by Lisa Pietsch
Copyright © 2012 Lisa Pietsch
www.LisaPietsch.com
Cover Art by Kendra Egert
http://creationsbykendra.com/
All rights reserved. eBooks are not transferable and can not be given away, sold or shared. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, faxing, forwarded by email, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, as this is an infringement on the copyright of this work. Brief quotations within reviews or articles are acceptable.
Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Task Force 125 Books by Lisa Pietsch:
Book #1: The Path to Freedom
Book #2: A Taste of Liberty
Book #3: Freedom’s Promise
Book #4: Stealing Liberties (Coming Soon)
Freedom’s Promise
By: Lisa Pietsch
www.LisaPietsch.com
Dedication:
To Penny Jo, cousin, sister, daughter, wife, mother, Airman, who has been to the desert more times than I can count. Thank you for serving—and for reading. You are an American hero.
The Path To Freedom
Chapter One
Vince Hennessee woke with a start and gasped to find himself sitting in a heavy wooden chair, unable to move. He fought the urge to panic and took a deep breath to calm himself. He tried to kick his feet but they wouldn’t budge. Rolling his shoulders, he tugged at the bindings on his wrists.
Duct tape?
He squinted through the dark and made out a few furnishings with the small bit of available natural light coming from the windows. Blinking hard, he wondered what they’d drugged him with. Fighting to focus and remember what happened, he could not will the mental fog away.
Where am I, and how the hell did I get here?
Vince squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, trying to remember what had happened. Images of being abducted at the airport in Italy flitted through his mind. He’d been on his way to Moscow to meet with Mark Davidson to track down Nikolai.
Somebody hit me, drugged me, and brought me here. But where is here?
Vince knew he had to stay calm, assess the situation, and not do anything foolish. His years as a Recon Marine, seeing more than his share of action in world hot spots, had taught him to remain calm above all else.
His focus was clearer now that the effects of the drug were wearing off and more light shone through the windows.
Sunrise somewhere.
He scanned the room to see mother-of-pearl and gold inlaid on the sideboard, a white marble floor, dark Persian rugs, and Byzantine style windows.
The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as somewhere outside and far off a Muezzin began the Muslim call to prayer. He’d always found the chanting at prayer times moving, but today it was just eerie.
I’m in the Middle East again, but where?
Vince remembered the last time he’d been held hostage in the Middle East. He quickly locked the memory in the back of his mind and forced himself to focus on the present.
Breathe steady. Stay calm. Look for an escape.
The latch clicked on a door somewhere behind him. Every muscle tensed involuntarily. He breathed deeply to calm his nerves.
A drop of sweat raced from his right temple to his jaw.
Stay calm.
Chapter Two
Sarah Stevens examined the toe of her black, leather Prada slingback and gasped. A huge scuff glared at her. She sighed with relief as she wiped the spot with a tissue and restored the shoe to its original glory. The overstuffed back seat of the Rolls Royce Silver Seraph limousine embraced her as she leaned back and glanced out the window.
“Not a bad way to get from point A to point B, huh?”
She turned to smile at Will Adams. With their team leader, her boyfriend, Vince Hennessee missing in action, Will was in charge now.
Will dressed and carried himself like a man who had the world at his fingertips, because he did. Will had once been a medic in the Navy, but Sarah suspected there was much more to that story. Though he began his career as a Corpsman, Sarah expected he’d done a bit more than first aid to make the rank of Master Chief before he left the service for a position on Task Force 125. He was the team’s second in command, capable of finding any supplies they needed on a moment’s notice. With Vince missing, the entire team fell in line behind him without question. He’d also worked undercover with Vince for years as an arms dealer.
Sarah took comfort in Will’s leadership and grasped the glimmer of hope she saw in his baby blue eyes. They would find and recover Vince.
Will nodded slightly toward the front of the limousine. “There it is, the Burj al Arab, Dubai’s crown jewel.”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. She gawked at the glorious structure rising majestically over the water ahead of them as they drove along the causeway.
She remembered just over a year ago when she was an overweight Air Force cop with no future. She gave thanks that her commander had realized her potential and referred her to what she thought was a fat camp. That weight loss program turned out to be one of the C.I.A.’s training farms for paramilitary operatives. Little did she know at the time that losing her police job, her cheating boyfriend, and seventy-five pounds would make it possible for her to ride in Rolls Royce limos wearing Prada and Versace, not to mention the pearls around her neck that cost more than her car. She fingered them lovingly and recalled with a smile the day Vince had given her the necklace.
As though he’d read her mind, Will smiled his winning smile. “You’ve come a long way, baby.”
They pulled up at the curb in front of the seven star hotel, and Sarah sighed. “Yes, I have.”
Jason hopped out of the front passenger seat and opened Sarah’s door for her. “Welcome to Oz.” He beamed with his trademark Cheshire cat grin. Anyone who saw Jason would think he was happy to be staying at the glorious Burj al Arab, but Sarah knew better.
Jason Williams, the former Green Beret and the team’s weapons specialist, was always spoiling for a fight, and he knew he was going to have a big one when they took Vince back. Since she’d joined the team, Sarah and Jason had become great friends. He was a mixed martial arts master and damn impressive in a fight. For months now, he’d been teaching Sarah how to fight and win in just about any situation. He’d also been kind enough to squire her around Las Vegas to all his favorite watering holes.
A tall handsome Arab man dressed in a silk Armani suit greeted Sarah, Jason, and Will at the curb as they stepped out of the Rolls Royce. They were all dressed to the nines, Armani being the suit of the day for Jason and Will, too. The greeter smiled slightly. “Mr. Adamson, welcome to the Burj al Arab. Your suite is ready. If you will follow me.” He turned and escorted them into the lobby.
Adamson was one of Will’s aliases. What they were doing here was not sanctioned by the C.I.A. If they were lucky, the Agency would never find out about their plan to recapture their kidnapped leader, who was being held somewhere in the Middle East. They were all using aliases on this trip. Sarah’s was Elisabetta Scuro, an Italian alias in honor of the recently deceased Angelo Scuro who not only died on their last mission but left Sarah his vast estate in Italy.
The hotel’s service was immediate and excellent, but Sarah couldn’t help being annoyed at the time that was passing, precious seconds that meant the difference between life and death for Vince. T
he flight to Dubai had provided her with far too much time to think about what his captors might be doing to him. She pushed the dark thoughts of Vince being tortured and beaten from her mind and tried to stay focused on the task at hand.
They were here to meet with Mark Davidson, an agent none of them had met, who had information on where Vince was being held. Davidson’s contacts had found out about Vince’s kidnapping, and he’d known to contact Will at Sarah’s estate in Italy. Sarah ran through the list of things they’d need to do before they could even begin planning an attack to get Vince back. After they checked in to their suite at the hotel, they’d make contact with Davidson, who was working under an official cover in the U.S. State Department in Saudi Arabia. Then they’d wait for their other teammates, Brian Allen and Chris Wilson to arrive in Dubai. All of this meant more passing time.
Worries vanished from Sarah’s mind as she gasped at the overwhelming opulence of the Burj al Arab. Massive golden columns encircled the lobby and reached toward the sweeping arches above. The mesmerizing mosaic on the floor in deep blue, red and gold nearly stopped her in her tracks. Sarah looked at Jason wide eyed.
Jason grinned and paused with Sarah while Will continued toward the elevator with their host. “Shock and awe, eh, sweetcheeks? This place makes Vegas look like a two bit whore.”
She grinned at Jason. “Speaking of whores, did I tell you how fine you look in that suit?”
He smoothed the front of his jacket with his right hand and extended his left arm for her. “I guess you won’t mind being seen with me then?”
“Not at all, handsome.” She looped her right arm through his, and they picked up their pace to meet Will and their host at the elevator. Her Prada shoes tapped along the ornate marble floor as she took in the rich colors and happy international chatter coming from vacationers and businesspeople.
Their host escorted them into a private elevator, and they rode to the twenty-fifth floor of the all suite hotel. Sarah held the rail tightly as they whisked fifty stories skyward.
Sarah tried to remain calm as she wondered where Vince might be and took a long, deep breath as their host opened the door to their two-story suite. On the other side of the glistening marble entryway rose a marble and gold staircase covered with leopard print carpeting. She was overwhelmed, instantly enveloped in luxury while her mind swam in thoughts of the horrible things that could be happening to Vince. Sarah gripped Jason’s arm tightly to keep the only grasp on reality she had.
He leaned close and smiled as he whispered to her. “Any other time I’d love your manicured nails digging into my skin, but the blood you draw today will ruin my Armani.”
Jason’s teasing was all Sarah needed to shock her back to reality. This over-the-top extravagance was her life now. Angelo had left her an enormous estate in Italy and more money than she’d ever dreamed of having. Once Vince was free, they’d leave the Agency and start enjoying it together.
Better start getting used to it now.
She retracted her claws and gave Jason an apologetic pout as she mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
Chapter Three
Nikolai breezed into the room smelling of a hot shower and expensive aftershave. “Good morning, Vince. I thought you might sleep all day.”
Obviously, you misjudged the amount of sedative you shot me up with.
Nikolai walked behind Vince and cut his wrists free.
Vince pulled the duct tape off his wrists and a good bit of hair with it, leaving them red and raw. He stretched his arms over his head and was now more than aware of his own body odor and the filthy condition of his T-shirt and jeans. He surmised wherever they’d kept him while they transported him from Italy to—wherever this is—it wasn’t clean and it most definitely hadn’t been cool.
He tried to act calm. “Nikolai. I’ve been looking for you. Thanks for sparing me the hassle of…well, consciousness while I did it.” He examined the room slowly, careful to take in as many details as possible. “Nice place. Is it yours?”
Vince guessed by the light now coming through the windows that it was midmorning. He faced an antique wooden desk. To his left on the eastern wall was a large stained glass window of mostly blue panes that received direct sunlight at sunrise. The floor was covered with oriental-style rugs that complimented the light cream stucco walls.
This large room must have originally been intended as a prayer room.
“Thank you. It is one of many.” Nikolai pulled up a heavy, elaborately carved, wooden chair and sat facing Vince. He pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds and lit one. He offered the cigarette to Vince. “It might help that metallic taste you have in your mouth.”
“Thanks. That’s very considerate of you.” Vince took the cigarette.
Nikolai grinned. “I would apologize for drugging you but it made transportation so much easier.” He lit a cigarette for himself, then sat back in his chair and took a long drag. He blew the smoke out slowly as he eyed Vince. “So tell me about Sarah Stevens.” He waited.
The prickle of every little hair standing on end, from his shoulder blades to his head, reminded Vince to check his emotions.
Keep cool, man. He doesn’t know anything.
Vince grinned. “What? No tour of the house? No ‘let’s have a drink and chat?’”
Nikolai frowned. He didn’t seem interested in any of Vince’s small talk. His eyes narrowed, and he huffed smoke from his nose. He wanted information, and it appeared he wanted it yesterday.
Okay, time to tap dance.
“Sarah Stevens, huh?” Vince took a thoughtful puff of his cigarette and browsed the room for a moment. “Not much to tell. She’s got a great ass, I know that. I think she’s a student at the University in Las Vegas. She’s big on the party circuit. That’s about all I know.”
Nikolai spat the word from his mouth. “Bullshit.”
Chapter Four
Just as their host left the suite, Will’s phone chirped from the breast pocket of his silk suit. He slipped it out quickly and looked at the caller I.D.
Sarah stared at him, anxious for any word about Vince. “Who is it?”
Will smiled and spoke softly. “It’s Chris.”
She sighed and set her Louis Vuitton handbag on the leopard print sofa and continued to pace nervously.
“Hey, Chris. Where are you?” He walked over to the silver platter laden with fruit and plucked a strawberry from the top. “Okay. It’s on time? Good. Call me when you land.” He slipped his Blackberry back into his jacket pocket and the strawberry into his mouth.
“Where are they, Will?”
“They’re in London. They got a nonstop flight so they’ll be here tonight.”
Sarah rolled her head from left to right to work out a kink in her neck. “Good.”
Will picked an apple from the fruit tray and took a bite. “Take a load off and have some fruit.” He gestured with the apple. “This is amazing.”
“No thanks.” Sarah paced the large traditional Arab receiving room lined with plush sofas. She listened to the tap-tap-tap of her shoes on the marble and willed Chris and Brian’s flight to travel at the speed of light. She plucked her gold cigarette case from her handbag and slipped a cigarette out, then tapped the filter end repeatedly against the gold trinket just to keep her hands busy. “Jesus, Will. Nikolai could be beating the shit out of Vince right now.”
Will grabbed her by the arm and stopped her pacing. He spoke slowly. “Sarah, it’s an eight-hour flight. I know you’re upset but you’re going to have to get a grip and keep your head in the game, otherwise you’re no good to us or to Vince. We’re going into this with a skeleton crew as it is. We need all hands on this.”
Jason bounced into the room with a smile from ear to ear. “You gotta check out the can in this joint.” He stopped when he saw the look on Will’s face. “What’s going on?”
Will tipped his head toward Sarah and threw back an imaginary shot, giving Jason the universal signal for “Get that woman a couple of
drinks” and Jason nodded. “I’m gonna go make some phone calls. Why don’t you guys order some room service?”
Jason checked the bar in the corner of the room and picked up the house phone. “Yeah, can we get a pitcher of Margaritas brought up?” There was a pause. “No, we don’t need a bartender, thank you.” He bobbed his head. “Yeah, that’ll be perfect. Thank you.”
Jason hung up the phone and walked over to Sarah, who was standing with her arms across her chest, looking out to sea. He wrapped his arms around her in a reassuring hug. “Vince knows how to survive, Sarah. He’s gonna be just fine.”
Sarah slumped, leaned back onto Jason’s chest, and sighed.
“I don’t know how to do this, and I hate it.”
“Sarah, he’s a Marine. He’s Force Recon. He spent his entire military career behind enemy lines. He’s done this before.”
“I know, but I haven’t.”
The butler returned. Sarah wondered how many black morning coats and white gloves a Burj al Arab butler went through in a week. He set a silver platter containing a crystal pitcher of mixed margaritas, several glasses, and an ice bucket on the bar. He nodded to Jason. “Shall I serve, sir?”
Jason smiled and slid a couple twenty dirham notes into his hand. “Thank you. We’ll serve. That’ll be all.”
The butler bowed slightly and slipped away as quickly and as quietly as he’d come in.
Jason poured a drink for Sarah and one for himself. “Come on, girl. Let’s have a drink and enjoy this view.”
Sarah gazed out over the Palm islands and wondered where in the real world Vince was. Her heart ached to think he might be in pain while she and the rest of the team were living in the lap of luxury. “I don’t want a drink. I want to be clear.” Sarah pressed her right hand to her left shoulder and rolled the shoulder slowly with a grimace.
“All right, talk to Papa. How’s that gunshot wound healing? You want something for the pain?”
“Nah, it’s just a little stiff from the travel. A little yoga and I’ll be good as new. Don’t you feel guilty, Jase? Here we are in the lap of luxury and who knows where Vince is or what he’s going through?”
