Bruce didn’t respond to that.
Ramon had to find a way to get out of this room. He needed to steal a satellite phone from someone on the base and call Kenna. Let her know… What? He barely understood what was happening, and none of it was good.
He managed to get up.
“There’s a bathroom through there.” Bruce pointed to the corner on the left side, farthest from the door. “And coffee in the pot.”
“What time is it?” Ramon reached up and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back. How long had he been asleep?
“Just after eight in the morning.”
Ramon shook his head. He took care of pressing business first but went to the front door after, when he really wanted coffee. He wanted to get out of here more than that.
There was no handle on this side, just a metal plate that had been screwed into the door frame.
He pushed on the door, then checked all the drawers in the little kitchenette for something he could use as a screwdriver. “Where are the knives?” He needed the flat edge of a butter knife, at least.
“No knives.”
When he turned to Bruce, the guy was casually taking a sip of his coffee. Ramon said, “So you’ve resigned yourself to sitting here doing nothing?”
“Tried to get out.” Another sip. “I got all the way to an office while Amara created an elaborate distraction. The phone had no dial tone, and the computer wasn’t connected to the internet. They took great pains to explain to us what a “closed system” means and how there’s no way to contact the outside world.”
“Bear had a sat phone.” Ramon poured himself some java.
“You won’t see him. Just a couple of the others.” Amara wore slacks and flat shoes with a plain knit sweater. No makeup.
Maybe that was the difference in her. She seemed more…natural. Like the woman she was underneath, when the bravado had been stripped away.
“We need to contact Kenna and let her know what’s happening.” He leaned back against the kitchenette counter. “I’m not sitting here doing nothing.”
Bruce glanced at Amara, his jaw hard. “There’s nothing you can do?—”
“If you call me ‘bud’ one more time, I’m going to throw this mug at you,” Ramon warned. “I don’t think you just turned yourselves over to them. Maybe you should tell me how the two ofyougot here.”
Then, he was going to persuade them that if all three of them worked together, they would have a greater chance of getting out of here.
Or two of them could create enough distraction for the third to escape.
He’d still rather take his chances on the mountain, battling the temperature and the terrain, than sit here feeling as if he was useless.
Amara glanced at Bruce, then set her fork down. “There’s more food keeping warm in the oven. I just made an easy breakfast casserole.”
“Right, because that’s such a normal thing to do in captivity.”
“We all have to eat. A hearty meal will give you better energy.” Amara leaned back on her seat. “Do you want to sit?”
Ramon found he couldn’t argue, but it still felt like he was being led into a trap.
Amara gathered Bruce’s dirty dishes and put them in the sink, then she brought down a plate from the cupboard above the coffeepot. She lifted the small dish out of the oven.
“That smells good.”
Amara handed him a spatula. “It isn’t a trick.”
She sat back down, while he served himself a portion and poured more coffee. He sat across from her. “How did you get here?” He paused, his fork almost to his mouth. “Wait. How long have the two of you been here?”
Bruce shook his head. “At least a month, maybe a little longer.”
