Lethal Pursuit (14 page)

Khalid did another visual sweep of the room. He could tell from their body posture and the looks in their eyes that the men were uneasy about this. They were afraid of angering Rahim with this next step, but there was no more time. The Americans were closing in, moving closer every hour, and he had to extract the confession from the Secretary in the next few minutes. His reputation, his future and the next phase of this war all hinged on Khalid getting that confession on tape.

Never taking his eyes off the prisoners, he removed his treasured revolver from his belt and handed it to Jihad, who stood behind him. “Take out all the bullets but one,” he instructed in Pashto. Jihad took the weapon from him and flipped open the cylinder. The metallic sound of rounds sliding out filled the room, then a
clicking-whir
as he spun the cylinder.

“Untie her hands,” he commanded, gesturing toward the female. One of the men came forward to slice the bonds holding her wrists behind her. She blanched and set her jaw before bringing both hands to her lap, cradling her splinted left wrist.

Once again, he turned his attention to the Defense Secretary. The man was watching him out of slitted, pain-glazed eyes. Khalid spoke the English words slowly, in a clear voice. “So far you have refused to make the statement I want from you. You leave me no choice but to try a different sort of persuasion.” He nodded to Jihad. “Give the female the gun,” he said in Pashto.

When he faced her, she turned even whiter, her features frozen like a mask. “Russian roulette. You know this game?” He could see from her reaction that she did. “There is a curious expression you Americans have. ‘Ladies first.’ Since you are a female and the only officer here, you will go first. Pull back the hammer, place the revolver to your head and fire one shot. If you refuse, I will shoot one of your comrades. If you try to turn the gun on any of us, the consequences will be far worse.”

To ensure he was protected, he took one of his men’s pistols and chambered a round, watching her closely. The metallic sound of the slide was loud in the quiet room. With the solid feel of the weapon in his grip, he spread his feet shoulder-width apart and watched Jihad bend down to hold the loaded revolver out to the female.

Chapter Fourteen

The guy was fucking crazy. Or high. Maybe both. He had to be if he expected her to take the revolver that could potentially end her life, let alone think she’d actually put it to her head and pull the trigger.

She reared back from the masked man holding out the pistol to her. He was taller than the others and broader through the shoulders. This close, she could smell the scent of dust and desert wind on him. His gaze was unflinching, calm. He betrayed no emotion whatsoever, even though he was essentially asking her to risk committing suicide in front of the others. What the fuck was wrong with these people that they couldn’t see how warped this was?

There was no way she was touching that revolver. No. Fucking. Way.

“Take it.”

She ignored Khalid’s low command and cast a frantic glance at Jackson. What the hell did she do now? Her stomach plummeted when the expression on his face registered. He was pale and tense, his lips a thin, bloodless line. She tried to read his eyes, sent him a silent plea.
I
don’t know what to do.
She didn’t have the active POW training he had. Jackson stared back at her and shook his head. The helpless rage in his eyes made her want to cry.

He couldn’t help her now. She was on her own.

The man crouched at her feet gestured with the pistol again, urging her to take it. Raising her eyes to his, she let him see her hatred and disgust for all that he stood for. Her rage intensified when she caught a spark of amusement there. He thought this was funny? They were all fucking cowards, tormenting helpless prisoners. If she’d been healthy, she’d have loved to take them on one by one until she dropped. At least then she’d go down fighting. This helplessness on top of everything else was too much to bear.

The once-black revolver sat harmlessly on his outstretched palm. It was nicked and scarred all over, showing its age and use. This was no mere decoration and it held more than trivial significance for Khalid. He’d planned this whole thing out very carefully, from the video camera across the room to the air of anticipation he seemed to be enjoying so much.

“Last chance,” he said. His tone was flat, hard, brimming with impatience. She didn’t know if she was more afraid of seeing that impatience unleashed or finding out if the chamber she chose had a bullet in it.

Swallowing, Maya forced her right hand up.

“Stop,” Jackson blurted.

Her fingers closed around the cold grip of the pistol, and the man pulled his hand away. The weight of the weapon felt strangely light, almost nonexistent in her fist. If she was in shock, maybe it would help numb her. Because she had no fucking idea how to get out of this. For one crazy moment, she thought about turning the gun on Khalid and emptying every chamber until she found the loaded one and hit him right between the eyes. She could do it if she was quick enough. Maybe if she could kill him before one of the others shot or disarmed her, they’d stand down.

“Cock it,” Khalid ordered.

That cold voice was so devoid of emotion it sent fresh chills down her spine. Her fingers flexed around the grip. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t dare because she was afraid she’d take the chance and fire at him. If she did and the chamber was empty, her act of defiance would be useless. And then Jackson and the Sec Def would die.

Swallowing, she cocked the hammer back, her mind rebelling at each tiny movement. The metallic click was loud in the choking silence. She heard Jackson shift, caught a glimpse of movement in her peripheral vision as he tensed.

Even with her mind made up, she could
not
make herself raise the gun to her own head. The room blurred, began to spin.

“Raise it to your head,” Khalid said.

“Maya, put it down!” Jackson yelled. The desperation in his voice cut straight through her.

No. It was impossible. She couldn’t do this.

“You are willing to accept the consequences then?” Khalid purred in a silky tone.

Her insides contracted. Her arm felt rigid, like it was made of steel. Unbending. Her tormentor stared back at her for a few heartbeats, daring her to challenge him.

She never backed down from a challenge. Something in her simply refused to surrender—even now, when all seemed lost.

Maya locked her jaw, maintained eye contact and set the gun down in a blatant act of defiance. If the asshole wanted her dead, he could shoot her himself.

Jackson’s relieved exhalation filled the tense silence.

She barely had time to blink before Khalid made his move. His eyes shifted away from her and his gun hand whipped out and up. Maya bit back an instinctive cry of protest, her body going rigid. Khalid swung the weapon around, aimed at the Sec Def and fired a bullet into his lower leg.

Haversham’s dazed eyes flew open and he jerked upright, a howl of agony erupting from his throat. He bared his teeth and writhed in place, unable to escape from the pain or stop the flow of blood from his leg. A scarlet pool spread out beneath him.

Staring in horror, Maya blanched. Jackson cursed low under his breath. This time when she looked back at Khalid, she was shaking with a mixture of fear and revulsion.

He raised one eyebrow in insolent reply. “Aim the revolver at your head and pull the trigger, Lieutenant, or I will shoot him full of holes.” When she didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment. Then he glanced at Jackson. “Or maybe I’ll put a few holes in
him
instead until you decide to cooperate,” he finished, turning the pistol toward Jackson.

“No!” The instinctive protest came out before she could bite it back. Whatever horrors she’d endured, she couldn’t take that. She’d rather die than be the cause of Jackson’s suffering. Being responsible for Haversham’s gunshot wound was bad enough. She was willing to sacrifice herself if it spared Jackson.

The swirling nausea peaked and ebbed, making her clammy and shaky. Her hand trembled around the old revolver. Calling on every bit of self-control she possessed, she lifted it slowly. It went against everything in her, but she did it, inch by inch, her skin crawling with the thought of what was coming. Could she actually pull the trigger? She didn’t know if she had the guts.

In the end, she closed her eyes. Shut out everything in the room, locked down her emotions. It was easier that way. Digging down deep for her courage, she brought the cold round mouth of the muzzle to her right temple. Bile filled her throat, hot and acidic.

“
Maya.
” Jackson’s agonized cry ripped through the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the image of his stricken face from her mind. Didn’t he understand? There was nothing else she could do. If she didn’t do this, Khalid would shoot him or Haversham, who was still losing a lot of blood. Friendly forces in the area might have a lock on them, might even find them in the coming hours, but she couldn’t stall anymore.

“Don’t do it, Maya,” Haversham managed between gritted teeth. “I’d rather be...shot full of holes than...watch you do this.” She could hear the conviction in his voice, the former Marine still very much alive in him.
Semper Fidelis.

It was her turn to be faithful to them now by offering her life for theirs.

“No,” Jackson said again, as though he’d read her intentions. “Maya, don’t you fucking do this. You hear me? Goddammit,
look
at me.”

She didn’t, because she couldn’t bear to. If there was even half as much pain on his face as there was in his voice, she’d never be able to go through with this.

“My next bullet goes in him if you don’t pull the trigger within five seconds,” Khalid snapped.

Maya bit down on the inside of her uninjured cheek. There was no guarantee friendly forces would liberate them. Even if she survived this game, there was good chance she was going to die here eventually anyway. Her captors weren’t going to let her live, and probably none of the others either, especially if a rescue attempt happened. But Jesus, taking her own life? She’d sworn never to succumb to suicide after Pilar. That nothing would ever make her give in, no matter what.

It won’t hurt.
You won’t even have time to feel it.

“Maya!” Jackson tried again.

It took an act of will not to turn her head and look at him. Clamping down on the desire to see him, she faced off with Khalid. Her voice shook. “If I do this and the shot kills me, will you let the others live?”

She could tell she’d surprised him, because he had to consider her words for a moment before answering. “I might. If the Secretary tells me what I want to know and gives the statement.” He turned to face Haversham, raised his eyebrow again in that maddening way that made Maya long to shoot him in the face.

He wasn’t going to give it. Maya released a shuddering breath and considered her limited shitty options.

If this shot killed her, maybe it would give Jackson and the Defense Secretary a reprieve. If they managed to escape, Jackson would have to carry him out. Either way, she had to believe that her death might help save the others. It was the only thing that gave her the strength to go through with this.

“Don’t give them the satisfaction,” Haversham bit out, his voice strained. “They’re all...fucking
cowards.
”

She shut her eyes once more. Her entire body shook.

“Fucking hell, Maya, no!
Please
don’t do this.”

The desperate plea almost undid her. Almost.

She filtered out the sound of Jackson’s frantic voice. Flashes of memory played in her head like a slideshow on fast-forward. She snagged one as it flickered across her mind’s screen, holding on to it with every last bit of strength. Pilar and her at a playground. They were in primary school, on the swings at the school playground, flying high in the sky. Her sister’s head was tipped back, her mouth wide open in a belly laugh.

Pilar. She’d see Pilar again.

She ignored the voices trying to pull her back to the present. Her index finger curled around the trigger. Tightened.

A
split second
,
and it’ll all be over.
There’ll be no more pain
,
no more loneliness.
She drew a deep breath and released it slowly, savoring each heartbeat.
I’ll see you soon
,
Pili.

When that last breath was expelled, every ounce of oxygen pushed from her lungs, her mind went blank.

“No, goddammit—”

She pulled the trigger.

An empty click echoed in her ear.

It took her a long moment to realize what it meant. For her to realize that she was still alive. For the moment, at least.

Her eyes snapped open, her right hand falling limply to her side, because suddenly she didn’t have the strength to hold the weapon anymore. The revolver clattered to the ground.

A choked sound came from beside her. “Maya,
God
... You’re okay. You’re okay, sweetheart. Oh, Jesus—you’re okay now. Come on, look at me.” Jackson’s hoarse voice penetrated her chaotic thoughts.

In the wake of the shock swamping her system, her body whacked out on her. The shaking returned with a vengeance, so bad her teeth rattled. It felt like she was convulsing. Every muscle jolted out of control. She bent forward at the waist and gasped in a breath of air, then gagged from the pain. And gagged again. Nothing came up except bile, burning its way up her throat. Jackson was saying something to her but she couldn’t hear the words over the roaring in her ears.

She slumped to the side, barely noticed when someone came forward to take the revolver beside her.

Jesus. Oh, Jesus Christ, she couldn’t handle this. Couldn’t take any more. She’d been ready to die. There was no way she could do through that again.

“Congratulations,” a voice purred from directly above her.

Blinking, she looked numbly up into Khalid’s face. He smirked in that oily way of his, holding the revolver.

“You won the first round.”

Her lungs heaved, desperate for air. She wanted to fly at him, rip him apart with her bare hands, broken wrist or not. She’d attack him and wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead.

Dismissing her, he spoke to a man off to the right. Maya seized her chance.

She launched herself at Khalid, hitting him in the chest with her shoulder. He yelped in surprise and grabbed hold of her as they fell and crashed onto the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

The surge of strength racing through her body was exhilarating. She was mindless, intent on doing as much damage as possible, kill him if she could. Fighting through the splinters of agony in her fractured bones, she rose to her knees and brought her right fist back, hurling it at the center of his face. A large hand flashed out to block the punch, catching the full force of fist with his palm.

The abrupt action jolted her out of her rage-fueled haze. Angry voices registered, Jackson’s shout commanding her to stand down. A primal snarl built in her throat. She was done with standing down. If they wanted her dead, she was damn well going out fighting.

Khalid snarled something in Pashto and threw her off him. Panting, she rolled to her back and lashed out with her feet, earning a brutal kick high on her outer left thigh. Her outraged scream echoed throughout the room. He was out of reach now, too far away to get another blow in.

She came up on to her right elbow, bracing for an attack. If he’d been angry before, now he was enraged. She stuck out her chin in defiance, trying to mask the betraying quiver that ran through her. She could feel Jackson’s fear beating at her, having risen to his knees, and she knew he would have dived on top of her to shield her with his own body if things had gone further.

Khalid spat at her, narrowly missing her face. His eyes boring a hole in her, he snapped something at the man who’d blocked her punch. Maya wrenched her head to the side, recognizing him as the one who’d handed her the revolver.

She didn’t catch any of the heated Pashto words Khalid said to him. But when the big man came toward her, his dark eyes intent upon her in his masked face, Maya let out a cry of protest and scrambled to her feet. Her bound ankles made her stumble and she threw her uninjured hand out to catch herself against the wall, losing her only opportunity to lash out at him. Strong hands gripped her right wrist and wrenched it behind her back, the other manacling her left upper arm.