by Pamela Clare
“What I want is a shower.”
The room was spacious with tile floors, a ceiling fan, a table and chairs, and a large bathroom with a tub and a shower that consisted of a showerhead and a drain in the floor—no walls or curtains.
Kristi set her bags aside, checked for bedbugs, then stripped, grabbed her toiletries, and walked into the bathroom to shower. The water was nice and hot as she stepped under the spray. She was rinsing the shampoo from her hair when Malik entered.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Please.”
He took the pistol out of his waistband and set it on the counter. Then he removed his clothes and walked over to her in graceful strides, the sight of his beautiful naked body like a jolt of caffeine.
He turned her to face away from him, took the conditioner from her, and worked it through her hair, massaging her scalp.
She closed her eyes. “That feels good.”
His fingers lingered over the sore spot where she’d struck her head. “You’ve still got a little lump. How’s your head?”
“Right now?” She turned to face him, rinsed the conditioner from her hair. “Fine.”
He took the soap and went to work on her, washing her skin in a way that was decidedly sensual, hands sliding over soap-slick breasts, his touch arousing her.
She rinsed, took the soap from him, and washed him, hands sliding over his muscles—pecs, shoulders, biceps, abs, obliques, glutes. She caressed his erection, the soap making her hand glide easily up and down his length.
His eyes drifted shut, his brow furrowing as she went faster.
But this time she wanted to give him something more.
She stepped out of the way of the spray, let the water rinse the soap away. Then she traded places with him and got to her knees.
He gave a little groan of anticipation, his fingers sliding into her wet hair as she took him into her mouth. “Kristi.”
She moved her hand and mouth in tandem up and down his length, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock. But she knew what made him come apart.
Holding the base of his cock loosely, she flicked the underside just beneath the head, focusing on his frenulum, that little ridge of nerve-dense tissue. She treated it like he treated her clit—licking, sucking, caressing it with her lips.
His body tensed, his fingers leaving her hair, his arms shooting out to support him, his palms flat against the tile wall. “Geezus.”
Thrilled by his response, she kept at it, wanting to give him as much pleasure as she could, wanting to show him how much he meant to her.
His breath came faster now, his abs jerking. “God, Kristi.”
It turned her on to see him so turned on, a deep ache between her thighs.
Abruptly, he stopped her, drew her to her feet, and backed her up against the wall. “I promised you brawn.”
Her pulse skipped.
He grabbed her ass, lifted her off her feet—and pushed himself inside her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he drove himself into her, his deep, quick thrusts making her come hard and fast. She cried out as bliss washed through her, Malik groaning against her neck as he let himself go.
They stayed like that until the water ran cold, then dried each other off and curled up together naked in bed.
“Nurses, man.” Malik kissed her wet hair. “You know anatomy.”
Kristi smiled—and was soon fast asleep.
18
Malik woke early, the sounds of the city rousing him from sleep. He checked flights on his phone and found an outgoing flight to Rabat, the capital of Morocco. It was leaving in three hours. That gave them enough time to pack up, eat breakfast, and head to the airport. He’d buy the tickets there.
He kissed Kristi awake, grateful beyond words to have her here with him—safe and alive. “Good morning, angel.”
She smiled, stretched, one beautiful breast appearing from beneath the sheet, inviting him to kiss its dark nipple.
Well, he couldn’t resist that, but, sadly, there wasn’t time for more.
“There’s a flight that leaves for Morocco in three hours. We should have some breakfast and then drive to the airport.”
While Kristi dressed and packed up, Malik heated two MREs and made a pot of coffee in the tiny pot that came with the room. They ate together at the table, talking about the future for the first time.
“Where are you going to work?” Kristi asked.
“When I quit, Tower refused to accept my resignation. I might still have a job—if we can get home without a major international incident.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to look for a nursing job in Denver.” She said it casually, but there was nothing casual about it—not for Malik.
She wanted to live close to him.
The thought made his pulse pick up.
Play it cool, bruh.
“You’re welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need.”
Yeah, you’re chill. She can see right through you.
She met his gaze over the top of her coffee cup, a smile on her lips. “I’d like that.”
When they’d finished breakfast, they loaded the vehicle and set off for the airport.
Malik locked the doors and then entered their next destination into the navigation system. “Did you put the GPS tag in your shirt?”
“It’s in my bra.”
“Lucky GPS tag.”
“How do we know if those bastards have men watching this airport, too?”
“We don’t. Keep your eyes and ears open. If you see or hear anything that doesn’t seem right, say something.”
He pulled out into the street, where it was every driver for himself, motorbikes by the dozens threading their way through traffic, not a stop sign or traffic light to be seen. “I guess it’s drive at your own risk.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
They headed down the road, which seemed to be Parakou’s main street, following the navigation system’s directions and slowing at major intersections.
CRASH!
A collision brought the SUV to a stop, the airbag hitting Malik in the face with enough force to leave him stunned. It took him a moment to realize they’d been T-boned by a white van, their path blocked in front by a black SUV.
“Kristi, angel, are you okay?”
“Yes. They have guns, Malik.”
Men with handkerchiefs over their faces piled out of the van, raised their rifles.
“Hold on!” Malik kicked the vehicle into reverse and floored it, other cars and motorbikes making room for him.
Then he yanked the wheel, turning them around.
Rat-at-at-at! Rat-at-at-at! Rat-at-at-at!
Kristi screamed.
“Get down!” Malik felt one of the tires blow and then another, the rubber shredded by AK rounds.
He drove on rims as fast as he could, turning a corner, making for an alleyway. “When I stop, jump out and run for that set of stairs. Do you see it?”
“Y-yes.”
“Grab your backpack. Make sure you have your phone.” Malik turned into the alleyway, parked the SUV between two buildings. “Go!”
Kristi jumped out and ran.
Malik climbed out, grabbed his duffel, and followed, catching up with her. “Run!”
Her legs weren’t as long as his, and she couldn’t take the stairs two at a time. They had reached the first landing when the bastards found them.
“Keep going!” Malik dropped to one knee, grabbed his rifle out of the duffel bag, checked it—and fired at the men who’d jumped out, rifles in their hands.
One down. Two. Three.
The black SUV sped into the alley from the other direction, and Malik knew it was time to move. He had no cover here.
Rifle in hand, duffel on his shoulder, he ran to the rooftop.
“Where do we go now?” Kristi’s panicked expression tore at him.
She was terrified.
“D
o you have your phone?”
“Y-yes.” She drew it out of her jeans pocket.
“Text Shields.” He opened his duffel, put on his body armor and helmet. “Tell her we’re under attack. Let her know they’re trying to abduct us from this location and that we’re under fire. I’m going to have to shoot our way out of this.”
He moved to the edge of the roof, looked down to see seven men huddled together, one pointing up at them.
“Okay. Done.”
“Good.” Malik watched the men in the alley below. “Go and see if there’s another stairway on the other side. All of the guys are over here. They won’t see you.”
“Okay.” She hurried off to do as he’d asked.
He could easily take them all out, but that would give them time to bring in reinforcements—or the police. He didn’t want this to become an international incident, and he sure as hell didn’t want to waste away behind bars here in Benin.
“Yes! There’s another stairway here.”
“Let’s go!” He shouldered his duffel and followed her, the two of them reaching the street. “See that auto-rickshaw? That’s our ride.”
Malik knew he would attract unwanted attention armed like this, but he couldn’t do anything about that right now.
Kristi climbed into the back of the auto-rickshaw.
Malik was right behind her. “Drive! Drivez-vouz! Go!”
Eyes wide, the driver nodded and pulled out into traffic.
Kristi looked over her shoulder. “Malik, they’re coming!”
Fuck.
Malik looked back, saw the black SUV turning the corner, a man with an AK leaning out the window.
Kristi watched as the black SUV drew closer, panic turning her blood to ice, making her mouth go dry. It honked its horn and threatened to run over anyone or anything that got in its way. Then the man leaning out of the window raised his rifle.
Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at!
She screamed, ducked, her heart pounding so hard that it hurt.
The tuk-tuk driver stopped, jumped out, and ran away, leaving them stranded in the middle of the street.
“Shit!” Malik was about to jump into the driver’s seat, when the white van came from the other direction, blocking them.
Men with weapons leaped out, rushed at them.
Malik dropped the rifle, raised his hands, his voice soft and calm, his eyes looking into hers. “Stay strong, Kristi. Don’t panic. Your job now is to survive no matter what. Just survive. Do you hear me? You’re tagged. Cobra will find us.”
“O-okay.” She raised her hands, too, backpack slung over her shoulder.
How was she supposed to not panic?
Three men grabbed Malik and his duffel bag, while another grabbed Kristi, rough hands digging into her arms, dragging her to the van, shoving her inside. She crawled over to sit beside Malik, huddled against him.
“Breathe, Kristi,” he whispered.
She tried, but it didn’t stop her heart from racing or untie the knot in her stomach.
The last man jumped in and slammed the door shut, and the van began to move.
“Take his weapons and their phones, you imbeciles! Bind them!” a man in the front passenger seat shouted.
Men moved in on Malik, took his pistols, searched him for weapons and his cell phone, then ripped Kristi’s backpack from her. They found her phone and tossed it with Malik’s out onto the street. Then they bound Kristi’s and Malik’s wrists, the ropes tight.
“To the airport.” The man in the passenger seat looked over his shoulder at them. “Mr. Jones. Miss Chang. Or should I say Mr. and Mrs. Okoro? I am Samuel Kuti. I am so happy to have found you.”
“I bet you are.” Malik seemed more angry than afraid.
“You killed three of my men, Mr. Jones.”
“I’ve killed nineteen of your men, Sammy.” Malik grinned. “That’s the current count, right?”
Kuti’s smile tightened. “I believe you are right.”
Why was Malik provoking him? Did he not know that it was considered impolite to call someone you didn’t know by their first name, let alone to use a nickname?
“How did you find us?”
“The clerk at the hotel called. We sent your photos to hotels and airports all around the region.”
“You’re one of these Sky King assholes?”
Fury spread over Kuti’s face. “I am not worthy to be one of them. You will speak of them with respect.”
“Not a chance.”
Kuti didn’t seem to know how to take Malik’s defiance. “You don’t know who you’re up against. By the end of this day, you will have suffered so much that you will wish you had never been born.”
“By the end of this day, Sam, you’ll be dead.”
Malik sounded so confident, so sure of himself, but Kristi had heard Kuti. Fear for Malik made her heart constrict. What would they do to him?
Cobra will come for us.
Malik had said it, and she hoped to God it was true. If they didn’t come…
Adrenaline shot through her, made it hard to breathe.
“Easy, Kristi,” Malik whispered.
Wasn’t he afraid? Wasn’t he worried about what Kuti would do to him?
It didn’t take long to reach the airport. When the van stopped, they were dragged out and marched toward a large helicopter, its rotors already spinning.
Two of the men stayed behind—one with each vehicle—while Kristi and Malik were forced to board the helicopter and strapped into their seats. The others put on earphones, but left Kristi and Malik without.
“It’s going to be noisy,” Malik warned her.
The helicopter lifted off, the sound deafening as it nosed its way into the wind and away from the airport, Parakou disappearing behind them and, with it, the hope that had kept Kristi going. Every mile they’d traveled, the quicksand, the railway bridge—none of it meant anything now.
Malik caught her gaze, said something she couldn’t hear, but she read his lips. “It’s not over.”
Then she remembered the story he’d told her about the ambush in Afghanistan. They’d been attacked. They’d lost a helicopter. They’d even run out of ammunition. Then, when it had seemed that all was lost, help had come. They had survived.
Would help reach them in time?
The flight seemed to last forever, though in reality it was probably less than two hours. Her fingers had long since gone numb, the ropes on her wrists cutting off her circulation. She knew where they were when she saw the Lagos skyline and the Gulf of Guinea come into view, skyscrapers and then a vast expanse of blue.
The helicopter landed in an open field outside of town, and she and Malik were both dragged out of the helicopter and taken to a waiting van, Kristi’s hearing strangely muted from the noise of the chopper.
“We didn’t search her,” one of the men called to Kuti.
The other men laughed, the sound tinted with lust.
“I’d like to search her.”
Kuti glared at them. “I told you not to touch her. The Kings will decide her fate.”
Kristi was placed far from Malik this time, the door slamming shut.
Kuti once again took the front passenger seat. “Enjoy your last moments without pain, Mr. Jones.”
They drove through the streets of Lagos, Malik watching, waiting for any chance to break free and attack. He couldn’t risk it now, not in such close quarters, unarmed with his wrists bound. There was too great a chance he’d sustain an injury that would make it impossible to escape later—or that Kristi would be hurt or killed in the process.
No, he would watch. He would wait for the right moment.
And what if the right moment never comes?
It would come. It always did.
Kristi said she’d gotten a message off to Shields, but Malik wasn’t sure how close the team was to wrapping up operations there. Shields had said they were finishing early. That meant they should be getting ready to head home today.
All you have to do is survive until they get here.
He couldn’t share this with Kristi, of course. She’d been through so much already, and he could see that she was terrified. He couldn’t do anything about that now. He couldn’t even make eye contact with her.
Hang in there, angel.
He’d been relieved to hear that fucker Kuti tell the others to keep their hands off her. But what had he meant that the Sky Kings would decide her fate?
As for his own fate, Malik knew these next hours would put him to the test. Kuti had threatened him with torture, and Malik had no doubt the son of a bitch meant it.
They turned off the road, driving through some kind of parking lot toward what looked like a large warehouse—the kind of place where people could scream without being heard.
Fear snaked through Malik’s belly.
He’d withstood exhaustion and physical pain on countless missions. He’d been wounded more than once and had almost died in Afghanistan when he’d caught a bullet to the chest. But he’d never faced torture. Still, he wasn’t helpless. He’d made it through SERE training—Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape—and had all the tools that the army could give him.
What he didn’t have was a reason for this.
What did Kuti stand to gain by torturing him? Was it simply revenge?
The vehicle entered large bay doors and drew to a stop. The doors opened, and their captors climbed out, dragging Kristi with them first and then Malik.
Kuti spoke in rapid Naija to his men, two of whom grabbed Kristi by the arms and led her away.
She called for him. “Malik!”
Malik broke free from the men who held him and got in Kuti’s face. “Where are you taking her? Where are you taking my wife?”
“I am being merciful to you both. My men will lock her in a room where she won’t be able to hear you scream—or would you rather have her watch me break you?”
Malik leaned closer, his face now an inch from Kuti’s. “You and what army?”
