by Pamela Clare
He hung from a rod, his elbows and wrists tied together so that his weight rested on his shoulders. It must be excruciating, like crucifixion but without nails. Kuti stood there, shouting up at him, while one of his men piled something beneath him.
Kindling. Firewood.
Oh, God!
They were going to burn him.
Some part of her wanted to punch out the screen, take out Malik’s pistol, and start shooting. But with her luck she’d miss and run out of ammo—or hit Malik.
If these fuckers wanted to play with fire, she would help them out.
Do you know what you’re doing? What if you blow yourself up?
She was clueless, but she had to try.
She used the bend in the shaft to turn herself around and headed back the way she’d come. When she reached the closet where she’d found their gear, she went to work. She took some gauze out of the first aid kit, opened the whisky bottle, and stuffed the gauze inside like a cork, tilting it to soak the gauze. Then she pushed out the screen, struck a match, and lit the gauze, rolling the bottle toward the box of whisky.
Not bothering to pull the screen back into place, she crawled as fast as she could back toward the garage. She needed to be there and ready when the fire drew these bastards away.
Smoke. She could smell it. Could they?
Shattering glass. A small explosion.
Smoke filled the ventilation shaft, engulfing her.
Shit!
Kristi held her breath and moved faster, pushing her backpack ahead of her.
Hang on, Malik. I’m coming.
20
Malik gritted his teeth and fought to hold on, both shoulders dislocated now. He’d suffered before—gunshot and shrapnel wounds—but he’d never endured anything like this, pain tearing him apart. But worse than the pain was knowing he had failed Kristi.
He had promised to get her home, and now…
Cobra will come.
Yes. The GPS trackers.
He latched onto her with his mind. Those beautiful eyes. Her big heart. Her silky dark hair. Her soft, brown skin.
Fight. Survive.
That’s what he’d told her to do. That’s what he had to do, too, no matter what they did to him.
Kuti stood a safe distance from Malik’s feet, talking to one of his henchmen. “Go get his wife now. Captain Bello thinks she’ll tell us what we need to know when she sees him burning and hears his screams.”
Kristi.
Bello was right. She’d spent her entire life fighting to end suffering. She had such a big heart. If they roasted him, it would break her—and Malik wouldn’t blame her for a moment. Hell, it might break him, too.
He closed his eyes, fought to slow his breathing, to breathe the pain away.
Smoke.
His eyes flew open, and he looked down at the pile of kindling and wood below his feet, thinking they must have lit it. But they hadn’t. The kindling and firewood remained untouched.
A man ran in, shouting and gesturing. “The hallway is on fire!”
“Go get the woman! The Kings will kill us if she comes to harm. I’ll find the captain and make sure he’s safe.”
The two men ran, leaving Malik hanging—literally.
Had they said the building was on fire?
Kristi.
They had her locked up somewhere, her wrists bound. She might be trapped and unable to get out.
Malik needed to get down. He needed to find her. But any movement at all made the pain unbearable. If he could get his leg over the bar…
He tried, almost passed out.
Smoke poured into the room from the door and from a ventilation shaft in the far wall. Then he heard coughing, and the metal screen that covered the ventilation shaft fell to the floor.
“Kristi?”
She crawled out, coughing, her face and clothes filthy with dirt and dust and smoke. She ran toward the wall where the rope that held him was tied off. “I’m so sorry, Malik! I’ll get you down.”
She lowered him to the floor.
His feet touched the floor, and he sank to his knees, his legs weak. He had to tell her, to warn her. “Go. Leave me. Run.”
“No!” She came up behind him and began cutting the ropes that bound his elbows, words spilling out of her in a panicked rush, punctuated by coughs. “I found a utility knife … and cut through the ropes. There was a ventilation shaft … and it took me a while to find my way around. I saw whisky … and I got some of our things and then made my first Molotov cocktail.”
Her words didn’t make sense to him.
She’d broken free and started this fire? A Molotov cocktail?
Okay, he was hallucinating. She wasn’t here at all. That’s why his shoulders and arms still hurt so fucking much.
He blinked, tried to make the hallucination go away, but when he opened his eyes and turned his head, she was still there, talking and coughing.
“I saw they were going to burn you, so I had to create some kind of distraction. I think I ….” More coughing. “I think I inhaled too much … smoke. Will you be able to walk? I’ve got morphine.”
“No drugs.” They would fuck up his mind even more, and he was clearly losing his shit. “I’m seeing things. You’re not really here.”
“Yes, I am.” A soft hand against his cheek. “I’m here, Malik, and I love you.”
The ropes slipped away from his elbows, the rush of blood through his arms bringing its own kind of pain, making him groan.
But he’d heard her. Hell, yes, he had.
She went to work on his wrists. “I think your shoulders are dislocated. God, I’m so sorry. I wish I’d gotten here sooner.”
Then with another tug, his wrists were free.
He groaned through clenched teeth, his arms falling useless to his sides, the pain staggering as blood flow was restored.
She helped him to sit, the sound of her voice soothing, her touch cool. “I’m going to pop your shoulders back. It’s not fun, but it will help with the pain.”
“Okay.” That’s all he could say.
Blinding pain and then… Snap!
It didn’t take away all of his suffering, but it was a huge relief.
She moved to his other side, took hold of his left arm.
A rush of agony and … Snap!
He exhaled, relief leaving him dizzy.
“Can you walk? I grabbed one of your pistols. Are you going to be able to shoot?”
“I don’t know.” He fought to clear his head. “We need to get the fuck out of here. They’ll be back the moment they realize you’re missing.”
He struggled to his feet, his arms like dead things swinging, heavy and aching, at his side, his fingers swollen and tingling. She got one of the SIGs out of her backpack, held it out for him. He reached for it, but lifting his arm was excruciating.
He managed to close his fingers around the handle, but his grip was weak and clumsy. Not good. “Let’s move.”
Men’s voices. Angry shouts.
Running on adrenaline, Malik hurried with Kristi toward the wall near the door, hoping to take the bastards by surprise.
Bello and Kuti rushed in, maybe a dozen armed men behind them, all holding handkerchiefs over their faces and coughing. They didn’t see Malik and Kristi flattened against the wall behind them.
“He’s gone!” Bello shouted.
Malik ignored the pain in his arms and shoulders, raised the pistol, and squeezed out ten quick shots before he could no longer hold up his arms.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Kuti fell dead along with one of his henchmen. Bello dropped to the floor, blood spilling from his side. Two more henchmen fell. One dropped his rifle and sank to the floor, moaning. The other shot went wild, Malik’s aim off.
Malik had ten bullets left, but the element of surprise was gone. The bastards he hadn’t killed turned on them, rifles raised.
Fuck.
“Kill him!” Bello shrieked. “Kill him a
nd bring her to me!”
It happened all at once.
“No!” Kristi crying out, jumping in front of him.
Weapons firing. A blast. A blinding light.
BAM!
“No!” Kristi jumped in front of Malik.
Gunshots. A blinding light. An explosion.
She screamed, the sound lost in the mayhem as Malik’s arm encircled her waist, dragging her to the floor beneath him, his body covering hers.
“Stay down!” he shouted.
Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at!
Shouts. Cries.
Then silence.
Smoke filled the air. A burst of static.
“Isaksen to Cobra Actual, targets eliminated.”
Relief washed through Kristi, bringing tears to her eyes.
Cobra was here at last.
She and Malik were safe. They were going home.
Thor continued to speak into his radio. “We’ve found the package. I say again, we found the package. The place is about to go up. We’re moving out.”
“Cobra Actual to Isaksen, strong copy. Get the hell out of there.”
“It’s about damned time.” Malik groaned as he rolled off Kristi, probably unable to push himself up.
Kristi got to her feet, her heart constricting at the pain on his face. She helped him to stand, Thor joining her. “God, am I glad to see you! He needs medical treatment. They dislocated both of his shoulders. Whatever you do, don’t pull him by his arms. I think he’s a little shocky.”
“Copy that. We’ve got a doctor on the plane.” Thor’s gaze moved over Malik, probably checking for injuries. “Can you make it, brother?”
“I’m good. Let’s get out of here.”
Kristi put her arm around Malik’s waist, steadying him as they moved together toward the exit, smoke filling the air, stinging her eyes, making her cough harder.
Thor opened the door for them, then they were out in the clean, fresh air, a helicopter landing in a field maybe fifty yards away, other Cobra operatives walking on either side of them, clearly watching for trouble.
“Where’d Tower get the helo?” Malik asked.
“Shields’ buddy, David, lent it to us, along with the pilot,” Thor answered.
Malik raised an eyebrow. “For how much?”
Next time she saw him, Kristi would give David a big hug.
They crossed the field, Thor helping Malik to board, then reaching down for Kristi, the others piling in behind them. They settled into their seats, Kristi buckling Malik’s safety belt and putting the earphones on his head.
Malik watched her, his lips curving into a smile. “You’re a pro at this.”
“This is my third helicopter flight this week.” She broke into another fit of coughing, her eyes watering.
“Kristi set the fire with some kind of Molotov cocktail,” Malik told the others. “She freed herself, escaped through the ventilation system, and set the fire to create a distraction. Then she came after me. I think she inhaled a lot of smoke.”
It was hard to argue when she was still coughing.
Lev gaped at her. “You did that? Badass.”
“I couldn’t let them kill him.”
“Nick Andris. Thanks for saving Isaksen’s life in Antarctica and for freeing Jones. That took courage.”
She felt awkward accepting thanks from men who had just saved her life. “Thanks for coming after us.”
Nick gave her a nod. “That’s what we do.”
“I’m Dylan Cruz. We’ve heard a lot about you these past few days. You are one tough chick.”
Kristi didn’t feel tough.
A big man introduced himself next, his accent unmistakably Scottish. “Quinn McManus, ma’am.”
“Shields is his much better half,” Malik said.
Quinn didn’t seem insulted. “Aye, that she is. We’re glad you’re safe now.”
“Is Elizabeth on the plane, too? I really want to meet her.”
“Aye, and she’ll be chuffed to meet you, too.”
The helicopter lifted off and carried them over the city of Lagos to the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, black smoke from the fire rising into the blue sky, a reminder of the hell they had just escaped.
She found Malik watching her, a smile tugging at his lips. “What?”
“You look like a living, human dust bunny.”
She laughed, but her laugh became a cough. “The ventilation shaft was filthy.”
Malik frowned. “Our medic should check you out, too.”
She wouldn’t disagree with that. “Good idea.”
It wasn’t a long flight, but Malik quickly lapsed into unconsciousness.
Kristi checked his pulse at his wrists, where dark bruises had begun to form. She found the others watching her. Between coughing fits, she explained. “I’m just checking the circulation to his arms. They tied his elbows and … wrists together behind his back and hung him up that way for hours. When I found him, he was hanging … from dislocated shoulders, and they were getting ready to burn him.”
Thor’s expression hardened. “Jesus.”
“Fuck. That must have hurt.” Lev shook his head. “I wish we could have gotten here sooner, but we moved as quickly as we could. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this team scramble faster than they did this morning.”
Quinn removed his helmet, revealing a head of red hair. “We boarded the jet an hour after Elizabeth got your message.”
Nick held up a canvas bag. “We got cell phones and a laptop. With any luck, the Nigerian government will be able to bring down the entire Sky King network.”
God, Kristi hoped so.
Dylan looked angry. “If they do, I hope we can be a part of it. I’d enjoy taking these bastards out. Hijoeputas.”
“Thank you. Thank you all.”
Fifteen minutes later, the helicopter landed on a tarmac not far from a small jet.
Malik woke with a start, looked around.
Kristi took his hand. “We’re at the airport.”
He glanced over at the jet. “That’s our flight home, angel.”
She looked up and down the tarmac. “They can’t get us here, can they?”
They’d been so close in Parakou, so close, and freedom had been snatched away.
Malik gave her a reassuring smile, lines of suffering on his face. “No way in hell.”
The Cobra guys jumped out of the helicopter, Thor and Dylan turning back to help Kristi and Malik.
A tall man with dark blond hair descended from the airplane. “Good work, men. Jones, I’m relieved to see you in one piece.”
“Thank you, sir. This is Kristi Chang. She’s the reason I’m in one piece.”
Kristi broke into a coughing fit when she tried to say hello.
“Derek Tower. Delighted to meet you, Miss Chang. I’m looking forward to the debriefing. Let’s board and head home. Doc is waiting for you.”
Malik walked with Kristi back to the little medical bay in the rear of the jet, Kristi and Doc Sullivan helping him to lie down in one of two beds.
“Both of his shoulders were…” Kristi lapsed into another coughing fit, her struggle to breathe worrying Malik. “Dislocated. Edema in his hands from … his elbows and wrists being tied. I suspect … he’s shocky. I can start an IV and…”
“You sit, Ms. Chang.” Doc pointed to a chair. “I’ll get his IV going, and then I’m going to check on you.”
“I can wait.” Malik’s pain wasn’t going anywhere. “Take care of her.”
Doc ignored him, starting Malik’s IV and insisting on giving him morphine. “You’ll hate me a lot less when I examine you. Trust me on this.”
Malik drifted in and out while Doc checked Kristi. “Your oxygen is ninety, and you’re wheezing pretty badly. I’m going to neb you. When you’re done, I want you to take a shower. I think it’s the dust as much as the smoke. You need to get that off your skin. The steam will help. If your O2 is still low, I’ll start an IV and give you a bolus
of steroids. I’ll get Elizabeth or Gabriela to help you.”
“Thanks, Doctor Sullivan.”
“It’s just Doc.”
Then it was Malik’s turn.
Drowsy from the morphine, Malik did his best to answer questions, wincing as Doc checked his shoulders, back, elbows, and wrists. “For now, I’m going to stick with anti-inflammatories and ice. When we get back, I’m ordering an MRI of each shoulder, your neck, and maybe your thoracic spine. You might need surgery on your shoulders.”
“Will I be able to work again?”
“I can’t say. We’ll have to see.”
Fuck.
“Right.” Malik had been focused on survival. He hadn’t thought about what survival might bring—being permanently sidelined, losing his job.
Kristi loves you.
That thought was a balm to his battered body and soul, as potent as the morphine.
Whatever his future held, Kristi would be a part of it.
That mattered more to Malik than anything.
With Doc finished bothering him, Malik drifted into a drugged sleep.
Kristi coughed her way through her introduction to Elizabeth Shields and Gabriela Marquez. Elizabeth showed her how to work the shower, gave her shampoo, conditioner, and a comb, while Gabriela, who was close to Kristi in size, went to get Kristi something to wear.
Kristi stepped under the hot spray, trying to breathe deeply, the albuterol from the nebulizer treatment making her shaky. The water ran dark, smoke and dirt and dust, washing down the drain.
We’re safe now. We’re on our way home.
It was hard for that thought to sink in, some part of her on guard, waiting for the worst to happen.
She finished her shower. It was good to be clean again, the stink of smoke gone. The steam and the nebulizer treatment together had reduced her coughing. She dried off and found panties, a T-shirt, and jeans waiting for her, folded neatly on a chair.
She dressed, combed her hair, and stepped out of the small shower room to find both Elizabeth and Gabriela waiting for her. It was the first female company she’d had since she was abducted. Maybe that’s why she broke down.
She told the two of them everything from the moment she’d been abducted to the moment she’d recognized Thor’s voice, leaving out the sexy parts and her feelings for Malik. The two of them listened, both seeming to understand—how afraid she’d been, how unsure of herself she’d felt as she’d dragged herself through the ventilation shaft, how she couldn’t seem to believe she was truly safe.
