Running on Empty (37 page)

Refusing to give in without a fight, she managed a punch, recognized the soft give of a throat and the collapse of cartilage. Hands grabbed her, but before they could restrain her, she got off a hard kick to a groin. The bellow that followed was gratifying. 

She felt her feet leave the ground, and a new, fresh hell began.

Chapter Thirty-one

Declan was thirty thousand feet in the air when the next email came. As much as he didn’t want to open it, he had no choice. This time, there were words to go along with the attachment. The message wasn’t long but was crushingly meaningful.

“She’s not holding up as well as we had hoped.”

Drawing in a breath, he braced himself and clicked on the image. The video wasn’t as long as the first one. Probably only thirty seconds, but it had been enough. 

Nausea once again surged into his throat. This time, he couldn’t fight it.

Doing what he needed to do, he forwarded the email to McCall. On the way to the head in the back of the plane, he stopped at McCall’s seat. “Just sent you another email. Be back in a minute.” 

Not waiting for a response, Declan made it to the toilet with seconds to spare. 

Noah spared a pitying glance for Steele. Five years ago, he had been in his place. When Samara had been taken and tortured. He knew that feeling of desperate helplessness and a rage so intense it threatened to implode your insides.

Clicking on the email, he grimly took in the terse note and then viewed the video. Four men, he assumed the same ones as before, surrounded a nude Sabrina, who hung from the ceiling by her wrists. Before looking for clues or hidden meanings, Noah took the time to evaluate her injuries. Dried blood covered her face, most likely from her busted nose. Her eyes were already half-swollen shut. Her skin was pale, so the purple bruising on her rib cage stood out in vivid color. He was guessing they were cracked. Those sticks they’d beaten her with would have had no problem breaking bones. The rest of her body was a mass of cuts and bruises. Hard to tell if anything else was broken.

Noah lifted his eyes to her face again and was heartened to see the fierce gleam in her eyes. This was the LCR operative he knew. She still had a lot of fight in her and was not giving up. He had expected nothing less.

Steele dropped into the chair beside him. The man’s face was bleached white, but the wrath blazing in his eyes said it all. He’d do what he had to do to get his wife back.

“Did you pick up any clues?” Steele asked.

“No. The camera never moved away. From what I can tell, she has a broken nose, possible concussion, cracked ribs.”

“Her left wrist is broken.”

Noah peered closer. Yeah, he’d missed that. Bruising and a protrusion of a bone. Hell, and she was hanging from her wrists. “Bloody bastards.”

“They’re not finished with her.”

“No,” Noah agreed softly, “they’re not.”

“I need you to make me a promise.”

Noah waited, already figuring he knew the request.

“Once we find the location, all I’m asking is that you get her out alive. I don’t care what else happens. Just get her out.”

Arguing would do no good. Noah didn’t plan on losing anyone to these SOBs, but he knew Steele needed the assurance. “You have my word.”

“Aw, shit.”

Noah looked over his shoulder at Thorne. The man’s eyes held a similar hell. She was his partner and his friend, but that wouldn’t get in his way of doing his job.

“No real clues with this one. Just a taunt.”

Though looking as though he wanted to let loose a string of vitriol, Thorne’s admirable control took over. He allowed himself one sentence: “I’m going to enjoy taking these assholes down.”

“We’re all looking forward to that.”

The cell phone on the table in front of him chimed. Noah checked the readout. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” Standing, he held the phone to his ear and relished the sound of his wife’s voice. 

“Noah, any news yet?”

Declan couldn’t take his eyes off Sabrina. Would this be the last time he saw her alive? How the hell could he have let this happen?

Cole Mathison’s words of warning came back to haunt him, and he knew exactly how he’d let this happen. While he had been focused on his own vengeance, concentrating on his own agenda, the one person in the world he would literally lie down and die for had been taken. 

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”
 

Confucius’s statement fit this scenario too damn well. But if two graves were indeed needed, neither of them would be Sabrina’s. This, Declan swore on his life.

What was going through her head as she endured this torment? Did she know he would find her? That he would tear the world apart to save her? Yes, she did. More than anyone else in the world, she believed in him. She knew him inside and out…knew his heart. She had so much more faith in him than he did in himself. When confronted with vicious rumors that he had been unfaithful, she hadn’t believed them. When he had told her he couldn’t love her anymore, had nothing left inside him, she had proudly stood before him and told him he was wrong. 

So, yes, Sabrina knew without a doubt he would come for her.

He was aware that Thorne dropped into the seat vacated by McCall, but still Declan couldn’t move his gaze from the brutal image before him.

“She’s tougher than any person I know, man or woman.”

Declan appreciated the man’s reassuring words, but he wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Sabrina was tough—he had trained her. He knew everything about her. But he also knew, despite all that toughness and bravado, she was as fragile as any human. Her body could endure a lot, but at some point, it would fail her.

“She ever tell you I made a pass at her once?”

Declan tore his eyes away from the screen to give Thorne a crooked half smile. “No. She wouldn’t, though. That’s not Sabrina’s way.”

“Yeah, you’re right. She turned me down, of course. Didn’t take long for me to realize that her heart was locked up with someone else. And it’s still locked up.” Thorne leaned forward in his chair. “She’s going to survive, Steele, I don’t doubt that for a minute. And when this is over, don’t let her go. If you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Take it from someone who knows.”

Declan swallowed hard, trying to push down the giant clog in his throat. “Thanks for the pep talk. You’re not as big of an asshole as I pegged you.”

Thorne stood and slapped him on the back. “Back at ya, man.”

Declan slumped back into his seat and closed his eyes. Why hadn’t he died in that hellish prison? If he had, Sabrina would never have known what happened to him. He never would have gone after her. She would have eventually gone on with her life. Found another man to love and appreciate her. 

For the first time since his rescue, he wished with all his heart that Jackson had never found him.

His cell phone chimed. Declan checked the caller ID and was surprised to see Angela’s name pop up.

“Angela, you got something?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”

As Declan listened, he surged to his feet as a seething hatred emerged. How stupid he’d been. How very fucking stupid.

Thanking her for the information, he ended the call and turned to reveal what he had learned. 

McCall was making rapid strides his way. “Got another call. I’ve got some info.”

“Yeah, I do, too,” Declan said grimly.

“Listen.” McCall placed his cell phone on the table and said, “Hey, Dixie, you have something?”

“Hey, sugar.” The soft, female voice dripped with Southern charm. “We sure do. We’ve found our girl.” A hard edge entered her voice. “I hope you make those assholes suffer.”

“We will. No worries about that.”

“Good.” Then the charming, syrupy sweet voice returned, “She’s in Colombia, right outside San Felipe. Here’re the coordinates.”

As McCall jotted down the location, Declan drew in a settling breath. Sabrina would survive. They would arrive in time to save her, and she would live. Then, when she was out of danger, and he’d held her one last time, he would hunt down the traitor and ensure that at least one of those graves would be needed.

Outside San Felipe, Colombia

The pain wasn’t bad as long as she didn’t move and barely breathed. Her wrist had stopped throbbing, and other than the strain on her shoulders and neck, she felt almost normal. Well, as normal as anyone could who was hanging from a hook in the ceiling. 

They weren’t through with her yet. She had pissed them off, and the next time they’d want retribution. She had been surprised at their naïveté. Did they have no idea who they’d captured? She didn’t need both arms and legs to maim or kill. One of those men had discovered that when she slammed a well-placed fist into his throat. She’d heard his gurgle of agony before he’d fallen to the ground. They’d dragged him out the door, and she knew he would never get up again.

The other one she’d caught in the groin would live, but his equipment might take years and multiple surgeries to repair. She doubted he’d be back to torture her. His friends, however, would make sure she paid. How long before Declan and LCR reached her? She refused to consider that they wouldn’t. She knew Declan, and she knew Noah. Working together, those two could find a penny in the ocean. 

The tracking device in her arm was gone. She’d discovered that soon after they’d strung her up. Someone had dug it out, leaving a small, open wound. They hadn’t bothered to treat it, but compared to the rest of her injuries, she supposed it was just a slight inconvenience.

LCR had contacts all over the world. Some were paid. Others informed out of gratitude for LCR’s help. These assholes believed they had her hidden away from the world. They’d soon learn differently. 

The door creaked open, and the man who had talked to her earlier stood there, studying her. She was surprised he was still wearing the head covering. She had already accepted the truth. No way did they plan to let her live.

Once they got hold of Declan, she had little doubt that she would be used as a torture device for him. If he didn’t talk, they’d use her in whatever way they could to make him do whatever they wanted. Not that she would allow that. If it came to allowing herself to be tortured in front of Declan, she would take herself out of the equation. Forcing Declan to watch them torture her would be worse than letting him see her die at her own hand. She’d rather go out on her own terms anyway. Declan would understand that.

“You’re more trouble than we anticipated.” 

Even though she was smiling inside, she didn’t allow him to see her triumph. Why make her retribution more painful?

“You temporarily disabled two of my men.” 

That was a lie. She had killed one of them, and the other wouldn’t be able to walk upright for at least a couple of weeks and would probably be peeing through a straw for months. 

“How did you know about the tracker in my arm?”

“Standard procedure to scan a prisoner before transport.” He held up his fingers in a mocking gesture. “Scouts honor.”

He drew closer. “So, here’s the thing, Mrs. Steele. We hadn’t planned on doing anything more to you. Our last message to Mr. Steele should have been sufficient. However, my men have made a special request. And who am I, their employer, to deny them their entertainment?” 

Two men entered. Despite the knowledge that she could and would survive any pain they inflicted, her body tensed, and panic roared through her bloodstream. Still, she knew she could take it. She had been trained by the best to endure everything, anything. She would endure this, too. 

Hard hands twisted her body around and slammed her against the wall. One man wrapped a leather strap around her waist and then secured it to hooks embedded in the wall. If she’d been able to get some leverage, she might’ve taken out at least one of them by swinging both her feet up. With her broken wrist, she didn’t have the strength. 

Knowing she had no choice but to endure, her mind prepared itself for what came next. 

“Too bad we don’t have room for a bullwhip, as we did for Mr. Steele. His bare back made an appealing landscape. Yours is smaller but truly exquisite. All that pale, smooth skin. We do have the next best thing, though.” 

She heard a whir, as if something flew through the air, and then a sting across her back revealed what it was. A cane. 

Gripping her hands on the chains, Sabrina went to that place she’d taught herself to go when things became too much. She and Declan were on a sailboat. He was at the helm. She stood in front of him. His arms were around her, and they guided the boat together. The wind whipped through her hair, the sun blazed above them, and his arms held her, strong yet tender. She leaned back against his hard, masculine strength and rejoiced in his love. She chanted softly in her mind,
Declan. Declan. Declan.

Odd. The sounds behind her had stopped. Her entire backside, from shoulders to ankles, burned as though she had been licked by fire. But they had stopped before she lost consciousness. Why? Even though she knew her skin was most likely bloody and raw, she was surprised they hadn’t beaten her until even her fantasy had been penetrated. 

She took in a shallow breath, fully expecting the pain to begin again. When she heard running feet, she smiled. Ah yes. Her torturers were now otherwise occupied.

Chapter Thirty-two

It was an abandoned house—quite large, almost a mansion. According to McCall’s source, it had once been owned by a drug lord who’d left it behind when things got too hot. Weeds and bushes had grown around the exterior, hiding much of it from view. Declan’s high-powered binoculars revealed broken windows and scraps of curtains blowing in the breeze. He saw no activity. 

According to the blueprints they’d obtained, the house had both a basement and an attic. The attic was small. From the video they’d seen, Sabrina’s torture area looked larger, the walls red brick and damp, slightly moldy. They were betting on the basement.