Talons of the Falcon by Rebecca York

Author:Rebecca York
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Suspense
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1986-11-19T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Eden didn’t have to turn in the moonlight. She knew who it was, and that made her redouble her struggles. Run, Mark, her mind screamed. He’ll just get you, too. But he was oblivious to the silent entreaty.

“Let go of her, you bastard.”

Sergeant Wayne Marshall laughed. “You’re not in any position to be giving orders, Colonel,” he gibed. “Just hold it right there while I secure your chick.” The gun that had been in Eden’s back was now pointed at Mark.

As Marshall spoke, he maneuvered Eden toward one of the pines. She heard the clink of metal, and then one cold bracelet of a handcuff set was snapped around her right wrist. Marshall looped the connecting chain over a branch and secured the other cuff to her left wrist. She was effectively immobilized with her arms pulled up over her head. The position was painful. She knew it would get worse.

She could see the tension in Mark’s body. He was looking for a chance to spring, but Marshall didn’t give him one. “Now it’s your turn, Bradley,” he spat out.

Mark struggled to hold himself in check. All his emotions urged him to charge, even if it meant suicide, but his training told him not to argue with a gun. He didn’t care about himself, but if he were dead, Eden wouldn’t have a chance.

The sergeant smiled, his eyes flicking momentarily to the neighboring trees and then settling on one about ten feet from Eden. “I think this will do nicely—close enough for you to see the action but too far away to do a damn thing about it.”

He gestured with the gun. “Over there.”

Mark had no choice. He complied—and then backed up to the tree and reached around it as Marshall had ordered. With a few swift but professional strokes Marshall secured his captive’s wrists and ankles with rough cord.

“I want you to know that this little show will be for your benefit as much as mine, Colonel,” Marshall taunted as he stuffed a handkerchief in his captive’s mouth and secured it with tape. “Think of it as a repayment for all the hours I’ve played nursemaid, lugging you around, spoon-feeding you—all on orders from Moscow.” The raw bitterness in his voice matched the malice in his eyes.

When Marshall turned back toward Eden, Mark tested the bonds. They were tight. He moved his arms as far as he could up and down the tree trunk and then felt a stab of hope. Marshall hadn’t noticed, but there was a sharp metal projection in the bark above his wrists—a nail or a marker. Given time, he might be able to saw himself loose. But time might be in very short supply.

He shuddered as Marshall reached out and put a hand on Eden’s breast. She kicked him in the leg, and he cried out in pain, taking a quick step backward.

“That wasn’t very smart,” he observed, regaining his composure. “Let me show you what that gets you.” He crossed back to Mark and hit him with several hard jabs to the stomach.

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