Lethal Pursuit (12 page)

“I don’t plan on killing you yet,” he added. “You are no good to me dead. But if you somehow withstand what I do to you, I have others I can kill in your place. Remember that. The woman has already had a taste of what I can do, and I am prepared to do far worse to her and the PJ with you for an audience. So. Will you make a simple recording to save them? Or will you sacrifice them to keep lying to your people about the truth of this war you wage against my homeland—against
Islam
?” The thought of it sent a fresh bolt of fury through his body until his hands shook. This man and others like him were responsible for this war and all the blood and suffering it brought. For that alone, Khalid wanted to kill him.

“There is no oil here,” he spat, riding the edge of his temper, barely holding it in check. “Your military is here waging a continuation of the Crusades of old, to try to rid the world of Islam. You unbelievers will
never
rid the world of Islam, the only true religion. And you will never rid the world of Allah’s soldiers who are about to carry out attacks on their rightful targets—on
your
soil.” It gave him tremendous satisfaction to know what was about to happen in America. That it would happen regardless of the outcome of this operation. The Secretary’s video statement would make it that much more terrifying for their enemy.

Spreading his feet apart, Khalid curled his fingers into a fist, ready to strike. He already knew the answer he’d receive and welcomed the coming beating he would inflict. His blood pumped hot and fast through his veins. “Well? Will you make the statement?”

The Secretary remained silent, looking through him rather than at him. Staring into that determined face, the elation faded. Instead of a surge of power, Khalid was suddenly filled with a hollow fear that he would not be able to get what he needed from this man. And if he didn’t, his usefulness to Rahim was over. Then it would only be a matter of time before Rahim had him killed.

He was not afraid of death, only of dying the worthless half-Russian bastard everyone had viewed him as his entire life.

Tamping down the rage and fear inside him, Khalid raised his fist and hurled it toward the prisoner’s face.

Chapter Twelve

Maya woke from a troubled, pain-ridden doze to find herself still caged like an animal in this new place.

It might have been hours since she’d last woken here, or it might have been days. The constant darkness made it impossible to tell how much time had passed and increased the sense of disorientation. Any pain relief from the injection Jackson had given her had long since worn off. Her mouth was totally dry now. A while ago, the teenager, Mohammed, had come with her only meal, a thin piece of nan bread she’d been forced to bend over and eat off the floor without the use of her hands, the position making it feel like her ribs and the left side of her face would explode from the pressure.

They still had one of the men in the interrogation room. Every few minutes, a new set of hoarse screams would echo down the corridor. If her hands had been free, she would have clapped them over her ears to drown out the sound. Each cry of pain made her stomach clench and her skin ripple with chills of terror. It might be Jackson in there. The captors had taken turns torturing the male prisoners, so she knew he’d been tortured at least once already. It made her ill to think of them hurting him.

They had to be coming for her again soon. Could she withstand that sort of punishment again? A few days ago, before all of this had happened, she would have said yes without hesitation. Now she wasn’t so sure.

She allowed herself to retreat from the present and slip into the past. She’d kept Pilar’s memory close all these years and right now she needed her sister more than ever.

Her mind flipped through the catalog of stored memories she kept tucked away, for some reason settling on one of the last days she’d seen her sister. It was a Friday night, and she’d just come home from a study session at her high school to get a jump-start on her final history paper. She’d walked into their crappy apartment to find Pili getting ready in their room.

Maya stopped dead in the doorway, that familiar sick feeling washing over her. Her sister stood before the mirrored closet dressed in a short, tight black leather miniskirt and a red halter top that barely covered her breasts. Her thigh-high black high-heeled boots sat on the floor next to her bare feet.

Maya lowered her backpack to the floor, hating the mingled shame and anger warring inside her. “I thought we were going to hang out together and watch a movie tonight. You said you weren’t working this weekend.” She couldn’t help the accusatory note in her tone.

Pilar glanced at her in the mirror before turning her attention back to applying the ruby red lipstick on her mouth. There were purple smudges beneath the carefully applied concealer under her eyes, and her ribs now showed below the hollows of her collarbone. Because she would rather do the drugs she was addicted to—even if she refused to admit it—in order to escape her shameful reality rather than eat the food selling her body bought them. “I have a client.”

He wasn’t a client, Maya thought in disdain. He was just another john willing to fuck her sister for money. Maya bit back the angry words rising inside her. “Will you be back tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure.” Her sister wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She swallowed, the pressure in her chest expanding until she thought she’d burst. When Pili reached for those fuck-me boots, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “We can move away from here,” she blurted, desperate to make her sister listen. “We’ve done it twice already—we can do it again.”

Pilar drew the zipper up the inside of one bare leg. “We’re not moving this close to the end of the school year.”

“I can go to a different school.”

“You’re on the honor roll and about to take finals. We’re not moving.” Her tone was implacable, and it made Maya’s heart sink.

“You don’t have to do this,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. There were tears in her eyes as she watched her sister zip the other boot and straighten to fluff her hair, carefully styled over one shoulder to draw attention to the deep V in the low-cut top that showed off her cleavage. Advertising the merchandise for sale. “Don’t go out tonight. We can get by another way. I can get a part-time job or—”

“No.” Her sister whirled around to face her, her expression set. “You’re staying in school and that’s final, and all I want you to worry about is your studies. You’re going to make it out of here. I swore it when we left that monster’s house.”

The knot in her throat threatened to choke her. She hated it that her sister was selling her body to provide a future for her. Hated even more the weakness and shame she felt in standing by and allowing it to continue. And she loathed the judgmental part of her that disapproved of what Pilar was doing. Her sister had taken the abuse for two years to shield her, was now doing a job she hated just to keep them off the streets. She should be grateful, not condemn Pilar’s decision, no matter how uncomfortable it made her. Yet she couldn’t ignore the reality that her sister had sold her soul along with her body.

Emotion tightened her throat. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to, especially for me. We’ll get out of here together and make a new start. We’ll—” Her words cut off when Pilar set her hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. Her smile was warm, the worn look in her eyes making her appear far older than her nineteen years.

“Don’t you worry about me. You hear me? I’m fine. There’s nothing more important to me than making sure you finish school and get a scholarship to get out of here for good. I know you’ll do it.”

It frightened her that Pili hadn’t said they’d both get out, together. She pressed. “And then you’ll come with me, right?” That was the real reason Maya had busted her ass these past two years, putting all her effort into her schoolwork. From the day Pilar had begun turning tricks to keep food on the table so that Maya could stay in school, she’d vowed to herself to get a full-ride college scholarship and take them far away from this life, start fresh in a place where no one would know about Pilar’s sordid past.

The dimple appeared in Pilar’s right cheek as her smile deepened, even though Maya knew it was forced. “Sure.” She kissed Maya’s forehead and grabbed her purse that held condoms and lubricant. Pulling out a wad of ten-dollar bills, she handed them to Maya, who took them reluctantly. To her the cash was tainted—might as well have been blood money. “Go buy yourself a pizza down at the corner. Don’t wait up, I’m not sure when I’ll be home. But when I do get back, we’ll watch that movie together. Okay?”

Maya tightened her fist around the cash, doing her best to hide the dread curling inside her. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was the last promise Pilar ever kept, because less than a month later she broke the most sacred one of all by taking her own life, abandoning Maya forever. In the years since, she’d never fully recovered from that wound. The scar had long since healed, but the hurt was still there.

Surfacing from the difficult memory, she opened her eyes in the darkness and swallowed hard. She could feel herself beginning to losing hope. The continual pain and anxiety were already taking their toll on her, wearing her down by the hour. It disappointed her to realize she wasn’t stronger than that, yet in a weird way it made her feel closer to her sister. For so long she’d been angry with Pilar for taking her own life, thinking she was a coward to give up.

Now, for the first time, she finally got her sister’s desire to escape from the pain and misery her life had become. She’d sacrificed everything for Maya, but in the end the shame and despair had been too much. Facing her own grim reality, Maya couldn’t help but wonder if she was more similar to Pili than she’d ever realized. In the end, would she welcome death rather than keep fighting?

The moment she thought it, a fierce denial ignited deep in her gut.
No.
No way.
She couldn’t dishonor herself or her sister’s memory that way. And she couldn’t let down her fellow prisoners. The Air Force had trained her to withstand this, expected her to. Somehow she had to get hold of her fear and find a way to be strong.

She gave herself a mental slap, trying to bolster her resolve. She might be weak and suffering, but she wasn’t out of the fight yet. Quitting wasn’t an option. It was
never
an option.
Hang in there.
Baby steps.
Take things one at a time—don’t look ahead.

“Maya?”

She twisted her head toward the low voice, heart tripping. “Jackson?”

“Yeah. You okay?”

Knowing he wasn’t the one being tortured in that room down the hall flooded her with relief. “Yeah. Are you... How bad are you hurt?” There must not be guards around to overhear them, or Jackson wouldn’t have dared speak in the first place.

“I’m all right.”

He was lying. She could tell from how strained his voice sounded. And from the Sec Def’s agonized cries, she suspected they weren’t using just fists and a belt on him. Nausea rolled in her gut as she battled to block out those screams. “What did they want?”

“A video statement denouncing the war. They’ll never get it.”

She tried to ignore the way her heart sank at that, since they’d already threatened to kill her if Haversham didn’t cooperate. “How long have we been here?” Her cut lip and swollen cheek hurt from talking, but she didn’t care. She needed this connection to Jackson, tentative as it was.

“Couple of days, I think.” He grunted as though something had caused him a great deal of discomfort. She tried not to think about what they’d done to him. “Are your ribs a little better?”

“A little.”

“Liar.”

She could hear the smile in his voice and closed her eyes, her lips curving in response, despite the apparent hopelessness of their situation. His touch and presence were the only comforts she’d had throughout this whole ordeal. “I appreciate what you did for me.” The memory of how carefully he’d tended to her, those stolen caresses meant to comfort her made her ache inside.

“I didn’t do anything,” he replied. “I wish I could’ve done a hell of a lot more. Like get you out of here, for starters.”

“We’ll get out together,” she said firmly, flinching when Haversham let out a shriek that made the hair at her nape stand up. Her skin prickled, her subconscious reminding her it was only a matter of time before it was her turn in there again. She turned her attention back to Jackson and mulled over everything she hadn’t said to him. “Now’s not the best time, but I have to tell you something.”

“Well, I’m a captive audience right now, so go ahead,” he said dryly, emphasizing the pun.

She decided to say it straight out. “That night in Kandahar?” she began, her voice surprisingly controlled. The practical part of her knew there was a good chance she wouldn’t live much longer and while they had this rare moment of privacy she wanted him to know how she felt.

She heard his wistful sigh from down the hall. “It was the best night of this whole damn deployment.”

The smile pulling at her cracked lips hurt. “Well, good. But now I wish it had been...different.” It was stupid to blush when it was nearly pitch-dark and he was too far away to see her anyhow.

“Different how?” he asked after a brief pause.

It wasn’t easy for her to talk about, let alone admit to, but she owed him at least this much. She let out a long exhalation, wincing as it pulled at her ribs. “I didn’t mean to make you feel used. I wish it hadn’t been like that.” Well, more like she wished
she
hadn’t been like that.

If she could go back in time and do it over again, she’d find them privacy, a locked room with a wide bed and plenty of hours to kill before they had to report for duty. Then she might even have tried something other than having one-sided sex with him. She’d never made love with anyone before. She wished she’d done it with Jackson. He would never hurt her or use her. Without a doubt he’d have made it wonderful, if she’d just found a way to let herself go for once.

His dry chuckle carried to her. “Okay, I forgive you. But next time? You’re going to be the one at my mercy instead.”

She appreciated his attempt at lightening the mood. She only hoped they got the chance to have a next time. Although at the moment, she’d settle for getting free and being able to feel his arms around her. She cleared her throat, trying to think of something else to say, but everything she came up with seemed stupid. Really, what was there left to say?

“So...know any good jokes?”

Swallowing past the restriction in her throat, she found her voice. “Only one comes to mind. Gallows humor.”

“My favorite kind. Hit me.”

Her voice shook ever so slightly. “Three prisoners were taken to the execution chamber.”

“Awesome. I like this one already.”

A laugh shook her. Oh, shit that hurt. “Don’t make me laugh,” she admonished. What the hell was wrong with her? None of this was even remotely funny. The exhaustion must be getting to her.

“Sorry. Carry on.”

“So they haul the first guy to the front of the room. They’re getting ready to shoot the first prisoner when he suddenly points out the window beside him and yells, ‘Avalanche!’ All the guards whip around to look out the window, and the prisoner runs away.”

“Smart. I’ll have to try that.”

“The second guy saw how well that worked for his buddy, and when it’s his turn, he yells, ‘Earthquake!’ then dives under the table. The guards scramble for cover under the other tables, and in the confusion the prisoner escapes.”

She drew a shallow breath, licked her sore lips. “Now the third guy, he’s watched all this happen and has planned his distraction out real carefully. He waits for his turn at the front of the room while the firing squad lines up with their weapons aimed at him, then at the last second points out the window and yells, ‘Fire!’” She fought a hysterical giggle because it hurt her ribs like a bitch. “And so they shoot him.”

A pause, followed by a dry snicker floating to her. “That’s the most depressing fucking joke I’ve ever heard in my life, Lieutenant.”

She fought the continued urge to laugh, even though she knew it was crazy. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll try for something lighter next time.”