Blacklisted: Blacklist Operations Book #1 (8 page)

Pushing the notion out of her head, she turned off the sink and dried her hands on her skirt. Running wasn’t an option. She’d made promises, and she wasn’t going to break them.

Stepping into the hall, she collided with Aidan.

“I thought—.”

“You thought I left?”

“Yes,” he said, holding out her
sweater so that she could slip her arms in.

“Thought about it, but I’m not going anywhere. Even though maybe I should.”

“Let’s just get everything cleared up and then I’ll go deal with the bigger problem and you can go back to your life. I’m going to protect you Sophie.”

“I know you are.” She’d known from the moment he sat on the bed in the rundown hotel room and rubbed the cool balm on her face. In the moonlight, she’d seen the harsh line of hi
s jaw as he traced her bruises. Aidan touched her so carefully, as if she were a baby bird that he needed to nurse back to health.

She didn’t doubt his intentions.

Of course, not wanting to hurt her didn’t mean he wouldn’t. It didn’t mean anything, really, except that she was making a big mistake. Not for the first time since she left Dubai, Sophie wished she could talk to Adele. Or Lyle. Or her sister. Any of them would have better advice than what she was giving herself.

Any of them would tell her to see it through to the end.

They climbed into the car and he turned on the engine, then turned to face her. “That was the nicest dinner I’ve had in a long time,” he said.

“Me too.” Sophie was surprised to realize that she meant it.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this.”

“If you’re trying to stop something bad from happening, then you have to do what you have to do.” He looked so tortured and she wanted to see him soften, so she reached across the shifter and laid her palm on his cheek. “It’s going to be okay.”

He looked at her like she was his salvation, then carefully leaned forward and kissed her. It was softer than the kiss they’d shared in Dubai, and much more meaningful. Sophie closed her eyes and let his mouth take hers over, leaning into him and running a hand down his broad back.

After a moment, he pulled away. She was panting and moisture had pooled between her thighs for what was, in reality, only a simple kiss. Blushing, she looked away.

“We have a lot of ground to cover,” Aidan said, and switched on the engine.

The car cut through the night that had fallen, like someone pulled a shade down over the sky. Sophie didn’t think they’d be stopping at another hotel, but she didn’t say anything. He seemed awake enough.

“Aidan,” she said, then waited until he’d turned down the radio and glanced at her.

“What’s up?”

“I’m really sorry, but I’m in a lot of pain. Do you have any Tylenol or something?”

“What hurts?”

“My head. I get migraines and the medicine isn’t in my bag. It must have gotten dumped in the accident.”

“I don’t have anything.”

“Can you stop at a drugstore or gas station? Please?”

He nodded tersely, and drove until he found a place that looked like it would have what she needed. “Make it quick,” he said, popping the gas door and rounding the car to fuel up. “I’m trusting you.”

Before she could walk away, he stopped her and handed her cash. “Use this.”

In the store, she grabbed a bottle of medicine, some snacks, a few bottles of water and some fruity gum. Except for the cashier and a man reading a newspaper, the place was deserted. She exchanged pleasantries with the man while he took her money, then swept the mess on the counter into a plastic bag.

Aidan walked through the main doors, his eyes wide with what almost looked like panic. She glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that her browsing had taken longer than expected.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I’m ready to go now.”

He smiled at her, breathing out, then tensed when he heard a voice from the back of the store.

“Rage?” The man with the newspaper slowly lowered it, his voice incredulous. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Aidan quickly measured the distance from Sophie to the door, and knew he wouldn’t make it out of the room if he stopped to grab her.

He stood his ground. He wasn’t going to leave her behind.

“What’s happening?” she asked, her beautiful eyes widening with fear. It was fucking stupid of him to stop here. He should have passed the border before he let her get her medicine.

His eyes narrowed at Sophie and he tried to get the message across without words.
Don’t let them know you know me. Get out. Take the car.
But she ran toward him, was halfway across the room when the man backhanded her, sending her flying across the room where she hit the wall and didn’t move.

“I think your girlfriend wanted to save you,”
Milad said. “Put the girl in my van,” he snapped at the clerk, who hustled around the counter to gather Sophie in his arms.

“She didn’t do anything, asshole.”

“Shut your fucking mouth. One more word and I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to that little bitch.” Aidan didn’t doubt Milad’s words. He was Saman’s number two and had a hard on for blood almost as big as his boss’s.

When Sophie groaned as the clerk stepped through the door with her, Aidan spun to see what was happening.
Milad moved like a shot and hit Aidan in the neck hard. He went down. He didn’t see anything after that.

Chapter Ten

She woke in darkness and didn’t know whether it was the same day or if weeks had passed. Keeping her eyes closed, Sophie feigned sleep and listened to the sound of water dripping somewhere near her face. After long moments passed and she was reasonably sure that no one was in the room, she reached toward the sound and swirled her fingers in the liquid.

Bringing them to her face, she sniffed the water, trying to decide if it was clean. Unsure, she rubbed it against her lips to ease the ache, a cracked, dry feeling that she’d only ever had after surgery.

She wrapped her arm under her face and tried to stifle the weeping that wanted to escape. Exhausted and in pain, she could have cried endlessly. Instead she levered herself to a sitting position and rubbed her arms, which were numb from where she’d been dumped, but unrestrained.

Only a simple rope knotted around her ankle kept her tied to a pipe against the wall.

That’s when the screaming started.

Saman
laughed as he explained to Aidan exactly what they were going to do to him. Did Aidan, he’d asked, remember how it felt to crack his son so hard in the mouth that the boy had lost teeth?

Aidan refrained from pointing out that the boy was a trained killer who’d offed more than one opponent in the ring.

“You broke his bones,” Saman said, pacing back and forth. “Never fucking touch what’s mine.”

“Then he shouldn’t have stepped into the ring.”
Saman’s son won fights on his father’s name, not the power of his fists. Through the pain that fogged his eyes, Aidan was still able to be amused that the son still left his father to do his dirty work.

“You shouldn’t have,”
Saman said, and nodded to Milad. The smirking man slammed his fists into Aidan’s chest again and every nerve at the point of contact exploded with pain. The bastard had wrapped his fists in thick gloves and wound barbed wire around them. Once he’d hung Aidan from the ceiling, he’d started to work on him.

Skin for skin,
Saman had said, and Aidan’s world shifted a little crazily when he looked down and saw just how fucked up his own was.

Years of training for Delta Force and all the time he’d spent in the ring had taught Aidan not to scream, even when the pain came close to knocking him out. But when
Milad struck again and twisted his sharp, metal knuckles into the wound, he couldn’t keep it in. His lips were bleeding from the grooves his teeth cut in the flesh.

The strangled cries made
Milad smile.

“I wish we had questions to ask you,”
Saman said, stepping back to ensure that none of the blood would dirty his clothes. “Because you’d tell me everything. But a piece of shit from America who thought he could walk in here and win it all has no tales to tell. You’re just a body.”

Milad
spat in Aidan’s face, then followed it with another strike.

He knew he wasn’t crying, but his face was wet with what felt like sweat and tears.
Milad’s face was excited, red and swollen with effort, like he was fucking a beautiful woman in the back of a Chevy. Watching his pleasure made Aidan’s stomach flip with disgust.

The faces in front of him shimmered and he thought of Sophie. Disgust warred with regret, because there was no way he was going to save her. Even if he managed to get free of the chains, Aidan doubted he’d be able to walk out of the room.

“Where’s Sophie?” he asked, even though he knew by now that they wouldn’t answer. His tormentor just chuckled and hit him again.

“Don’t worry about her,” said
Saman. “Worry about you. Once you’re begging me for death, I’m going to let my son oblige you.”

Three heavyset men with AK-47s watched
Milad beat Aidan, occasionally wetting their thick lips with their tongues. His body twitched in the chains, shaking from exhaustion and agony.

After the first hour, they’d given him a break and left, coming back with food. The pitas had smelled inviting to his empty stomach—Aidan estimated that 15 hours had passed since he and Sophie had eaten. But as soon as
Milad started working on him again, the hunger had disappeared. Now he was weak from blood loss, too. He couldn’t stop the room from going in and out of focus.

“When I’m done with you, I’m going to fuck that bitch
blonde bitch.” He pressed his wire-circled, gore-coated hand on his fly and stuck his tongue out obscenely. “You guys wanna help?”

“Hell yes,” said the older man, relaxing his grip on the gun.

“Not real sure what I’m gonna do with her after that, Rage. Might drive her out in the desert and see how long it takes that pale skin to roast in the sun.”

“You could string her up like him,” said the crude man.

Aidan lunged at them, but only succeeded in sending another blaze of pain through his body. Saman laughed and shook his head, still focused on his smartphone. Even having an old enemy tortured wasn’t interesting enough for that slick bastard to look away from the screen.

Milad
slammed both his fists into Aidan’s chest. The room became a crazy house of mirrors, all the colors blending together and refracting. Then his body gave up the fight.

He woke on the ground, could feel his own blood coating his body. Two men were standing above him, speaking.

“When is that bitch going to wake up?”

“I think the boss hit her too hard. She’s slept for almost a day. I’m not gonna fuck a corpse.”

“I think she’ll live,” the other man said. “She’s still breathing at least.” Aidan wanted to kill him, to sink his teeth into the man’s throat and toss him aside so he could get to
Milad and beat him to death with his bare hands.

“She was a hellcat the night they brought her in. Struggling, cursing like a whore.
Milad kicked her hard in the face.”

“No wonder she isn’t waking up.” Aidan thought her heard the sound of someone taking a drink. “Did you see what he did to this poor fucker?”

“Rage deserved it. Weren’t you here last year?”

“What happened?”

“He was set against Saman’s son—which means you take a fucking dive. Rage fucked the boy up bad. Won, but I don’t think he got a purse out of it.”

“What kind of a name is Rage?”

“All those cage fighters have dumb shit names.”

They reminisced about a fight they’d watched a few weeks before and Aidan tried to marshal his strength. Testing each muscle with an imperceptible flexing motion, he forced them to obey his commands through the impossible veil of pain.

When he’d been selected for Delta Force, weeks of training in the hot-as-fuck jungle had taught him something about survival: you keep going no matter what’s happening. Dead men are the ones who stop.

Thanking any god that would listen for
Milad’s failure to restrain him, believing the unconscious man no threat, he tried to open his swollen eyes. Each slit was so covered with blood that he could hardly see anything at first, but slowly—too slowly—the room cleared and he could see the shadowed figures of the men.

He sprang.

The first man didn’t feel anything. Aidan rushed in an upward motion and used his palm to shove the poor bastard’s nose back into his head. He slumped with the same stupid expression in his eyes that he’d had in life, then went face down into the floor.

The second man jumped back and reached for his gun. If it had been in his hands instead of carelessly slung across his back, he might have made it. Aidan wedged an arm between the man’s knees, brought it up hard and flipped him, grabbing the knife from the man’s belt and using it to sever his carotid artery.

He didn’t stay down long enough to watch the blood pool in the wound. Yanking the AK-47 from the dead man’s back, he pushed out of the holding room and went to find Sophie. In the corridor, he shot two men cleanly through the head before either noticed that he was there. The recoil from the gun stopped him, though, forcing him to his knees in exhaustion. He used his free hand to grasp for a hold on the wall. Fingers slick with blood, he tried to pull himself up on the smooth, cold concrete.

Aidan’s vision wavered again and he hit the ground hard enough to jar every bone in his abused body. The shock woke him up, forced him to his feet and he continued down the hall. The blood and brain matter from the two corpses littered the floor and he almost slipped as he walked through it, but managed to
catch himself. If he went down again, he didn’t think he could get up.

Room after empty room met him. Most had stacks of wooden pallets or nothing at all. On a day when he wasn’t ground down to bones and meat, he might have stopped to try to inventory the contents in the other rooms, but he couldn’t do it. He just had to find Sophie and get her out of there.

Aidan wished desperately for his mobile phone, but it was still in the car at some random fucking gas station. He usually kept it strapped to his side, because for all it was unwieldy, it worked everywhere in the world for calls. But he’d been in a rush, sure Sophie had rabbited.

Sophie. God. Her honeyed hair danced in front of his eyes, almost like she was there. The laughter that had gathered in her eyes the night they’d had dinner together made his whole chest feel warmer. She was the perfect embodiment of the life he could have had if Bartek had never taken his sister. If Oliver had never offered him a job with
Second Division.

His only objective now was to find her, to get her out. Once she was safe, he could lay down and sleep. A few hours on his back and some medication could work wonders, he told himself as his body carried on the search fueled by sheer will. They could still make it to London; he’d leave her in the care of Oliver and Sarah, then go take care of shit with Lyle.

It felt like hours had passed in the search, but it was only moments. Delta Force taught him to create a map, updating it with each new piece of information you obtained as you worked your way through a hot zone. Best Aidan could tell, the building wasn’t that large. Four halls branched off from the main base, and he’d already been down half of them.

He figured he had ten minutes, tops, before someone came for him.

His vision faltered again, but this time it wasn’t just a haze. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and his stomach lurched.

Then he heard it.

Laughter. Deep, resonant. It spilled through the next door and out into the hollow corridor.

Crying. Sophie.

He bared his teeth at the sound and held himself back from bursting through the door. One chance was all he had to get it right, because the first person to hit him was going to take him down, guaranteed.

But fuck, he wanted to charge into the room and break the spine of every fucker that laughed at her.

She screamed, and all his strength went with the sound.

Aidan reared back and kicked the door. The lock caught for a second, but the plywood and weak metal couldn’t hold against the force of his rage. A short, burly man in a white t-shirt held Sophie upright, one arm twisted behind her back. Blood decorated the front of her shirt, oozing slowly from a ladder of cuts on her arm.

Enraged, Aidan flew across the room and killed the man, pressed the gun so hard against his head that it left a burn on his skin. Sophie collapsed to the ground with the corpse, weeping.

He turned on the other two. One rushed forward and aimed a kick at Aidan’s ribs, connecting hard. Aidan gagged, but shot the man before he could strike again.

The other man assessed the situation and, deciding to save his skin, turned and ran from the room. Aidan raised his gun to fire, but it clicked. Empty. Fuck.

“Aidan?” Her voice was so soft that he almost didn’t hear it. Her luminous eyes were large in her pale, terrified face and he just wanted to protect her from all this. To take her somewhere warm and let her sit by the sea. To hold her in his arms and kiss her soft lips.

She’d never signed on to this life, but because of him, Sophie had endued beatings, torture and kidnapping. All the horror operatives were trained to deal with had been visited on her since the moment he pulled her from her hotel room. Pain seeped through him as he reached down to take her hand, felt it cold and small in his own.

Aidan tried to pull her up, but she screamed when he pulled on her arm. When Sophie would have crumbled back to a ball on the cool concrete floor, he wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her up against him. His body screamed at the contact, but he didn’t say a word.

“I’m going to save you,” he insisted, moving toward the door and trying to figure out the best way out of the building. “Just take a few more steps. We’ll find a car. I’ll take you home.” He couldn’t imagine that they were so far away from other people, businesses, a road. If he could just get her outside, she’d be safe.

Her tears were hot on his shoulder, branding him for the bastard he was as he guided her down the hall, whispering reassurances in her hair. Aidan promised to make her safe, to take care of her. Each word made him feel stronger, gave him a solid purpose he hadn’t had in years. She quieted as they moved away from the hall, but whimpered when they turned and came to the bodies he’d left on the floor.