Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 10) (13 page)

No one understood her pain, and no one could help her. Even though they meant well, she’d stopped taking calls from her family and friends. She was sick of the pep talks, of Adam’s tough love speeches.

You have to want to help yourself.

You have to get out of bed and try.

You need to let go of the past.

It didn’t matter that she understood the reason behind them. Adam couldn’t stand seeing her like this and wanted to fix her. Well, he couldn’t
fix
this, and every time he opened his mouth he just pushed her farther away. Yes, she was perfectly aware that adoption was a possibility for them, that plenty of babies and children out there needed a good home.

But she’d wanted so desperately to have her own child.

Still in the doorway, he took a deep breath then let it out in a slow exhalation of air. Obviously trying to make an effort to curb his frustration and not get angry. Still, she braced herself for another lecture.

His SF background made it impossible for him to accept her current condition, or that there was nothing he could do about it. As far as he was concerned, she could conquer anything if she just put her mind to it. He was angry because in his opinion, she’d given into the depression. To her it felt like he didn’t even try to understand what she was going through.

Yeah, because I really love being fucking depressed
.

But he hadn’t gone into early labor and delivered a dead baby. He would never grasp the level of grief she’d experienced.

“So, you just gonna stay here for the rest of the night?” he asked, voice tight.

She didn’t answer. There was no point.

The force of his frustration beat at her with invisible hammers. “Fine. You want something to eat?”

She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten. But she was too sad to think of food. Part of her didn’t feel like she deserved food anyway. “No thanks.”

Was that her voice? All fragile and weak. God, she hated that. Hated being on this awful rollercoaster of anger, grief and numbness. Hated herself for buckling under the weight of this and not being able to pull herself out, for not being able to connect with anyone, even her husband.

Unable to look at him a moment longer and see that disapproving expression on his face, Summer closed her eyes.
Just go away. Go away and leave me the hell alone.

Another minute ticked past before he spoke again. “Fine. I’m going out.” He turned away, shut the door behind him.

Sometimes the sound of his retreating footsteps hurt her more. Made her feel abandoned. Today she felt only an aching emptiness, and that confirmed what she’d suspected for a while now.

This was getting worse. Every part of her felt hollow. Her heart. Her womb. There was just…nothing left.

Even after he walked away, this time there was no spike of pain or loneliness. He didn’t slam the door on his way out of the house.

A few moments later she heard the sound of his truck engine firing up, then driving away. And a sense of relief washed over her.

She wanted to be alone in the darkness. It was the only way she could cope with the pain she’d shoved down into the black pit of despair inside her.

****

Present day

Was this what Summer had felt like when she’d lost A.J.? This grinding, acidic boiling in the pit of his stomach, the constant state of helplessness?

Adam dragged his aching body into the back seat of the SUV beside Vance and Cruzie, with Evers and DeLuca up front. They’d just come from another possible target location on the outskirts of Amman. After searching the building and surrounding area thoroughly, they’d found squat and it looked like no one had been inside it for a few days at least.

Evers drove south, back toward the city center. Adam laid his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. Searching for a happy thought, he called to mind a picture of Summer on their wedding day. They’d had a small wedding, just their immediate family and a few close friends.

She’d looked so beautiful in her strapless white gown, her bright auburn hair pinned up with curls falling down the back of her neck and at her temples. And that brilliant smile she’d given him when she’d started down the aisle of that little chapel had almost stopped his heart. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, that she’d agreed to be his wife.

A wrapper of some sort crinkled in the background, then a deep voice said, “Eat this.”

Opening his eyes, he saw a partially unwrapped protein bar held in Vance’s dark fist, inches from his nose. He made a face, his stomach rolling in both hunger and distaste.

“Go on,” Vance said, waving it a little. “You gotta eat something, man.”

“And drink this while you’re at it,” DeLuca added from up front, reaching back with a bottle of water in his hand.

Adam took them both, muttered a thank you. The first bite took two swallows to get down, and for a minute he was sure it would come right back up. When it didn’t, he took another, chewing slowly, and swallowed a mouthful of water after.

From what he knew of the ATB, wherever she was, Summer wasn’t being held in good conditions. She was probably starving, cold. Scared. He felt guilty as hell for eating anything while she was going through all that.

“You’re no good to her if you starve yourself,” Cruz pointed out beside him. “You gotta keep your body fueled up for when we get the green light.”

That was true. The guilt lessened slightly.

In the distance, the tall buildings that marked the downtown core came into view as they crested a rise. DeLuca’s cell phone went off. He answered, spoke briefly, then handed the phone back to Adam. “It’s the director.”

“This is Blackwell,” he answered.

“I know you’re frustrated, and so am I. We were all hoping this latest location you guys checked out would give us something solid.”

“It was…disappointing.” Understatement of the decade.

“I wanted to update you on our status. Taya’s been a big help so far with helping fill in some blanks between Qureshi’s network and the ATB. We’ve got more background intel on Hadad as well.”

Adam gripped the phone tighter and waited.

“He’s thirty years old, former Syrian Army. Known hardliner who’s been looking for a convenient target within Jordan and this summit gave him the perfect chance to act on it. He’s an up-and-comer in the organization, looking to make his mark, and he’s got quite the reputation for cruelty already. To put it to you straight, he’s one evil bastard. His family was killed by a joint Jordanian/U.S. airstrike ten months ago. That’s when he defected and pledged his allegiance to the ATB. So for him, this is personal.”

Shit. None of that came as much of a shock because Adam had already been fearing the worst about him, but this intel wasn’t good news for Summer and the others and it upped the stakes. If this was personal for Hadad, negotiations weren’t possible.

“I get it.” He rubbed at his eyes, his head spinning. Hadad was a warped, sadistic son of a bitch, and he had Summer. “Any more word on a possible location? Or proof of life?” Something. Anything to give him hope that she was still alive.

“Not yet but we’re doing everything we can to get both of those. And if they’d killed the hostages they would have made a statement by now. They’re not going to keep quiet about something like that.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. Hadad and his followers no doubt had something special in mind for their captives. He scrubbed a hand over his sweaty hair.

“Taya helped confirm some of the players we’ve suspected are linked between the ATB and Qureshi’s old network. They’ve got ties throughout Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq and Syria. Most of their funding comes from drug and human trafficking.”

Adam grunted to show he was still listening. He knew Taya had been given to one of Qureshi’s fighters as a wife. That was so fucked-up. “What do the analysts think? Is Hadad going to want to barter Summer for money?” He couldn’t bring himself to say
sell her
.

“They think it’s unlikely.”

But she
was
likely still alive. He had to hold onto that. “Thanks for the update.”

“I’ll let you know if we find anything else.”

Adam handed the phone back to DeLuca, who was watching him closely. “Anything?” his commander asked.

He repeated what the director had told him. “They think she and the others are still alive.”

No one said anything to that. Adam leaned his head back again. Fuck, he was tired. As tired as he could ever remember being, even through SF selection and on his toughest missions in Afghanistan. “I want to go to her hotel,” he blurted.

Behind the wheel, Evers glanced at him in the rearview mirror in surprise. “What for?”

He shrugged, fought the urge to snap at him. What did the reasons matter? “I just do.”

Evers shot a questioning look at DeLuca, who nodded his consent. “Let’s go.”

At the front desk it only took a minute after flashing his FBI badge and explaining the situation for the hotel manager to personally escort him to the elevator. Vance came up with him while the others stayed in the lobby.

Adam put the keycard in the lock, waited for the little light to turn green. He cracked the door open and Vance’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“You want me to wait out here?”

Adam looked back at him, having forgotten he was even there. God, he was definitely losing it. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”

“No worries.” He stood with his back up against the wall beside the door, as though he planned on guarding it. Which he likely did.

Flipping on the light, Adam shut the door behind him and took a deep breath, something easing inside him. His team was awesome and all the guys had been really supportive so far, but it was a relief to be alone for a while.

He glanced around the empty room. Just an ordinary hotel room, yet as he drew in another deep breath he swore he could detect the faint scent of Summer’s perfume in the air.

In the middle of the room the bed was freshly made and there were fresh vacuum marks on the carpet, so housekeeping obviously had been in recently.

Next to the bathroom stood a sink and vanity where some of Summer’s toiletries were laid out. He walked over to it and stood there for a moment, looking at each item.

Her toothbrush was sticking up out of the glass she’d placed it in. The little bag holding her makeup and the powder she used to try and diminish her freckles with lay beside her brush and hair straightener. A pair of pearl earrings he’d given her for their first anniversary sat beside a tube of toothpaste.

Staring at all of it, he felt…empty. Like his insides had been hollowed out.

Exhaustion pulled at him, a heavy, seductive weight waiting for the moment to pull him under. Sleep would help him escape this for a little while. Sooner or later he’d have to give into it. But right now he just couldn’t.

Gripping the counter, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like hell. Eyes bloodshot, dark smudges underneath, lines of strain visible on either side of his mouth through the few days’ worth of growth on his face.

He looked grief-stricken, like a man mourning the loss of the woman he loved. Only he refused to acknowledge that Summer might be dead, or that she likely would be soon if they didn’t find her.

And suddenly the need to smash something was so strong he could barely control it. His muscles quivered with the strain of holding back, his breathing turning erratic. He gripped the counter tighter to quell the urge to smash his fist into the mirror and break it into a thousand pieces.

Staring into the mirror, he forced himself to breathe until the anger dissipated.

The waiting was killing him. Second by second, minute by minute, the hope he’d been clinging to was slowly fading. And now, standing here with her things laid out in front of him, things she’d touched the morning she’d been taken, he almost couldn’t bear it.

With a shaking hand he reached for the bottle of perfume she’d left beside the sink. He pulled off the cap, paused a moment to brace himself, then lifted it to his nose.

The warm, vanilla musk scent slammed into him, so familiar, piercing him like a red-hot blade. Hurriedly he put it down, fought the rise of tears at the back of his throat.

She’s still alive
, he told himself sternly.
She’s not gone yet.

In the mirror he saw behind him the desk set against the wall on the other side of the room. There were some bottles of water and a few snacks she’d left on it. He turned around and crossed over to it, his gaze landing on the bag of M&Ms sitting there.

His chest constricted. They were her favorite. She could never turn them down and she never saw a movie without them.

He picked up the little brown bag, the colorful candies inside the open end blurring together as tears flooded his eyes. He’d bought an economy-sized bag of them for her when he’d taken her to the drive-in on their last date, and packed them up with thermoses of hot chocolate and sleeping bags and pillows…

That night had been one of the best of his life.

As the memory rushed back, he lowered his head and let the tears fall.

Three months ago

I never imagined it would come to this.

The thought kept hitting Summer over and over again as she entered the house for the final time to grab the last of the moving boxes, and paused to look around their kitchen. It felt surreal to be leaving, and guilt pricked at her conscience. No matter if she knew this was the right decision, on some level she still felt like she was abandoning Adam.

But she knew it was for the best. For both of them.

She had to leave, have her own space. For a while at least, maybe forever.

She couldn’t take being here anymore and Adam knew that. Every day she spent here brought back more painful memories, and every time she saw Adam was yet another reminder of what she’d been through and all she’d lost. A big part of her just wanted to make a clean break and start over, for her own sanity. Even if she knew it was selfish in a way, that didn’t change the facts.