Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Emily extended a cup of coffee her way, and her eyes followed the swirl of steam drifting lazily above it. “I bet you’ve barely eaten since you’ve been home. Am I right?”
“I only got here an hour ago.” Sam rolled her eyes, but her stomach grew angrier by the minute with each passing hour without food—because Emily was right, only she’d barely eaten since Owen had disappeared.
Where the hell are you? She toyed with the chain around her neck, smoothing her thumb over the cross.
Thirty-six hours without a word from him.
Emily shifted her gaze toward Sam’s front door, where two bodyguards—two guys from Owen’s team she hadn’t met before today—were stationed outside. Luke and Jessica, as well as her father, had insisted she remain protected until the dust settled.
She’d invited them in, but they’d said they’d prefer to stay visible outside as a deterrent to any possible enemies.
Two Navy SEALs on guard should’ve made her feel safe, but nothing would ease what felt like a bullet wound to the chest until she saw Owen again.
“I still can’t believe everything that happened,” Emily said with a shake of the head.
“That my desire to bring peace between Ukraine and Russia nearly led to war?” She faked a laugh. “Just a normal day at the office.”
“Funny. You can’t hide behind humor.” Emily’s espresso browns narrowed. “Not with me.”
She decided to finally take the cup of coffee from Emily, and a triumphant smile touched her friend’s lips. “How bad was the Russian inquisition? They didn’t strap you to a chair and interrogate you, right?”
“Just barely.” She’d spent twelve hours at the Russian FSB office, answering the same questions over and over again.
Thank God for Jessica and her ridiculous number of contacts—contacts she’d worked with before under the guise of the Scott & Scott alias—or they’d probably never have gotten out of there.
“I guess we shouldn’t assume the worst about people.” The Kozaks hadn’t been bad people—they were victims, the same as Brad and Jason.
“Well, you can’t assume the best about so-called good people, either,” Emily pointed out.
“No more assumptions, period, I guess.”
Emily took a sip of her coffee. “I can’t believe the Sven Group has been behind similar attacks in the past.”
“Creating conflict and chaos to drive up weapons demand and stock prices.”
Emily tucked her long legs beneath her and shifted to better face Sam on the couch. “It’s crazy, though, right?”
“Hm?” Sam looked at her, still in a bit of a daze.
“If Viktor Gromov hadn’t been friends with the Kozaks, and you hadn’t had a connection to them, it’s possible the attack would’ve been successful.”
“Doesn’t that make it worse?” She blinked, trying to understand.
“Gromov could’ve just planted a bomb at the event and blamed some Ukrainian militant, but instead, he went through this elaborate plot to set up the Kozaks, which led you to Owen and his people.”
“So, you’re saying this isn’t my fault?” She placed her free hand over her chest.
Emily leaned forward, her browns sharp on her. “Is that what you think?”
Sam nodded.
“You helped put a stop to this. Your desire for the truth—and thank God, you didn’t listen to me—is the reason why a bunch of people didn’t die,” Emily said softly. “Gromov’s plan backfired because he didn’t expect for you to be so strong and brave.”
“No, Owen’s team . . . they’re the brave ones.”
Emily wrapped a hand around her forearm.
“And you’re not supposed to know most of this, by the way.” Sam forced a smile, but it quickly dissolved. “I’m sorry again you got dragged into this with Blane.”
“I’m used to tragedy in my dating life.” She faked a shrug as if it was no big deal, but Sam knew her best friend was simply sporting a mask. She was pretty good at that, too.
“If only I had shot Teteruk Owen would be here now,” she said a moment later.
“You tried.”
She frowned. “I should’ve tried harder.”
“He’ll come back to you.” Emily set her coffee down.
“He has to. I can’t lose him.” Before she could say more, the outside doorbell buzzed.
“It won’t be Owen,” Emily said softly as Sam approached her security camera. “He’d call the second he could to let you know he’s okay.”
Her heart pounded in her ears as anticipation built, and then her lungs quickly deflated at the sight of Luke and Jessica outside her building. Only them.
She flung open her door, waiting for them to come upstairs, hoping to hell they had news.
But the second her eyes connected with Jessica’s dark look from down the hall, she stumbled back into her apartment. “No.” No. No. He has to be okay.
She flashed back to the day the Navy SEAL stood outside her college dorm room and told her Brad had died, and she started to tremble.
“Where’s Owen?” Emily asked from over her shoulder when Sam couldn’t get her voice to work.
Jessica and Luke nodded hello to their teammates in the hall, but they didn’t come inside.
“We think he’s alive,” Jess began, “but—”
Sam took an immediate step toward the doorway, her eyes widening. “You think?” She stared into Luke’s eyes, searching for answers.
“Can we talk in private?” Luke looked at Emily, who instantly sidestepped Sam.
“I’ll be out in the hall.” Emily waited for Luke and Jessica to enter before she left.
Sam’s mind raced, panic creeping into every crevice of her mind.
Luke closed the door behind him, and Jessica bit into her lip—something Sam had never seen her do.
“What’s going on?” She shook her arms out at her sides, trying to regain feeling in them.
Luke dragged a palm down his face, and his shoulders arched forward a hair. “We think the Russians have him.”
“I don’t understand.” She clutched her stomach as it tucked in.
“We don’t have any specifics, I’m afraid. Owen didn’t contact us after he disappeared,” Jessica explained, and her blues drifted to the floor as if she couldn’t make eye contact.
“But you think the Russians got to him? Will they keep him to retaliate against us for what they learned?” Sam took quick shallow breaths, trying to wrap her head around it all.
Owen being held captive.
Tortured in some old Soviet cell.
Her hands went to her knees as she struggled to breathe.
“The good thing is, we think he’s still alive.” Jessica’s words had her lifting her chin to find her eyes. “My contacts in Russia informed me this morning that someone matching Owen’s description was brought to the president at zero six hundred.”
“The president?” She stood upright and swallowed, her hand sweeping to her chest. “Like, the president of Russia?”
Jessica nodded. “The problem is that our group doesn’t technically exist, and in this situation if one of our people is ever captured . . .”
“No.” She shook her head. “Don’t tell me that you can’t try and get him back.” She spun away, on the brink of losing it as she looked for her cell phone. “I’ll call President Rydell. He has to do something.”
Jessica gently grabbed her arm. “The president’s working on the deal with the Russians as planned—as Owen suggested.”
“But does that deal now involve getting Owen back?” she asked, desperation in her tone.
“You know we’ll do everything in our power to save him,” Luke said in a low voice. “Regardless of the rules.”
“You promise?” She rubbed her arms, trying to kill the goose bumps, to not crumple to the floor and totally break down.
Jessica looked her square in the eyes. “Knowing Owen, he’ll get himself out of there before we have a chance to try and look like heroes.” She smiled. It was the same kind of D.C. smile Sam plastered on at work. “Trust me. Owen has a way of always landing on his feet.”
Sam touched the chain around her neck. “But he’s not wearing his necklace.”