The gun shots sounded like canon blasts, making his ears ring.

At first, the pain didn't register so he waited for a few seconds and when the few seconds was over, it still didn't. When the ringing in his ears stopped and the dust had settled, Marcel was on the floor, while the two men were subdued by Cody and Ivan.

How the hell had they gotten here? Devlin decided to worry about them later.

He looked around and saw that Delaney had bailed and Pamela was struggling with her binds. He raced towards her and fought with the wires until they were off. By the time he removed her gag and blindfold, she was hysterical and weeping. She threw her arms around him about the same time that he wrapped his arms around her and they both sobbed hysterically.

His veins overflowing with relief, he pressed her close and buried his face in her neck, touching her, feeling every part of her, wanting to assure himself that he wasn't dreaming and he was in fact holding her in his arms once again. By the time they had calmed and regained composure, the wail of siren could be heard. Devlin reluctantly let go of her and held her at arm's length.

"I have to leave. They can't know I'm here."

She nodded in understanding but none of them moved. They lingered in each other's arms for more seconds before he reluctantly stood and got into a truck Cody had running. He glanced one last time at her and she managed a weak smile for him but it didn't hide the traumatized look in her eyes and that wrenched at his heart. He wanted to weep.

Strands of hair damp with sweat fell over her face. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and she looked like she could use a hot meal or two, a nice long soak in the bath and a lot of sleep. He couldn't wait to be reunited with her but he knew that the interrogation and questioning would take some time.

The moment the door of the truck slammed shut, it roared to life and was speeding away, leaving a cloud of dust at its wake. Devlin glared at his men.

"How the hell did you find me?"

"We followed you." Cody said simply.

He breathed. What was the use getting mad at them? They had saved his ass. It had been risky but they had saved his ass. He could never repay them for their unending loyalties. His throat tightened,

"Thank you." He said, sincerely meaning it. "Very much."

~

Pamela tried to breathe, tried to assure herself that she was out of danger, that she was safe, but her attempts were futile. Having escaped a near-death situation had dragged raw on her nerves. Also, being surrounded by strangers was more unsettling than she wanted to admit. There was no one she knew, whom she could look in the eye and have assure her that she was really safe and that the worst was over. The only familiar face was being zipped into a body bag, for heavens sakes. That alone was enough to water down her vain attempts at being strong.

She wondered how long she could keep her emotions in check. A sinusoidal wave of hysteria was tugging at her sanity and she would relish nothing more than to explode and cry hard. But she didn't want to cry alone, she wanted to do it in the arms of her man.

She winced at the pain that the prick of a needle caused but welcomed it. She needed something to jar her back to reality. Hot liquid coursed through her veins and it was painful. She gave the EMT who had promised her "only a slight prick" a baleful look. He laughed. He then urged her to puff up a breathing tube. Her breathing was fine, he said, the only thing she needed was a bucket load of supplements and rest.

She told him he could say that again.

When he was done, she was relieved and glad to be let off very easily but she was stopped by two detectives that wanted to question her. They were doing their jobs, they'd said, and so were the others that had turned the once quiet hatch to a beehive of activity. It was swarming with various crime scene personnel, coming and going as their duties required.

The two detectives led her to a shed and helped her into a squeaky wooden chair while they stood. One of them wore a suit and lace-up shoes while the other wore blue jeans and T-shirt with "Piscataquis county Sheriff's department" stenciled on it. They had introduced themselves as Detectives Hudson from Abbot, Piscataquis and Rodgers from Wiscasset police department. They had also told her that the Piscataquis Sheriff had to be involved because the crime had happened in their county; a small, remote town, perfect for what Marcel had in mind.

"How are you feeling ma'am?" Rodgers, the one in suit asked.

"I'll live." She was tired and wanted to hug her husband till she falls asleep. She might die if she didn't do it soon.

"I know you're tired but we have to ask a few questions."

She nodded.

Rodgers assumed a stance that showed he was ready to begin. "When were you first taken?"

Pamela began to talk about the day she went to Marcel's, but realized that she couldn't tell the whole story without talking about Devlin, so she decided to stick around the truth as close as possible while exempting any mention of Devlin.

"Marcel and I were engaged but I called it off -"

"You called the engagement off or the wedding?"

Pamela gave the blonde man a look, shifted her gaze to the other detective who was looking on as meek and mellow as a sheep and then she looked back at Rodgers. He returned her stare, his blue eyes penetrating hers in a way that was unsettling.

Not wanting to cause herself any more stress than she'd been subjected to, as he was probably only doing his job, she took a deep breath and replied, "The wedding."

"Hmm. Go on."

Pamela didn't like the look on his face. He was judging her with the ferocity that a preacher would a prostitute. She was appalled to realize that she disliked him already. "I wasn't ready, and he understood my decision."

"Do you think jealousy was what made him do this to you?"

Pamela knew a trap when she saw one. She gave him a wan smile. "Who would he be jealous of? I have no romantic interest and haven't had one asides from him since -"

"Your late husband."

She gave a single nod.

"If he is really late."

Her temper sparked. "What is that supposed to mean?" She demanded frostily.

He backed down. Hudson said, "Take us through the moment Mr. Deaton took you hostage, ma'am."

"It was the night of our annual charity ball. I decided to see how he was doing because there had been a fire. I decided to take the back door."

"Why?" Rogers asked.

"I didn't want to bother him. Besides, I usually take the back door. This time, something was eerie. Off. I overheard him speaking to someone and saying he would hand me over to them. He caught me while I was trying to escape. The rest, you know."

"Would you have gone to the police had you escaped that night ma'am?"

Pamela stood and thought about it honestly. She watched the crime scene bubble with activity. If Devlin wasn't in the picture, would she have? "No. I wouldn't have."

"That's interesting."

"Would you like to tell us your reason?" Hudson asked.

"I don't trust the police, no offence detectives but everyone has a price."

"What's yours?"

She came around quickly. "Excuse me?"

"I asked you if you have a price." Rodgers said.

She didn't honor that with a response. Rodgers was crass and sly and very mean and it seemed he pleasured in it. She drew a deep breath and counted to ten.

She saw Hudson shift uncomfortably. He said, "That will be all for now ma'am, thank you."

"But we will be back, of course. We need you to help clarify a lot."

"I have nothing to hide."

"Hmm. I'm sure."

She looked away from the brazen look laden with suspicion that Rodgers was giving her and regretted it immediately. Her eyes had landed on the stretcher bearing Marcel's body waiting for an helicopter to lift it out and she shuddered. She wrapped her elbows tightly around her torso.

"When can I leave?"

"This place is impenetrable and is therefore only reachable by foot. A helicopter can't set down so it might take a while."

Pamela frowned at the Piscataquis detective. "It can be reached by car. I remember we got here in a truck."

"How would you know when you were blindfolded? Or did someone else leave in a hurry?"

Pamlea counted to ten and willed herself to be calm. She looked at Hudson. "We didn't walk for long. It was a short distance before I was taken inside."

"So one can safely assume that there's a path." Hudson said and she nodded.

A uniformed man jogged towards them. "Detective Rodgers? We found something. Tire tracks. We traced it and it leads from here to the interstate. The path had been disguised with artificial bushes and trees."

Rodgers scratched his beard. "Smart."

"Seems you'll be able to leave sooner than expected, ma'am." Hudson said to Pamela. "You will be given police escorts. We've set up a team that will help you get home and keep watch over you for a few days."

Pamela was shaking her head even before he completed his statement. "Escorting me home is more than enough. I don't need watch guards."

"We insist."

"I'll be fine thank you."

"It's for your safety, ma'am. I doubt if these people are done with you."

"I don't want people watching my house. It's going to unsettle me."

He must have read from her tone that she didn't want to discuss it further because he said nothing more.

~

Cain Rodgers knew a liar when he saw one.

They would look you right in the eye, unblinking, and lie. They didn't fidget or hem-haw. They were still as a cat in a gutter. Cool, reserved, composed. They didn't conceal all but revealed just enough, sticking as close to the truth as possible for them to be eliminated as viable suspects.

Having had interrogated many people in the past, Cain could tell if a person was being honest. Usually, innocent people would be sweaty, jumpy, quick to talk so they would be allowed to leave. They were mouthy and forward, agreeable on every term.

But liars were skilled craftsmen. They might not necessarily be guilty but they always had something to hide. They kept their cards close to their chest and played only when necessary. An unsuspecting officer would fall for their wiles.

But not Cain Rodgers.

If any liar was smart, he was smarter. He was known to make anyone buckle under pressure. He was the best and his colleagues and superiors respected him for that. He had unmasked several liars and had unearthed several mysteries. His reputation preceded him wherever he went, which was why Hudson acted as meek as a church rat and let him have full control of the interrogation. Nothing went past his quick, careful eyes. Nothing unsettled him. No obstacle was too big for him to handle.

But never had he met an obstacle as high as the one Pamela Gusev posed.

But he was going to scale the walls. If anything, she was like a challenge to him, a puzzle without pictures that he had to piece together and the thought of doing it made his mouth water and his heart skip with excitement. He loved challenges and would wholeheartedly accept it.

"Ma'am, you should rethink this." Hudson said with a small voice. "Having protection would be ideal."

Cain almost felt sorry for his partner. One do not deal with liars with a soft hand. An iron fist was required.

"I understand you but -"

"Is there someone you want to hide from us?"

He watched surprise cross her face, a second after, it turned rocky hard. Then she turned the tables and surprised him by smiling. "Alright. I'm starting to think I'll need to protect myself from you, anyway."

He flashed her a grin but it didn't reach his eyes. He wanted to cut her lips with a saw so the zig-zag pattern on the saw would make her look like a patched up rag doll. Or better still, he wanted to kiss her. He wouldn't lie that she wasn't attractive. She was. Even with how battered she looked, his groin still swelled at the sight of her. Gusev had been one lucky bastard. Good thing he couldn't enjoy her anymore.

If, of course, he was really dead.

Cain wasn't a fool. He had known the mafia for years but had met him only once and that first meeting had struck him with an impression of a man that didn't give in easily, not even to death. He knew it, deep down in his gut, that Gusev was alive and Pamela knew about it. And if he wasn't, he was still convinced that she was hiding something.

He hoped to hell that Gusev was alive. Gusev owed him and he was yet to extract his pound of flesh. If Gusev was alive, then he would have his ass.

And his wife's too.

~

"There'll be a policeman stationed outside your door, whether you're in the room or not. Another will be outside the sitting room, where he can monitor the stairwell. They'll be in radio contact with guards at various posts downstairs, inside and outside the building."

"Why do I feel like you're putting me in prison?" She said with obvious anguish.

"It's for your own good."

At the sound of Rodger's voice so close, Pamela jumped and stepped away. She hadn't realized that he had come so close. The feel of his breath on her neck made her want to puke. She frowned but didn't address the issue.

"I feel like a grounded child in a holding cell. How long will I be cooped up in here? Will I even be allowed to go out?"

"I'm afraid not. Until your captors are investigated and the reason for that is established, you would be safer under protection."

"The point's moot. My captors are already in custody."

"There could be more." He said by way of explanation. "Besides, some people might try to get in contact with you."

She folded her arms across her chest and assumed a stance. He reached out and touched her elbows with the tip of his fingers, almost like a caress. It made her skin crawl.

"Your safety is our top priority."

She pulled away and walked to the other end of her room. "Funny how you're acting so nice to me when hours ago you wanted to eat me alive."

"Oh I would love to eat you alive."

Her head snapped up, an angry retort on the tip of her tongue but he flashed her what he thought was a disarming grin before she could let it loose. It sickened her.

"I'm kidding."

Silent and grim as a sentinel, she brushed past him and walked to the door. Inasmuch as the thought of touching him repulsed her, he was standing in the way so she had no choice. She opened the door.

"I would like to be alone now. I'm tired."

"Oh, of course." He started to move, then stopped. "I know this is not a hotel but you will have room service that will provide your meals, seeing that you have no one. Just until you regain your strength. Curtsey of the police department."

"How generous of them."

He strode to the door and placed his hand over hers on the door handle. With a high degree of self control, Pamela slowly removed her hands from under his. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he bothered her. If he didn't know already.

As soon as he was through the door, she slammed it shut and turned the dead bolt. She leaned against the door and took several steadying breaths before slugging towards the bed. She was very tied and a migraine was throbbing in her temple. Between her shoulder blades, the muscle burned with fatigue.

She also felt really dirty and decided to take a long soak in the bath. Lifting her clothes from her body was a task. When she was done, she filled the bath and sank into it then rested her head on the tub's rim and closed her eyes.

The ringing of her phone woke her from a light doze. She let it ring. She didn't have the wherewithal to talk to anyone just now. Not even Susan. Especially not Susan. She was weary of words. But she jerked upright when she realized that the caller could be Devlin.

In an instant she was out of the bathtub not caring about trailing soapy water on the tiled floors. By the time was holding her phone, it had stopped ringing. Disappointed, she dropped the phone and turned to head for the bathroom, when it rang again.

It was a hidden number.

Taking a deep breath, she answered it and placed over her ears. "Yes?"

"Room service ma'am."

Disappointed, she sat on the bed. "Oh. Yes."

"What would you like to have?"

She started to say that she wasn't hungry but what was the use? It was better she eat and regain her strength. Devlin would want her to. "What's for dinner?"

Barely five minutes after she hung up, there was a slight tap on her door. She unlatched the chain, unlocked the bolt, and opened the door.

The man in a waiter uniform turned and pushed her back into the room. He kicked the door shut with his heel at the same time he backed her into the wall. For a split second she almost screamed but she didn't. There was no need to.

Because it was her husband, garbed in a waiter's apparel, starring right back at her.

~

Hello there! Thank you for reading!

I sincerely apologize for the late upload. A lot has been going on but I promise to be right on time for the next chapter. I feel terrible for leaving you at a cliff hanger and uploading this late. I will be better, I promise.

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