Cannon

15

“What about your mom?” he asked.

“I don’t have a mom.” The one photo she’d seen of her mother flashed in her head. It was of a younger version of her father with a beautiful blond, both dressed in camo, smiling widely. They looked so much in love. Her father kept the picture in a drawer. After so many moves and years, he no longer put it on his bedside table.

Cannon abruptly stopped and turned to her. “What?”

She lifted her hands. “Okay, technically, I had a mother since I exist, but she was killed shortly after I was born. My dad raised me as a single parent.”

An expression of shock and disbelief crossed his gorgeous face. “What about aunts?”

“I have uncles on both sides, but I’ve never met anyone on my mother’s side of the family. We moved a lot with dad being in the military. So we were never close to visit.” She didn’t mention that her father wouldn’t talk about her mother’s family. Thinking about her mother tore him up too much, so Ryver learned to live without knowing much.

“My dad was the one who taught me to never show fear and to be strong in the face of adversity,” she sighed. “Though I don’t think he ever expected me to be in this situation. He did get me self-defense lessons as a kid, but that was part of the growing up stuff. I forgot most of it once I went to college and then med school.” She gave him a serious smile. “I can still kick ass though.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I’m sure.”

The conversation ended abruptly when it was clear they had reached the end of the forest. Putting out a hand, Cannon gestured they were to walk very quietly and carefully. By now, the silvery light had surrendered entirely to the rays of buttery sun that fell lazily out from almost cartoonish clouds overhead.

Beyond the thickness of the trees lay a field of soft tall grass. And beyond that, the pitch of a brightly colored barn reached skyward. A small figure that appeared to be a farmer emerged from a side door. He stretched his arms wide in a movement that seemed, to Ryver, that he was welcoming the new day. She decided to take this as a good sign.

Upon seeing all this, Ryver instantly wished to be within the safety of the barn’s walls. The thinning forest, the brightness of the day, she suddenly felt much too exposed.

“Let’s approach with caution. If things go to hell, I’ll handle it,” Cannon whispered. With that, they left the relative safety of the forest and crossed the field. After finishing his stretches, the farmer easily spotted them and met them as the field tapered to shorter grass and dirt surrounding the barn.

The farmer spoke in a language she didn’t know, his voice thick and gritty like he’d eaten some dust. He was not very old, but hard work and prolonged exposure to the elements had aged him like leather.

Cannon replied in the same language, pointing to the barn. He must be asking if they could stay there for the daylight hours.

The farmer mulled on it for a few moments before nodding. Ryver felt such relief at that small gesture.

They entered the side door of the barn and were instantly enveloped by the smell of warm, fresh earth.

Choosing a pile of hay near the central wall of the barn, Ryver soon made herself comfortable and, before she knew it, had surrendered to sleep once more.

It did not last long. With a jolt, she woke. The sleepy barn was sleepy no more. The clack of loud footsteps, accompanied by the shouts of men, banished any shred of sleep.

Something was wrong. Dangerously so.

CANNON

Inside the farmer’s barn, Cannon lay next to the extraordinary woman he’d rescued. His mind still spun with questions about the scent his dragon detected. She was definitely the general’s daughter. The same one who had imprisoned him for the past years.

She was the warden’s daughter. Could he still love her? The mating bond was one of the strongest forces on the planet. Would he be able to ignore it and live his life on his own terms? Well, he was glad the females weren’t closely related. He should rest now.

No sooner had Cannon’s head hit the bundle of hay he had assembled for a pillow, when he was snatched out of sleep by the sound of bangs and footfalls.

He knew instantly those were not the sounds of a regular workday on the farm. Shouts, the sound of heavy boots and distant heavy machinery told him they had been discovered. It didn’t take long to discover just how.

“In there,” the muffled but distinct voice of the farmer was heard, followed by, “you’ll pay me now, right?”

They’d been betrayed. Cannon could guess that the sum was a pittance to the terrorists but a windfall for the farmer. It was a vicious cycle in places like these. Loyalty was cheap. So were the vows of men.

All vestiges of sleep left him as he sprang into action, desperately looking for somewhere he and Ryver could hide or use to escape. But, as he looked, dismay filled him. Nothing but dusty walls, towers of hay bales, and no windows to speak of. They were trapped.

Ryver, by this point, had also awoken and looked to him with a mix of fear and determination. Though the situation was dire, he couldn’t help but admire her courage in the face of it all. She was hell-bent on not showing she was a victim.

They were lying on a stretch of bales about ten feet from the barn floor. He thought that might give them an advantage, but he was immediately met with a full display of guns as he peered over the side to get a closer look at the main and side doors. At least four thugs were standing there, a collective look of smug triumph etched into their bland faces.

He couldn’t believe it. The farmer had not only sold them out, but he’d practically highlighted their exact location. If ever he got the chance, he would have to pay a special visit to the farmer to thank him for his hospitality.