Cover of Darkness (36 page)

He nudged her with the toe of his boot. "You heard me.

Tell me where he is."

"I-I don't know."

His smile was cruel. "You don't think I can force it out of you?"

She remembered the pictures of Qamar and her husband's headless bodies. The gaping hole torn through Masood's chest. Oh, God...

"I know you're working with him. Where is he?"

"I don't know."

He hit her in the belly with his foot. Not too hard, but letting her know he was running out of patience. "Where?"

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"I—your men kidnapped me off the damn street! How am I supposed to know where he is?" It surprised her she could get the words out of her tight throat.

His green stare never wavered. "Still in Baghdad, then.

Does he know where I am?"

"I don't know." She would not cry. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"He will want you back."

Yes, but how would he ever find her? They had no way to track her.

Tehrazzi continued to stare at her, his face thoughtful. It was almost worse that he was a handsome man. It made the blackened soul inside that much more heinous. She trembled at the thought of how he would kill her. Would he do it himself? Or would he leave it for his bodyguard? She didn't want to die screaming and thrashing. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might explode.

"Perhaps you will be of use to me yet. Perhaps I should not kill you until you have served your purpose."

In an instant, she knew what he was saying. He wanted to use her to get to Luke. And through Luke, Dec. And the twins.

She'd be damned if she'd help him. He'd taken enough from her already without taking her soul for aiding in the death of people she cared about. Loved.

The fear began to fade. A rush of anger swept it away.
You
spineless coward. Terrorizing me while I'm tied up and
helpless. Because you're secretly afraid of me. Why don't you
untie me and fight me like a man?
She drilled him with a contemptuous glare.

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"I won't help you."

He sneered. "You don't have a choice."

Oh yes, she did. She could choose to die rather than submit. She swallowed. Did she have the strength to go through with it? Would she break before she died? "What have I ever done to you?"

"You damaged my reputation by escaping me."

"Why did you kidnap me?"

"You were not my intended target. Your father was."

"You killed him." Her voice shook.

"Your father was responsible for the death of thousands."

The rage kept building. This one man had caused so much pain and suffering. How could God let that happen? "I thought Islam forbade the harming of innocents."

His mouth tightened, went white around the edges. "Do not presume to lecture me on my religion. Arrogant infidel."

"What do you want from me?" She almost screamed it at him. "Money?"

"Money," he spat. "I have more money than you could ever dream of."

"Then what—weapons? Power?"

"Justice."

Justice? Is that what his twisted mind thought he was meting out every time he killed someone? Or sold explosives so a suicide bomber could blow up a crowd of innocent women and children in a marketplace?
You piece of shit.

"Justice for all the Muslims that have suffered and died at the hands of men like your father and Hutchinson. God will wipe them and all the unbelievers from the face of the earth."

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He was insane. "You sick freak—"

His eyes flared. "Do not
dare
speak to me like that."

"I hate you," she spat. "When you burn in hell after you die, I hope you see my father's face and mine."

His expression tightened. His hand twitched, went to the scabbard on his belt. Bryn's gaze locked on the hilt of the knife. Her belly quivered. If she kept pushing him, would he lose control and kill her right here? Would it be better than waiting? Would it be quicker, less painful if he did it while he was enraged?

Sweat beaded her chilled body. Faced with the reality of such a hideous death, she cringed. She didn't know if she had the courage to go through with it.

"You wish to die?"

I want to live!

His hand curled around the hilt of the knife. A hiss filled the silent room as it left its scabbard. The blade gleamed silver in the stark beam from the flashlight. One side of his mouth kicked up. The promise of death was in his eyes. She tensed. Terror flooded her.

"Sir?"

She jerked her gaze to the opening at the man's voice.

Tehrazzi paused, but she could still feel his gaze burning her. "What?" he snarled.

Sucking in short bursts of air, Bryn listened as they spoke.

Something about weapons. Soldiers. When the other man left, Tehrazzi kept staring at her. His jaw muscles worked. His fingers flexed on the knife. He wanted to kill her. It was all over his face. But then he sheathed the blade. She sagged, 342

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breath exploding out of her aching lungs. Her muscles quivered.

"You have been given a short reprieve. You can lay there and think about how my knife will feel on your flesh until I come back to finish this."

He snatched up the flashlight and stormed out.

Day 12, Iraqi desert outside Tikrit
Late night

Through the grimy window, Luke watched Fahdi pull the pickup to a stop in front of the dilapidated hut, then moved into the shadows and sat in the wooden chair he'd set in the corner. Fahdi's family was safe, halfway to Jordan to stay with his wife's relatives by now. But Fahdi wasn't safe. Not by a long shot.

Luke wasn't stupid. Bryn's capture was going to give Fahdi enough money to support his family for years to come once they crossed the border to start a new life in Iran. Bastard.

The truck door opened, then slammed shut a moment later. Fahdi had stopped in Tikrit to strip off his old clothes, shoes and watch and toss them in the garbage, probably paranoid someone had planted tracking devices on him, like Tehrazzi had before. Too bad the dumb bastard hadn't thought to take off all his jewelry. Apparently thinking he'd outsmart everyone by switching vehicles, Fahdi had dumped the last one in Tikrit and stolen the truck from a construction site.

Luke's hand tightened on the grip of his automatic pistol.

Too bad Fahdi was probably going to live through the coming interrogation.

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Through that tiny window from his seated position, Luke watched him pull a penlight from his pocket to check the door of his temporary home, seeking anything suspicious.

Apparently finding everything as it should be, he unlocked it and pushed it open. It swung with a creak, and he stood still in the darkness, listening while the musty air moved around the room. With a relieved sigh, he stepped inside and secured the door before flipping on the only light.

"Fahdi."

Stifling a shriek, he whirled around and stumbled backward. "Jesus and Allah..."

Luke sat in the chair in the corner with a cold expression on his face, and a loaded Sig-Sauer in his right hand. The safety was off, and a round was chambered. "Fancy meeting you here."

"H-how did you—"

Luke rose from the chair, and Fahdi cowered against the door.

But when Luke came close enough, he merely lifted his free hand and tapped the pendant hanging from the chain around Fahdi's neck. With his index finger, he flipped it over.

"Surprise."

Fahdi glanced down at it, eyes widening when he saw the tiny micro-transmitter attached to the back of it.

"B-but how—" The breath hissed out of his lungs. "Miss Sam? She did this to me?"

As Luke stared holes into Fahdi's face, his informant had his answer. "I suspected you all along."

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Fahdi opened his mouth to babble an explanation, but Luke caught his wrist and yanked it up hard, stopping just short of snapping the bones. Fahdi whimpered and rose onto his toes to alleviate the pressure. "By the way, Ali sends his regards," Luke drawled, dropping a chunk of metal onto Fahdi's palm.

Fahdi flinched and looked down at the dial of Ali's watch, singed and blackened from the explosion that had killed him.

From the car bomb Fahdi had planted. Bits of charred skin still clung to the back of it.

Fahdi jerked his hand away like the dial was still burning hot, tossing it to the floor. He looked like he wanted to throw up. His eyes bugged out like golf balls.

"So," Luke said, shifting the pistol in his grip. Not that he needed it. He could kill Fahdi in any number of ways with his bare hands, and right now he was resisting the impulse to do just that. "Where's Bryn? Not to mention Tehrazzi and your pal Sam."

Fahdi gulped.

"You gonna tell me what I want to know? Or should I leave you for Tehrazzi to interrogate so you can explain why I'm still alive?"

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He nodded frantically. "I-I'll tell you..."

Luke pinned him with a merciless gaze. "Then get the fuck to it before I change my mind."

Day 12, Baghdad

Late night

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A few hours later, Ben rolled his head on his neck to ease the tension in his shoulders and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He pulled out of the airfield, the helo he'd taken to Baghdad parked on the tarmac in the rearview mirror. He'd drawn the short straw and flown back with Fahdi to turn him over to the CIA for further questioning. The asshole was on his way to a secure facility right now. Too bad the U.S. didn't sanction torture.

At least they knew Bryn was in a camp outside Basra. Luke and Dec were already down there with Rhys to rendezvous with a SEAL team and plan her extraction. If they got real lucky, they might get Tehrazzi in the bargain. Ben was going straight to the TOC to find out if there was any information on the op yet. It still rankled that he hadn't been able to go along, but they needed someone from the team to monitor the op from the TOC. He'd have loved to be going after Bryn.

His guts burned with apprehension about what they might have done to her.

He believed Luke that she would be kept alive for Tehrazzi.

He clung to the hope they weren't too late.

His BlackBerry beeped from his belt, announcing he'd just received a text message. Probably Rhys. Keeping his eyes on the road, he flipped the holster open, waiting until he slowed at an intersection to glance at the display. When he saw Sam's number, he almost drove off the road, and skidded to a stop.

What the...

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How did Sam know to contact him? He and Davis were the only ones not on the op, and he'd only just arrived back in Baghdad. Who had told her? Where the hell was she?

He punched the key to let him read the message.

Intel leakd. Op cmpmisd. Abort.

The blood froze in his veins. "Fuck!"

Breath sawing in and out, he punched in the number for the TOC and floored the Suburban. Waited for it to connect.

Mother of God, what had Sam done?

When someone came on the line, he ran right over top of them, demanding to speak with the officer in charge. As the general's voice came through, he blurted, "This is Ben Sinclair—sir, the operation has been compromised, recommend emergency action to abort mission. Repeat, abort mission."

Racing through the back streets of Baghdad, he prayed he wasn't too late.

Day 13, Camp outside Basra

Before dawn

Tehrazzi finished his prayer and rose in the darkness. The stars shone like a thousand lanterns in the ebony sky. The wind was cool against his face. In a few hours, the air would warm and the sun would crest over the hills near the Iranian border. He'd calmed himself sufficiently now to deal with Daoud's daughter. He wasn't sure yet if he would kill her. She may still be of use to him. He would prefer not taint his soul with the blood of an innocent woman. He would rather leave that to his bodyguard, Assoud. But if he must, he would do it himself, and pray that Allah would understand.

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He hedged. She might be the key to his teacher.

He approached the blanket serving as a flap on the room dug out of the hillside, swept it back and switched on the flashlight. She lifted her head, squinted in the bright light, but not before he saw the stab of fear in her eyes. It lasted only an instant. She masked her unease, replaced it with a disdainful expression that made it seem she was looking down her nose at him even though she was tied up and lying on the ground.

A part of him truly admired her bravery. He'd known many men who hadn't shown a fraction of that courage when faced with their deaths.

He waited, staring into her eyes as the tension in her grew. She was wondering if he would kill her now, yet she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. Though she met his gaze, her breaths were choppy. Her shoulders spasmed. He drew his hand toward his knife, taking pleasure in the way her eyes tracked the motion. He curled his fingers around the cold hilt. Squeezed. Held the position. Her gaze flew up to his. She managed a glare.

He almost smiled. Such valor, wasted in a woman's body.

What should he do with her?

His muscles jerked as his phone went off. Keeping his grip on the knife, he answered, listened as his bodyguard reported in. Assoud detailed the information they'd gotten from the other American woman working for his teacher. He went rigid.

He hung up and stared into Daoud's daughter's black eyes.

Black as the desert night, black as death. His death.

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Cover of Darkness

by Kaylea Cross