Hot & Bothered (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 8) (24 page)

But if it was still day, that meant she hadn’t been out too long and they hadn’t driven far. Twenty or thirty miles maybe. She hoped like hell that bio-tracker thing Ryan had put on her worked.

Her chest ached at the thought of him. He would be blaming himself for this. The fact he hadn’t gotten there in time, hadn’t stopped these men from taking her, would be killing him. He’d told her she would be safe, and she knew she would be.

She
believed
she would be. She had to believe it, or she’d go crazy.

Rough hands grabbed her and jerked her up. The strap from the messenger bag tightened as she stood, the familiar weight of the money still there. That was a surprise considering they’d searched her enough to take her weapon. She stumbled and reached out to break her fall, her hands colliding with cloth. Whoever it was cursed at her and shoved her back. She fell onto her butt and then turned on her knees and managed to get up again while he yelled obscenities at her. She didn’t dare take the sack off her head, even though she could because her hands were free.

A hard hand gripped her by the elbow and guided her down from the vehicle.

Someone grabbed the edge of the sack and ripped it up and off. Emily blinked against the bright daylight, lifting her hands to shield her eyes.

“What are you doing, idiot?” someone yelled. “I told you not to harm the woman.”

“She is not harmed, Your Excellency.”

“You touch her again and you die.” The voice was closer now. It was a hard male voice that tickled her memory. She slid her hand from her eyes slowly, blinking. The desert sun was harsh, but it was sinking into the sky now and the light was more golden than white.

A man stood before her in long white robes, the kaffiyeh on his head fluttering in a breeze that chose that particular moment to blow. When she focused on him fully, he touched his head and his heart before bowing low. The men around her did the same as if their movements were somehow tied to his.

What the…?

Emily’s mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. She knew this man. Malik ibn Essa, a junior lieutenant who’d been under Zaran’s command. When he spoke again, a fresh chill wrapped around her heart and squeezed it with icy fingers.

“Light of Zaran, we are glad you have come home to us.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE WAITING WAS THE WORST PART. Ryan jumped to his feet and resumed his circuit of the room. He’d been up and down probably ten times, but he couldn’t sit still. His team—and Echo Squad—sat around the room, waiting much more patiently than he did.

Ian Black had left a while ago. Ryan was glad, because he didn’t want to look at the man’s face. It was Black’s fault Emily was here, Black’s fault she’d been meeting with Mustafa in the first place. Looking at him only made Ryan want to kill him. Something of which he was sure Mendez would not approve.

He knew what they were waiting for. Mendez had sent a drone with thermal imaging capabilities and an advanced radar system that would give them a readout on the technical specifications of the place where Emily was being held. They needed to know that information if they were going to break in.

And they needed confirmation that the hostages were there. Thermal imaging would be able to detect the bodies and pinpoint with one hundred percent accuracy how many men and women there were. For the hostages, it should be five women and eight men. Of course there would be others in the camp, but it was likely the hostages were all together. Or separated by sex, which would still help HOT confirm their presence.

The information on Emily’s bio-tracker hadn’t changed. It was functioning, which meant she was still alive. That didn’t make it any easier on him. Her vital signs weren’t ideal. Her blood pressure was up and her heart rate was faster than it should be.

That was fear. But nothing had changed recently, which meant her situation hadn’t changed. They weren’t torturing her—but for how long would that last?

He hated to think what they would do to her once they got whatever it was they wanted. He simply didn’t believe anyone in the Freedom Force was naïve enough to think she was still on their side. Her husband was dead and she’d been gone for months. Now she showed up in a café with half a million dollars and a meeting with a man they’d killed rather than take with them.

Yeah, none of that was good.

Fuck, why hadn’t he told her he loved her? Why had he thought she didn’t need to hear it before she went to meet Mustafa? Emily was bright and capable. She wouldn’t have been distracted by his revelation. She would have done the job she was supposed to do—and they’d probably still be in the same situation. Whoever had taken her knew to expect she’d have backup. They’d made sure to stage a physical distraction that made it difficult for the team to maneuver the crowd as quickly as they otherwise would.

“Incoming message,” Kid said, and Ryan spun and walked over to where everyone gathered. Kid turned the combat-hardened laptop so everyone could see it and then hit a button. Colonel Mendez appeared on-screen.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, even though it was morning in DC. “We have all the information we need. The hostages are located approximately thirty miles southeast of Al-Izir, quite close to the Lost City where they were taken. There’s a small village there—Kharat—and Emily’s signal is coming from a compound on the western edge. She’s being held in a separate room from the hostages, that much we can see, though that information could change by the time you get there. The drone will make another pass in an hour, and the information will be sent directly to you. The schematic for the buildings is being sent now. Sergeant Blake will make sure it’s loaded onto your Hawkeye prototypes for real-time targeting.” Mendez looked down at his watch, back up again. “This is your go-order, men. Find our fellow Americans and bring them home safely.”

“Yes, sir!” everyone said at once.

The call ended and they rocketed into motion.
 

* * *

Malik ushered her inside, talking like they were old friends who had accidentally bumped into each other at the store one day. He was chatty, polite, but her pulse hammered nevertheless. She didn’t trust him.
 

She almost laughed at that thought.
Of course
she didn’t fucking trust him! He was a terrorist. He also wasn’t an idiot, which made the fact he was treating her like she’d just returned home after a long trip away very odd and a little frightening. Okay, a lot frightening.

Emily darted her gaze around the compound at every step, looking for signs of the hostages, for ways to escape, for anything that sparked a thought about why she was here and what they wanted from her.

She still had the money on her body, so they hadn’t searched her. But there was no feedback in her earpiece, no sound of any kind, and she wondered if the link was broken or if HOT was just silent. She prayed they were out there. Coming for her.

Malik indicated a chair at a table and she sat, her body a little stiff from the ride on the floor of the van and the way she’d been thrown around. He went and poured some water from a pitcher and returned to give it to her.

She took it, but then she set it down, her mouth dry but her mind running through the possibilities of being drugged or poisoned.

Malik laughed and went over to pour a glass for himself. Then he drank it.

She reached for hers and took a sip. Tasted like water. She sipped again, carefully, waiting for signs of poison.
 

There were none.

“So tell me,” Malik said breezily, coming to take a seat opposite her, “how did you come to be in Acamar?”

Such a strange conversation. Emily cleared her throat. She was sweating beneath the abaya, but she couldn’t take it off. Not here where to do so would be considered vulgar by the men.

“Ian Black made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” No sense in lying about it. He knew she wasn’t here as a tourist, and Black had had dealings with the Freedom Force in the past. He’d told her that he’d actually stopped HOT from killing Zaran once. She’d found that amazing, but then Ian’s agenda was something she’d never understand as long as she lived. He didn’t seem to have a side sometimes, but she was positive his side was the same as HOT’s, even if he got there a different way.

“Ah, Mr. Black. Yes, he is familiar to me. I believe he sold us some rifles not so long ago.”

“That’s Ian.”

“Why did you not come to us, Light of Zaran? Your disappearance was most distressing, especially after the Americans invaded our camp.”

She took another sip of water. “I, uh, I wasn’t certain I would be welcome. Zaran was dead, after all.”

He made a sad face. It was almost comical since she suspected he wasn’t sad at all. Zaran’s death would have elevated him. Indeed, it must have since he’d been addressed like someone of importance earlier.
 

“Yes, may Allah bless our lost brother… But you would have been taken care of, as the widow of a dead hero should be.”

She wanted to shiver. She managed not to. “I was captured by the Americans. And since I am one, they took me back to America. They believed I had knowledge they could use.”

“But you had none, because you are not a warrior for the cause.”

“That’s right. I know you—many of you—but not your true selves, or where you are from. That’s what they wanted. I had nothing to give them.”

Malik smiled. “No, you wouldn’t have. This is good… Now tell me about Hassan Mustafa and the money you are carrying.”

A jolt of fear went through her, but she managed not to let it show. Or so she hoped anyway. His expression didn’t change as he watched her. She got the impression of a cat hunkering in the shadows, waiting for the mouse to move.

“Ian was paying him for information.”

“What kind of information?”

Emily clenched her fists in her lap and took a deep breath. This was ridiculous and she knew it. He wasn’t being friendly. Or solicitous. He had a purpose, and when he was done with her, he’d probably kill her himself.

“Why don’t you ask Mustafa?”

He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Alas, this is not possible. He is dead.”

Another jolt of fear went through her. And anger as well. She hadn’t necessarily liked or disliked Mustafa, but he was a person she’d spent time with. She could still see his dark eyes, the way he tucked his pipe between his lips—and the fear earlier today when he’d seen the men in the café. The gunshot she’d heard—it made sense now.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said and meant it.

“He was a traitor. He did not believe in the cause.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Do you believe in the cause, Light of Zaran?”

“I believe in freedom from oppression for everyone.” It was a neutral answer, but it was also a correct answer.

The gleam in his eyes said he understood as much. He got to his feet then and looked down at her. “You may stay in this room. There will be food brought. Eat it or don’t. Your choice.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked as he whirled and stalked to the door.

He stopped with his hand on the handle. “You will find out when the time is right. Peace, Light of Zaran.”

She watched as the door closed behind him—but then it opened again and she jumped as he stuck his head back inside.

“Oh, I meant to tell you that your microphones and listening devices have been neutralized.
Inshallah
.”

This time when the door closed, it stayed closed. Emily made herself breathe in and out very slowly, very carefully. She had no link to HOT. No way to talk to Ryan. She didn’t need that so long as the bio-tracker he’d put on her arm was working.

But she had no idea if it was. Or if HOT would ever find her again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“FLASH, REPORT.”

“In position,” Ryan said.
 

Beside him, Fiddler and Iceman gave the same answer in response to the question. They’d arrived twenty minutes ago. First, they’d taken trucks out into the desert as far as they could go, and then they’d crossed on foot, silent and determined, until they came within sight of the village.
 

There were lights on in the town, but they didn’t want to walk into the middle of it. The Freedom Force would know they were there within moments if they did. No; instead, they took a course that brought them to the western edge and the compound that intel had identified.

The schematic for the facility appeared in their Hawkeye night vision goggles. These NVGs were new and wicked cool. Not only did they allow for advanced vision in the dark, but they were capable of thermal imaging and had an onboard targeting system that worked like a video game to enable the person wearing them to walk into any structure as if they knew where they were going.

Every man wore them, and every single one could bust into that compound and know where he was immediately.

They’d split up when they left the trucks, but now they were converging again, getting ready to storm the facility. Two men would target the generator while the others worked on neutralizing the opposition. There were ten men with weapons prowling around the compound. There was a woman in a room by herself, and another room on the lower level with thirteen people inside.