Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
D ana lay on the cold cement floor, the acidic scent of vomit close to her face. Sobs racked her shoulders.
She’d failed.
Inches from escaping and he’d caught her. She swiped the tears off her cheeks, but they kept coming. Every muscle in her body ached as her adrenaline drained away. She curled her knees tighter to her stomach. Any minute he’d be back.
Probably waiting on orders to finish her off.
She closed her eyes and replayed Zain’s voice in her head. He was close to finding her. She had to believe that. If he was in contact with her kidnappers, he could have already negotiated for her freedom.
She snorted at her naivety.
These people didn’t want anything but death. She was still alive only because they were using her to get to Zain. Then they’d kill him. Rivers of fear ran through her. It was a trap—the picture, the phone call.
She couldn’t let them win.
As she pushed up from the ground, her elbows threatened to buckle. Inhaling a breath, she drank in courage. She’d faced worse obstacles. The cave in Afghanistan. The bombed vehicle. She could do this. She could escape a stupid basement.
The sickness in the pit of her stomach grew as she forced herself to her feet. Her face pulsated where he’d struck her, and her scalp and finger throbbed. She swallowed and brushed away the almost-overwhelming agony. If she got out of here, she’d soak for hours in the hottest bath she could tolerate.
She moved across the room and inspected the door. He’d slammed it pretty hard, but she couldn’t remember if he’d locked it. He hadn’t tied her back up, nor had he tried to find where she’d obtained the glass.
His face had looked ghostly pale. With any luck, he was struggling as a result of the wounds she’d inflicted. Had he even made it upstairs? She’d been too shaken to pay attention to his footsteps. With painstaking caution, she placed her fingertips on the cold doorknob and turned the metal.
Locked.
Dammit.
That hope had been too good to be true. Her gaze landed on the bucket. She picked it up and then grabbed the blanket. She placed the bucket below the window and removed the plywood.
The bright, warm sun touched her cold skin, taunting her with its rays. She leaned her face close to the pane and scanned the area outside. Dirt with scattered patches of brown grass filled her view. About five feet away from the window was a fence separating the property from the neighbor’s. Craning her neck, she glanced to the left—more dead grass indicated that the backyard was in that direction. Looking to the right, she couldn’t see much but weeds and a tree trunk.
Her best bet was to go right. That was probably where the street was. She lifted her trusty little blanket, folded it over her fingers, and carefully plucked and pulled off shards of glass from the pane. The window wasn’t large. Probably three feet wide and less than two feet tall. But she could fit.
She removed only the necessary amount of glass. It’d take way too much time to get every piece, and with each movement, she risked making noise her captor would hear. Once half the glass was cleared away, she slid open the screen.
Anticipation swept over her. Warm air spiraled in to caress her cheeks. Then the clomping of boots on the stairs made her freeze in terror.
Shit!
If she tried to get out now, she wouldn’t make it through the hole in time. She quickly grabbed the plywood and put it back over the window. His keys fiddled at the lock as she snatched the bucket and raced to the corner of the room by the door, where it’d been.
He flung open the wood and whirled around to catch her standing behind the door. His face pinched as he advanced on her. “Thought you’d hit me with the bucket this time?”
His hand caught her around the throat, slamming her to the wall. Her back connected with the concrete, sending jolts up and down her spine. She winced.
He dipped his face closer to hers. “You’re really damn lucky, you know that?” Alcohol lined the stench of his breath, and she clamped her lips together to stop herself from vomiting a third time.
Dark bags hung under his eyes, and his face glistened. The skin beneath the sheen of sweat was chalky and nearly gray. Although the hand around her neck held a lot of strength, she suspected the force took a lot of effort.
She met his eyes. “I wouldn’t consider myself very lucky right now.”
The corner of his lip lifted. “You’re still alive. That’s something.” His fingers slipped away from her throat. It was as if talking sucked his energy dry.
He straightened to his full height, and her gaze dropped to the grocery bag dangling from his hand. Apprehension hitched inside her. He slammed the door shut, then turned the bucket over and sat. “Sit,” he commanded.
Swallowing, she sat on the floor in front of him. He opened the bag and took out a roll of duct tape and some rope, thinner than the kind he’d used before. “Turn around. Hands together.”
No, no, no. If he tied her up again, she wouldn’t be able to get through the window. She wanted to beg, but there was no use. This man didn’t have an ounce of sympathy, nor would he fall for any excuse she came up with.
His eyes lifted to her face and flashed with cruelty. “I said turn around.”
She inhaled a frustrated breath and obeyed. The sound of duct tape ripped. Rough hands bound her wrists tightly together. She squirmed. “You’re going to cut off my circulation.”
He yanked on her arms and her spine connected with his knees. Pain split across her shoulders. She cried out, but he only pulled harder.
“If this was up to me,” he said slowly, his breath hot against her ear, “I’d cut off little pieces of you.” With that, he pressed the tip of a knife to her chest and dragged the cold steel beneath the neckline of her shirt. Dana shuddered. “Starting here. Then I’d cut out your fucking eyes and your fingers and see if your boyfriend still wanted you then.” He shoved her forward.
Her face hit the cement. Fire shot from her nose across her cheekbones. Her vision blurred. The scuff of his boots on the floor made her whimper. Her consciousness flickered in and out. She clung to the terrifying scene—him standing over her, knife dangling at his side.
Warm blood oozed from her nose over her lips. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just struggled to keep her eyes focused on something so she wouldn’t pass out.
His rough hands grabbed her biceps and hauled her up. The room spun, a kaleidoscope of cinderblock. She groaned and then landed with a jerk on her kidnapper’s shoulder.
Before finally slipping into the dark abyss, she saw an image of Zain’s golden eyes in her mind.
***
Zain sat rigid, his gaze fixed on the 1950s house set back from the street. The one-story home with a single attached garage looked cute with its white shutters and red front door. The yard was unkempt, full of wildflowers and weeds, but other than that the place didn’t appear dilapidated.
The lot was wide and deep, which probably prevented people from hearing screams inside the house. Zain stretched his neck from one side to the other. After his call with Maxine, he’d texted Rami the location pin she’d sent him. Hopefully they’d be there waiting long before anyone from Maxine’s payroll arrived. With any luck, Zain would have Dana safely in his arms before Maxine’s people reached the meeting point .
Taschen parked on the street about twenty feet from the front of the house. “There’s no car in the driveway.”
No shit. Zain’s nerves were as frayed as old electrical wire, and his patience was nonexistent. “Probably in the garage.”
“We goin’ in now?” Taschen asked.
Micha whined.
“We’ll search the perimeter first. I want eyes on Dana before we go in shooting.”
“In the picture, it looked like the basement window had plywood over it, if I remember correctly.”
Zain nodded. “Plywood’s not hard to get through.” He rubbed his thumb over the pads of his fingers. It’d be better if they separated. “If I can get to Dana first, then you can secure the assassin. That’d give us the best option of getting Dana out in one piece.”
“All right.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out earbuds. “Do you know how to use this?”
He plucked one of the tiny pieces of equipment from Taschen’s palm and tucked it into his ear. “Yeah, I used one on occasion with the CIA. Loop around back and drop me off down the alley. I don’t want any neighbors spotting me with a fucking assault rifle.”
“Copy that.” He shifted into gear and rounded the corner, turning down the alleyway. He drove past a few houses before Zain ordered him to stop .
“Let me know if you spot her,” Taschen said. “Then I’ll go through the front with Micha.” A scowl creased his forehead. “We got the bastard.”
“I’ll believe that when your sister’s safe.” He grabbed his weapon from the back and got out. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he made his way toward the rear of the house. Stopping at the fence, he rose up on his toes to glance over the wooden boards.
Dead grass covered the backyard, and a broken birdbath was tipped over in the middle of the lawn. Flower beds riddled with weeds and debris surrounded the sun-bleached back porch. The blinds on the windows were tightly drawn, and he couldn’t spot any movement inside.
He slung his gun over his shoulder, grabbed the top of the fence, and hauled himself up. After landing on the earth with a thud, he got to his feet. Holding his weapon, ready to blow the cocksucker holding Dana to pieces, he skirted toward the side of the house.
Dead weeds collapsed beneath his steps as he scanned the perimeter of the foundation. One lone window sat near the ground. He got to his knees and inspected the glass.
The screen was open, and broken glass lay in front of a rectangular chunk of plywood. If he broke the rest of the glass to move it, he’d make too much noise.
He lowered his ear to the wood. “Dana,” he called softly.
Nothing.
“Dana.”
Again, no response. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. If she was here and the asshole was with her, he might end up with a bullet in the face. If she was hurt and unresponsive, he needed to get to her.
Holding his finger on the trigger and the gun aimed at the window, he kicked the plywood. The piece flipped to the floor with a sharp crack, revealing an empty room.
The door was wide open. On the gray concrete floor was a wet dark stain. A bucket sat behind the door and a tattered brown blanket. No sounds came from inside the house.
Unease fisted his stomach.
She was here.
Urgency shot him to his feet. He brought his finger to his ear and pressed on the bud, no longer giving a damn about being quiet. “Taschen. She’s gone.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“The room’s empty. But she was here.”
Taschen cursed a blue streak, echoing the sheer panic rushing through Zain’s head.
“I’m going through the back door now,” Zain said. “Check the garage.”
“On it.”
He bounded up the steps and ran at the back door. His shoulder slammed against the old wood, and the hinges gave way. The door bounced open, and Zain steered his gun around the mudroom. He stalked into the kitchen, moving swiftly, every footstep trained.
Come on, you bastard. Show yourself.
He swept through the living room, three bedrooms, and a bathroom. All fucking empty. He retraced his steps to the kitchen and grabbed the door that led to the basement.
A padlock had been freshly drilled into the white wood frame. It was unlocked. The sweat coating his skin turned to ice. He ripped open the door and banged down the steps. “Dana!”
He raced through the small space. Storage room, utility area, and one bedroom—the one where she’d been held captive.
He dropped to his knee, and agony ripped through him. On the floor next to his jeans was a puddle of blood no bigger than his palm. He touched it with his fingers—cold but wet. Tears clouded his vision, and regret ravaged his soul.
Taking in the rest of the room brought his temper to a breaking point. Vomit splayed the concrete, and there were ropes in a heap. She’d been bound and sick. What the hell had he done to her?
Was the blood from a head wound? Jesus, he’d—
“Zain!” Taschen’s bellow came from upstairs .
He forced himself to his feet and wiped his hand down his face. He had to fucking keep it together. Blood didn’t necessarily mean death.
But it did mean they were running out of time. He charged for the stairs and met Taschen in the kitchen.
Micha stood still, the hair on her back spikey and her eyes sharp.
“What’d you find?” Taschen demanded.
He ground his back teeth. “A bit of blood in the basement. Was there a vehicle in the garage?”
Taschen glanced toward the open front door. “Nope. Empty.”
Zain’s phone chirped. He dug it out of his pocket and glanced at the number—Brick. “Hello?”
“Ghost ran the plates again and found them en route. Looks like they’re heading out of town.”
The meeting point. Fuck.
So much for making it to the house before they moved Dana. Now the question was, were they taking her to the location Maxine had given them?
Or were they killing her and getting rid of her body?
The memory of the puddle of blood hit Zain like a baseball bat to the stomach. She could already be dead. His body temperature climbed, making his heart work harder.
Taschen’s eyebrows jumped. “What the hell are we gonna do? ”
He turned his attention back to his phone. “Did Rami and August make it there yet?”
“Not sure,” Brick said. “But they left minutes after receiving your text, so they should be there by now.”
“Good.” He jerked his head at Taschen, and they strode out the front door and down the steps. “We just cleared the house. They must have taken her with them.”
“Shit.”
Taschen jogged to the driver’s seat and Zain hopped in the passenger seat. “Let me know if Ghost is able to track anything else. We’re going to the location now.”
“Roger that.”
“I can’t believe we just missed them,” Taschen murmured. His hands shook as he opened the map on his phone. “Send me the pin.”
Seconds later, there was a little red dot on Taschen’s screen. “Forty minutes.”
“Christ. You’ll have to make it in half that if we’re gonna get there in time.”
Taschen gunned away from the curb. “We’ll fucking get there in time.”
Zain bounced his knee as his friend whipped them around corners. He might have fallen into this team, but right now he couldn’t ask for a better man to help him find Dana.
Both of them cared about her. Both of them would protect her with their lives. Both of them would take a bullet for her.
Both of them loved her.
His heart constricted. Holy shit. He was in love with Dana.