Inked [From the CIA 1] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Dawn Kunda

  As he yanked her wrists close together at the back of the chair, she made her best effort to keep her forearms at the biggest angle. She considered the possibility of slipping her hands through the bond if or when he left her alone for any amount of time.

  He wasn’t an amateur. Tightening her arms together, he left her little room to wriggle for a release. She felt the cord tighten and rip into her skin with each tug of the expert knot he formed.

  Satisfied with the restraint, he walked around her chair and stopped in front with his legs parted in a wide stance. He stared at her, cocked his head to the side, and reached a grimy, large hand to her cheek.

  She didn’t allow herself to flinch, but rather matched his eyes with a glare of her own. He stroked her cheek, then slowly pushed her hair behind her ear. As he leaned over her, the gold chain around his neck swung like a pendulum. “As I suspected. Chenzira marked you. He will definitely want you back.”

  “What do you want from me?” She didn’t expect him to answer, but she needed to stall whatever his next move would be. The knowledge that her knight in shining armor would take hours, days to find her if ever, left her in a position to remember her job. She assumed her part as an agent, as a woman who wanted a life, and would stay alive for the small hope of that new life she’d recently considered.

  Where the part of her wanting a life came from, she surprised herself. Work was, is her life. A casual fling on the side took care of any other needs. Not really, but that’s all she had time for. All she trusted herself with. She knew her work and that should be enough.

  With that thought her momentary lapse in concentration on her predicament came back with a stinging slap to her face. He smiled and slapped the other side of her face, harder. The large gold ring on his center finger cut into the corner of her lip. She felt blood trickle down her chin as her head snapped to the side.

  Finally he answered. “I want, from you, two things.”

  Chapter 29

  Agent Kreis rubbed his jaw as he pushed back from his desk. He relished the fact that he made the decisions, knew what agent was where, and determined their fates all from his seat in D.C. The public assumed all agents who filled dangerous positions at home and abroad would have the backing of the government and would be monitored according to their position and what they encountered. Most were. Actually, all were monitored, yet a few needed isolation from the team.

  These few knew too much. Their usefulness ran out. It was time to eliminate them from the team.

  He shook his head at the urgent document he scanned on his computer. Rounding his chair to face the window, he knew he had to make a quick decision on what to do about the information.

  The view from outside should have lightened his demeanor. The sun played against the brilliant green leaves lining Pennsylvania Avenue. Sun and shadows took turns skating across the glass, yet he didn’t register any of it.

  Kreis rounded back to his desk and punched in a number on the in-house phone system. “Yeah, Borland, we have a situation with the op in Cairo.” He waited for acknowledgment of the obvious case at hand. “Come to my office. Bring Grant with you.” He abruptly ended the one-sided conversation and returned to staring out the window. He caught himself frowning, even though calling the shots gave him a pleasant chill of power.

  Within a few minutes, he heard a tap on his door and the quiet slide of it opening onto the plush rug. The dark-charcoal rug had a purpose as did everything else decorating the office. Private and top secret discussions soaked into the heavily woven carpet just as the words melted into the thick gray wallpaper. The only hard surface allowable included the desk, an end table positioned near a set of cushioned chairs, and the frame around the window. Any other metal or wood surfaces had a material or cushioning effect.

  When discussions ensued at this level, no one except the invited knew the topic. On some occasions, recordings or written material were excluded. A sharp mind and a near-genius memory replaced anything tangible.

  Agent Kreis swiveled to face his men, and turned his computer to face them as they approached the desk. “This operation has been dangerous and full of the possibilities of holes.” Agents Borland, Grant, and another, Duchaine remained standing, fully aware Kreis spoke of the clandestine op in Cairo. “The Turkish embassy has sent us a copy of a document found in their lobby.”

  A few eyebrows twitched as eyes glanced to the screen.

  He watched the curiosity of his highest ranking men. “I’ll give you a summary of what the document entails, then you’ll each read it, remember it, and then it will be erased.”

  With their attention heightened, Kreis spelled out the predicament. “Apparently someone dropped a flash drive at the Turkish embassy. It appears to have information that suggests a list of names from the arms dealer, Chenzira.” He went on to enumerate and explain the significance of each name, ending with Agent Calvin Guevin and Agent Alec Ranier. “Also, there are formulas and designs of mass destruction.” He paused for the finale. “And a map designating D.C. as a hit.”

  The room became quiet as the horror of terrorist activity came close to home. The agents began to exchange glances. Kreis bet the first comment would be on the welfare of their agents abroad, closely followed by the plan of attack for the US.

  Agent Borland voiced his thoughts. “The names sound like a mix of Chenzira’s men and ours. Do you think they’re all targets of his, men they’re studying, or US agents who’ve jumped ship to their side?”

  “Doesn’t make sense. We also need to notify the Pentagon,” Agent Duchaine added. Grant remained quiet.

  “I’ve already passed the document on to the Pentagon. As far as our agents, there are a few alternatives we can look at.” Kreis turned the screen away from the men and didn’t inform them that he had erased Guevin and Ranier’s names from the list before sending it to the Pentagon. “The names of Chenzira’s men are in complete confidence with Chenzira I’m sure, and they will be set to eliminate our men. Otherwise, Chenzira is watching each man, his and ours, and will end up with the same result. I’m sure they’re all marked, if not dead already. ”

  “We need to get Ranier and Guevin out of there.” Duchaine rested a palm on the edge of the desk.

  “Possibly.” Kreis focused on the screen before rising from behind the desk. He watched the faces of each man, deciding what part he would assign to them. His mind already had the best solution formulated. One of the men wouldn’t adjust to his theory easily. “I’ll give you a few minutes to read the document before we continue.”

  Kreis left the room. He knew who’d read it last and want out the quickest.

  Chapter 30

  Mary bit the inside of her lip, as if answers would pour out along with the taste of blood. Her captor didn’t organize with Chenzira, so he represented some other country, most undoubtedly from the Middle East. Which one? Even an American ally had enemies. The most likely lay with Iraq or Iran, possibly Syria.

  Taking a chance, she said, “If you tell me who you’re with, I may give you answers willingly.”

  He turned toward her from whatever mechanism he had busied himself with at the back counter. His eyes glinted with questions and as quickly switched to distrust. “I am not a fool. Why would I tell you anything? I can get your information without a trade.”

  She lost patience with techniques of persuasion. “Who are you and what do you want? How can I tell you anything if I don’t know what you want?”

  “I can see you are a stupid American.” He walked in front of her and brought his forearm at a fast rate across the side of her face. As her head dropped under the blow, he repeated, “Stupid American.”

  Her head spun and throbbed with the attacks. She squeezed her eyes tight, searching for clarity. The anger gave her a rush of adrenaline, which she transferred to her legs. Tied together, she shot her legs from the floor in an attempt to kick the bastard.

  He jumped back immediately as her feet collided with his shin. She didn’t ext
end much pain his way, but he at least realized she would fight back.

  He laughed, a sound she recognized throughout her captivity. His bad sense of humor infuriated her. “Either kill me or let me go because I have nothing to tell you.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He turned back to the counter. She swiveled her head as far as the restraints would allow and saw him pick up what looked like a bomb in the making.

  Saying nothing, her neck ached and caused her to turn back to the front and consider what her next move should be. Wriggling her wrists, she tested the tightness of the knot. A minute amount of space between her wrists offered little help in the short run. Long term, she decided he needed to leave the building.

  She craned her head toward the captor as a whiff of food passed under her nose. The smell didn’t resemble anything familiar, or even encouraging, yet she hadn’t eaten for hours.

  He laughed again as he bit a hunk of something dried and watched her accept the fact that he wouldn’t offer any to his prisoner. She looked to the door as the light from the crack beneath had softened with the oncoming of the night.

  A slight shadow darkened the edge of the slit beneath the door. Just as quickly, it disappeared.

  * * * *

  Cal once again shoved the battery into his cell phone. Giving it a few seconds to catch up with any missed calls or messages, he then checked the screen. His finger gripped the phone and began to sweat the instant he saw one voicemail had come through. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear Mary’s voice, a plan from Grant, or the coordinates for the missing car.

  Before he activated the message, he walked the small perimeter of the room, a fast endeavor made by the fact that the bed and ratty desk cut the meander in half. He allowed another circuit as his last procrastination before he sat on the edge of the lopsided bed.

  He stared down at the glowing screen on the phone, then pushed the button with a sweaty finger to retrieve his call. Bobbing his head, he waited through the usual time and date information before hearing the message itself.

  As he listened to the voice, he couldn’t figure out if he felt relief or should be upset at who the caller had been. Regardless, he had to get another rental and follow the incomplete directions the bored voice passed on to him.

  He also needed to get to the car before the rental agency found it. It’d be great to find Mary with it, in one piece and not splattered across the front seat. He wiped his damp hand down his face at this thought. He promised God he’d treat her as a woman should be treated if he found her safe and in one piece. He’d patiently pull the real Mary out from behind the iron bars where she’d hidden her off-duty personality for most of her life.

  Switching gears, he jumped up from the bed and clenched his fists. With a release of energy he raced to the door. He backstepped to reach for his bag, knowing he probably wouldn’t return.

  A long fifteen minutes later, he sat in a Hyundai and peeled out of the lot next to the hotel. He probably should’ve checked a map first, but instinct worked well in most situations. The bored voice must’ve wanted the phone call to last because she had given him detailed turns and road names. He’d need to travel north into the Taurus Mountains on a main highway. There was only one highway, so that part didn’t cause any concern.

  After that, the directions became vague. She had said something about a dirt road not on the map. He checked the odometer. He had to drive about seventy-seven kilometers until a left turn. He stepped on the gas. Mary had been gone a long time.

  Chapter 31

  Mary glanced at her captor. She hoped he hadn’t seen the shadow under the door, praying it was someone to aid her and not him. Immersed in his project, he kept his head bent toward the table he worked at. She quickly looked back at the exit. Maybe Cal had found her and she’d be let loose soon. Maybe someone else from the CIA had tracked her. The person definitely wasn’t here by invitation or they would’ve come in already.

  It didn’t matter who circled the small cabin in the mountains. She felt a surge of adrenaline, safety, and control. Not biting her lip this time, she forced herself to remain calm and not react to whoever had arrived.

  Five minutes passed. The door remained closed and no one attempted to enter. Mary pulled at the rope around her wrists. All plans had a connection to proper timing, but her impatience demanded quick action. What was the new visitor waiting for? This time worked. The dark man who abducted her had his back to the door and paid little attention to anything else other than his project.

  The ropes dug into her wrists as she strained to slip them through the knot. If the person outside didn’t move fast, the opportunity might expire. She couldn’t take the chance and pulled at the binding again until her wrists burned against the rough threads of rope.

  As a salty sweat dripped down her forehead, the fantasy that a savior surrounded the cabin began to fade. Just as this thought pushed through her tired mind, a loud crash slammed against the door and it flew open.

  A man blocked the entry with his girth and a large machine gun slung low in front of his baggy pants. Before she could guess at his identity or purpose, a flash of consecutive rounds burst past her shoulder and threw her captor over his work table.

  Cringing, she automatically twisted her neck to see her captor partially plastered against the back wall in streaks of blood and body parts. The rest of him fell to the table and dripped and thudded to the floor as the shots ceased.

  She whipped her head back to the man still outlined in the door. His stance didn’t match that of Cal’s. It wasn’t him. She felt the adrenaline split throughout her in different fragments of shock, horror, and little left for the excitement of a rescue. She tightened her knees together and wanted to disappear into the center of the chair. The moisture in her mouth evaporated and she decided not to make the first comment. She didn’t know who stood in front of her, or what his purpose entailed.

  He glanced around the room, then rested his stare at her along with turning the muzzle of the gun toward her stomach. Not a good sign.

  Attempting to take a deep and calming breath, the dusty air caught in her throat. The chair jerked under her as she coughed up the dryness of the cabin.

  He walked toward her until the gun’s barrel pushed into her sternum. Noting he had Arabic features, her heart thumped loudly and she wondered if it vibrated down the shaft of the gun.

  He finally spoke. “You are Jendayi.” It wasn’t a question. The grin he produced made him ugly and far from friendly.

  That answered her question as to where he came from. Chenzira had definitely sent him. Surprising herself, she replied, “I was hoping you’d find me.”

  He burst out laughing. The laugh ended in a sneer and low growl. “You expect me to believe you want to go back to the Hidden House where you will be left to die in a cell far worse than the previous?”

  Running out of options, she said, “I have information Chenzira will want. I will trade it.” Her heart raced faster than her mind. She didn’t have information. She needed to fool him.

  “For what? A meal, an extra day, your life?” She didn’t answer. “It could hardly be worth any of those.” He slid a knife from his waistband, popping open the blade and walked behind her. With a swift slice, the rope dropped from her hands.

  Her shoulders ached from the unnatural positioning. She pressed her hands onto opposite wrists, still feeling the burn of rope. It would be so much easier to cry and give up, but she knew someone, Cal included, had to be searching for her. The battery on her cell should last at least another two days, since she hadn’t used it. It would be her only connection to detection.

  Chenzira’s man verified this as he slashed the rope around her ankles. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

  Before he ushered her out the door, he sprayed another round along the table tops, destroying anything his apparent enemy had worked on. Mary cringed as the blasts deafened her. With the hot and smoking end of the machine gun, he shoved her toward the door.

&n
bsp; Tripping on her half-asleep feet, she grabbed the doorjamb to steady herself. He pushed her again. This brought on her angry side, much preferred over feeling sorry for herself. “Give me a minute. I can barely walk.” Again, she coughed as the smoke from the rounds seized her lungs.

  He came up behind her and wrapped a dirty-sleeved arm around her waist. Dragging her, she partly stumbled to a van parked behind her rental. As her head hung and twisted to the side, she saw other men. Stationed near trees, she counted three others. Their dark clothes nearly blended with the forest as the light grew dimmer. She wondered how many remained out of her sight.

  Opening the van’s back door, he motioned with his gun for her to get in. Once she sat, he set his gun in the dirt. A half-inch chain link acting as a seat belt came out of the seam between the seat and backrest on both sides of where she sat.

  As he pulled the two ends of chain together over her lap, she drove her knee into his chin. He yelled in Arabic and returned a mind-splitting backhand across the side of her head. Her mind swam in confusion as he returned to his task and locked the ends of the chain together. He slammed the door, which made her head pound again, and turned back toward the cabin.

  * * * *

  Cal felt the weariness of the day creep through his body as he pulled out of the fifth or sixth dirt road off the twisting highway. They had all ended abruptly with no signs of habitation. He had to be close to where the clerk indicated the location of Mary’s rental vehicle.

  Most of the makeshift roads had been at least a mile long. Calculating this thought, he considered he needed to turn around and try the few he passed. The mileage probably included a mile or two down one of these roads.

  With no other cars in sight, he slammed the brakes and U-turned in the highway. Switching between accelerating and braking, he passed the first turn he had taken. He knew the next dirt road he hadn’t attempted was around the next corner.