Protesting any more would only make him sound petulant. Besides, with sweat dripping down his body and his breathing escalated to pants, it’d be an obvious lie. As much as Declan resented the extra concession, McCall was right. Collapsing at their feet wouldn’t do any of them any good.
Declan dropped his gear and sat down on top of it. He noticed that he wasn’t the only one who looked ready to drop. Everyone was sweating profusely.
Setting her gear a few feet away from Declan, Sabrina took a long swallow of water from her canteen. She had done her best to glance his way only occasionally. Showing him concern was only going to put his back up. Many things had changed about her husband, but that fierce Scottish pride was still intact. When she had glanced at him that last time, her concern had overridden her need to protect his ego. He’d looked ready to keel over. He was in just as good shape as any of the other team members, so she knew much of his fatigue had to be mental. How difficult it must be to return to the hell you thought you had escaped.
She pulled a pack of moist towelettes from her backpack and slid one out. Giving little thought to how it looked, she handed the pack over to Declan. He took it from her, pulled one out and then handed the pack back. They both wiped their faces, and then Declan held out his hand for her soiled wipe. She handed it to him, and he tucked them both into a vinyl pocket in his backpack.
Then, as if it was just as natural, he pulled an energy bar from another pocket and tossed it to her. She caught the snack with one hand and threw him a smile of thanks. Unwrapping it, she bit off a bite and then froze as she realized that everyone’s eyes were on her and Declan. She swallowed her mouthful and said, “What?”
Justin Kelly tilted his head toward Declan. “I take it you two worked ops with each other?”
They had unconsciously reverted back to being partners, their routine as familiar to her as cleaning her gun. She glanced over at Declan to see if he realized what had happened. By the fury in his eyes and the bitter twist to his mouth, he had and obviously didn’t like it one bit. Well, tough shit.
“Declan and I were partners for two years before I left the Agency.”
“Why’d you leave?”
The question wasn’t a surprise, the questioner was. Riley Ingram rarely took a personal interest in anyone beyond what the mission required. Despite her delight that the young operative had done something that showed she was actually more than an emotionless robot, Sabrina found it difficult to answer with any degree of honesty. Her reasons for leaving EDJE were intensely personal.
“She had to stop killing.”
Her head whipped around. “Stop it, Declan.”
“What?” His voice held a mocking amusement. “Is that something your LCR chums don’t know? You think they’ll think less of you if they discover that you were an assassin?”
“I’m not ashamed of my former occupation.”
“Why should you be? You were born to kill.”
Wearing identical expressions of barely concealed fury, both Aidan and Justin went to their feet. Declan arched a dark brow and stayed seated, but the mocking glint of amusement stayed. It was obvious he wanted to fight. So different from Declan, the peacemaker. Her heart ached at the change.
“I know a thing or two about killing,” Cole Mathison’s deep voice broke into the tenseness. “There are some who kill for entertainment…for pleasure. Sabrina might have been good at her job, but she wasn’t born to kill. I’d say each kill took something out of her.”
Amazed at his insight, she gave him a nod of appreciation. “No, I never enjoyed killing.” And in the still of her mind, she heard Declan’s tender, concerned words from long ago. “Sabrina, you’re the best I’ve ever trained, but I can’t stand by and watch you slowly die with each kill you make. It eats at you.”
It had. Even though she had made only sanctioned kills, and the men and women she’d targeted had been monsters, killers who preyed on the weak and helpless, each one had taken something from her.
“One day I fear I’m going to look into your face and see nothing but the hell you feel. And I’ll want to die.”
So gentle, so protective. So unlike the Declan sitting across from her, the amusement still evident in his soulless blue eyes.
Was she crazy for even thinking that beneath that hard, grim exterior, her wonderful, caring, adoring husband still lived?
Noah stood, catching everyone’s attention. “Since I’m assuming everyone has rested, let’s move. And you, Mr. Steele.” He turned cold black eyes to Declan. “You’ve made your point, hoping, I’m sure, to lessen Sabrina in the eyes of her fellow operatives. Let me assure you that can’t and won’t happen. Remember that before you try it again. It won’t go as well for you next time.”
With that said, everyone gathered their belongings and started back on their trek. Noah’s words helped heal the wounds that Declan had deliberately inflicted. Yet the sting lingered. Is that how he saw her and she had never realized? To him, she had been a natural-born killer?
Chapter Fifteen
It had taken four more hours of steady walking to reach the first prison—the one where Declan had been held. Knowing they were getting closer, all unnecessary chatter had ceased. Eyes and ears open for hostiles, they moved stealthily, quietly through the jungle.
Since that small altercation with Declan, Sabrina held on to her self-righteous anger, allowing it to build like a fast-moving wildfire. How dare he try to humiliate and minimize her? He was the one who’d taught her everything she knew about killing. He was the reason she was so good at it. Not once had she enjoyed the actual act, not even when she’d taken out sick, twisted bastards who had committed hideous, inhumane, vile acts. Not once had she felt joy. She had done a necessary job because it needed to be done, and she had been good at it.
Cole held up his hand to halt their progress. Then, with individual signals for each team duo, he sent them to scout the area. As she moved away, she noticed Declan stood perfectly still, as if frozen. Noah gave her a nod in an unspoken assurance that he would stay with him.
Within ten minutes, they had surrounded the perimeter of the prison, which consisted of three square concrete buildings, a couple of ragged-looking tents and a long, metal trailer. In the distance, she spotted an archaic-looking outhouse.
“I see no activity,” Cole murmured. “Everyone, report.”
Riley, Justin and Aidan all reported no visible hostiles. With high-powered field binoculars, Sabrina scanned the area and concurred. The place looked abandoned. “I see no one.”
“Okay,” Cole said. “Let’s move in. Extreme caution.”
With only a few yards to their destination, Cole, again using hand signals, directed Aidan and Sabrina toward one building, Justin and Riley to another. Cole took the third.
Aidan pushed the door open, Sabrina went in low, and her partner came in behind her. Other than a three-legged upturned table in the corner and a tipped-over metal chair, the room was empty. A few soiled rags covered the blood-stained concrete floor, and she spotted a couple of cigarette packs. A stench that spoke of the violence and death that took place here permeated the room.
“Report,” Cole said tersely.
“Empty,” Justin answered.
“We got the same,” Aidan reported.
“Okay,” Cole said, “let’s meet outside.”
Sabrina stood in the middle of the filthy, vile room and tried to imagine what Declan had suffered here. Was this where he was kept or where he had been tortured? The stains on the floor were most assuredly from blood, as well as other bodily fluids. How could you call yourself human and commit such sickening acts against another human being?
“You okay?” Aidan asked.
She nodded and turned away, swallowing the bile surging up her throat. The fury and resentment she’d been building up at Declan for the last few hours died an instantaneous death. How could she hold on to her anger after knowing what he had suffered?
Once outside, she took i
n great gulps of air, hoping to cleanse her lungs of the overwhelming blanket of despair and death that had seeped into her.
Everyone met in the middle of the clearing. She noticed the pale cast to Declan’s face, but his eyes remained cold and emotionless. Just how horrific must it be to return to your own hell?
“You sure this is the place?” Noah asked him.
Teeth clenched and every muscle as tight as a bowstring, Declan gave a grim nod. Oh, hell yeah, he was sure. “This is it.”
“Where were you kept?” Mathison said.
“Various places.” He jerked his head toward what looked like an outhouse. “Over there.” He pointed to the metal trailer. “And there.”
He took several long strides to the place that still appeared in his nightmares. Vines and branches hid the area. He ripped away a handful of vines and looked down at the hell pit he’d called home for several months. A hole, the space no bigger than four by eight, covered by a steel grate. “This is where I spent a large part of my time.”
Footsteps came up behind him. He heard a gasp, knew it was Sabrina’s.
“Hell,” McCall muttered, “when it rained, the hole would fill up. How’d you survive?”
The first time it rained had been a welcome relief. They’d thrown him in and left. No water or food for days. When the rains started, he had relished the moisture, drinking the life-giving rainwater as if it had been the most expensive of wines. It hadn’t been until late that night that he realized the salvation of the rain might well be his death. When the hole had flooded, raising him to the top, he’d held on to the grate, breathing as best he could. Sometimes he’d have to let go and sink to the bottom. Then, when he could no longer hold his breath, he’d swim back to the top. Finally, on the third day, the rains had stopped, the water had receded, and he’d grown thirsty once more.
“I didn’t.” He strode away from the group. From the prying eyes, the pity. He didn’t need it, didn’t want it. All he wanted were the bastards who’d put him there.
At the edge of the jungle, he stopped. Listened. How odd to be standing here only yards away from the place of his worst nightmares. Even though his captors had moved on and he hadn’t been able to ask questions or seek vengeance, at the very least he should have felt a sense of relief. The knowledge that he was free should have given him some kind of peace. All he felt was emptiness—a barren soul in a desolate land.
“Declan?”
That soft, husky voice—one he’d heard in his dreams and far too often in his waking nightmares.
“Not the plush accommodations you expected, is it, Sabrina? Or did you even think about what would happen to me when you sold me out?”
He couldn’t see her, but he felt her flinch, take a small step back. Then, as if steel straightened her spine, she took several steps forward until she faced him. He saw what she wanted him to see. Compassion, caring, sadness. Emotions a guiltless person might exhibit. But they both knew the truth. When would she stop lying?
“I’m not going to defend myself again. It’s pointless. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
He turned away from her, refused to watch as she continued her lies.
“I…” She swallowed hard. “I just wanted to tell you how much I admire you for surviving. Most people wouldn’t have. I don’t know if you’ll ever believe in my innocence. If we’ll ever have any kind of…peace between us again. I just want you to know that you have my undying admiration.”
She turned and walked away.
“Okay. Listen up,” Noah said. “I know everyone’s exhausted, but we’ve got about an hour of daylight left. Let’s get as far away from this dump as possible. We’ll stop close to dusk, set up a cold camp and then get going at sunup.” He turned to Mathison. “We’ve got what, at least a day and a half of travel before we reach the other prison?”
“We’ve got some tough terrain ahead of us, so it might take a little longer. We should be able to make our destination before dusk tomorrow.”
No one spoke, but Noah read their faces. Everyone wanted to get away from the grim aura of death and hopelessness that hung over the small prison. In silence but in one accord, they trudged into the jungle, Mathison and Steele leading the way. Noah figured Steele was having a hell of a time not running. Being confronted with the place of his torture couldn’t have been easy.
He glanced back at Sabrina, who was taking up the rear with Thorne. Her face was almost bloodless, her eyes holding a dark pain. Seeing where her husband had been tortured might have been tougher on her than it’d been on Steele. But he knew her well enough to know she’d bounce back. Steele he wasn’t so sure of.
Seeing where Steele had been kept reinforced his opinion of the man’s iron-willed strength. He had survived hell. Question was, would he be able to overcome it?
It was early morning. Dawn would arrive in about an hour. Other than the occasional screech of a hapless victim or animalistic call for a mate, the jungle was silent. Nighttime predators were winding down, getting ready to take their rest. At daybreak, the daytime predators would wake and search for sustenance. A light mist fell softly around them, making the darkness of their surroundings even more ominous than usual.
They had made their destination at dusk yesterday and, as planned, set up another cold camp. As had been the case the night before, sleep had been almost impossible for Sabrina. Even though Declan had slept on the other side of their makeshift camp, she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. He had been silent all day, giving the occasional answer when someone asked him a direct question. The dead emptiness in his eyes scared her to death. Yet she didn’t fear him. She was afraid for him.
It was time to move. Guards would be sleepy. Defenses would be down. Cole and Aidan had done recon last night, reporting two men with AK-47s guarding the perimeter. And they’d seen at least one more sitting in one of the buildings. With at least three men on duty, how many prisoners were they guarding?
“Okay, listen up,” Noah said. “We’re here for Tyndall, but if there are more prisoners, then let’s get them. Under these conditions, it’s doubtful any of them will be able to travel on foot. Angela and Mallory have a helicopter on standby. Remember, just because we’re rescuing them, they may not all be friendly. However, they sure as hell don’t deserve to stay here.”
Sabrina’s eyes moved to Declan. He had the same determined look on his face as the rest of the team. Because he intended to help with the rescue? Or was he playing his own game? She understood his need for vengeance. If any of his torturers were here, she would do whatever she could to help him. But the victims came first. Would that be a problem for him?
“Here’s how it’ll go down.” Noah drew a crude drawing of the prison on the ground with a large stick. “Thorne, I want you on the south side, on this hill. Our mission is clear, so we either leave the assholes on the ground, hurting but alive, or dead.”
Noah shot a look at Justin and Riley. “You two take the outside building here.” He pointed at one of the squares he’d drawn. “Fox, you take this middle building. Mathison, you take this one. Steele and I will take the one on the far right.”
“If we get separated, let’s plan to meet back here.” Noah paused for several seconds then said, “Any questions?”
Silence.
“Okay. Let’s move.”
They headed out together. The only sounds were the awakening jungle surrounding them and their soft footsteps. Though she was outwardly calm, adrenaline raced through Sabrina’s veins. As they neared the prison, everyone went in their assigned direction. The thought of rescuing a man who’d been held almost as long as Declan fueled her blood. If only she had known about Declan. Thank God that Jackson had carried through with his hunch. Otherwise, Declan would still have been suffering.
“We’ll go on three," Noah murmured in his mic. “One, two, three.”
Gun at the ready, Sabrina broke through the bushes and ran full force toward her target building. She took a moment to liste
n at the door. Heard nothing. There were no windows. The door was made of weathered wood and looked close to falling apart. Easy enough to break it down, but stealth would work better. She twisted the handle, pleased that it turned. She pushed the door open a small crack and peered inside. Bile shot up her throat as she took in the scene. The killing was recent. A man hung by his arms from the rafters. He was naked, and blood from the thousands of cuts and open wounds on his body still looked wet. Infected, open sores covered his skin. His face wasn’t one she recognized, and while she was thankful it wasn’t Tyndall, she wished they’d been able to help this poor guy sooner.
Sabrina picked up a chair and carried it over to the hanging man. She stood on the chair and, though she knew it was useless, checked for a pulse. The man’s skin was ice cold, no hint of life. Pulling her knife from its sheath, she cut the ropes holding his wrists and, as gently as possible, lowered him to the floor. Before they left, they would take his fingerprints, photograph his remains, and then bury him. Perhaps he had family thinking he had died long ago or wondering where he was. Even though this wasn’t a good outcome, at least maybe they’d have some type of closure.
She backed away. Other than the dead man, the room was clear. Was this their torture room? It smelled of death and nightmarish events that few people knew existed.
She could imagine the torturer sitting in relative comfort in that lone chair, asking the man questions and, when they weren’t answered to his liking, giving the go-ahead for more pain. And the man hanging from the ceiling…his arms hurting and then going numb. The slices on his skin searing him as he wondered what other hellish acts would be done to him. Was this one of the things Declan had endured? Her eyes blurred with tears as she knew, without a doubt, that he had.
Bile surged again, and Sabrina lost it. Turning away, she threw up the small amount of water and energy bar she’d consumed for breakfast. Then, drawing her emotions back where they belonged, she backed out of the building. This man might be beyond help. That didn’t mean she couldn’t help someone else.
Running On Empty: An LCR Elite Novel Page 15
