Edge of Courage (Edge Security Series Book 5) (21 page)

He nodded. “Anytime, kiddo.”

Jalila said something in Arabic.

Dylan didn’t look up but kept packing rounds into an extra mag for the weapon. “I don’t understand, kid.”

“Sarah?” she said.

He looked up at her then. Her eyes were wide.

He pressed his lips together. “I’m going to get her back.” He snapped the magazine into the weapon and slid it into the holster at the small of his back. “Let’s go.”

On the way out, he opened the cookie jar Sarah kept in the room. In it was a single flash drive. He snatched it up and raced up the stairs, Jalila on his heels.

Jalila and Besma shrieked and cried when they saw each other. He threw the tarp over them in the truck bed and left them to their reunion while he drove them to the auto shop on the southwestern edge of the city. Dylan took the pickup right into the garage. He jumped out.

“Rakin! You here?” he called in Russian.

Rakin slipped out of the office. “Where’s Sarah?”

“There’s been a problem.”

Rakin eyed the five girls climbing out of the truck bed. “I can see that. Tell me.”

Dylan explained what had happened. “They’ve got her.”

“Where?”

“Headquarters. But I don’t know where.”

Rakin ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. There’s holding cells on each floor of that building.”

Dylan’s stomach sank at the news. He shook it off. He would find her no matter what. “Can Zahir help?”

“Maybe.” Rakin shook his head. “He should know where she is. I’d better be the one to go and talk to him. I don’t think he’ll talk to you.”

Dylan held up a hand. “I need you to get the girls out. I can get inside.”

“What about Zahir?”

“I’ve got him handled. You look after the girls.”

On his way to the truck, even though he ached to race out of the garage and back to Sarah, he paused in front of Jalila, who still clutched Besma’s hand. He went down to one knee.

“I’m not saying good-bye,” he told her in English, knowing she didn’t understand. But he had to say something.

She smiled—a soft, sad smile. “
Shukraan
, Dylan.”

“I’m glad I met you, kid. I hope you find the rest of your family.”

She leapt into his arms and he squeezed her tight. “Sarah,” she whispered.

He set Jalila aside. “I’m going to bring her out.”

Less than a minute later, he sped toward the ISIS HQ. Rakin had made a phone call that was either going to help Dylan or kill him.

It wasn’t long before he abandoned the truck a block from the HQ. He listened and stayed alert as he made his way through the alleys to the steel-doored kitchen entrance. He clenched his teeth and waited for the guards to patrol by. Once they turned the corner, he ran to the door, his muscles tense, expecting a trap.

Unlocked.

He eased the door open. Zahir waited inside, smoking. He straightened and flicked the cigarette away. “Do you have it?”

“Show me where she is first.”

Zahir bared his teeth. “Fine.”

S
arah blinked her eyes open
. She was alive and alone in the room. She wasn’t sure which surprised her more. Dahab had left. Sarah must have blacked out at some point.

But she hadn’t told them anything. At one point, she’d just been chanting curse words in Arabic, trying to hold on to her sanity. Her secrets only had to stay hidden until tonight. She had to give Dylan and the girls a chance to escape, or all of this would have been for nothing.

She swallowed. Her throat was raw from screaming. She sagged deeper into the bed. They would eventually break her. Everyone broke when enough pain was applied for long enough. Most special operations soldiers hoped to last for twenty-four hours, enough time for the information they gave up to be considered outdated. But really, after tonight and the drone strike, none of it would matter. She and anyone left in this building would be dead. And the city would be in chaos from the bombs hitting ISIS locations all over the city.

Her whole body ached and her feet were on fire, pulsing with pain. She still wore the
abaya
over her clothes, though her headscarf had come off with her thrashing. She wanted to just curl up and hide, but they would be coming back. And she had no idea when. Her mouth went dry at that thought and she could feel her body shake.

No, she wouldn’t let fear rule her. She could do this, take advantage of the situation. She had her knives and she was alone. If she actually got free, she didn’t think she’d be able to escape the building or get very far. She gritted her teeth. But she sure as fuck was not going to lie here and wait for them to beat her again.

She ignored the pain blazing through her with each movement and wiggled her way as close to the head of the metal frame as possible. It created a little slack in the rope tying her hands to the frame. Her legs and feet stretched, trying to give her more room to move her arms.

She studied the rope tied around each wrist and then looped through the frame. She had enough movement that she could bend her elbows halfway.

Perfect.

They’d forgotten one thing when they’d forced her onto the bed: No one had checked her for weapons. She still had a knife strapped to one forearm. By angling her other wrist, she could touch the hilt.

Voices and footsteps sounded outside her room, coming nearer. She swallowed hard and twisted her arm. She could just manage to grip the hilt. The voices grew louder.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard them outside the door. Should she stop or keep going? She slid the knife out. She wasn’t going to let them beat her again.

The voices passed her door and kept going. She sagged onto the mattress for just a moment before setting the knife against the rope between her wrists and sawing with the blade. It was awkward, and her body strained to keep the position she needed, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. They could come back at any moment. She had no idea how long she’d been out or what time it was.

She panted and her palms sweated, making it harder to grip the knife. She clenched the handle and took deep breaths. Panic would not rule her.

The rope frayed under the blade. She sawed harder, working the knife back and forth, putting as much pressure on the hilt as she could with her angled wrists.

In the hall, footsteps sounded; the heavy stride indicated soldiers.

Please, not Yusef and his guard. She wasn’t through the rope yet. She was down to the last threads. Almost there. She pressed as hard as she could, her movements becoming as frenzied as her thoughts.

A deep voice spoke outside in the hall. Keys rattled.

The rope between her wrists snapped. She sat up and undid the strap binding her legs to the box with a couple of tugs. The doorknob turned.

She grabbed a second knife from her waist sheath and then lay down, stretching her arms back overhead to the rope. She held the knives by the hilts along her forearms under the sleeves of her shirt. She took a deep breath to calm herself and closed her eyes. She could do this. She had to.

She prayed her hands wouldn’t shake.

“I know you’re awake,” Yusef said.

She opened her eyes. “You got me.”

“Tell me what you know,” he said. “Or better yet, don’t and I’ll have Dahab whip you again. She told me of how you screamed. It would be amusing to hear you.”

Yusef only had one guard this time, who stood by the door. Dahab positioned herself near the end of the bed. The best place for striking the soles of her feet. Her gaze flicked to Sarah’s feet. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened.

It was time.

Sarah looked at the guard. Specifically at his throat. He frowned.

She jerked upright, kept focused on her target and threw the knife in her right hand, snapping her wrist at the end. Without waiting to see whether it struck true, she turned to her next target and threw the knife in her left hand.

The guard at the door dropped with a thud and made no further sound. The hilt of her knife stuck out of his throat. Yusef stumbled back from the bed, her knife sticking out of his gut. She scowled. She’d fumbled the throw.

He fell back against the wall; one hand held his stomach while the other pulled his gun out. “Bitch,” he wheezed. “I’ll kill you.”

She leapt at him. Pain shot through her when she landed on her bare feet and she staggered. Yusef fumbled with his weapon. She lunged at him, pushing the gun aside, digging her fingers into his wrist, forcing him to let go. She couldn’t afford for a shot to be heard. She’d never last against reinforcements.

A streak of fire lashed across her back. Dahab whipped her hard and fast. Sarah grunted at the pain. She couldn’t let go of Yusef’s gun hand; she had to focus on the greater threat.

Yusef started to yell and she grabbed the knife hilt lodged in his stomach with her other hand. She yanked hard, slicing across his abdomen. His scream turned to a gurgle.

Her back burned with pain, but at least her clothing provided some protection.

Yusef still gripped the gun. She twisted the knife again, the hilt of the blade now slippery with blood. His hand spasmed open as he let out a low groan and crumpled to the floor. The gun fell from his limp fingers.

She spun on her swollen feet and caught Dahab’s hand before she could bring the whip down again.

“
Kuffar
,” Dahab hissed, calling her an infidel. “I will kill you for this.”

“I don’t think so.” Sarah kept hold of her whip arm and grabbed Dahab behind the neck. She yanked Dahab’s head down while bringing her knee up at the same time. A crunch sounded as Sarah broke her nose. Dahab crumpled to the ground.

Sarah followed her down and landed on her chest, digging her knees into her upper arms, pinning them in place. Rage exploded in her. And she slammed Dahab’s head into the floor.

This was the woman who held Besma and the others prisoner.

Bang.

This was the woman who would have sold Jalila’s virginity.

Bang.

This was the woman who betrayed her own sex.

Bang.

Blood splattered the floor. Sarah pulled back and stared at what she’d done. Her stomach turned over at the sight of the woman’s head and the blood staining her hands. Her emotions had controlled her. Yes, this woman deserved to die, but not this way.

She stood, gasping when she put her full weight on her battered feet. She had to get out of here.

She shoved Yusef’s gun under her
abaya
and snagged her boots from the floor. She sat on the cot and eased them on, swallowing her groans.

“You’ll never make it,” Yusef whispered. Blood trickled from his mouth. “Allah will see you dead.”

She stood and moved closer to him. “I’ll take my chances.”

His hands hugged his stomach. Blood pooled around him and a putrid scent reached her. She must have opened his bowels.

He would most likely be dead soon. But what if this monster somehow survived?

She pulled her knife from his stomach and, while his eyes glared his hatred, she slashed his throat. She wiped off her blade on his sleeve before sheathing it.

Footsteps strode down the hallway outside. Fuck. She pulled the gun from her waistband and aimed at the door. She would go down fighting rather than be tortured again. The handle turned and the door opened.

Zahir stood in the doorway, his eyes wide as he took in the bodies around the room. He held up his hands when he saw Sarah’s gun. “Don’t shoot,” he said. “I brought your friend.”

“Sarah?” Dylan stepped past him and into the room. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Her knees buckled. She’d thought she’d never see him again. She forced herself to stand tall. “Where’s Ja— Where’s our package?”

“Safe.” Dylan’s gaze swept the room before he handed Zahir a flash drive.

Zahir took it, walked to Yusef’s body and spat on it. “I can give you ten minutes before I’ll have to sound the alarm.” He held up a flash drive and nodded at Dylan. “Thank you for this and for the warning. My wife and children are on their way out of the city. Also, I am sorry, but if I see you again, I will be obligated to kill you.”

Sarah wanted to feel angry, but just felt numb. Too much had happened; she needed to focus.

Dylan touched her arm. “Let’s go.” He nodded at Zahir and pulled her away. She took a step and shuddered, but suppressed any sound from escaping.

Dylan’s eyes narrowed on her, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t release her either, just watched her as they walked from the room. She paused on the way out and yanked her knife from the soldier’s throat and gave it a quick wipe on his shirt, before sliding it home in her arm sheath. After that, she tried to step as normally as possible, but it felt like she walked on hot coals.

Dylan shut the door behind them. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” Sarah tried to walk as normally as possible but couldn’t stop herself from flinching each time she put a foot down. She wanted to crawl to get off them as they screamed with each step.

“Let’s go,” she said hoarsely. She put her hand on the wall for balance.

“If you’re fine, then why are you walking like your feet have been branded?” He looked away and cursed. “They whipped your feet.” His voice was low, dangerous. He looked back at the room.

She bit her lip and took another step. She could do this. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t run,” he said. “Do you have a veil? I’ll carry you. Pretend you’re sick.”

“In this place?” She shook her head and pulled out a face veil. Dylan moved to help her put it on and she waved him away. “Stop fussing. I’ve got it.”

“Are you always cranky when someone rescues you?”

The question surprised a laugh out of her and Dylan grinned. Damn, it was good to see him. She took a step and winced. Dylan was immediately there, putting an arm around her waist and taking most of her weight.

“You have to let me walk on my own,” she said. “If you touch me then we’ll be questioned.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re hurt.”

“Yes.” She grimaced with each step. “But I can handle it. I’ve had worse and so have you.”

“It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

She snorted. “No. You just have to help me get through it.”

“Wait, are you asking for my help?”

“Idiot,” she said without any heat.

He gave her a rueful smile. They kept walking, and if he stood closer than was acceptable, she didn’t say anything. It was a comfort to know he’d be there if she stumbled.

They passed the elevators and went to the end of the hall to the stairwell. It was empty.

“What time is it?” She eyed the stairs down. “And what floor are we on?”

“Seven forty-five. Fifth floor,” he answered.

Shit. “The strike is scheduled for eight,” she said.

Dylan nodded, looking calm and confident, though she saw the tension in his jaw muscles. “Can I carry you now?”

She knew he would. But as soon as someone saw him carrying her, they’d be stopped and questioned. They didn’t have much time. And she’d just wasted some of it by moving like a turtle down the hall.

They wouldn’t make it. Not together.

“Go,” she said.

He scowled. “You want me to leave you?”

W
as
she out of her mind? Dylan shook his head. “Do you really think I’d leave you?”

“You have to,” she said. “I’ll slow you down. Go make sure the girls get out of the city.”

“Rakin has them. It’s you I’m worried about.” He would just throw her over his shoulder and jog down the steps. He’d kill anyone who tried to stop them. He moved toward her to do just that when she stepped back and held up a hand.

Her voice held too much pain when she spoke. “We won’t make it in time.”

“Don’t you give up on me,” he said.

“I’m not,” she snarled. “I’m trying to save your life.”

“Stop insulting me.” Did she really think he would leave her?

She tore off the veil. Her face was flushed, her eyes feverish.

“That’s it,” he said. “I’m carrying you out of here. We’ve only got fifteen minutes until the drone strike. We’ve got to bolt.”

“Even if we make it to a car, we’re fucked,” she said. “Dammit, Dylan, why’d you come back?”

Damn him? “I came back for you,” he growled. “Now shut up. You’re really starting to piss me off.” She was right, though. The window to escape the drone strike was closing fast. “Keep moving. We’re not giving up.”

She hobbled down the steps. “I never give up. I just don’t want to drag you down.”

“I said, shut up.”

They moved faster, as if their verbal sparring incited Sarah to ignore the pain. Maybe he just needed to keep her pissed off.

An alarm sounded through the building.

“Fuck,” Dylan said. “He said ten minutes.”

Sarah didn’t say anything.

Time was up.

He swung her into his arms and bolted down the steps. She didn’t complain, just slung her arms around his neck. He was going to get them out of here.

Fuck, he wished he could fly them.

He stopped dead and squeezed Sarah tight. “I have an idea. A crazy idea, but—”

“What is it?” she demanded.