by Kaylea Cross
Her whole body turned clammy, her breathing shallow. What did Hanes want from her? How could she drag this out and hold on long enough for help to reach them?
The world spun as they reached the top of the wall. Sam was unceremoniously handed off to someone else, dumped over another broad shoulder and then they were descending into the fort.
Hanes was waiting for her at the bottom. When the man holding her dumped her on the ground, Hanes seized her by the upper arm and hauled her to her feet.
Sam shot upward, her only option to obey if she didn’t want her shoulder dislocated or her arm broken. She glanced past Hanes to take in their surroundings. Only a few lights were scattered around the dark interior, but it was enough for her to see they were behind what must be the visitor’s center set in the center of the fort.
She scrambled to keep up with his long strides as he dragged her over to some old masonry work structure and shoved her down. Her ass hit the ground with a teeth-jarring thud. She quickly straightened, her back against the cold bricks as Hanes towered over her, a menacing wall of shadow in front of her.
He squatted down, the faint light filtering down from overhead making his eyes glitter menacingly. “What was on the flash drive?” he said in a low, deadly voice.
She swallowed, glanced to her right just as Bryn came into view, being herded toward them by her captor.
A hard hand grabbed Sam’s chin and forced her head around. Hanes leaned in closer, his grip painful. “What was on it?” he repeated, face hard.
The man dragging Bryn thrust her down against another masonry structure about twenty feet away. Sam forced a steadying breath, trying to slow her racing mind and heart. She had to start talking, and there was no harm in telling him what was on the drive. “Numbers.”
“What kind of numbers?”
The fear was trying to choke her, slowly closing her throat. “Bank accounts. Possible withdrawals and deposits. There were no names, no businesses.”
His stare never wavered. “Did you make a copy? Send it to anyone?”
“No.” Not yet. Though she’d planned to send everything to Jamie once she got the okay from Luke.
Hanes set his jaw, and her stomach tightened. He didn’t believe her. She leaned back instinctively but there was nowhere to go. “What else did he send you?” he said.
She had to be careful. She had to give him enough information to make him believe she was cooperating and telling the truth, but not so quickly that any potential rescue attempt wouldn’t get here in time.
Except she didn’t know what the hell to do or say to delay any of this—or if help was even coming. “More numbers. Written on a piece of paper.”
“An address?”
Stall. You have to stall. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Tell me the numbers.”
What the hell was Hanes hiding that he would go to all this trouble to retrieve what Sam had been sent? “I didn’t memorize them,” she lied.
She’d absolutely memorized all the numbers from the start, but this was the only way she knew to delay what she feared was the inevitable. Once Hanes had what he needed from her, she was expendable. Which meant she was dead, and Bryn too.
“What else.”
She hesitated a second, her mind working frantically and coming up with nothing helpful. “A key. I don’t know what it’s for. Who sent it?” Maybe if she could get him talking, she could buy a few minutes.
His expression hardened. “Doesn’t matter. Do you still have everything?”
“I don’t have anything now,” she said, playing dumb and hoping he would buy it. “And your men destroyed my phone when they took me.”
He released her jaw and eased back onto his haunches to stare at her. Sam held her breath, wondering what was going on in his head and whether she’d just earned her own death sentence. “Where is it?” he asked, his low voice sending a shiver up her spine.
Sam’s heart thudded. She didn’t want to tell him but she had no choice. She couldn’t provoke him now, and just prayed what she was about to say wouldn’t get any of the others killed. “At a house in Charleston.”
“Luke Hutchinson’s place.”
Ice slid through her, even though she’d instinctively known he’d been aware that she was staying with Luke and Emily. He must have been watching her for a few days now if he’d found and taken her tonight.
He might even have been watching Luke’s place the last couple days, and maybe everyone else’s movements too. “Yes,” she whispered, quaking inside. She was cold now. Cold to the marrow of her bones, desperately trying to think of a way to save her and Bryn.
“Where in the house?”
The quiet question made tears sting the backs of her eyes. Once she told him, Hanes’s men would attack the house. People she loved would be hurt, and maybe even killed.
Hanes cocked his head, waiting.
“I can sh-show you,” she said. “If you take me there, I’ll show you.”
Hanes’s mouth twisted in a cruel smile. “Nice try, sweetheart, but no. You’re gonna tell me exactly where it is, then I’m gonna send someone to get it.”
Sam swallowed and opened her mouth to try and plead her case, but the words wouldn’t come out.
She saw the moment Hanes’s patience snapped.
His hand flashed downward. Sam tracked its movement, her heart seizing in horror when he drew a pistol, chambered a round and pointed it directly at Bryn.
Bryn’s gaze shot to hers in terror, and Sam’s stomach pitched. She wrenched her attention back to Hanes, fear and helplessness washing over her. No matter what she said now, someone she loved would die. “No, don’t, please,” she begged.
Hanes kept her pinned with that malevolent stare, his finger curved around the trigger. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me exactly where everything is, or she gets a bullet in the head.”
Chapter Twelve
The chilly wind whipped over Ben as he leaned forward to balance his weight in the Zodiac. Rhys had the throttle wide open, racing them across the dark harbor toward the fort sitting on a low island ahead of them.
Sam was out there. He was desperate to get to her.
Luke and Dec were ahead and to the left in another boat. They would come in from the left side while Ben and Rhys would come in from the right.
Ben clenched his jaw, itching for the moment they reached the fort. How the fuck had this happened? He was terrified for Sam. She’d been through so much already—they all had—and now she and Bryn had been taken captive by an asshole CIA officer trying to cover his traitorous ass.
He tightened his grip on the rifle Dec had handed him and adjusted his NVGs. They were still dressed in their street clothes and had minimal gear, whatever Dec had been able to grab from Luke’s loadout room in the basement. And in about another two minutes, they would be facing a series of potentially deadly unknowns.
They had no idea how many enemy fighters were waiting for them at the fort, or how heavily armed they were. They had no idea where the enemy was positioned, and there’d been no time to coordinate much of a plan between them.
Salt spray washed over him as the Zodiac bounced over a small wave. Ben barely felt the cold, the fire in his gut burning hot. Sam’s life was at stake. She was depending on him to pull her out before it was too late, and he wasn’t going to let her down. He’d die first.
“Heading left,” Luke said through Ben’s earpiece. “See you on shore.”
“Roger that,” Ben responded. He tapped Rhys on the shoulder to signal him, his gaze fixed on the outline of the fort as it loomed closer. The dock and main entrance were no-gos. They had to assume that whoever was inside was guarding both, and might have lookouts or cameras posted for anyone approaching.
Fortunately, Luke knew the fort well from his time living in Charleston, and had told them about another way in.
If it worked, they might be able to maintain the element of surprise. If not, they would be walking into a kill zone.
Didn’t matter. Ben would either get Sam the hell out of there, or die trying. And there was no one else he would rather have with him right now than his twin.
Rhys cut the engine a ways out to conceal their approach. He and Ben grabbed paddles and pulled their way toward the right side of the island, staying out of the reach of the few lights to avoid detection. Through his NVGs he didn’t see anyone standing at the top of the wall ringing the fort.
That didn’t mean no one was watching, however. Hanes must have taken out whatever security was at the fort. The cops had been alerted to the situation but there was no time to lose, and they didn’t have the training Ben and the others did.
At the last possible moment, they cut left and paddled hard for the shore. Sweat gathered along his spine, slicking his back, chest and face, his muscles straining to pull them to the beach.
They slipped into a spot on the rocks and leaped out, both of them breathing hard. There was no cover here, and no concealment. They had to move fast.
Weapon up to scan for threats, Ben raced for the shadows along the base of the wall, with Rhys right behind him. He pressed his back to the wall and peered to the left. The hidden entrance Luke had told them about was supposedly twenty yards or so away.
“In position,” he murmured just loud enough for his mic to pick up.
“Copy,” Luke responded. “We’re moving toward the entrance now.”
He began creeping forward, his left shoulder hugging the wall to make the most of the deep shadows. Hold on, Sam. I’m coming.
Even with his training and experience, he couldn’t completely ignore the anxiety grinding in the pit of his stomach. They had no idea what they would find on the other side of this wall. There was no backup coming. They were all on their own, winging it and relying on experience and instinct while Sam’s and Bryn’s lives hung in the balance.
“Coming your way in two seconds,” Dec murmured through the earpiece.
Right on cue, a big silhouette appeared around the far corner of the wall. Dec. Then Luke, a moment behind him.
Ben angled his weapon upward, keeping watch for anyone on the top of the wall as they converged on the entry point. He could hear Rhys behind him, their movements barely audible over the quiet lap of the water against the rocks below.
Ben lowered the muzzle of his weapon, directing it at the ground as he angled his body to approach the door. Dec did the same, mirroring his position as they converged on it together from either side, with Rhys and Luke keeping watch.
Ben’s NVGs cast a green wash over everything, amplifying the minimal moonlight coming through the clouds. In the middle of the fortified wall, he found the iron door. Old, but the locking mechanism looked more modern.
Ben nodded at Dec, who pulled the high-powered torch from his pocket and began cutting through the lock. Ben checked all around them while the metal began to glow and hiss under the focused beam of heat.
Then he caught a flash of something out of the corner of his eye.
Instantly he raised his weapon, staring into the night sky where a small light was blinking. The outline of the aircraft slowly materialized, and the telltale sound of rotors vibrated through the air.
“Incoming,” he murmured, his insides tightening. What now?
The helicopter was heading straight for the fort. Giving them only minutes to get inside and rescue Sam and Bryn.
****
Joe kept his weapon aimed directly at the brunette’s head while he held Samarra’s frightened gaze. Anger and impatience boiled inside him.
He reined them in with effort, ready to make good on his threat and pull the trigger just to prove his point. Did she think he was bluffing? That he wouldn’t kill her friend to get what he needed?
“In the study,” she blurted, her gaze shooting to the brunette and then back to him. “Please—”
“Where’s the study?” he demanded, completely unmoved by her pleas. When he sent the remainder of his team to Hutchinson’s house, they needed to know exactly where they were going. It had to be a quick, surgical in-and-out op. All Joe needed was the storage unit location.
“Main floor. Down the hall from the kitchen, closer to the back of the house. Now please, let us go.”
Joe stared at her. He was good at reading people, yet all he was seeing from her now was fear and desperation. He couldn’t tell whether she was telling the truth.
But he didn’t have time to test it by making this uglier for her at the moment. His ride would be here momentarily, and the cops shortly thereafter.
He lowered the weapon, noting the way she sagged in relief as he pulled the radio from his hip. He would keep using the leverage of her friend’s life against her. “The key and letter are in Hutchinson’s study. Main floor, near the back of the house. Get them, text me a picture of whatever’s on that letter, and meet at the rendezvous point. Out.”
As soon as he put the radio back, his burner phone buzzed. The pilot, signaling him that he was inbound.
Joe reached for Samarra. She shrank back, tried to scuttle away but he grabbed her upper arm and jerked her to her feet. “Let’s go,” he told Thomas, and stalked past him and the brunette.
“I told you what you wanted to know,” Samarra protested, yanking against his hold and trying to dig her feet in. “Let us go.”
Nope. “I’m not done with you yet.” Not by a long shot.
He’d find out soon enough whether she’d lied or not. If she had, he’d kill the brunette for starters. If that still wasn’t enough to loosen Samarra’s tongue, he’d start filling her with holes until she gave him what he wanted.
He ignored her protests and her struggles and dragged her along the back side of the visitor’s center, past the ladder still dangling down the rear interior wall of the fort. She kept twisting, trying to break free.
Five seconds later his patience snapped.
He shoved her away from him, knocking her off balance so that she stumbled and fell onto her side. “You deal with her,” he growled to another of his men, who hurried over to heft her over his shoulder. “And watch that one,” he said to Thomas as he forced their other prisoner forward.
The brunette was trouble. Joe didn’t trust her for a moment.
She was leverage, but in some ways it would be easier to put a bullet through her head and dump her here, save him the hassle of having to watch her. She seemed to know it too, because she didn’t fight Thomas as he herded her along the back of the visitor’s center.
Joe holstered his weapon and yanked the ladder down before leaving the old parade ground and heading around the far end of the visitor’s center. On the other side of it was a clearing large enough for the helo to set down. Within moments of it landing, they’d be up and on their way to the RV point.
And as soon as he had the contents of that letter and confirmed the location of the storage facility, Samarra Sinclair would die.
He glanced up and to the right as the faint sound of rotors reached him. Stepping into the clearing on the other side of the visitor’s center, he looked into the dark night sky and clearly saw the lights of the approaching helo. A private civilian aircraft he’d paid a shitload of money to rent, along with the pilot at the controls.
His men brought the prisoners around and stood waiting with him. Come on, come on, Joe urged impatiently.
It seemed to take forever. The helo slowly grew larger as it neared them, the sound of the rotors getting louder. It slowed as it moved overhead, then gently descended into the clearing.
Joe seized Samarra’s arm and began marching her forward just as its skids touched down, bending over a little against the force of the rotor wash. Just as his left foot touched the ground, concrete exploded in a burst where his head had been a second before.
He whirled and dropped to one knee, bringing Samarra in front of him. “Contact!”
His men instantly fanned out in a defensive perimeter. One jerked and went down, sprawled on his stomach.
Joe dragged his l
iving shield closer, looking around frantically for the shooters but not seeing anyone. His men began to return fire.
Joe seized his chance, dragged Samarra upright and ran for the helo. Bullets cracked around them, the sound of the rifle fire echoing off the walls.
She tried to fight him, even angled her head to bite him. He cuffed her across the face and kept going, keeping her between him and the shooters.
The blast of the rotor wash intensified as they neared the aircraft. Joe seized the door handle, wrenched it open and climbed inside, keeping Samarra tight to him even as she kicked and bucked in his hold.
“Go, go!” he shouted at the shocked pilot, who nosed them forward and began to lift off the ground.
Heart pounding, Joe crushed Samarra to him. She was the currency he needed to escape. And in case his men on shore failed to retrieve what he needed, the only way to find what he needed to disappear and start over in Mexico.
Chapter Thirteen
Bryn jerked when the first shot echoed over the noise of the rotors. The man holding her grunted and dropped his weapon, his grip easing around her upper arm.
She tried to wrench free but he somehow managed to hold onto her despite being shot. More shots rang out from around her, the captors returning fire.
Her heart shot into her throat. Dec. It had to be Dec and Luke, come to save them.
She dropped to one knee, adrenaline and fear coursing through her in a dizzying rush.
Chaos reigned around her. She didn’t know where Dec and the others were. Didn’t know what she was supposed to do, or where she was supposed to go—but she wasn’t going to just sit here and let someone grab her again.
She glanced to her left. Sam was already out in front of her, being dragged by a man toward the waiting helicopter. Bryn’s heart sank, a sudden lump clogging her throat. There was nothing she could do for her friend.
