Owen sat on his cot and massaged his leg. Damn thing was swollen so big he could barely walk. He hadn't slept more than a few hours during the last three days—not since he and Sam returned from wherever the hell his captors had hauled them. Owen underestimated them. They'd covered his head with a hood, making it impossible to see anything. They'd traveled for miles, twisting and turning so much he'd lost his sense of direction.

Owen pulled the threadbare blanket tight around his body, but his teeth kept chattering. In forty-eight more hours, the ransom deadline expired.

What then?

The Army had ways to track the phone, but since the video was made in one place, and they were held in another, he prayed they'd figured out his clue.

Sweat beaded his brow, and his eyes drifted to the corner web. What would happen to Snooki once he was gone? Not that she needed him. Just the opposite. She'd been fine before he showed up, so what made him think she would suffer without him?

Squinting against the dimming light, he bolted upright. The web—empty. He scanned the walls and floor. No sign of her. It would be dark soon. She needed to be home. He didn't want to be left alone with thoughts of his future. The clock was ticking and with each minute, death closed in on him. Sam had said if no one came through with money, heads would roll. God, sometimes he hated that Sam could understand their language.

He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, and a thick layer of panic settled over him.

He didn't want to die. Not here. Not now. Not without his family. Silbie.

He tried to swing his feet to the floor, but his limbs were numb. Paralyzed with fear, he gulped air.

Was he having a heart attack?

His arms tingled, then throbbed. He clutched his chest. Wheezed in a shallow breath. It'd serve the bastards right to find him dead of natural causes. Despite his anxiety, he couldn't help but laugh.

A series of explosions snapped Owen from his thoughts. Flashbang. Once a soldier experienced the sound and odor of a stun grenade there was no forgetting it. He jumped to his feet, stumbled, then regained his footing, and rushed forward. The door burst open and a cloud of smoke followed two soldiers into the room.

"Sergeant Filgard?"

Was this a dream? He couldn't be sure. His head spun and his ears rang. Tears flooded his eyes. He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. He nodded.

"We're here to take you home."

Owen hobbled forward.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah, just not very fast. There's another prison, Sam."

"Got it." The soldier wasn't much bigger than Owen, but in one quick motion, he bent, circled Owen's knees with his arms and heaved him over his shoulder.

"I've got your six," the other guy said, and held open the door.

Owen's carrier took off in a trot. With only a sliver of moon, Owen wished he had Night Vision Goggles like his two rescuers. In the distance, the whup, whup, whup, of a chopper. Within minutes, the soldier released Owen into the back of a Humvee, then climbed in after him, and spoke into his com system. "Base, come in, over—both packages secure."

The vehicle spun out in a shot and Owen drew a grainy breath. He hoped this was real because he'd seen enough desert to last a lifetime.

"Time to get the fuck out of this sandbox," someone said.

"OoRah!" another voice said.

"HooYah!" someone responded.

Marines and Navy? Where's the Army? Owen floated in and out of consciousness. Had to be a dream. Any second he'd wake in the hut with Snooki. Before he could reason anymore, they skidded to a stop.

Grit swirled around him as he was shuffled into a chopper. Once inside, someone stretched a strap over his body and secured it. Owen hugged himself to keep from shaking.

His savior leaned forward and placed a hand on Owen's head. "You cold?"

He nodded so fast his vision blurred.

"Just relax, Sergeant. We'll have you back to base soon and get you something for the fever and a band-aid for that leg." Owen floated in and out of consciousness. It had to be a dream. Any second he'd wake up in the hut with Snooki.

The soldier clicked his com system again. "Base, we need a doctor on standby, over—yes, sir. Roger that." He patted Owen on the shoulder. "You're gonna be fine, Filgard. Hang in there."

"You sure?"

"Fucking HooAh! No way in hell I'm gonna let you die in this hellhole."

Silbie hated to admit she had a devious streak, but she'd planned her arrival at Mom's before dawn for a reason. Just as she thought, paparazzi was already in place. She stepped out of the car, hooked her arm in Logan's, and gazed at him as if he were the man of her dreams. She shielded her eyes from the flashing cameras. Logan pecked her on the cheek, and the crowd of photographers egged him on.

"Give her a good one."

"Any truth to the rumors there may be wedding bells soon?"

"Is that why you're here in Parkers Prairie? To meet the family?"

He gathered Silbie into his arms and covered her lips with his. And she let him. This time he abided by her wishes and kept his tongue to himself. He was a damn good kisser. Not as good as Owen. Pain stabbed her chest. It'd been so long since she'd kissed him, her memories were fading. That scared her.

Logan held up his hand. "Hey, guys. Back off. It's just a quick visit before we start shooting the Rayne sequel." He strolled toward the front door, pulling Silbie alongside him. When they reached the porch, he faced the group again. But, before he could say anything, Silbie heard the click she'd been waiting for. Within seconds, chaos reigned as the sprinkler system showered the crowd with icy water. They screamed and tripped over each other trying to protect their equipment as they ran to their cars.

Silbie bit back laughter.

"Now I understand why you were so insistent on leaving at a certain time. You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

She gave him her best innocent look. "Who? Little ol' me?"

Logan flashed a look that said he wasn't buying it. He opened the door for her and followed her inside.

"Mom, Matthew, this is my friend, Logan Foster. Logan, this is my Mom and Matthew Kline."

He offered his hand to Matthew. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kline." Then he turned to Silbie's mother and embraced her. "And you, too, Momma Kline." He backed away. "Is it alright if I call you Mom?"

Silbie flapped her hand in the air. "Might as well say yes, because he will anyway."

Mom smiled. "Of course, you can. Y'all want breakfast?"

"Sounds delicious," Logan said. "I'll wash up. Bathroom?" He pointed down the hall.

"First door on the right," Mom said.

Once he disappeared, Mom cut her eyes at Silbie. "He seems nice."

"He's also full of it. Don't take anything he says too seriously." Silbie followed Mom into the kitchen. "I've sure missed your cooking. Especially desserts. I hate I can't be here for Christmas. I can almost taste the peach cobbler."

Mom put her arm around Silbie's shoulders. "When you do get to come home, we'll pretend it's Christmas and bake them then. Let's just make the most of the little time we have left together. Monday, right?"

Silbie leaned her head on Mom's shoulder. Nothing felt better than her touch. "Yes. We have a noon flight back to California, then the next morning, we head to Switzerland. No way I can take any days off until we're done shooting there."

I'm just thankful you'll be here tomorrow to see the twins baptized. Logan is welcome."

"I'd love to," he said from behind Silbie. "That way, I can meet your whole family. They'll be there, right?"

"I dunno, Logan. All those photographers might think we're getting married for sure if they see us going to church together."

Owen's finally been rescued, what do you think will happen next?

TEASER: "You're giving orders, and I'm smart enough to know when to shut up."