No Turning Back (17 page)

No. Stop
. They wouldn't abandon her to the likes of the arms dealer she was about to face. But she was too chicken to do a voice check to confirm it. She didn't want to risk tipping anyone off that a team was shadowing her.

Please be out there, Ben.

She imagined him following in the shadows at a safe distance, watching her every move, protecting her from harm. It gave her hope and courage. Her shoes scuffed along the dusty street. The weight of the backpack bumped against her ribs and spine with every step.

An old man passed her, his back bent beneath the weight of the sacks he carried. Sam turned right, moving swiftly to the next light source and perused the map again.
Had to be close. Keep going west
. She studied the buildings she passed. The sensation of eyes tracking her from the darkened windows sent a shiver up her spine. Lots of flat rooftops here. Rhys might be positioned on one of them, acting as sniper. The thought gave her an added measure of nerve. She'd seen him in action. He was a lethal shot and moved like a ghost. Ben must be that good, too, or Luke would never have brought him on board. She wasn't alone out here. She had guardian angels watching her from somewhere.

One more left turn. She faltered. The alley was pitch black. How would she ever tell which address it was? Her heart sped up.
Move, Sam
.

Her steps were loud in the blanketing silence, echoing off the steel and concrete facades she passed. A metallic clunk broke the stillness. She froze. Trying to control her breathing rate, she scanned the darkened building the sound had come from. A metal door squealed and shrieked as it swung open. Slowly.

“You're late.” Pashto.

Her eyes shot to the right at the rough male voice.

“Get inside.”

Her belly pulled tight, but she obeyed and went up to the door. A strong hand grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked her inside before she had time to do anything but gasp.

She flung an arm out to push away, thought about the pepper spray in her hair, but then the door slammed shut behind her and someone shot the beam of a flashlight into her eyes. She flinched and pulled her head back.

“Don't move.”

She didn't dare, and stood there shaking as someone pulled off her veil and ripped the bag out of her clenched fingers. “I am unarmed,” she blurted.

“This way.” He grabbed her by the back of the neck and dragged her further into the building, around a corner in complete darkness but for the beam of his flashlight.

God, the team would never be able to see in here even with their night vision equipment, it was dark as a grave.

She winced. Bad word choice.

The slight glow from the flashlight showed her guide to be a tall, well-built man wearing military-style cargo pants and a snug t-shirt, but his head and face were covered with a headscarf. She had no choice but to follow, even though every instinct urged her to run like hell in the opposite direction. The building was solid, built like a bunker, with nine-foot ceilings. Lots of steel and concrete. Dread slid through her. Would her transmitter be able to broadcast through that kind of exterior?

Another man was waiting beside a safe in the next room. Not as tall as the first, but his expression was twice as menacing. As was the fact he'd allowed her to see his bearded face at all. A sense of foreboding filled her.

What if they weren't planning on letting her leave alive?

The man wasted no time in addressing her. “You are American?”

Right now, she wished she were Swiss. “Yes.” She could barely get the word out.

He jerked his chin at the guard. “Search her.”

Sam squeaked when he grabbed her robe and yanked it over her head. She instinctively covered herself, though she wore cargo pants and a tank top beneath it. Bracing herself, she withstood the impersonal brush of his hard hands over her body, over her bra where the transmitter lay against her pounding heart, across her quivering stomach and grabbed the thick wrist as he kicked her feet apart and put his hand between her thighs. He stilled a moment.

Refusing to let them know how frightened she was, she gritted her teeth and held absolutely still. He gave an impatient grunt and finished his examination by sliding down her legs to her socks and shoes.

As he stood, he studied her for a moment, then reached for her hair.

The clip, she thought, allowing him to remove it. He turned it over in his fingers, opened and closed it a few times, then thrust it back to her and stepped away.

The man seated next to the safe turned his attention to the knapsack and began rifling through the contents. Apparently satisfied, he reached out his hand to turn the dial on the safe. The sleeve of his robe pulled up, revealing a tattoo. A black scorpion with its stinger raised over its head, in position to strike. A flare of recognition hit her. She remembered that design. She'd seen it during a search of a terrorist group database when she'd worked with Luke in Paris. It was the symbol of the Islamic Resistance, a dangerous militant group operating in northeast Afghanistan.

Where Nev probably was.

Her heart hammered. Did this man know where her cousin was? Was he connected to the plot? He had to be.

He turned his head. Sam met his stare and held it while the blood ran out of her face.

Oh, shit, he knew she'd seen it. Somehow he knew she'd figured out what it meant.

A bolt of fear zinged through her as she gazed into those icy eyes.

His mouth twisted beneath his heavy beard. Then he shocked her by speaking perfect English. “I was warned you were more intelligent than most.”

She cast a glance over her shoulder. The door seemed so far away. Too far.

“Not that it matters to me.” He swung the safe door shut with an echoing thud and spun the combination dial. When the soft buzzing noise stopped, he settled back in his seat. “But it will matter a great deal to you.”

She could not let him bully her. The question crowded her throat, pushed out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Where is my cousin?”

His eyes flared at her boldness. He was probably surprised anyone would talk to him the way she just had. That made two of them. His black gaze held hers for a moment. “I believe I have given you too much information already.”

Like his eyes, the words were devoid of emotion. Her heart sank. He wasn't going to tell her anything. Then his icy demeanor changed completely. A cruel smile twisted his mouth. A raw slash in the middle of his beard.

“Do you know why Tehrazzi and I work so well together?”

She backed up a step, shook her head. She didn't want to know why. With each second her chances of her leaving the meeting alive dropped exponentially.

He gestured to someone out of her line of vision. Another hulking male came forward, carrying something in his hands.

She retreated another step, then pivoted on her heel to flee. Everything in her screamed she had to run, and yet she couldn't bring herself to do it.

The arms dealer held her in place with his soulless eyes. “I only use a meeting location once.” Not even a flicker of emotion played in the onyx depths. A shiver passed down her spine. “And I only use a messenger once.”

His meaning penetrated her screaming brain. She panicked, spun to flee. The guard who'd brought her in grabbed her arms to stop her.

A hoarse shout of denial rose up her tight throat. The team. They had to have heard her. They were her only chance.

The grip on her arms tightened. Bruising her. Something in her snapped. She whirled, wrenching her arms free, hand automatically reaching for the clip in her hair. Her fingers closed around it, found the nozzle on the tiny bottle. She ripped it free of her head and flung it into his face, holding the button down. The spray hissed as it shot out.

The guard shouted and threw his hands up to shield his eyes. She ran.

The thud of her heart was loud in her ears, drowning out the yelling behind her. Footsteps pounded after her, coming closer. Her muscles strained with the effort to go faster. She tripped, falling into the darkness, and hit the floor hard. The breath whooshed out of her lungs. Her aching eyes stared into the blackness. The door. The door was there somewhere. She had to get to it before they caught her, or shot her. If she could fling it open and yell for help, Ben might be able to save her.

Shoving to her feet, she made a desperate lunge. Rough hands seized her and wrenched her arms behind her. A heavy weight settled on her back, crushing her into the cold concrete. She thrashed, turning her head to bite the arm pinning her. She tasted dry cotton as her teeth fastened onto the flesh beneath and sank in like a pit bull. The man howled and struck her hard across the jaw. Her head snapped sideways, neck cracking with the force. Lights flashed in front of her eyes.

Stunned for that instant, her attacker seized the opportunity and hauled her to her feet by her upper arms, nearly dislocating her bones from the sockets. She cried out and rose onto her toes to relieve the pain. His snarled threats floated through the haze of pain and terror.

“Hold her.”

The deep growl made her breath snag.

The beam of a flashlight blinded her for a moment, then swept away. A man approached, carrying something in one hand.

The other guard stepped further into the light, and she finally saw what he was holding. Her eyes bulged.

Her raw scream was swallowed by the cavernous building.

Hunkered deep in the shadows, Ben kept his eyes pinned on the door Sam should have walked out of five minutes ago. What the hell was she doing in there? She'd been in there almost seven goddamn minutes, and all of it in total fucking radio silence. Her custom made bug, the one he'd seen her fashion with her own two hands, had mysteriously stopped transmitting the moment that steel door had slammed shut behind her.

How goddamn coincidental.

“Rhys, you got a visual yet?” he whispered into the radio microphone, trying to chill.

“Negative.”

The single word answer shouldn't have surprised him. “Anyone else?”

“Negative,” Davis and Luke both parroted.

Jesus Christ, was he the only one to see they had a serious fucking problem here? He waited, muscles cramping as he stayed in position fifty meters to the east of the doorway Sam had gone through. His brain whirled with possible explanations. The transmitter going dead
could
be a coincidence. But there were a lot of those going on lately where Sam was concerned.

They had no eyes and no ears. No fucking clue what was happening in there. Was she all right? He hadn't heard any gunshots, but maybe she was in trouble. These assholes were more than capable of killing her. His guts cramped.

All his focus shifted as the locking mechanism on the door squealed.

He raised his rifle, stared through the sight at the door as it swung open. He deliberately slowed his breathing, listened. Nothing. Just silence.

Then Sam stepped out. Cautiously, almost as though she expected to have a hole blown in her if she moved too fast. She wasn't wearing the veil anymore. Did they have her at gunpoint?

Something was off. She stood frozen outside the threshold, glancing around her as though uncertain of what to do. Her head turned his way. Through his NVGs he saw her face...

And the abject terror in her expression.

“Shit,” he breathed, whole body tensing. “Order everyone to stand down.”

“What's happened?” Luke demanded.

“Something's wrong. They must have a bead on her.”

Sam took a couple halting steps away from the door, but paused again, eyes swinging wildly up and down the alley.

“I'm coming to you,” Rhys said.

Luke issued the order to the others to stand down. “Hold your position until I get there,” he told Ben.

“Copy that.” He studied her rigid posture, how wide her eyes were. God, she was fucking terrified.

What's going on, Sam?

Had those bastards hurt her? Had they somehow found the transmitter? It took everything he had to remain still while she took a halting step in his direction, her movements wooden and awkward like she was scared to move. He counted her steps. Seven. Eight. Nine. She still hadn't seen him. Twelve. Thirteen...

Rhys came out of the alley behind him and crouched at his side. “What's wrong with her?” he whispered, voice barely carrying over the still air.

“No clue.” But whatever it was, it was bad.

Luke's voice came over the radio, quiet and sure. “Let her pass you, then follow and see where she goes.”

“Copy that.” Ben tensed as she came abreast of him. Her breathing was ragged, eyes glassy with unshed tears but she kept walking, didn't even glance his way.

Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed once, almost a gesture of reassurance. They followed in her wake, concealed by the darkness, their NVGs lighting up the night with a neon green glow. Twice she stopped and glanced around her, and Ben swore he heard her choke back a sob. He almost broke his cover, but reminded himself he had his brother and Luke to think about, and for all he knew, she was leading them all into an ambush.

Minutes ticked past. Nothing disturbed the silence but her sobbing breaths.

She moved like an old woman. Had they beaten her and now she could hardly walk? More time slipped by. Ben tamped down his rising irritation. How the hell long were they going to have to wait before going after her? Clearly something bad was going down.

Luke's voice came over the radio at last. “No other contacts reported. Move to intercept her.”

Finally.

He and Rhys hauled ass around the back of the next building to head her off, and when she maintained her course, Ben stepped out in front of her. She jerked to a halt, one hand going to her throat.

“Hey, Sam,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm as he pushed the NVGs up onto his helmet.

She gave a jerky shake of her head, appearing anything but happy to see him. “N-no.” Her arms came up, hands splayed outward as though to ward him off. “Get back!”

He didn't. He kept coming at her at a slow pace, never taking his eyes off her.