Running on Empty (36 page)

As if he’d known what the answer would be all along, Albert leaned back in his chair. “If you would be good enough to let me know when she’s safe, I would appreciate it.”

Declan nodded and walked out the door. He couldn’t worry about Albert’s disappointment. Even though his instincts said the man was telling the truth, he could take no chances. Not when it came to Sabrina’s survival.

So far, Jackson had been unable to tell them anything. He was in the hospital, still unconscious from the blow to his head. The doctors believed he would be fine but had admitted that his continued unconsciousness had them worried. 

Feeling as helpless and desperate as he ever had as a prisoner, Declan went into a small office that McCall had lent him. Fat lot of good the office was doing him, though. They had nothing. The tracker had been their only hope, but by the time they’d made it to the airstrip, the plane had been long gone, and the signal had stopped.

He turned to leave the room when a ping on his laptop told him he had an email. Stomach roiling, Declan had to force himself to go to the desk and click on his email icon. He had known they would be contacting him. There was no email message, only an attachment. Why use words when a graphic image said so much more?

Jaw clenched, he clicked the attachment and watched the video. A small sound, like the whimper of a wounded animal, escaped him. The image before him would be engraved in his brain forever. Nausea forged upward, clogged his throat. Declan swallowed it back. Getting Sabrina back alive meant staying strong for her.

Grabbing the laptop, he stormed out the door and into McCall’s office.

Noah watched Steele come into his office like a warrior on a mission. The stark whiteness of his features, the burning hell in his eyes told Noah that he’d received the contact they’d been waiting on.

“Got a video,” Steele growled.

Noah jerked his head at the conference table. “Put the laptop down and let’s see what we’ve got.”

Within seconds of plugging in the laptop, the video appeared on the large screen on the wall.

“Shit,” Noah said softly.

The video lasted less than two minutes, but that didn’t mean the torture hadn’t continued for hours. Seeing Sabrina, his operative and someone he liked and admired, treated in such a manner sent both fury and sickness through him. Just what was it doing to the man beside him?

“I’ll get Angela to trace the IP address.”

“It won’t do any good. They’re too smart for that.”

“Maybe. But we explore all possibilities.”

While Noah placed the call to Angela, he watched Steele stalk out the door. In the midst of his instructions to Angela, he heard a massive crash. Having dealt with tough operatives and volatile tempers for many years, Noah figured he knew what the noise had been. 

A minute later, Steele returned and said simply, “I owe you a vending machine, McCall.”

Her body trembling with shock and pain, Sabrina worked to gather her wits and fight against the agony. She was alone. All voices were in another part of the building. There was no telling when the bastards might return and do something much worse.

She would never look at a piñata the same way again. She had been used as a human one. Four men had beaten her with sticks, another had filmed it. By now, Declan had seen the footage. Worrying about him would do no good. He and LCR would be here soon. She was sure of it. They’d found her before. They would find her again.

She moved gingerly as she evaluated her health. Starting from the top down, she mentally listed and acknowledged each injury. Contusions to her head, probable concussion. Her head ached with a pounding consistency, but that could be a physical reaction to the stress and her other injuries. The broken nose she was sure she had could produce a blinding headache. Three, maybe four, cracked ribs, broken left wrist, severely bruised abdomen that she could only pray didn’t include internal bleeding, possible fractured pelvis. In short, she was a mess.

On the bright side, when she had woken, she had found herself untied, alone, and still alive.

Gritting her teeth, she worked to sit up and managed only part of the way before she collapsed. Not giving up, she used her right arm as leverage and crawled toward the wall. Sitting up would go a long way to making her feel less vulnerable. Agony screamed through her at every inch of progress, but finally she made it to the wall. Dizziness swamped her, and she bit the inside of her mouth as hard as she could to keep herself conscious. When it finally passed, she dragged her body the last few inches and then rolled over onto her back. Now came the tricky part. Sitting up was going to hurt like a son of a bitch. She couldn’t let that stop her. She had to get off her back.

Though black dots danced before her eyes and tears spilled down her face, she finally managed to prop herself against the wall. Breathless, she forced herself to take shallow breaths and did her best to ignore the protest of her damaged ribs screaming with each breath she took.

Exhausted but finally able to concentrate on something other than her discomfort, she took in her dismal surroundings and made more assessments. Dirt floor, square room, one door, tiny windows. Musty, dank odor. A basement or cellar? 

She listened to the sounds around her. No traffic outside. Another prison like where they’d held Declan? 

Eyes closed, she listened harder. Birds squawked loudly. Was that a monkey chattering? So she was in a forest or a jungle? But where?

The question of her location flew out of her mind when the door opened. She tensed, held her breath. What would they do to her now?

Chapter Thirty

LCR Headquarters

It was standing room only in the small LCR conference room. Grim and silent, five LCR operatives, along with McCall and Declan, stared at still shots of Sabrina’s torture. Declan had been able to do so only by keeping his eyes off Sabrina. When this was over and he had her back safe, then he’d allow himself to combust again. McCall’s lack of response to the vending machine Declan had destroyed was a testament to the man’s understanding. He could see why Sabrina had such respect for her boss.

Since the camera was jostled and moved around a lot, they were studying the stills of each frame. If the cameraman was as inexperienced as he seemed, there was the hope they’d be able to see something they weren’t supposed to see.

“Can we zero in on photo twenty-three?”

Declan glanced at the woman who’d asked the question. Above-average height, white-blond hair, stunningly beautiful. McCall had introduced her as Eden St. Claire. The tall, grim man beside her was her husband, Jordan Montgomery. Declan had never worked an op with Montgomery when the man had been at the Agency. He knew of his reputation, though. Tough as shit and hard as nails. Declan was glad to have him here.

Angela clicked on photo twenty-three and enlarged it. The entire room leaned forward and focused on the photo.

“Yes,” Eden said, “I see it, Jordan. There’s an opening in the door…just a crack, but something’s there.”

“Zoom in closer on the door,” Declan said.

For a second, the photo went out of focus and then became clearer. That “something” was someone. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood at the door, watching. Unfortunately, other than that one indistinct, large blur, Declan couldn’t make out any of his features.

A chime sounded. McCall grabbed his phone, held up his hand to ask for silence, and began to speak in rapid Portuguese. Declan was able to understand only a few words, but by the expression on the LCR leader’s face, the caller had some significant information. 

Knowing McCall would share as soon as he could, Declan turned his attention back to the photos. “Angela, will you enlarge photo three?”

Photo twenty-three shrank down, and number three enlarged on the screen. 

“Zoom in on that white speck in the corner.”

Once again, the photo went blurry, and then the zoom became vivid and clear. 

“What is that?” Montgomery leaned forward. “A food wrapper of some sort? Candy wrapper?”

Before any conclusions could be made, McCall ended the call. “Okay, one of our watchers in Brazil got a call about a small plane landing yesterday. Four tough-looking guys and one long, tarp-wrapped bundle.”

“What part of Brazil?” Montgomery asked.

“Right outside Rio.”

“Your source is good?” Declan asked.

“Very.”

“Then I know where she might be,” Montgomery said.

Declan twisted round. “How? Where?”

Montgomery jerked his head toward the screen. “The wrapper. It’s from a mom-and-pop restaurant in São Paulo. There’s a small, abandoned village on the outskirts of the city. Perfect place to take a prisoner.”

Declan studied the photo again, then all of the photos combined. Forcing the grief and despair down to the pit of his stomach, he made himself click on the video again. This time, instead of watching the surroundings for a clue or Sabrina’s torture, he took in the expertise of the cameraman, along with the lighting. His gut confirmed his thoughts.

“No. It’s a trick.” 

“What do you mean?” McCall asked.

“I think the cameraman’s doing a poor job on purpose. They’re too careful to have allowed these glimpses. Too professional. After all the shit they’ve been able to get away with, no way are they going to be so careless. They’re trying to lead us away from where she is.”

“My source in Brazil is as reliable as they come,” McCall said.

“I’m not saying she’s not in Brazil. I’m saying she’s just not in the area they’re trying to lead us to.”

“Then how the hell are we going to find her?” Thorne asked. “This is our only lead.”

“It’s me they want, not Sabrina.”

“Maybe so,” Thorne said, “but in the meantime, they’re torturing Sabrina.”

“I’m well aware of that, Thorne. Don’t bloody well tell me what I already know. She’s my wife.”

“Is she?” Thorne said softly.

Declan took a step toward the asshole. McCall placed a hand on his shoulder. “Back off, both of you. Steele, I have an LCR team in Rio. They’ll check out the village Montgomery referenced. If there’s any activity, they’ll let us know, and we’ll go there. In the meantime, let’s get in the air and head toward Rio. When those assholes contact you again, I want us as close as possible.”

“Hello, Mrs. Steele.”

Sabrina remained silent as she took in the man who sat before her. Instead of more torture, apparently it was time to talk. An interrogation or just a chance to taunt her? He was only slightly taller than she was—maybe six feet. He had an American accent, but she knew her languages. It was fake. Was he disguising his voice because she knew him or for another reason? 

The only good thing about this whole ordeal was the fact that she’d yet to see anyone’s face. Everyone wore dark cloth bags over their heads with holes cut out for eyes and a small slit for their mouth. If they weren’t allowing her to see them, they didn’t plan to kill her. At least that was her thinking. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t die from her injuries. They weren’t fatal yet, but what else was coming?

“I see you’re going to maintain your silence. Perhaps a wise choice, as I’ve been told you have a volatile temper. I’d hate for you to offend me and have to punish you again.”

He waited once again. His politeness was meant to lower her guard and put her off-balance. Whoever this man was, he knew she’d been through every type of training as an EDJE agent. Nothing he said or did would unbalance her.

As if he’d read her mind, he said, “I’m aware that you’ve been trained to endure much. I also know that when you’re in good physical condition, you could easily kill me. However, I’m sure you’re in considerable pain. Just so you know, my men were instructed to go easy on you. Other than the unfortunate bump to your nose, your face has been left virtually untouched. If you survive this ordeal, you should have no lasting scars or impairments.”

Going against everything she had been trained, Sabrina couldn’t help herself, she had to get some answers. “If you think this is the way to get Declan to talk, why torture him first? Why didn’t you just use me at the beginning?”

“You were our backup plan.” His laughter was rich and deep, as if he were sharing a joke. “You have any idea what we did to that poor bastard? No one should be able to withstand that kind of pain or psychological bullshit. The man is a machine.”

“Then you must know that whatever you do to me won’t stir him. He’s even asked me for a divorce.” It hurt to admit that, and the fact that she could well be signing her death warrant with that confession hadn’t escaped her, either. But she’d be damned if she’d let Declan back into their clutches again.

“You’d better hope that’s not true, for your sake.” 

“You tortured him to make him hate me. Made him believe I was the one who betrayed him. Seems damn stupid to use me now.”

Another deep and hearty laugh erupted from him. Did she know that laugh, or in her pain-filled mind was she hearing things that weren’t there?

“I have to admit, that plan backfired on us. But he’s fallen for you again.” And then, probably because he knew it would freak her out, he said, “Isn’t that right, Little Fox?” In Declan’s voice.

Her heart clutched, and despite her best intentions, she was sure the agony of hearing those words in Declan’s voice was on her face. Cursing her weakness, she clenched her teeth and ground out, “You called Albert and told him about the meeting, using Declan’s voice. Albert isn’t the traitor.”

“You think?”

The fact that he wasn’t willing to reveal the name of the traitor was a puzzle but also slightly reassuring. Did he not tell her because he wasn’t sure of his plan, or because he intended to let her live?

“How do you know so much about Declan and me?”

“Now, that would be cheating, wouldn’t it?” He went to his feet. “Ready for round two?”

The door burst open. Her four hooded torturers came for her again. Sabrina tried to shrink back into the wall, but that didn’t deter them.

“Make sure we get enough convincing footage this time,” the man said.