Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) (13 page)

Abigail’s head rolled toward him. Her nose was bloody. Most of her clothing was soaked.

They’d water-boarded her.

“The showers here suck,” she muttered. Her voice was hoarse, her skin pale.

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

“I like Baron’s mother.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be sure to send her flowers after his funeral.”

“He’s just doing his job. He’s scared.”

“I don’t give a fuck. This isn’t right.”

“You should tell him. They’ll keep doing this for days. I can only hold out so long.” She rolled to her side and coughed up water.

Luke watched the back of her shoulders hunch.

What had she said before about being here five weeks? Was this what they’d done to her? And she’d lasted five weeks?

Yeah, Baron was a dead man when Luke got a hold of him. Not only for this—now—but for what he’d done then.

11.

Zacharias tapped away at
his laptop, but his attention was on the screen across the room. The one under constant surveillance. All eyes were on Yael. Everyone wanted to know where she’d been, what she’d done. While he just wanted—needed—her dead.

“Hey, Zach?”

Zacharias.

He grit his teeth and schooled his face into a pleasant mask.

Baron lowered himself into the chair next to Zacharias’ desk. Usually he had an office, but because of Yael and the sensitive nature of her questioning, they’d put everyone they thought they could trust in this room for the duration of her incarceration.

“You look worried.” Zacharias folded his hands on the desktop.

“I was hoping you might have some insight into what Yael might be thinking.” He tapped his knuckles against his chin, gaze distant. “I didn’t know her as well in those last few years.”

“I wish I could tell you more.” Zacharias shrugged.

“I know. I thought I’d ask.”

“What’s bothering you?”

Baron glanced around the room. There were others present, but they went about their jobs without looking up or paying them any mind. Zacharias followed Baron’s gaze, taking in the others. Baron leaned forward and curled one finger.

Shit.

What did Baron know?

Zacharias leaned closer.

“We’ve had a security breech,” Baron whispered.

Fuck all.

“Oh?” Zacharias had counted on his theft going unnoticed for a while longer. He’d covered his trail. It would take them time to track it back to him. But Yael might help things along, pointing Baron at him.

“I think it might be whoever she’s been working for. But…why wait until now? Why not steal before we had her? It doesn’t make sense.” Baron leaned back, his face troubled, the wear of the interrogation showing.

“How about I ask around? I can take a few days to meet with some contacts.” Zacharias could feel sweat beading down his spine.

The noose was tightening.

It was time to get out.

Abigail covered her ears
, but it hardly did any good. She felt the bass in her bones to the point she was beginning to feel queasy. The guards had begun pumping loud, head-splitting music into the room. The concrete and rock only amplified the sound, making it near impossible to think, much less sleep. Finding any sort of inner calm was out of the question.

The hallucinations would start soon. She didn’t know how long they’d been down here, but it had to be at least a day, maybe two or three. Shit, she couldn’t tell. Her grasp of time was so far gone, she could be seeing things now and not realize it.

Her worst fear was seeing her mother.

That might be the straw that broke her.

Sometimes knowing what was coming was worse than experiencing it.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Was this it?

Luke stood in the middle of the room, staring up at the speaker mounted to the highest point of the room.

If she were hallucinating Luke, she’d expect the fantasies to be much more interesting than him standing there.

Somehow she had to figure out a way to get Luke to give Baron the answers he wanted.

Her ex-husband and former handler believed she was working for someone. It was the way he said it, the tiny note of desperation that told her there was more going on than she knew. She also didn’t think the traitor was Baron, but he didn’t trust her. She couldn’t tell him the truth now. And besides, what if he did believe her? He’d start digging and then what would happen to Baron? She didn’t love him anymore. That had died not long before her heart, but she did care for him. He wasn’t the monster Luke thought him to be.

Crash.

Clang.

Crunch.

Silence.

Abigail lowered her hands.

One of the chairs lay on the floor with bits of the speaker impaled on the leg.

Laughter bubbled up out of her. She covered her mouth as it shook her. Her sound-dulled ears still rang too much to hear herself.

Baron must hate Luke.

He crossed the cell and sat on the bed next to her.

“Thank you.” She could hear herself, as though she were a long way off. It would take time for the ringing to go away, but that was the least of her worries.

Her throat was dry to the point it hurt to swallow. She was dehydrated, hungry, and near delirious from lack of sleep. Baron would have to feed them soon. A big meal so rich it’d make them sick and miserable. But she’d eat every bit of what they offered because she was too damn hungry not to.

“You’re shivering.” Luke’s warm hand caressed her shoulder and stroked down her arm. “Come here.” He pulled her over into his lap and draped the long-sleeved shirt he’d worn around her. His hands rubbed some feeling back into her limbs, but more than anything
he
made her heart beat faster.

“Tell Baron what he wants to know,” she whispered. “But don’t mention…that other thing. Save that for when you’re safe.”

“He showed me a picture of what was supposed to be Ethan’s body.”

“I’m sorry, Luke. You have to tell them everything I told you.”

“I’m not sure the picture was real. I wish I could see it again. I mean, it was black and white, so I can’t be certain, but I think the suit was the wrong color.”

“Baron would tell you whatever he needs to get what he wants.”

“Like telling you that your mother is dead?”

“Yes. But I’m not so sure he’d lie about that.”

“I think he would.”

“You think Ethan’s alive?”

“That’s unlikely, but I don’t think that shot Baron had was really Ethan.”

“The guards must be up near the surface.” She tilted her head, listening for footsteps. Someone coming to check the speaker, but—nothing.

“How close to a city are we?”

“We aren’t. A helo brings Baron here from wherever he’s stationed at. There’s a room at the top of the stairs. He’ll keep the same clothes he wore when we first saw him there and change. That way we can never tell how long it’s been by what he’s wearing, how many times he’s changed.”

“How far are we from a city?”

“Two kilometers. Baron has a Eurocopter that can go up to three hundred miles an hour. He can make it here in less than an hour. There are some small villages, but they would report us to Mossad.” She lifted her chin and tried to focus on his face, but it was hard. Her body wasn’t cooperating. “You have to tell them. Please, Luke.”

“Why? If they know what I know—which isn’t much—what then?”

“They’ll let you go.”

“And what about you?”

The way he stared at her… If she still had a heart it would break.

“They’re—” She coughed, something she’d begun doing more of since these one-on-ones with the guards. “They’re going to keep coming for me until you tell them. I can’t tell them. If I do, they have no reason to bargain with you. Tell them. Make a deal.”

“You’re exhausted. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do. They’ll come again soon. Luke, I can hold out for a few more days, maybe a week, but I can’t keep doing this. You have to tell them what you know.”

“No. Stop talking about this. Why don’t you get some sleep?” Luke tugged the shirt up over her head, blocking out the harsh light.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Luke hadn’t yet given up on getting out. If she were at her best, she could get them out. But she was so tired. And what was the point of it anyway? What then? Live like a fugitive? That wasn’t a future—for her or Luke. She cared too much for him now to allow him to tie his fate to hers.

Maybe after she slept a little she’d think of something. A morsel she could give Baron, a piece of the puzzle. Perhaps she could bargain for Luke’s freedom.

The door banged open and she cringed, burying her face against Luke’s chest, wishing it was a hallucination.

They’d come for her.

Again.

Luke prowled around the
darkened cell.

He’d busted three of the four lights in an effort to give Abigail some relief. It also diminished the guard’s ability to watch them. Soon they’d have to move them to another cell to keep up the observation. His best guess was that they’d been here for close to five days. In that time, they’d had one meal and water twice, if he didn’t count the water-boarding they’d done to Abigail.

One Mississippi…Two Mississippi…

Again and again he counted out the minutes, waiting for someone to show up demanding to know why the lights were busted. But no one had yet.

Baron had left them—what? Three hours ago.

According to Abigail he would have traveled on a helo. At most, their two guards were still there, though her theory was that those two men rotated out, leaving only one on-duty during the down hours. That would make sense—the lone guard wasn’t coming to check on them until back-up arrived.

He picked a piece of flat, thin metal out of the wreckage from demolishing the speaker. His guess was that it was part of the hanging hardware. He crossed to the door, eyeing the camera angle. He should be on the very edge of the frame.

Luke turned his back, shielding his hands and wedged the metal through to the other side under the door, testing the hinges.

The confines of the cave were tight. There wouldn’t be enough space to mount a door this heavy in the normal fashion.

He peered out through the food slot and wiggled the bit of metal around in the space between the door and the stone floor.

It could work.

He wouldn’t know unless they tried.

Luke stood and crossed to the empty bed frame. He’d pulled both mattresses off earlier. One served as Abigail’s bed, while the other shielded her face from the remaining light. He’d swaddled her in what clothing they had to stop her from shivering. It was the most peace he could give her, at least until he got her out.

She’d once survived five weeks here without breaking.

He doubted she could last that long.

When she slept, he swore he could hear a wheezing sound. She’d lost enough blood from cuts and God only knew what they were doing to her when they took her to the room at the end of the hall. If they didn’t break her, they were going to kill her. And then he’d have to start another world war because he’d slaughter them.

Luke carried one bed across to the door, flipped it so the legs were pointed up, and set it on the floor two feet from the door. He stood back, eyeing the distance. The rock floor was a little rough, but he figured he could slide it the last few inches. He picked up the second bed frame, wincing as it scraped against the rock and set it inside the first. They sort of fit. Most importantly, the legs aligned.

He pushed them up so they stood on end, and worked the four legs at one end under the door, between the steel plate and stone.

This was a long shot.

There was no guarantee it would work.

But he had to try something.

His arms were too big and Abigail’s were too short for either of them to pick the lock. The guards were cautious. Digging through the rock was out of the question.

Their one and only escape was through that door. Even the air vents were too small for either of them to squeeze through.

Luke backed up, grasped the other end of the bedframes sticking straight up, and pulled, putting his full weight into it.

He stared at the door, straining his arms.

“What are you doing?” Abigail muttered.

Was that his imagination, or had the door lifted a bit?

Maybe if they worked together they could budge it. They’d need to dampen the sound though.

“Help me?”

Abigail scrambled to his side and wrapped her hands around the frame, eyes wide, alert.

He stood behind her, his hands closer to the frame’s legs.

“On three,” he said. “One…Two…Three!”

They hauled back, both nearly hanging their entire weight on the frame.

The door didn’t budge.

Abigail bounced, pulling herself up and letting her weight drop.

Was it his imagination…?

“Do that again on three,” he grunted out.

They both pulled up, their bodies pressed together by gravity.

“One…Two…Three!”

They both let their arms extend, dropping their full weight onto the frames.

The door groaned—no doubt rust breaking loose—and hit the top of the doorframe.

“Back!” Luke wrapped an arm around her waist and threw his weight to the side.

The steel plate door tipped to one side, and in what seemed like slow motion, teetered for a second before clanging against the other side of the hallway. It broke off bits of stone before finally wedging itself between the doorframe and the stone.