Chapter 34
H annah was ushered into an empty warehouse and made to sit on the cold concrete floor. One of her captors spat at her, while the other fastened her hands together in front of her and then to a railing attached to the wall. It was too high to sit comfortably, so she was forced to kneel.
The man had burst into the restroom while Tom had gone to check the boat.
Poor Tom. She’d never forget the look on his face as they’d forced her into the SUV.
She hoped he was okay. One on one, he had a fighting chance.
But both men had been armed, and Tom wouldn’t have surrendered. She knew that much about him.
Who’d given them away?
The fisherman? Someone at the diner? It was all so confusing.
She slumped against the wall, the ties cutting into her wrists. What did it matter? She had been captured–again–and this time it was for good.
If by some miracle Tom had survived, he’d be making his way to the mainland now. He had a duty to perform. He couldn’t risk not getting the intel back in time.
She began to cry.
At least some good might still come out of this. If he got out of here in time, if he relayed the intel, he could stop the airstrikes. Thousands of lives would be saved. He could put an end to the civil war.
He’d be a hero. He already was a hero.
Her hero.
Tears ran freely down her face. She couldn’t stop them, didn’t want to stop them.
She cried for her own fate, for the torture that was surely to come, for Tom, and for the people of this country.
She thought of his gentle hands and the passion they’d shared, and hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
Never again would she feel his hands on her body or his lips on hers.
The worst part was she’d die without telling him how she felt. Tom would never know how much she loved him.
A guard shouted at her to shut up, then when she didn’t, came over and kicked her in the stomach. She spluttered and coughed, gasping for air.
“Keep your mouth shut, pig woman,” he sneered.
Her sobs turned to whimpers, and she began to pray for a swift end to the pain she knew was coming. When he got here.
She was a traitor, and they didn’t treat traitors lightly in this country. Especially not ones who’d betrayed the regime.
Another guard came up to her. “You are a beautiful woman,” he said in Arabic. His dark eyes roamed over her body.
“Leave me alone,” she hissed in his native tongue.
His eyes widened. “Ah, you speak Arabic. Good. Then you’ll understand when I tell you what I’m going to do to you.”
She shivered.
“Nobody will care what I do to you. You are a spy. A pig westerner. You are worse than trash.”
In the distance, she heard a faint throb of a helicopter. Abdul Anwar. He was coming.
“Come near me and I’ll fight you.”
The guard threw back his head and laughed. “You can try, bitch.”
He grabbed her abaya and tore it off her. She cried out in surprise. Buttons went flying and bounced across the concrete floor.
Then he grabbed her tunic and ripped it off her shoulder. She lashed out with her legs, but he was too quick for her. He kicked her again, causing her to double over. Then he reached out and squeezed a breast, painfully.
She twisted to get away from him, but that only spurred him on. He gripped the other breast and pulled at her bra until that snapped, leaving a raw angry welt under her arms. She screamed and kicked out again, this time connecting with his shin.
“Bitch!” He struck her across the face, causing her head to swing back and hit the wall. The knock stunned her, and she hung limply by her wrists until the spinning stopped.
The whop-whop of rotor blades got louder, or was that the pain in her head?
She heard a male voice shout, “Leave her alone. Abdul Anwar said not to touch her. He wants to take her back to Syman for a public execution.”
The guard backed off, worried now.
She leered at him. Serve him right for messing with her. She hoped he got shot for his efforts.
The helicopter landed in the yard outside. It wouldn’t be long now.
Abdul Anwar entered the warehouse with an egotistical swagger that made her want to puke. After six months of hating her, and days searching for her, he was getting his revenge.
“Hannah Evans,” he drawled. “How nice to see you again. I’m so sorry it had to come to this.”
Her head still pounded on the side where she’d hit the wall, and she was sure her left eye was swelling from the guard’s smack.
She saw anger flash across the chief of State Security’s face.
“Who did this?” he barked. “I gave strict orders that she wasn’t to be touched.” He bent down and inspected her face. “That is my job.”
She cringed. She’d always known Anwar was a sadist, and now he was revealing his true colors.
“Get out,” he ordered the other men. They shuffled out in silence.
“Finally, we are alone,” murmured Anwar. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve looked forward to this moment.”
She glared at him. “What are you going to do with me?”
He chuckled. It made her skin crawl. “I think you know the answer to that.”
She did.
“You haven’t given any of our secrets away yet, have you?” He was serious now.
Hannah toyed with the idea of baiting him.
Making him worry would be her only revenge.
Except if Tom did manage to get the intel out of the country and into the right hands, the international authorities would be on their way to the safe houses to arrest Prince Hakeem.
He would have to stand trial for crimes against humanity, but even that was too good for him.
No, she’d have to pretend she hadn’t, take the secret with her to her grave.
Which wouldn’t be a long time in coming.
She shook her head.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his eyes probing her.
“I’m not. I don’t know what you mean.”
“The document. We know you took it. We found it in the souk. That was a stupid thing to do.” He shook his head. “Tell me, what were you planning on doing with it?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed.
“Did you tell your embassy friend?”
“No, I didn’t write anything down. I don’t remember the details.”
He studied her, darkly suspicious. “I think you’re lying.”
“I’m not. I swear, I don’t remember a thing.”
Pain exploded in her cheek as he backhanded her. She began to cry again.
“Ah, you are not so brave without Prince Hakeem here to support you.” He leaned in. “You had no place in the royal compound. Westerner and infidel.”
She felt the hatred dripping off him.
He hit her again and she swung into the wall, the ties shredding the skin around her wrists. Lights flickered at the corners of her vision and for a moment, she thought she was going to black out.
“I knew you couldn’t be trusted. I told Hakeem as much, but he refused to listen.”
She could barely understand what he was saying. Her head pounded and there was ringing in her ears. He sounded muted, even though he was speaking loudly.
“Please–” she begged.
He laughed. “I like it when you beg.” He grabbed her hair and made her look at him. “This is only the beginning. You, my friend, will be on the international news. CNN. The BBC.” He smirked. “The west will know how we deal with traitors.”