No Turning Back (7 page)

He settled back into his chair, folded his hands on his portly stomach. “You are wanted in Kabul.”

Kabul. Was he talking about Neveah? She waited for him to continue, but he merely sat there, smiling at her. Her jaw tightened. She hated that he was playing with her head. “That's it? That's the message you had to
kidnap
me to deliver?” The fear was fading, replaced by a rising tide of anger.

“I apologize for any distress that may have caused you, but you won't be harmed if you keep our little secret. Your Arabic is excellent, by the way.”

Screw this.
What the hell kind of game were these people playing? Sam shot up from her chair, darted a look over her shoulder at the two men who'd grabbed her. Neither of them moved, or even glanced her way. She re-focused on the man in front of her. “Who sent this message? Who's after me?”

He shrugged and gave her an annoying smile. “I do not know. I am being paid to bring you here and give you the message, and I have done so.”

“Who's paying you?”

“An acquaintance.”

Bullshit. “Tell me where my cousin is.”

A frown creased his forehead. “Your cousin?”

His genuine confusion threw her. Okay, so maybe he wasn't privy to the details, but something more was going on here than he was letting on. Sam backed away, clutching her bag to her chest, wishing she could amplify the signal coming from her phone
. Come on, beacon, do your thing
. Maybe someone was coming for her— hopefully Ben. He could help her figure out what the hell was going on. But then a terrifying thought occurred to her. She'd seen these men's faces. Were they going to kill her now? Let her think she could leave and then shoot her?

The messenger waved her away. “Go on. You are free to leave.”

The blood roared in her ears.
She'd seen their faces
. Knew where the house was. And they were just going to let her walk out of here? No way. She searched around for a weapon or something she could use to defend herself. A large vase lay on the counter, but would she be quick enough to grab it and smash it on someone's head? Doubtful.

Her messenger held up both hands, palms out. “As Allah as my witness, you will not be harmed.”

Yeah? Well pardon her for not believing him. She'd already seen what some men did in Allah's name.

Sam took another step back, dividing her attention between him and the men waiting near the kitchen. Her heart thundered against her ribs. She felt like a mouse, running for its life while the cat licked its chops and waited for its chosen moment to pounce. She had no weapon, but if they made a move toward her, she'd go at them with everything she had. It might not be much, but she wasn't going down without a fight.

“Time to go collect my money,” the man said, and pushed to his feet. While Sam froze, he and the others filed past her out the door.

She shrank back against the wall, never taking her eyes off them, expecting to be shot or dragged somewhere else where they would kill her. But to her surprise, they left the house and sauntered out into the blinding sunlight, leaving the door wide open and climbed back into the black unmarked car they'd brought her in. The engine fired up, and a second later the vehicle backed out of the driveway and sped down the street.

In the silence, Sam could hear her heart pounding. Its hard, awful thuds vibrated in her head. They'd just... left her. Without harming her. Her fingers slowly relaxed their grip on her bag. Her eyes darted warily around the place and out the door. Was someone waiting outside to finish her off? Maybe they'd activated a bomb, and when she passed through the door it would trigger the mechanism. Or maybe it was on a timer with only a few seconds programmed into it.

Confused enough to be wary, she crept to the front door, paused a moment. Nothing stirred outside amongst the neatly trimmed shrubs and hedges, but snipers were trained to lie perfectly still for hours waiting to take a shot. She couldn't see any evidence of wires or holes drilled in the door frame to suggest explosives might be hidden there. They could have set a timer, though. If they had, she was standing there scrutinizing the possibility when her last seconds could be ticking away.

Her gaze fastened on the open gate at the end of the driveway. Her freedom was right there. She had to make a run for it.

Taking a deep breath, Sam gathered herself and lunged out the door. Relieved when the house didn't explode as she hit the walkway, she sprinted down the drive. Her feet thudded hard on the baking asphalt, blood pounding in her ears, expecting to get a bullet in the back of the head at any moment. She cleared the gate and took off toward the sidewalk, skin crawling with the thought someone was out there watching her, waiting to pull the trigger.

And someone
was
out there. She could feel the weight of their stare between her shoulder blades.

Ben's chest heaved from the endurance run as he crouched behind a parked car on the residential street and watched the kidnappers’ vehicle pull out. Sam wasn't in it. Had they killed her and left her body in the house because he hadn't gotten there in time? Dread made his guts clamp. He'd thought he'd get here just as fast on foot as if he'd jacked a car someplace, and he hadn't wanted the added attention of anyone reporting their vehicle stolen. He regretted it now.

Shit. He had to go in and look for her. Maybe she was still alive. Maybe he could keep her alive until an ambulance got there—

Sam darted out of the house, her bag thrown over one shoulder as she tore down the driveway and across the street.

Ben's head snapped around so fast his neck cracked. He couldn't believe his eyes. She ran like she was fleeing for her life, and he automatically stood up and aimed his pistol to shoot whoever was after her. But no one else came out of the house.

Cursing under his breath, he shoved the gun in his waistband and took off after her. She was surprisingly quick, but he kept her easily within sight, something holding him back from going up to grab her.

He was no accountant, but things weren't adding up. Why would anyone go to the trouble of kidnapping her, bringing her here, then letting her go unharmed after a couple of minutes? Was she setting him up, knowing someone from the team would follow the transmitter signal? It was the only explanation he could come up with.

What the hell was she up to? He followed at a comfortable distance, watched her slow and finally stop, bending over to suck in some air. It surprised him she'd run as far as she had. She was in good shape beneath those robes. Her head kept turning this way and that, as though she was scared someone was following her. Did she sense him?

An idea occurred to him. He could send her a message to meet him tonight. If she still had her phone and it was on, she would pick up while he watched. Ben pulled out his and typed in the text message, then sent it.

A few seconds later, Sam rifled through her bag, still darting her eyes around the busy street. She dug out her phone and looked down at it, putting a hand to her chest. Her head bowed a little, and Ben was close enough to see the way she closed her eyes, and the relieved expression on her face. She typed something back, and he glanced down at the display on his phone when the message came back.

C U then.

Bet your pretty little ass you will, he thought. Ben shut the phone and slipped it back onto his belt, keeping the same distance behind her as she began to walk away. He wasn't stupid, so he wasn't going to let her out of his sight until it was time for their meeting. Then he'd find out if that relief he'd seen on her face had been because he'd agreed to meet her, or because she was leading him into Tehrazzi's hands.

Still rattled from the bizarre events of the morning, Sam made her way to the hotel Ben had designated for their meeting. Thank God he'd answered her plea for help. When he hadn't responded right away, she hadn't been sure he would, but the knowledge she was going to see him gave her a renewed sense of hope and energized her exhausted body.

As soon as she saw him, she was going to fling her arms around him and hold on tight, just as she'd imagined doing a thousand times over the past week. She didn't care if he thought she was losing it, because once she touched him she'd know for certain she was safe. Starting tonight, they'd be able to do something to help Neveah and the other hostages she'd read about in a paper she'd glimpsed at the market that morning.

Though she'd be glad to see Ben, she couldn't help the thread of unease that slid through her at the thought of seeing him face-to-face again.

You're being stupid. Ben won't hurt you.

Holding on to that thought, she jogged up the stairwell to the third floor and found her way to the room he'd specified. Pulling out the key that had been left for her at the front desk, she unlocked the door and opened it hesitantly, glancing around in the stygian darkness before stepping inside. Ben wasn't here yet. She was glad, because she could use a little extra time to pull herself together before he arrived. He
was
coming, right? He wouldn't tell her to meet him and then blow her off.

Would he?

She hated the uncertainty. The sound of her even breathing was harsh in the silent room. When the door shut behind her with a soft click, a dim lamp came on across the room. She jerked, blinking in the glare as her heart rate skyrocketed.

“Hi Sam.”

The low cadence of his voice almost made her knees buckle. The hand she'd pressed to her heart fell away in relief. Ben was really there. She stared across the room at his large frame, folded into a wingback chair. He was an incredibly attractive man, but she'd forgotten how much so. Tall, muscular, black hair short in the back and a little longer in front, his eyes a startling pale green. The mellow light from the lamp played across his high cheekbones and square jaw, highlighting the pale jade of his eyes and the cleft in his chin. He'd shaved off his goatee, but a few days of growth shadowed his features. Even covered with stubble, his face was still enough to stop the breath in her lungs. But his frigid expression lodged the air in her tight throat.

Any thought of rushing over to hug him vanished. She swallowed. He didn't look all that happy to see her. In fact, he seemed pissed off. “H-hi.” Her voice came out as a mere thread. She felt completely off-balance.

Ben was deceptively relaxed in his seat as he studied her, but a coiled energy seethed beneath his calm surface. He could be out of that chair and on her in a heartbeat, and they both knew it. If it came down to fending him off, she had no chance in hell. He was twice her size and a fifth level black belt, in addition to being a former Army Ranger. The way he watched her with those cool eyes told her just how confident he was of his ability to subdue her if necessary. She wouldn't have a prayer against him physically, so the only thing left to use as a weapon was her brain. At least there, they were evenly matched.

First off, she had to find out what had put him into this mood she'd never seen from him before. Her pulse drummed against her throat, dread eroding her joy at seeing him.

He shifted a little, and when his hand moved she realized for the first time he was holding a gun. Sam froze, fear squeezing her dry throat like a fist. She couldn't take her eyes from the pistol, which she had no doubt was loaded.

“I'm not going to shoot you,” he said laconically, “unless you do something stupid. Since we both know you're the furthest thing from that, I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about.”

She gulped and raised her eyes. What the hell was going on? Ben was holding a
loaded gun
against her.

“Been busy?” he asked in a mocking tone.

She attempted to pull herself together. Why even bother asking? If he'd followed the transmitter in her phone, then he knew exactly where she'd been the past few days. She refused to let him see he'd rattled her. Her chin came up. “I had a few things to take care of.”
Like staying alive.

His short laugh was far from warm. “I bet you did, sweetheart.”

His south Boston accent took the R out of the endearment and made her heart ache. A few short days ago, he'd looked at her with warmth and kindness. Now, the expression in his eyes was almost glacial. Speculative and even angry. He had a right to feel that way after she'd disappeared on the team, but why the gun and the hostility radiating from him? She wished he'd let her explain everything. She needed him to believe her, because she had no one else to turn to.

Gathering her courage, Sam took a step away from the door, then another, holding that frigid gaze. He sat perfectly still, a tiger waiting to attack its prey. It unnerved her. This was not the jovial, affectionate Ben she'd come to know. He was a total stranger right now.

She stalled out a few steps from him, scrambling for something to say to ease the tension. “Ben, I— ”

“Stop right there and hand me your bag.”

She bit her lip and did so, waiting while he emptied the meager contents on the table and went over each item looking for electronic devices. She clenched her teeth. Like she'd even had time to think about bugging anything.

Ben paused at the envelope of pictures and gave them a cursory glance before reading the note she'd received. Then he set the bag beside his chair. “Got your phone?”

She nodded. Wasn't he going to say anything about the envelope? “In my pocket.” She was afraid to retrieve it in case it made him aim the gun at her. Her fingers twitched once, then fell still.

He held out one hand, palm up. Her eyes followed it. Ben had such beautiful, strong hands. She'd spent many hours working next to him, admiring them as they moved over the keyboard and the rest of their equipment. Long, lean fingers, the short-clipped nails blunt and clean. The hands of a healer and a warrior. She remembered the feel of them on her shoulders when he and Rhys came to her apartment after she'd called them for help back at the start of this whole mess. Ben's hands had lent comfort and support. Kindness. Now he motioned one impatiently at her.