doesn’t fuck around. If he says something, he means it. Lucky for you, one of the things he said recently is that none of the men are allowed to touch you, which means they won’t.”

Somehow, she didn’t think this Laird had done that out of kindness or concern. “How many women are here?”

“One,” he said. “You’re…”

There were plenty of words he could use to describe her, and it seemed like he was struggling to pick one.

Shea hazarded a guess. “Unwelcome?”

“I was going to say unexpected, but yeah. If you want to put it that way, you are unwelcome. Men were punished for bringing you here. They should have put a bullet in you and in the interest of honesty, if I’d been there when they found you, that’s exactly what they would’ve done.”

She moved toward him. “What you’re really doing is warning me that your boss is unreasonable. I’ve committed no crime. I’ve done him no harm. But, being here was enough to sentence me to death?”

“Being here, without authorization, that’s harm,” Diego said with confidence, not contrition. “This place is the life of every man here, employee and prisoner alike. If we’re exposed, it will be the end of us all.”

“Because you’d be prosecuted,” she said, understanding the gravity of what was going on here without feeling any sympathy for those involved in it. “You’re holding men without due process.”

He almost rolled his eyes. “You don’t understand what we’re doing or why we do it,” Diego said. “We wouldn’t be prosecuted, we’d be dead. The Laird isn’t about to give up his life for a little girl who tripped over the wrong rock.”

He could dismiss her all he liked, but she’d found herself smack bang in the middle of an intrigue. “Seems to me this is exactly the right rock. What you’re doing here is wrong.” Shea had no problem telling anyone what she thought, about anything. “How many prisoners are you holding here?”

“This morning’s count was two hundred and six.”

“This morning’s?”

“Might change by lights out,” he said, casual even in spite of what he was implying. “And not because we’re expecting men to arrive.”

A chill crept across the back of her neck. “Men die here,” she said. “What happens to the men who aren’t released?”

“No one is released,” he said. “The only sentence here is life.”

That was ominous enough to give her a chill. “And at the end of that sentence? When they’ve given this Laird their life… what happens to them?”

“Want me to show you?”

There was almost a thread of excitement in his tone and it left her uneasy. Maybe it was about being institutionalized, or maybe she was more naïve than she’d thought. But, what was normal around here wasn’t normal anywhere else.

Still, she had a sort of morbid curiosity that he was offering to fulfill. While she wasn’t jumping around in excitement at the prospect of satisfying her interest, she wasn’t going to say no in answer to his question either.

Shea sort of wished that she’d said no.

Trust or not, it was impossible for her to risk straying from Diego’s side when he took her across the no man’s land between the main building and perimeter wall. He told her that the security defenses had been switched off and she believed him, because he was out here too. Though in her peripheral vision, she had caught sight of some rather vicious looking rifle barrels protruding from the guard towers, and they appeared to be precise enough to take her out without ruffling Diego’s hair.

Keeping an eye on the guard towers for as long as she could, Shea was hyperaware of the building windows behind her that she couldn’t monitor. It was one thing to be full of gumption when she was facing down a man, it was another to have automatic weapons trained on her.

Diego stopped at a steel door built into the concrete outer wall. He typed a code into a panel before pressing his fingerprint to a square above. “State of the art,” he said. “We upgrade every six months and the codes change every day.”

It felt a bit like he was reporting to her for an article. Even though she didn’t have a notepad, autopilot made her memorize as many of the details as she could.

The door slid open. Outside, two men leaped into the space left after the steel moved. Both had their weapons aimed, fingers on the trigger. Shea didn’t scream, thank God, but she did slip behind Diego, just in case anyone felt twitchy.

“Stand down,” Diego said and reached around to grab hold of her to haul her forward.

The men lowered their weapons but blinked at her like Diego had just produced an alien. “Yeah,” she said, trying to shrug off her reaction to the weapons. “As you were.”

“The Laird know you’ve got her out here, D?” one of the guards asked.

“You think if he didn’t, I’d tell you, Kipling?” Diego asked, pulling her through the wall a fraction of a second before the door closed again. “And, if we were making a break for it, this would be a stupid escape route, wouldn’t it?”

All three men turned in the same direction and looked up. Following their line of vision, Shea was astounded by what she saw. Set back from the corner of the perimeter wall, nestled in the trees, and angled to overlook the whole compound was a small building made of concrete and wood, standing on stilts. It was hidden from almost every angle except the front by the forest canopy.

Given that the glass frontage reflected the forest, shadows, and sky, and it was so high, she couldn’t make out what was inside. But, it was a beautiful structure, with a receding roof and huge balcony at the front.

They’d been talking about this Laird person, and she’d established he was the boss and the most senior individual around. So, she could only guess that unique structure was where he lived or worked.

“What’s he compensating for?” she muttered, but when she turned to the three men, it was obvious she’d offended them. “What?”

“The Laird wants you dead,” Diego said. “He doesn’t like variables. Don’t make it easier for him to make the call.”

“You haven’t told her that he doesn’t have a sense of humor?” one of the guards asked.

The second guard, who Diego had called Kipling, was pondering something. “He wants her dead… that means if a gun goes off by accident—”

“You get bonus points for killing her,” Diego said. Both guards looked at her with a more sinister glint in their eyes. Diego grabbed Kipling by his uniform and thrust him against the wall. “Course if your weapon hasn’t been properly maintained and it malfunctions, that means someone hasn’t done their job. Remember what happened to the last guy who discharged his weapon and blamed it on a fault?”

Diego gave Kipling a shove to thrust him away, then grabbed her again to drag her from the compound.

This place was a treasure trove of drama. Every way she turned, there was a new story. “What happened to him?” she whispered, struggling to keep up given her ankle brace.

“Same thing that happens to everyone who breaks the rules or disrupts routine,” Diego grumbled.

“What?”

Just then, he pulled her through the trees and threw her forward. Falling to the grass, she landed on her knees, gritting her teeth against the ache in her leg. But, as she took in what was around her, thoughts of pain faded to black.

In this shadowy clearing, surrounded by overhanging rocks from the mountain above, there was just enough light to make out the plaques on the ground. Dark grey, each was carved into a rock that had been polished just enough to make space for a number to be etched into it.

They were equally spaced, but close together, and stretched into the trees in all directions. “We have other sites like this throughout the forest,” Diego said. “This one is filled with cremations. Some guys we let disappear into the wind, some are interred like this. No one is returned to their family.”

Shea didn’t realize he’d helped her up until she started walking. She came to a stop in the middle of the site. “You kill people? What state are we in? Capital punishment—”

“The only sentence here is life,” he said. “Sometimes that runs out and when it does, we end up here.”

“We?”

“There are some comrades buried in the hills too,” he said and looked up like he was thinking of his fallen friends. But, he got it together and focused on her again. “This is your chance to make a choice, maybe the last one you’ll ever make.”

“Live or die?”

“Inmate… or comrade.”

It took her a second to figure out what he was saying. When she did, she couldn’t have been more stunned. “You want me to… to work here?”

“The Laird has ensured your safety for now. But, that won’t last unless you show loyalty. If you work with us, you will be expected to earn his trust and to take the pledge.”

“The pledge?”

“Your life to the cause,” he said. “It seems like a lot, but if you don’t… it’s back to that cell and you won’t be getting out.”

“He wants me dead,” she whispered, recalling what Diego had said to the guards just a few minutes ago. “I’m some kind of inconvenience.”

Putting the pieces together was difficult enough without trying to figure out this enigmatic, invisible character who commanded all of their lives… and deaths apparently.

“Some kind, yeah,” he said, coming to her. “Look, I’m not going to lie, he wasn’t wild about the idea. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s expecting you to fail.” That provoked her competitive hackles. “Working gives you more freedom than you’d ever have in gen pop. The Laird can’t guarantee your safety in the yard; no one would lose any sleep if you were ripped apart by the inmates.”