Chapter 34
CHAPTER 34
M idnight.
Al-Jabiri had been on the phone all night, making arrangements for their escape. The listening device caught pieces of conversations—a flight out of D.C. Sunday morning. One way.
They didn’t catch the destination.
Pat notified the Department of Homeland Security, who in turn flagged him with U.S. Customs and Border Protection.
Al-Jabiri wasn’t going anywhere.
Pat had just dozed off when Al-Jabiri’s voice cut through the static of his half-sleep.
"Bring me the woman."
Pat bolted upright. His watch read 0100.
His heart began to beat erratically.
Was this it?
Was this where he got to watch Jasmine die?
"Blade!" he bellowed.
His Ops Manager was there in seconds. "Yeah?"
He too looked rough and unshaven, but still alert. His operatives were younger than him and more used to the lack of sleep. Hell, his last official op had been over a decade ago.
He jerked his chin toward the screen. “Something’s happening.”
They both turned to watch.
"You expect me to treat you?" Jasmine’s voice was steady, but he could hear the ice in it. "After everything you’ve done? You think I’d help you?"
Al-Jabiri’s voice came through, tight and high. "He’s having an anxiety attack," Pat muttered.
Blade's gaze sharpened. "Good. Let him suffer."
"If you want Ryan to live, you’ll help me."
To give her credit, she didn’t back down. "You should have thought of that before you kidnapped him."
He growled, on the edge of losing control. Pat ground his jaw, wondering how far she was willing to push him. “I need to talk to you. The nightmares . . .”
She stood there, hands folded, watching him.
“Jasmine, please. I have to do this.”
Blade’s expression was hard. “Amazing what PTSD can do to a guy.” Pat knew he’d suffered from bouts of it in the past. He seemed much better now, since he’d married Lily and settled down. It had taken going back to Afghanistan to face his demons.
“Tell me where Ryan is?”
“Talk to me first, then I’ll tell you.”
Liar. Pat saw right through the facade. But Jasmine was desperate.
“You promise?”
Al-Jabiri nodded.
Blade scoffed. Even he knew.
Pat muttered, "Don’t do it." But what choice did she have? He’d seen it before—hostages grasping at any thread of hope.
She motioned to the couch. "Fine. Talk."
As Al-Jabiri began to speak, Pat’s eyes were locked on Jasmine.
His throat went tight.
Please don’t let her die .
He wanted her safe. Wanted her in his arms, where he could shield her from all of this. Wanted to erase the terror from her mind, slowly, thoroughly, every damn night until she forgot this nightmare ever happened.
Al-Jabiri rambled. The bombing. The house collapse. The bodies. The camp raid. More death. More loss.
The bastard was unraveling.
Afterwards, Jasmine stood up. “Amir, where’s my son?”
Al-Jabiri stood too, his hands twitching at his sides. "Come to bed with me."
Pat stilled.
Jasmine flinched. "Absolutely not."
Al-Jabiri grabbed her arm. "You will not refuse me this time. I’ll show you what a real man is."
“Let go of me!” She tried to twist away, but he drew her into a tighter hold.
Pat shot to his feet.
There was a loud crack, and it took a moment before Pat realized it was Jasmine who had hit Al-Jabiri.
Al-Jabiri’s face went slack with shock. Then his rage snapped. His hand struck her across the face. She hit the wall hard and crumpled to the floor.
"Fuck," Pat snarled, reaching for his phone.
Jasmine blinked up at her captor, dazed. "I don’t care what you do to me. Let my son go."
Al-Jabiri smirked. "You’ve got more guts than your husband. He died a coward, begging for mercy."
Jasmine’s breath hitched. "What?"
The terrorist’s smirk widened. "I wonder if your boy will cry like he did when I give the order to kill him."
“No,” she screamed, launching herself at him.
Riad stormed in, yanking her back. Al-Jabiri touched his cheek where she’d clawed him, his expression dark with fury. "Kill her. Get her out of my sight."
Pat called Hostage Rescue Team leader’s number, pulse racing as the call connected. On the screen, Al-Jabiri had reached for his own phone and was placing a call.
Blade put a warning hand on his arm.
Pat paused. “Hold five.”
“Copy that,” came the reply.
Blade, listening intently, translated. "Bring the boy."
Pat’s heart slammed against his ribs.
The man on the other end responded.
Blade’s expression turned grim. "Where?"
Al-Jabiri rattled off an address. "One hour."
Blade met Pat’s gaze. "Industrial zone. East side."
Pat didn’t hesitate. "Get a team over there. Now."
They didn’t need to say it. They were taking Ryan there to kill him.
Blade’s eyes flicked back to the screen. "What about them?"
Al-Jabiri was gathering his things.
Pat had the HRT lead on the line. "We have enough to move in."
"Standby for confirmation."
"Move. Now. Falcon is preparing to leave. There’s also a hostage. Female, early forties, blond hair, green eyes. Likely concussed. She’ll need medical attention."
"Copy that." The line went dead.
Pat was already moving. Blade followed.
"I’m driving," Blade said. "You’re too wired."
Pat didn’t argue. "Let’s move."
Thanks to Jasmine’s bug, they had the location.
She’d done it.
She’d saved her son.