Unleashed (Mr. Black Series Book 1) (9 page)

I didn’t reply.

“I’m not going to ask you again, but if you don’t tell me what I need to know…” he said, holding the muzzle of the gun to my throat, “…you’re going to die.”

Again, I didn’t reply. He motioned to the man standing across the room, holding a large syringe.

“One more chance. What makes you Americans think you can stick your nose in our business?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, bitch.”

Dakar motioned to the man to inject me with the syringe, filled with a milky white liquid.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked.

“It’s a little something I have been playing with. Makes little birdies sing pretty.”

“What the fuck is with you people and singing pretty?”

The man jabbed the needle into my forearm, forcing the liquid in.

“Fuck!”

It was cold, and I could feel it coursing through my veins as my heart pumped.

Dakar shooed the men out of the room. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ll finish this.”

“Such a big man when the other guy is drugged up and restrained!” I taunted.

The men walked out and closed the door behind them. The room began to spin, and my body became flushed with heat as the liquid began to take effect. My head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, way too heavy for my neck to hold upright on its own. It fell forward as the sound of Dakar’s voice turned almost ghostly.

“Are you feeling good yet?” he asked, his voice ringing through my ears.

My words slurred. “Fu…uu…ck you.”

“Are those the only two words you know? The military doesn’t teach anything other than shooting bullets, and saying fuck you?” he asked as he walked behind me and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back.

His face was blurry, but the cigarette smoke on his breath burned through my nostrils.

“Brush your teeth,” I said, as my jaw began to slacken.

Angry, he threw my head forward. “Tell me about the ground forces. How did you know about my trafficking route?”

I could feel the truth want to spill from my lips. His serum had begun to work, and it was doing a damn fine job, disintegrating years of training with a single push of a syringe. I knew I would have to keep my mouth busy with other truths.

“Black, Elijah Xander, Lieutenant, United States Navy, 555231,” I murmured.

“Tell me about the routes and the bombs!” he yelled next to my ear, his spit flying onto the side of my face.

The decibel, coupled with the serum, was enough to blow my ear drums right out of my head.

“Black, Elijah Xander, Lieutenant, United States Navy, 555231.” My words began to slur as my head bobbed.

He pulled out a cigar, along with a lighter, lodging it slowly in the separation between his lips. Lighting it, he inhaled deeply, flicking the ashes toward me as he exhaled a ring of smoke.

“Tell me, you piece of American shit,” he said quietly.

“Black, Elijah Xander, Lieutenant, United States Navy, 555231.”

“Fuck!” he bellowed as he pulled his gun out and shot me through the meat of my thigh.

Luckily, the truth serum also acted like a muscle relaxant, and the pain from the bullet felt like the slight pinch of a flu shot.

“I gotta give it to you…” he said an inch from my face, “…you are one tough piece of shit.”

“Black, Elijah Xander, Lieutenant, United States Navy, 555231…” I said one last time before he knocked me out with the butt of his gun.

RESCUED

By my calculation I hadn’t seen Nasima for a few days. I worried about her, and what she might be going through. No one had picked me up for my daily beating for the last two days, so I knew something was wrong. I was so frustrated. I wanted to rip out of this prison and find her. After all, it was my fault she was in this situation.

I paced the cell a few more hours, then I heard the jangle of the keys unlocking the door, which flung open with a loud thud. Dakar was the first through the doorway, and behind him followed a second guard dragging something large across the floor.

“My friend, my friend,” Dakar chanted.

From the one small light in the room I had a hard time ascertaining what the guard was dragging, but as they got closer, I realized the large mound of flesh was the unconscious body of Nasima.

“What the fuck?” I hollered as I tried to run over to her, but was kneed in the ribs by Dakar.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he said as I fell to the ground in a fetal position.

“Don’t you ever touch her again. See what you did to her?” Dakar yelled, pointing down to Nasima’s battered, motionless body.

Pulling the gun from the back of his pants, he cocked it and pointed at her.

“Me? You did that to her, you fuckin’ animal.”

“I am not the one that defiled her!” he yelled, waving the gun over her limp body.

“I swear when I get outta here I’m going to fuckin’ kill you,” I barked as I shifted my gaze toward Nasima, who groaned and moved slightly. “Nasima! Wake up!”

Dakar stood in between me and Nasima’s body, pointing the cold black metal at her. “This is my sweet cousin, engaged to be married to a wealthy and upstanding man, and now you have ruined her, you dirty, fuckin’ American.”

“Engaged?” I asked, unaware that she was engaged; my heart sunk a little at the thought of her with another man.

“Yes, but who knows if he would even want her now that you have ruined her,” he yelled angrily as he leaned over and pushed the muzzle to her temple.

“What kind of man beats on a woman?”

“I only gave her what she deserved.”

“You’re a muthafuckin’ coward. Just the kind of man that beats defenseless women and children. A fuckin’ coward!” I growled as I coughed up blood and spit it out on the ground. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

“Oh…are you my size?” Dakar asked as he shifted the muzzle from her head and pointed it toward me.

“No. I’m not your size…you’re a little too small for me.”

“C’mon son of a bitch, let’s test it out.” Dakar laughed, still pointing the gun at me. “You look like a little baby on the floor. You’re fuckin’ weak!”

Dakar yanked Nasima’s arm, pulling her dead weight closer to where I lay on the floor.

“Here, take care of your little whore. Say your goodbyes. I’ll be back for her soon,” he said as he slammed the door behind him.

“Nasima, baby, wake up,” I said, crawling over the few inches to get to her.

I jostled her arm, forgetting about my own pain as I caressed her. Positioning myself next to her, I sat up, cradling her in my arms. I wiped the dirt from her face as I hummed the little melody she had hummed to me.

“Wake up, baby girl,” I coaxed, and then resumed my hum, in the hopes she would hear it and wake up.

After a few moments, her body began to move and her lids fluttered open. I was relieved; the fear in my stomach began to unknot. “Nasima, are you okay?” I whispered, continuing to hum the melody near her ear.

Her head wrenched toward the door and then back to me. “Elijah?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I answered in a soft voice as I gently bent over and kissed her forehead, allowing my lips to linger for a bit.

Although my ribs opposed my movement, I pushed through the pain in order to comfort her. Taking stock of the few pieces of shredded dress that still clung to her body, the absence of material exposed all of her timid flesh to the world. Gently and as much as I could, I tried to pull the dress back together, knowing she would be humiliated in her current state if she had been conscious enough to be cognizant of it.

Dakar did this to you, my sweet girl
.

My ever growing hatred toward him catapulted me into an almost blinding rage for doing this to the woman whom I cared so deeply for. I could feel the heat from the adrenaline overtaking my body, the pain in my ribs taking a backseat to the vengeful feelings filling my brain with ideas of murder.

“Elijah, are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“
Shhh, shhh, shhh
. Don’t worry about me, my sweet,” I said, running my fingers over her smooth hair.

“Elijah, I don’t love him. I was promised…” she said as I interrupted her.

“I know how it works, and you don’t owe me an explanation,” I replied.

“But I do,” she said as she opened her eyes wider and gazed up at me, touching my cheek with her palm. “I think I love you.”

I smiled and pulled her face up to mine as I pressed my lips against hers. The kiss, so tender, made me realize how much I cared for her. “I’m sorry, Nasima. This is all my fault.”

“I made my choices. None of this is your fault,” she said, falling back unconscious.

I looked over her body and the bloody welts all over her thighs. I shook my head and swore I would see Dakar dead if it was the last thing I did. Pulling her face close to mine, I started to hum softly in her ear as I rocked her back and forth. As the seconds turned into minutes, I could feel my eyes begin to close, my eyelids heavy with the turmoil of our situation. My humming began to slowly drift off as I fell asleep in the middle of the cell, cradling her in my arms.

The calm of the night was interrupted by the undeniable chopping of helicopter propellers. The SEAL in me was instantly awakened from its slumber, raring for a fight. I prayed that the helicopter was for me and not just another terrorist being dropped off, but I wouldn’t hold my breath, as it was always a terrorist and never my rescue.

The sound of flash bangs and rapid gunfire erupted from the rooftop. A few moments of silence passed, then suddenly the sounds of gunfire ensued, followed by what sounded like hordes of men yelling in English; I knew this had to be my rescue.

My ears perked up when I heard the heavy footsteps nearing and the sounds of bullets ricocheting off of metal. The commotion was getting closer to my door by the second. Laying her on the floor, I stood up and positioned my body between her and the door, ready to shield her from the impending danger.

“Back up and take cover!” a muffled voice hollered from the other side of the door.

I knelt down and laid on top of Nasima’s body to cover her from the blast I knew was about to eviscerate the door.

The door blasted open, one hinge keeping it from completely smashing mine and Nasima’s bodies into the concrete. A team of SEALs kicked the door out of the way and rushed in.

Quickly clearing the room, they ran over to me and grabbed me by the arms. “Let’s go, Lieutenant Black.”

“We have to bring her,” I yelled as I was being dragged away.

“Sir, we don’t have the manpower to protect both of you.”

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. That’s an order,” I said, staring straight into the face of the fully masked soldier.

The soldier kneeling over Nasima’s body, feeling for a pulse, looked over for orders.

“Bring her; we can work it out later,” ordered the obvious team leader, as he positioned himself under my arm, lifting me up from the ground.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” the soldier propping me up urged, as he held out his M4 at the ready, pointing it toward the door.

He dragged me at his side. Never had I felt so naked and weak, wishing I was armed, longing for the familiar weight of my kit and weapons.

I looked back at the soldier holding Nasima’s half naked body, making sure he was following us closely.

“Don’t let her go,” I yelled as I heard the unmistakable sound of a Russian-made AK-47, the bullets snapping past my head.

We quickly took cover, ducking down as we backed into the room. I had a moment to look down the hallway to see Dakar and his men holding up World War II era AK-47’s, pointed directly toward us as they stood guarding the exit.

“Kill that son of a bitch!” I screamed, pointing at Dakar.

We narrowly made it back into the cell as Dakar’s men started to shoot. The soldier laid me on the ground and took out a grenade from his tactical vest. He pulled the pin and threw the metal ball as hard as he could down the hallway. He jumped back into the cell on top of me to give me cover. The grenade went off; the blast shook the entire building, causing a blinding haze of sand and concrete to fill every open corridor. Fortunately, the SEALs had goggles to counteract such situations.

The soldier picked me back up and slung my arm over his neck. I exhaled and gritted my teeth as the handle of the gun in the soldier’s holster rammed directly into my broken rib.

Fuck
.

The handle jostled against my ribs as we exited the cell, but the relief of rescue made the brief pain I was experiencing worth it.

The deafening noise made by the whirring blades of the helicopter through the blown out windows in the hall made the rescue feel more intense, as we made it down the hall littered with the mangled and bloodied mess that used to be Dakar and his men. As we stepped over the pile, I spit on what was left of Dakar’s head.

“See you in hell, muthafucker!”

Rounding the corner and halfway up the stairs to the roof, I realized this was the same building I had been captured in. This whole time I was never sure if I was being held captive in a completely new location, and if that was the reason that rescue never came.

As we passed the room the commander was killed in, the memory of his dead eyes staring at me pierced through my mind like a sharp knife. The heartache I felt the moment he died washed back over me like no time had passed at all. I could still see the gray ghost of the commander’s body lying in the doorway, riddled with bullets. We trudged forward as bullets once again began to fly past our heads. They embedded into the walls, causing the aged concrete to crumble and fall to the ground.

“I’ll cover you. Get them outta here!” one soldier yelled as he fell back and started to shoot his automatic weapon toward the darkness. I turned and looked through the haze to see the flashes of light coming from the other end of the pitch black hall. Suddenly a sharp pain grazed my arm. I was hit. The warm blood streamed down my arm and dripped off my fingertips, leaving a trail as we made it to the last door to freedom.

Another soldier who was in the lead position, kicked the door to the roof open. Half jogging through the threshold, I took in a deep breath, enjoying the clean, fresh air. This was the first time I had been outside in what seemed like eons, and though we were still in the thick of the situation, I felt a sense of calm come over me, knowing I was finally safe, and Nasima was with me. The Black Hawk was waiting on the other end of the rooftop, an oasis in the middle of the chaos we were entrenched in.

“Get her in first,” I ordered the man holding her. The soldier loaded her up into the helicopter and jumped in after. “C’mon.”

After laying her in the helo, he turned back, stretching out his hand to help up the rest of us.

The minute we were all strapped in, I yelled, “Go, go, go! Get us the fuck outta this shithole.”

Those words flashed me back to the night that the commander ordered the pilot to take off and head straight to the very building that killed him. A wave of anxiety overwhelmed me as I wrapped my arms tightly around Nasima. A soldier handed me a blanket to wrap around her body, the sound of gunfire continuing behind us.

The bullets were starting to hit the metal cab of the helo, one of which made it through the window, narrowly missing the pilot’s head. The pilot tried to veer from the line of fire, which jostled my fresh new bullet wound against the hard metal. That, along with the pain from my cracked rib, which Nasima was pushed up against, caused me to yell out in pain.

“Oh shit, SAM at your three,” one of the men yelled out over the loud chopping of the propellers.

I craned my neck to my right to check the pilot’s three o’clock position just as the Black Hawk’s instrument panel lit up with warning lights and a blaring tone, alerting the pilot that a Surface to Air Missile had been launched. The faint but familiar sound of a missile launcher firing hit my ears.

“Get the fuck outta the way!” the co-pilot yelled to the pilot as the missile careened through the air, creating a sharp whistling sound. “It’s headed straight for us!”

“Shut the fuck up!” the pilot yelled as he worked the throttle and pedals in unison to pitch the blades forward, making the helo descend faster. A large blur whizzed by the chopper window. It was the missile zipping past us and straight into a concrete building a few blocks away. The building exploded upon impact, creating a huge cloud of smoke and concrete dust that the helicopter flew straight into. The rocks and debris hit the helo propellers, causing the pilot to momentarily lose control. The control panel once again lit up with warning tones, alerting the pilot to the loss of altitude.