Tragic Desires (7 page)

At last the end is in sight. When I shove the first floor door open, I run right into the concrete wall of Drexel.

“Going somewhere?”

My lungs are in such need of oxygen, I can’t answer. And this is from running
down
the stairs. So what does the bastard do? He spins me around and marches me right back up all those damn steps. After about three flights, he gives up and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He must be in damn great shape because he runs the remaining stairs in twos. I’m breathing hard just watching.

We get back to his room and he slings me across the bed. He’s pissed. He paces in front of the bed, fists clenched
, and it’s like he’s at war with himself.

His breathing slow
s. That’s when he rips into me.

“What the
fuck are you doing? I’m risking
my
ass, trying to save
yours
, and you take off on me? What the hell do you call that? Huh? Tell me something, Gemini, because I’m about to blow a damn gasket here.”

My eyes dart between him and the door and he sees it. “Oh
, so that’s how it is? Do you even know what those motherfuckers will do to you if they catch you? Do you even know how they will torture you to get answers? Answers you claim not to have? At least if you had some, they’d get what they wanted and would shoot you. But not this way. They’ll keep you alive, just to try again and again. You say you wanna die? Believe me, this is not the way to go. And trust me on this. I’ve experienced it firsthand, Gemini. It’s beyond your worst nightmare.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” My body shak
es with fear.

He laughs and it’s ugly sounding. “The way I see it, you don’t have a goddamn choice.”

The dumbass tried
to leave. After everything I’ve just explained to her, she walks. Well, runs is more like it. And she says she wonders if I’m the terrorist. I throw all my IDs on the bed and tell her to inspect them closely.

“None of them are fake.” I call Colt. “Can you come here for a sec
? I have a situation.”

“On my way,” Colt says.

Gemini is still lying on the bed watching me when Colt knocks on the door. I let him in and introduce him to Gemini.

“Will you verify what’s been going on here? She’s having some trust issues and we need to get the hell out of here. We’re losing precious time.”

Colt pulls out his FBI ID and hands it to her. Then he tells her who I am. After she thoroughly checks it over, she nods and thanks him.

“
Satisfied now?” I can barely control my snide attitude. The whole thing is ridiculous. I’m trying to save her ass and she’s acting like I’m the perp.

“Yes, thank you,” she says. Colt nods and
before he leaves, I ask him how the other two men are working out. He assures me all is well and wishes me luck on this jigsaw puzzle I’m trying to piece together.

Then I turn and
give Gemini the most brutal look I can muster. I’ve interrogated all sorts of nasty guys for years and can make even the most seasoned criminal cringe. She takes it without flinching. Begrudgingly, I admit to myself, I’m impressed. She’s shown a lot of moxie, especially considering her condition.

“Let’s go.”

We head down to the parking garage below the hotel. As soon as we turn the corner to go to the car, she makes another break. This time I let her go. It’s her life and she can do what she wants with it. Who am I to stop her?

My mind screams
at me to follow her. She won’t last ten minutes with those guys. But damn it, I can’t keep trying to convince her if she doesn’t want my help. And I don’t need this complication. I head back upstairs and as I unlock the door to the room she’s been in, I begin to think about her out there alone. She’s not thinking clearly and she’s been through a lot these past two days. Suddenly, I find myself turning around and breaking into a run for my car.

When I get
back to the parking garage, I have a fucking mental debate on the merits of saving her ass. Why the hell should I care? Because she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into, that’s why. What if she really is one of them? Come on, you fucktard, you know damn well by the looks on her face she isn’t. And that face of hers … those damn eyes, and that mouth. If I never see them again, I know they’ll haunt me forever, not knowing what happened to her. Mother-fuckery.

Inside
my SUV, my hands slam against the steering wheel. Now I have to figure out where she went. I hope to hell she doesn’t try to use a credit card because that will bring everybody and their brother down on her. My best guess on finding her is either the Dirty Sixth or her apartment. I pray she didn’t choose her apartment. It’s dusk now, so I drive the route and keep checking for her. No luck. When I get close to the club area, I park and wait for it to get dark. It’s much better for me to work at night, unnoticed. The moment that happens, I start to hoof it toward her apartment. My heart pounds in fear—I’m afraid something has happened to her and I’m surprised that I even care. Now I’m questioning my judgment on being out here alone, looking for her.

I
cut through backstreets and yards of nearby homes. When I arrive at her building, I find a strategic place where I can watch for a few moments. It’s not long before I see movement in her window. Damn it! I check the status of the street and notice that the tails are gone, but that means nothing. Others were most likely assigned and are now inside, holding her hostage. A head count is what I really need to see how I can outmaneuver them.

There
are two ways in and out of her place—the front door and a sliding glass door on a small balcony off her bedroom. I decide to get on the roof and drop down onto the balcony. I’m pretty much naked out here without backup. I’m not wearing any Kevlar and this is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. There’s not enough time for me to make a call to Colt and wait on him to send anyone, so I move on ahead.

I kick myself for being so unprepared, but I check my firearms and my two knives.
I’ll head for the tree on the left side of her building. It’ll give me good access to the roof. Once I’m up there, I’m careful to tread lightly. One can never tell how sturdy the roofs are in these places and I don’t want to trigger an alarm of any kind. It doesn’t take long before I’m in position to drop onto her balcony. I need to make sure I’m as quiet as possible.

When I drop down, I crouch
. I want to remain unseen by anyone inside this apartment, plus I don’t want to raise alarms for any passersby. I peek in her slider and don’t see or hear a thing. When I try the door, it’s locked. Picking the lock is child’s play and when I hear that click, I let myself in. That’s when I hear their voices—they’re speaking Pashto, a prominent language of Afghanistan.

Then one of them
says to her in English, “Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything,
” she says. I hear a crack and she cries out. They hit her. The slimy fucking bastard just smacked her. My blood boils. That’s my signal to move. I’m fluent in Pashto so I know they plan to get her out of Austin. They’re only waiting for instructions. There are three distinct voices so taking them down shouldn’t be a problem, depending on how effective they are at fighting. In my experience, they’re better with weapons than hand-to-hand combat.

They talk about their leader and what he wants
—it’s some kind of list. One among them argues with the other. One wants to use harsher means with Gemini, but the other is afraid because their leader wants her alive.

“If you do not tell us what you know, you will not live to see another sunrise,” one says.

“Fine. Kill me. I don’t care.”

That comment sets off a huge argument, which gives me my break to get in there.

I speak to them in Pashto. “Good evening, gentlemen. Nice of you to drop by and pay us a visit. Unfortunately, the next time, you need to wait until you’re invited.” And then I break loose. It doesn’t take long for me to disable them, and I take great pleasure in it. Two are unconscious, but I leave the third awake so I can have a little chat with him.

In his native tongue, I ask, “Who is your leader?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh
, come. You know very well what I mean. Tell me everything you know and this will go a lot easier on you. You know, no waterboarding at a black site … that kind of thing.”

“Your government does not allow that anymore.”

“Wanna bet? Don’t answer the question and you’ll have a chance to find out.” I pick up my phone and dial Colt. I speak to him in Pashto so our new friend understands he’s in big trouble. “Hey, buddy, I have a group from Aali Imaam over at Gemini’s right now. Come on down and make your big arrest.”

“We were only told to get the girl.
I don’t know anything else,” the terrorist whines.

“Right. Well, maybe you’ll remember this
… never, ever hit a woman, fuckface.” I plow my fist into his nose, grab Gemini, and get the hell out of there. I don’t want her anywhere near this joint when the feds show up.

She’s over my shoulder, again, as I run through yards and alleys until I get to my car
and toss her inside. This is looking more and more like it’s becoming a routine with her.

I don’t stop for anythi
ng until we’re on the highway. After a few minutes, I spot a place where I can pull over.

Reaching across the console, my hand curls around the neckline of her shirt and I pull her close to my face, nose to nose. I’m
so furious with her, I grit my teeth and say, “Do you think this is all for shits and giggles? Because let me be very clear. It’s not. They play for fucking keeps. But mostly they kill. Without im-fucking-punity. What about ‘they’re after you’ did you not understand? Because I’m about done with your shit. I’m asking myself right now, why the hell I even care. But then I
knew
you’d be in trouble. I just
knew
it. And I knew they’d take you. My fucking conscience wouldn’t let that sit with me. So now you’re risking
my
life too. And I don’t have time for this shit. Are we clear?” I release her shirt and push her away.

“Yes. All clear. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. That you were lying to me, I guess.
Why else did you handcuff me?”

It takes several deep breaths
for me to calm down. “When someone’s name is associated with the most lethal group of terrorists in the world, that’s how we operate. That’s what I was trained to do. Does 9/11 ring even the tiniest bell with you? I’m sorry if you didn’t like my methods, but until we confirmed you were who you said you were, we had to assume you were one of them. Got that?”

“Yes
, sir.” Her voice is laced with sarcasm.

S
he has the damn audacity to smart off to me. I feel myself turning into a raging maniac. “Don’t you
dare
be a fucking asshat. Not after what I just went through to get your ass out of there.” I rifle through the center console and toss her tissues for her bloodied nose. “Here.” Then I throw her a baseball cap. “Put this on. Pull it down low over your eyes. And try to get your hair up in a bun or something. Your damn hair and eyes attract way too much fucking attention. We may have to shave it or cut and bleach it blond.” That’s the last thing I want her to do. A bleached blond only draws more attention, but I want to shock her. I know it’s harsh, but I’m trying to pay her back. It doesn’t work.

“Can you pull this duct tape off my wrists?”

“Not until I know you’ll behave.” That elicits a good loud huff.

“You didn’t tell me you spoke Arabic,” she says.

“Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you everything about me? That’s not how this works. And it wasn’t Arabic. It was Pashto, the native language of the Afghanis. They also speak Dari or Farsi and I’m fluent in those as well. I speak Arabic too.”

“Whoa. Where did you learn all that?”

I glance at her for a second and find her staring at me. “I was in the Special Forces, stationed in the Middle East. Give me your hands.” I jerk the tape off her wrists. She bends down and pulls the stuff off her ankles.

“
You have any scissors in here? And more tissues?”

“I think there might be some in the console.
Should be more tissues in there too. And don’t try to stab me with the scissors.” I point to the storage console between us. She finds the tissues and wipes her nose. It’s still bleeding from their blows.

“Funny.”

“Funny is the last damn thing I’m trying to be, after all the shit you’ve pulled. How can I trust you now?”

“Oh, that’s a good one, coming from someone
who’s held me captive for the last two days.”

“I on
ly did what I had to in order to figure you out. And I still haven’t got that part done. You’re a real fucking mystery.”

She shrugs
. “Well, we’re even then, because so are you. And you expect me to trust you when there are men out there who maybe want to kill me.”

It’s hard to argue with that. “Is your nose broken?” She’s still holding a tissue against
it.

“I don’t know. It hurts a little.”

Suddenly, she pulls her hair in front of her and cuts a chunk off.

“What the
fuck are you doing?” I’m shocked.

“You said to cut my hair, so
I’m following orders.”

Jesus Christ!
“But you can’t even see in here.”

“I can see well enough. Besides, what does it matter?”

Oh God
. Her hair is magnificent and I don’t want her to cut any more off.

“Stop! Don’t cut any more. If it’s too short, you can’t change
your appearance like you can when it’s long.” She’s hacked off about four inches.

She gives me an odd look and nods. “I’m sure it’s all crooked now.”