Running on Empty (32 page)

“I thought about that but decided the purpose was to just make me wait, dwell on what was coming. I’m sure they thought I’d feel helpless—I did, but it was buried beneath a ton of anger. I was too pissed to be too worried.”

“And the questions? Were they specific or general in nature?”

He knew what she was doing. She was trying to find a clue, that one thread that would tell them who was behind everything. It was something he’d done himself already, but Sabrina was an intelligent, savvy woman. Hell, maybe they could learn something new. 

“Questions were general at first. Almost like they didn’t want me to know the real reason I’d been taken. And they were the fairly generic ones for an enemy combatant—name, who did I work for, what were my superiors’ names...shit like that. They got pissed when I said nothing.”

“I’ve seen you in interrogation.” He heard the smile in her voice. “You can make silence sound like a scream.”

“Yeah, well. That’s when they decided to have some fun.”

Sabrina winced at those words. Declan was a warrior through and through. His capture would have infuriated him and made him want to fight with every fiber of his being. That kind of anger gave a captive strength. Maintain the anger, they couldn’t bring you down. But strength from anger would last only so long. Once the pain penetrated the consciousness and couldn’t be blocked, a new psychological battle took place. One where the brain fought to deny the agony, battled to reinforce the anger. A push-pull of opposing forces.

She cleared her throat. “I guess it was SOP on the torture tactics?”

“Yeah, nothing new. Typical standard operating procedures that I’d been through dozens of times before—training and teaching. Sleep deprivation, waterboarding, electrical shocks, plenty of beatings.”

“When did the questions get specific?”

“Probably about a month or so into my captivity. Guess they figured I’d be broken down enough to tell something. They offered all sorts of shit to entice me—food, water, medical care. Didn’t work any better than the physical torture.”

“What did they ask?”

“No surprises. Wanted to know the undercover names of agents, locations of upcoming ops, locations of retired agents, code names, aliases.”

“And there was no one specific question that made you think—oh, this could be the guy behind it?”

“I thought that would happen, so I tried to stay as focused on the questions as possible. Eventually concluded that even if one particular question would specify the bastard’s identity, he planned to get as much out of me as possible.”

“When you didn’t talk…it got worse?”

“After a few weeks of...let’s just say stringent questioning, they backed off. Maybe they were giving me time to think about things. Or maybe they were waiting for instructions.”

“And then they came at you in a different way?”

“No. Started all over again. Probably thought I’d healed up too much to start with the other stuff, so the same shit happened. Another few weeks to break down my resistance.”

“They threw you in that pit a lot?”

“Yeah. That wasn’t fun.”

She pressed her face against his neck, partly in sympathy and partly because she just wanted to feel his warmth...feel the beat of his pulse against her mouth. “Did they talk to you before you heard the recording of my voice?”

“Yeah. It didn’t really dawn on me at first. I’d gotten in the mind-set to endure, so the words were just a buzz…a noise. But then they showed me your picture.”

“Where did they get a photo of me?”

“Must’ve been taken when you were new to the Agency. Your hair was a lot longer, and you were wearing that ball cap I ended up throwing away.”

“That was my favorite cap,” she grumbled. She felt him shift, knew he was smiling. They’d had a blowout of an argument over that silly little cap. 

“What did they say when they showed you my photo?”

“Taunted me…lot of vulgar innuendoes. Unfortunately, I was tied up or I would have defended your honor.”

She pressed a kiss to his beard-stubbled cheek. “I’ll forgive you this time.”

“Then they started talking about how you had set me up. Reminded me you’d sent me a text. They told me you were in on the plan all along. Of course, I knew they were full of shit, but I maintained silence.”

“And then came the recording?”

“Yeah. I vaguely remember the first time. I think I smiled at hearing your voice. It sounded so damn good. It took two or three tries before the words penetrated. I laughed in their faces.”

She closed her eyes against the tears she’d sworn she wouldn’t shed. She could picture him in her mind—bruised, bleeding, starving, but still so very strong, so very brave. Of course he wouldn’t believe she had set him up, no matter how much they tried beating it into him. But then, with the recording playing 24/7, along with the drugs, it was no wonder he became convinced of her guilt. 

“I don’t know how many days or weeks they played that damn recording. Every time I passed out, they’d either throw cold water on me or shock me back to consciousness. I’d wake, and the recording would still be running.” His arms tightened around her. “They hit at the weakest, most vulnerable part of me—my love for you. Crafty bastards.”

“I was surprised you didn’t try to kill me right away, instead of abducting me.”

“I guess I wanted to watch you suffer.”

“No. You knew LCR would come for me.”

He drew away slightly to look down at her. “What?”

“The tracker in my arm. You knew about it. Knew the protocol I’d told Noah to follow if I was ever taken. That Noah would contact Albert.” She shook her head. “With all the craziness of these last few weeks, that fact didn’t occur to me until the other day. That’s why you didn’t kill me. You knew I would be rescued.

“A part of you remembered how much you loved me…could never physically hurt me.” She lifted her head from his shoulder to press her forehead against his cheek. “You’re still the same heroic, noble man I fell in love with.”

His entire body stiff with denial, he pushed her off his lap, his face an expressionless mask. 

She stood before him, wanting him so much she literally ached with pain. “I still love you, Declan.”

In a swift move, he stood, probably expecting she would back up. She didn’t, and she wouldn’t back down. This was too important.

“Deny it all you want. It’s not going away, and neither am I.”

Instead of arguing, which she really preferred since it would have been a good catharsis for the anger she knew still bubbled inside him, he unexpectedly grabbed hold of her shoulders, dropped a hard kiss on the top of her head, then said with a resoluteness she knew he meant, “Give it up, Sabrina, and move on, because as soon as this is over, we are, too.”

She watched helplessly as he walked away from her, and seconds later, she heard the click of his bedroom door shutting. 

Her feet were moving before she even knew it. She made herself stop in front of his bedroom, but the glare she gave the closed door could’ve melted a hole in the wood. “Give up? Like hell, Declan Steele. Like hell.”

Chapter Twenty-six

“How’s it going?”

Pulling his eyes away from the computer screen, Declan relaxed back in the chair. Sabrina stood at the office door. Dressed in faded jeans that lovingly hugged her long, lean legs and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that, for some insane reason, showed an almost indecent amount of cleavage, she was healthy, beautiful, and so damned sexy his mouth went dry. 

Concentrating on her question and not on how much he wanted to get up from the desk and take advantage of the invitation lurking in her eyes took discipline. He cleared his throat, refocused. “Let’s just say there are a helluva lot of Agency employees who have too much debt, lots of vices, and have had more affairs than I ever thought possible.”

Her grimace was one of sympathy. “Still no real leads?”

“Not yet. By the time we’re finished, we’ll know the shoe size of their great-great-grandmothers.”

“Not exactly helpful in determining a traitor.”

“No, but somewhere in all this shit, something’s going to pop. I feel it.”

“Angela still helpful?”

“She’s amazing.”

“Good. She’s saved LCR’s ass plenty of times. Last year, she—” The phone in her pocket chimed. Holding up a finger, she grabbed the phone and held it to her ear.

As she talked, apparently to McCall, Declan studied her. The long, lean lines of her body, the generous, lovely breasts that he had caressed, kissed, and suckled with endless delight, the intelligence gleaming in her eyes, the beauty of her fair, clear complexion. Her thick, auburn hair that he had grasped in his hands and held as he pounded into her. The well-toned legs that had wrapped around his waist while he— Ah hell, what was he doing?

Declan pulled himself away from the lustful thoughts about his wife and instead thought about the deceptively delicate-looking package that made up Sabrina Fox. In no way, shape, or form did she look like a woman who could bring down a man twice her size without a weapon. Since he had trained her, seen her in action, he knew what she was capable of, what she could do.

She had amazed and enthralled him when he had been training her, and deep in his soul, he acknowledged she still did.

Unbelievable as it seemed, life had become routine and easier after their discussion. Declan gave Sabrina full credit. She had every right to kick him out on his ass. And, actually, he should have moved out. He didn’t need to be living in her house. He could get his own place. But he hadn’t mentioned moving out, and neither had she. 

The memories of his life before his capture were constant companions. He could never forget the days and weeks of falling in love with Sabrina, their ops together, the laughter, the tears, the amazing camaraderie of being with the one person who totally understood him and loved him in spite of knowing everything—the good, bad, and downright ugly. That kind of love came along only once in a lifetime.

She’d gone on several more assignments while he continued to work with Angela to uncover every strand and thread of information regarding all EDJE employees, former and current. Within this mass of mostly dry but sometimes salacious information was the key.

 “Hey.” Sabrina stood in front of him, snapping her fingers. “Where’s your mind? You okay?”

“Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.” Noticing the excitement on her face, he said, “What’s up?”

“You remember Reuben Pierce?”

“Rotten Reuben? The asshole that sold a truckload of stolen military equipment to some militants in Egypt. Took out an entire elementary school. Hell yeah, I remember the scumbag. Don’t tell me he’s started taking hostages along with his other slimy deeds.”

“Kind of. He’s now doing double duty as a human trafficker—mostly kids. Selling them for a tidy profit.”

“And the scum just gets scummier.”

“Yep. Anyway, we almost got him right before you, um…found me.”

“You mean before I kidnapped you and tried to kill you?”

She grinned. “Potato, po-tah-to.” She shrugged and continued, “Anyway, we rescued the kids and most of his goon squad, but Reuben got away.”

“Bet that riled you.”

“You have no idea. But that was Noah on the phone. He’s resurfaced in Italy. We’ve got someone on the inside already. We’re setting up an ambush so we can finally nail the bastard.”

Sabrina’s excitement was contagious. Her eyes gleamed, and waves of energy seemed to bounce off her body. She was born to this kind of life.

“So I’m assuming you’re in on the op?” Declan asked.

“Oh yeah. He’s not getting away from me again.”

“When are you leaving?”

Her expression brightened even more. “You mean, when are
we
leaving, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re short a team member. Riley’s still out of commission, recovering. Noah asked if you’d like to join us.”

The very idea fired his blood. See Rotten Reuben get his just deserts? Hell to the yeah. “I’m in.”

“I’ll call Noah back.” And before he knew what she was going to do, she strode over to the desk, grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him hard on the mouth. “It’ll be like old times.”

Torn between telling her he’d changed his mind and grabbing her for a harder, deeper kiss on that soft, luscious mouth, he instead did nothing but watch as she placed a call to the LCR leader.

Like old times? No. Those days would never be again.

Teramo, Italy

The takedown should be simple and straightforward. Dylan Savage, one of LCR’s top deep-cover operatives, had infiltrated Reuben’s band of sleazy thugs last year. Dylan had been within days of springing the surprise that would have brought down the man’s entire operation. Something had spooked Reuben, and instead of a successful op, the mission had fizzled into nothing. Reuben had moved on to another city, leaving more than half his employees behind, including Dylan. 

Intel had revealed that Reuben had gotten wind that he was being actively hunted and took only the men he’d worked with for years. 

Then, the opportunity to utilize Sabrina’s deep-cover personality of Lucia St. Martine had come along. But, once again, Reuben had evaded them. 

LCR was determined that the third time would be the charm. Reuben Pierce was going down.

Dylan had bided his time, and when Reuben had surfaced in Italy, the operative had reconnected with the creep. To prove his loyalty and usefulness, Dylan was bringing in a truckload of stolen military-grade weapons—among Reuben’s favorite contraband. Unlike many of these kinds of deals, Reuben had insisted on inspecting the merchandise himself—perhaps as a test for Dylan, or maybe a show of his arrogance. Whatever the reason, this might be their last chance to apprehend the bastard. Things had to go off without a hitch.

Sabrina took in the faces of her team. Aidan sat in the back, the expression on his face one she’d seen dozens of times—determination. She knew he’d been just as pissed as she was when Reuben had escaped in Honduras. 

Her eyes shifted to Justin Kelly. Since his partner’s injury, the man had become even grimmer. As young and fit as Riley was, the prognosis for a full and speedy recovery was excellent. Still, the shadows in Justin’s slate-gray eyes revealed a darker-than-usual sadness. It was apparent that he missed his partner. She’d never seen two people who were more in tune with one another during an op.