by Tara Quan
Karl shrugged. “It’s why they invented wet suits.”
To her surprise, Jason seemed to be considering the option. “Do you have the training to pull it off?”
“It won’t be a problem. What about you?”
Her friend’s lips quirked up. “It’s been a while, but I’ve stayed in shape.”
“Whether or not you two are half-mermen doesn’t matter.” Dan snapped. “Karl needs to be on the dock. I was a spy, not a SEAL. I sure as hell can’t make the swim, and Jason isn’t going to neutralize a small army of criminals alone.”
A glimmer of satisfaction lit Karl’s face. “Has it occurred to you we share a number of physical attributes?”
“We look nothing alike.”
“Other than height, build, and skin color. If they’ve been tailing me from afar, they won’t notice the difference. In any event, the characteristic most people fixate on is hairstyle.” Karl’s expression turned gleeful. “Since they’re not expecting a switch, chances are high you’ll pass scrutiny.”
Dan winced and patted his collar-length locks. “Damn it. If this doesn’t work, I’m going to kill you.”
Wondering if she had somehow misheard the entire exchange, she cleared her throat. “I hate to interrupt, but I wanted to make sure I understood you correctly.” She hoped her next statement didn’t come out as sarcastic as it sounded in her head. “You and Jason are going to swim to the island. Dan, pretending to be you, will accompany me. We’ll exchange ourselves for Zahra, after which you two will attempt to kill everyone else in under fifteen minutes. That is your brilliant plan?”
To her relief, Karl shook his head. “You’ve got one thing wrong.”
“You had me going there—”
“You’re not coming with Dan on the boat.”
Even though she wasn’t quite sold on everything else, this seemed too dumb not to address. “I thought they specifically stated the deal is off unless I’m there. I don’t think you’re going to find another green-eyed blonde on such short notice.”
Karl directed his gaze at Jason. “I can’t focus on what I need to do if I’m worried about her safety. We need to take the chance they won’t carry out the threat.”
“Absolutely not.” She and Dan protested in unison.
Since her opinion didn’t seem to have much weight, she let Dan present his case. “I’m not risking Zahra’s life. They’ll kill her if Brennan isn’t there. I’m sorry, but it makes no sense for her not to go. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”
Jason looked at Dan, and then back at Karl. “He’s right. Your plan is the best one we have. But it won’t work unless she makes the trip. You know it. I know it. Even she knows it.”
Chapter 9
Brennan shivered even though she wore a hooded fleece, jeans, and sneakers. Cold sweat covered her from head to toe. Her teeth chattered. As the island came into view, it became impossible to keep her nerves under control. Karl was in the water somewhere offshore. They’d dropped him and Jason off an hour ago before circling around to approach from the opposite direction. Mentally calculating the distance he and Jason needed to swim hadn’t been the wisest decision.
Back at the marina, the men had appeared so confident she’d forgotten to feel afraid. Having steered the speedboat for close to an hour, she had plenty of time to list all the possible outcomes of this endeavor. Most of the permutations involved at least one of them getting killed.
“It’s remarkable how good he is at switching off.” Dan hadn’t been in a talkative mood until this moment. She suspected he’d noticed how close she was to a panic attack and was attempting distraction. With his hair cut short, he could pass as her husband’s sibling. For good measure, he’d donned the same T-shirt and dark denim Karl had worn to brunch. When he’d arrived at the marina with his curly locks shorn off, she’d understood why the men had been certain the guise was adequate.
She tried to decipher Dan’s vague statement. “Are you talking about Karl?”
He nodded. “The military trains their operatives to shut out all distraction. When you have an objective, everything else fades into the background. Soldiers have to focus on their orders—on the immediate next steps. Thinking about anything but the present is a sure way to get killed.”
She remembered how shaken Dan had been after watching the video. “You didn’t receive the same training, I take it?”
“My job at the Agency required a whole different set of skills. Emotion and instinct are assets. Not trusting them is what gets spies in hot water. I’m taught to use every part of my brain at all times.” He paused, his brows furrowing. “Jason had military training, but he’s not quite as good at mental isolation. Your husband’s the closest you can get to an android. It’s probably why they’d kept him in the field for so long.”
Karl hadn’t spoken a word to her between the time they’d finalized their plan and the moment he’d jumped into the water. It was as if he’d erected a glass wall to keep the world out, and he hadn’t wanted her anywhere near it. “I’ve read about the psychological trick, but this is the first time I’ve seen it in action. It explains a few things about our marriage.”
“I was surprised he suggested you stay behind. It made no strategic sense, but he argued for it anyway. He does a piss-poor job showing it, but he cares about you a great deal. If we make it through this, you might want give the guy another shot.”
They’d gotten close enough she could see the dock. Turning the wheel, she headed straight for it. “Chances are, he’ll sign on for another assignment and fly out as soon as this is over.” It was a notion she couldn’t shake, the fear too ingrained for a few days together to overcome.
Dan placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Two years apart gives a man perspective. I don’t think he wants to lose you a second time.”
As they approached, she spotted three shadows on the wooden platform. Petite and garbed head-to-toe in black, Zahra was easy to identify. She wasn’t restrained, but one of the two men had a gun to her temple.
About ten feet in front of her stood the second Syrian. He had an AK-47 hanging from a strap slung across his shoulder, its barrel pointed straight at the boat.
Dan pulled out his pistol as she cut off the engine. The man holding Zahra yelled something in Arabic while the other member of their welcoming committee let go of his automatic rifle to toss over a rope. With shaking fingers, she tied the speedboat in place before stepping across the gap to the dock.
Humidity thickened the air, the oppressive desert sun beating down on them. The man holding the AK pointed at her and shouted. She held her hands up in the universal gesture of surrender.
Dan remained in the boat. “He wants you to walk to him slowly,” he translated. “When he has you, his friend will let Zahra go.”
Instinct screamed she run in the opposite direction, but she continued to step forward on the wooden planks. The man she was approaching didn’t pay much attention to her progress. He unclipped a handheld radio from his belt and muttered a string of unintelligible words. The ensuing incomprehensible exchange ended with him pressing the barrel of his rifle to the center of her forehead.
A roar deafened her ears. Her vision hazed. With slow breaths, she focused on anchoring herself. She couldn’t afford to freak out. After a few interminable seconds, they released Zahra.
Her friend’s captor trained his pistol at her back as she ran. Brennan couldn’t see what was happening behind her, but she heard heavy footsteps coming from behind. She guessed Dan’s presence on the dock had been a requirement.
Zahra paused at her side.
“Get on the damn boat.” Dan’s command was a low growl. After a moment of hesitation, Zahra moved out of Brennan’s line of vision.
Her two friends argued in a language she couldn’t understand. She guessed Italian, but it could as easily have been Spanish or French. Dan’s voice got louder and Zahra’s shriller, but after what felt like eons, a pitter-patter of footsteps sug
gested Zahra’s departure.
The pistol-holding thug shifted his arm and aimed over her shoulder, presumably at Dan. A drop of perspiration trailed down her spine. Silence descended. No one moved. No one spoke. The rifle’s metal barrel sent an imagined chill through her head. The stench of sweat rolled off her captor, churning her stomach. The bitter taste of bile coated the back of her tongue.
The boat’s engine whirred to life. As the noise grew softer, Dan approached her side. Her lungs expanded. At least Zahra had escaped.
Crouching, her friend lowered his sidearm to the ground. The thug farther away approached them and kicked the weapon into the water. Tucking his pistol into the back of his camouflage pants, he patted Dan down. Finding no hidden weapons, he pulled Dan’s wrists behind him and restrained them with a pair of metal handcuffs.
She released a relieved breath when her captor lowered his AK. He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her to the end of the dock and along a dirt path. The entire time, the rifle’s metal barrel pressed into the side of her waist, digging in hard enough she winced.
They reached a fork. The villa loomed straight ahead, but they turned to the left. She passed overgrown weeds and piles of construction material until a paved helipad came into view. A helicopter sat at the center of a large painted H. Thus far, all of Karl’s predictions had come true.
After she heard a soft crackle, the pressure against her waist lifted, but the painful hold on her upper arm remained. She turned to see her captor releasing the rifle’s grip to wrestle the handheld radio off his belt. Dan stood behind them with his hands bound and a pistol glued to his back. Whatever had been relayed over the radio, it initiated a heated verbal exchange between the two Syrians. When the clipped discussion ended, the one holding the walkie-talkie dragged her to Dan’s side. His partner took possession of her forearm while he raced back along the path, veering toward the villa.
Her hopes lifted. Jason and Karl must be here.
Her sneakers skidded over the pavement as they approached the helicopter. Once they stood by the passenger-side door, their captor started shouting. Nothing happened.
She peered through the glass and saw an unmoving shadow in the pilot seat. After some more yelling, the man released her to open the cockpit door. The entire time, he kept his weapon on Dan’s back.
He pulled the pilot’s arm. The body slumped sideways. A knife’s hilt stuck out of the corpse’s throat. The man cried out, turned his back to her, and faced Dan. His finger slid over the trigger.
Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, she kicked his knee. He fell forward. The bullet hit the ground. Spewing a torrent of harsh-sounding words, he stood and swung his arm in an arc. She stared down the barrel of his pistol. Her mind went blank.
Dan rammed his shoulder into the man’s back. He misfired. Propelled by momentum, the gunman crashed into the side of the helicopter. He groaned as Dan’s knee met his stomach. As he sent Dan flying with a well-aimed kick, she grabbed his wrist and managed to wrench the sidearm out of his grasp.
She squeezed the trigger.
A dark circle spread from the center of his thigh. Shrieking in pain, he fell to the ground. She kept the pistol pointed at him as she waited for Dan to scramble to her side. After he barked out an order, the terrorist reached into his pocket and tossed a small shiny object onto the ground.
Not taking her eyes off the man she’d shot, she retrieved the minuscule key and freed her friend’s wrists. He grabbed the weapon from her before marching over to hit the back of the thug’s head.
Turning the unconscious man face down, he searched his clothing. All he managed to unearth was a pocketknife. “You shot his leg? Couldn’t you have killed him?”
“You’re lucky I hit the guy at all.” Her heart beat a staccato rhythm as she helped snap the handcuffs on their prisoner. They pulled open the cargo door and shoved him into the back. After repositioning the pilot, they resealed the helicopter. “My hands are still shaking.”
“It’s the endorphins.” He turned to look down the path toward the villa. “From what I heard earlier, Jason and Karl have Riad running circles inside, but they’re outnumbered several fold.”
Anticipating where this conversation was headed, she struggled to swallow. She had a bad feeling in her gut, but Karl’s safety came first. “I’ll find a place to hide. Chances are no one knows we got free.”
He shoved the pocketknife into her hand. “They shouldn’t come looking, but it’s better to be safe.”
She stared at the palm-sized flip blade. “No offense, but this is useless. Can’t I have the pistol?”
Dan scowled. “I’m about to run into a building full of criminals, some of whom are armed with AK-47s. Chances are you’ll sit around until one of us comes and gets you. Who needs this more?”
“Fine.” She shoved the knife into the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll just go hang out behind those piles of wood and cross my fingers.”
He patted her shoulder. “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Hang tight.”
* * * *
Brennan whimpered as she hit the ground. A booted foot landed on her stomach. She tried to curl into a ball, but a hand fisted in her hair and yanked her up.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Mrs. Reed,” her attacker hissed in accented English. “You’ve been much more trouble than I expected.”
She opened her eyes. The man’s face was familiar. He could be one of the men who’d approached her during the carjacking, but she couldn’t be sure. “You must be Riad.”
He patted her cheek. “Smart girl. Beautiful too. It’s unfortunate you have such poor taste in men.” Holding her by the hair, he dragged her through the labyrinth of construction material.
She tried to elbow him and ended up with her arm wrenched behind her. She had to stall. “How did you find me?”
“I was on my way to the helicopter when you pulled your little stunt. I wanted Reed to watch you die, but I’ll settle for something better.”
She tripped his feet. He stumbled forward and brought her down with him. She landed on her palms, clamored to her feet, and ran. He tackled her. She ate dirt.
“You little bitch.” He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her up. His knee hit her ribs three times before he threw her back down. The fight drained out of her. Clutching her throbbing side, she moaned.
He dragged her up by the collar of her sweatshirt. She lifted her lids to stare into bloodshot eyes. It didn’t take a psychology degree to conclude the man was mad. “I’ll send your husband a video of my men taking turns with you—one every month until the day he dies.”
She struggled to draw air into her lungs. “He’s going to kill you first.”
He backhanded her across the face. Her ears rang. When the tears cleared, the barrel of a pistol filled her vision. He shoved it into her mouth. “What I hate more than anything is a woman who doesn’t know her place. Now, walk.”
When he lifted the metal off her teeth, she muttered, “I can’t.”
It wasn’t a lie. Her feet felt like lead. It hurt to breathe. She couldn’t stand, let alone move forward. When he released her collar, she slumped to her knees. He kicked her on the chin. The blow sent her flying. Her back hit the ground with a deafening thud.
He pressed his knee to the center of her chest and slammed his pistol over the side of her head.
Pain exploded. A blotchy haze covered her perception, and for a second the world went dark. When she clawed her way out of the stupor, all she could do was lift her arms to protect her face. His hands closed around her throat, tightening until she couldn’t draw air. The edges of her vision turned black. About to lose her grasp on consciousness, she succumbed to a coughing fit when his grip relented.
Taking hold of her waist, he lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder. Her head pounded as she dangled over his back. A trail of blood marked their progress over the dirt. Relief dulled her terror. She’d be dead long before he could do anyth
ing worse.
She had no idea how much time passed before he tossed her on a metal surface. When she forced her lids to lift, she found the thug she’d shot lying motionless to her left. She couldn’t tell if the pool of blood in front of her eyes was his or her own.
She hurt everywhere, but she hadn’t been restrained. With pain marking every movement, she flipped over so she could see what Riad was doing. He sat on the seat in front of her. After unbuckling the straps holding the pilot in place, he used his legs to shove the body out. He closed the door, settled in the cockpit, and pressed a red button.
Nothing happened. He fumbled around with the dials before pounding his fists over the dashboard. The helicopter gave no sign of starting. It would make sense for Karl to sabotage the engine after killing the pilot. There’d never been any chance Riad would escape the island.
She forced her hand to move and managed to pull out the pocketknife. It was a matter of time before her captor vented his frustration on her. It gave her a window of opportunity.
Soon enough, he roared and turned around. He slid past the seats and fell on her. His hands closed over her bruised neck.
She stabbed him between the ribs but didn’t have enough force behind her attack. She barely broke skin, yielding a few drops of blood. His fist crashed into her cheek.
A shot rang through the air. Red bloomed over the center of his chest. He fell forward. As consciousness faded, anger surged. After surviving all this, she was going to suffocate to death.
The dead weight was yanked off her. Shaking fingers brushed her neck before warm hands cradled her face. Karl’s voice echoed in her ears. “Don’t you dare do this to me! Wake the hell up.”
Because she’d never heard his voice so filled with horror, she forced her eyes open. “You aren’t wearing a shirt,” she managed to croak.
His laugh sounded like a sob. Deciding she’d done her stalwart best for the day, she let her lids droop.
