The Maze (ATCOM) (23 page)

Attie
lunged across the table, wanting to strangle him with her bare hands. She
didn’t care what he did to her anymore. When he killed Seth and Noah and took
Brendan, he’d destroyed her life. All she could think was to destroy his.

She
shouted at him as she went for his throat, but he wasn’t going to let her near
him. Someone grabbed her from behind and dragged her forcefully off the table.

Carlos
motioned for his guards to remove her and the next thing she knew she was being
towed from the room.

“I’ll
kill you, Carlos,” she shouted as the door closed behind her. “I swear you
won’t make it out of this mountain alive!”

* * * *

“What
the hell is going on?”

Gabe
rubbed the back of his neck, frustration mounting. They’d gone in circles all
day, finding nothing. No sign of Noah and Attie. No sign of Santiago. No sign
of Brendan. It was like they’d disappeared.

“It
doesn’t make any sense,” Rogan said, angrily closing his laptop. “They have to
be here somewhere. I’m still picking up the device.”

“Maybe
Noah’s pack is here.”

Rogan
shook his head. “We would have found it. No, they’re on this mountain
somewhere.”

Colin
took a swig of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hidden
lair?”

Gabe
pursed his lips, looking around him. They were back where they started.
“Maybe,” he murmured.

Kyle
stood uphill, staring at the mountain wall in front of them.

“I’d
pick up something on the structure,” Rogan said. “If there was one here, we’d
know it.”

“Could
be underground.”

“I’d
still pick up something. There’s nothing.”

Gabe
was at a loss. Where to go next? Noah and Attie were here; they just couldn’t
find them. In all his years as a Ranger and an agent he’d never come across
anything like this before. There was always a lead, a trail to follow. A
breadcrumb.

“We
can call the chopper and have Newberry do an aerial scan.”

Gabe
shook his head at Rogan. “Too risky.”

“Then
we’re out of options,” Rogan said. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I
don’t know,” Gabe said, watching Kyle stare at the rock.

“What’s
his deal?” Rogan asked, following Gabe’s gaze.

Colin
answered. “Who focking knows. Probably gauging how much C4 he needs to blow up
that piece of rock.”

Gabe
wasn’t so sure. He’d seen that look on Kyle’s face before. He was onto
something. The man didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was important.

Chapter
22

Attie
stalked the eight-by-eight cell. She never thought she’d be in this place
again. Antonio had done a good job designing the room to resemble the prison
cells Carlos had beneath his estate. The one he’d held her in. Tortured her in
for three days.

All
part of Carlos’s game. She tried to fight it, but it was getting harder and
harder. The waiting was wearing her down. She knew he would come. And he would
bring his tools of the trade. Probably the same ones he’d used on her before.

Fear
clawed at her, but she forced it back. She had to keep a clear head if she was
going to get out of here alive and with her brother. Noah was gone. It was up
to her now. She had to stay strong.

Dropping
down on all fours, she started an exercise routine that would keep her mind
focused. The lights hadn’t been turned out yet so she was okay for now. Soon
Carlos would turn them off because he knew how much she hated the dark. In the
dark she was defenseless and he would use that to weaken her. He would be disappointed
to find history would not repeating itself.

When
Carlos came for her she would be ready.

Her
boots had been removed, leaving her without her knife, but she still had her
mind and her training. She was good in hand-to-hand combat, though she didn’t
want to go one on one with Carlos again. It only reminded her how she’d lost
Noah.

Sometime
later she was breathing heavily and sweating from the workout she’d put her
body through. But she felt better. Stronger. More in control.

This
waiting stripped her of her patience and made her restless. She wanted to get
this over with.

“Come
and get me, Carlos,” she shouted to the empty room.
I’m ready.

The
lights went off without warning.

It
was time.

Attie
took deep, cleansing breaths as blackness enveloped her. The air lodged in her
throat as she struggled to breathe.

Use
your other senses. Trust them.

Antonio’s
voice floated through her cell and her head snapped up. She knew he wasn’t in
there with her, but it sounded like he was. He had been preparing her for this.
The man was an enigma she couldn’t explain, but she was grateful to him as she
focused on her breathing and started listening for things she couldn’t see.

Water
running through pipes above her. The gentle whisper of air as it drifted into
her cell through a vent in the ceiling. She was still in control of her
surroundings. No need to fear anything in this room.

Sheri,
Max’s personal secretary, had invited her to go to a yoga class with her a
couple times, but Attie had refused. Yoga was not her style. She was more
interested in going a few rounds with a punching bag or sparring partner
instead of one on one time with a foam mat. Now, she was wishing maybe she’d
gone along and learned the relaxation techniques. Helped find her inner peace.

Before
it turned into another regret, Attie pushed the thought away. Maybe, when she
returned home, she would give Sheri a call and take her up on the offer.

Breathing
normally, Attie turned to face the door. In her mind’s eye she imagined the
cell, where the door was, where she stood and how far away she was from it. How
many paces it would take to reach it. She played through her mind how she would
attack when Carlos came through the door.

He
would expect her to be defenseless in the dark. The element of surprise was on
her side, so she lowered herself into position to attack and waited. Her heart
beat like a drum. She could hear it in the darkness, but it didn’t scare her.
It gave her strength, reminding her she was still alive and in control.

She
was no longer the hunted.

She
was the hunter.

* * * *

The
door whispered as it opened for her visitor.

She
sprung and attacked the man as he came through, hitting him full force and
knocking him backward out of the cell. He grunted when he hit and she
immediately went for his jugular. But he blocked her hands and rolled her over
to gain the upper hand. Her hands brushed something on his face, covering his
eyes. She recognized the Night Vision Goggles and cursed as he shoved her back
inside the cell. Bastard never did play fair.

Hinges
creaked as the door closed. Crouched in a fighter’s stance, she smelled
Carlos’s sweet cologne, heard the scuff of his shoe on the floor directly in
front of her. Relying on her senses, she struck out in a roundhouse kick that
would take any man to his knees. She connected with his ribs and adrenaline
surged.

The
return blow to her midsection was expected but she didn’t move fast enough. He
hit her with enough force to knock the breath out of her, but it didn’t keep
her down. If she kept moving, he wouldn’t be able to reach her.

In
her mind she envisioned the cell and moved around it, imagining Carlos as her
punching bag. She delivered kicks and jabs with two out of three striking the
target. She received more in return, but held her own until the lights were
suddenly turned on. She blinked and went still.

Carlos
tossed his goggles aside. A steel box sat inside the door. She froze with
recollection of what was in that toolbox. She shook her head and backed up
until she bumped into the wall.

“You
remember, don’t you,
mi amor
?” Carlos asked softly.

“How
could I forget?”

“I
was hoping you hadn’t.” As he spoke, he slipped on a pair of leather gloves and
Attie’s stomach dropped to her feet. She wasn’t up for this. She couldn’t let
him torture her again. She had barely survived last time.

“When
is this going to be over, Carlos?”

He
smiled. “Soon. Very soon.”

“I
want to see my brother.”

“Soon,
I promise.”

He
knelt down, opened the toolbox, pulled out a long, metal device and slowly
rose.

He
stalked toward her.

* * * *

Someone
was pressing a cool cloth to her forehead and speaking softly to her. Attie
pried her heavy eyelids open and grabbed the hand touching her cheek, but her
strength fled and her hand dropped back down to her side. Her mind couldn’t
wrap around where she was or who helped her.

She
stared into the dark eyes of an elderly woman with wrinkled skin. The woman
started speaking in Spanish and patting her arm. Comforting her. She was a
healer, here to help her get better. It hurt too much to think. Carlos would
only send a healer for one reason: to finish what he’d started. He hadn’t
wanted to kill her, just punish her. The same as he had a year ago.

Everything
came back with painful clarity and Attie stifled a sob as pain wracked her
heart and body. Carlos had taken her back to that prison cell. She could feel
the marks on her body, the pain, and smell the blood.

She’d
put up a good fight. But as before, he’d gotten the best of her, using weapons
against her she had no hope of defeating.

Attie
tried to sit up, to push the woman away, but she didn’t have the strength. Or
will.

He
won. She couldn’t do this anymore. She’d lost a fellow agent, her lover, and
now her brother. Carlos wouldn’t let him live. It wasn’t in his nature. He
would kill Brendan to punish her.

Too
exhausted to stop the woman, Attie fell back against the pillows and looked
around through eyes that swam with tears. A bedroom. Small and quaint and
smelling like herbs. She didn’t remember being brought here. The last thing she
remembered was Carlos’s vow to never let her go before she slipped into
oblivion. Which meant one of two things. He was going to kill her or he was
going to try and keep her. If Carlos wanted to keep her he would, through
death, or worse, through life.

She
would die before she ever became his again.

The
old woman rubbed a hand over Attie’s belly. Attie glanced down to see she was
naked beneath the sheet, and shook her head in confusion.

“Bebe,”
the woman said.

Attie
went very still. Baby? There was no way to know if she was pregnant. It was too
soon. She shook her head. The movement sent a wave of nausea and dizziness
through her.

“Bebe,”
the woman repeated, and pressed the cloth to Attie’s forehead.

Attie
didn’t have the energy to argue. All she wanted was sleep, and to forget about
the pain in her heart and body. She couldn’t think about a baby right now. She
had to heal so she could get to her brother. The woman was old and probably
senile.

She
slipped into a restless sleep, her thoughts disturbed.

* * * *

The
old woman visited her frequently and treated her wounds. The subject of her
alleged pregnancy wasn’t mentioned again, but the woman looked at Attie with
tenderness that was almost her undoing. It made her miss her mother and wish
she was home on the ranch.

Carlos
didn’t visit, but she knew he watched her.

Her
dreams were troubled. They weren’t her normal nightmares. They were scattered
with Uncle Jed, Brendan, her parents, Noah and childhood friends. It was almost
as if she remembered only the good times in her life and none of the bad.

She
dreamed of celebrating her birthday with her parents when she turned seven and
blowing out the candles on a giant pink cake. Brendan had put candles on that
re-lit every time she blew them out and got quite a laugh out of her efforts.

She
drifted in and out of events in her life. It had been a long time since she’d
remembered the past. It made her feel melancholy. She could only assume the old
woman had given her something to make her sleep and dream like this.

She
was taken back to the time she’d learned to ride a horse on the ranch and
discovered rock climbing with Brendan. They had a lot of fun together over the
years.

The
tail end of the dreams involved Noah, most upsetting of all. They were in a
house she didn’t recognize cooking dinner together. Noah was wearing a white
apron tied around his waist that was a little more than feminine and standing
over the stove stirring something in a pan while she stood next to him chopping
vegetables on a wooden cutting board.

They
were talking and laughing about something and exchanged an occasional kiss that
tended to linger. She woke up with a start and found herself alone in her room.
Bone-deep loneliness and regret filled her, so she turned into her pillow and
let the tears fall. She had been holding them in for over six months. She cried
for the man she had come to love and lost. She cried over what she’d endured at
the hands of this madman in the past and present. Over losing Seth and for
involving Brendan in this sick game. She let her tears cleanse her soul and
comfort her, when all she wanted was to close her eyes and never wake up
because the pain consumed her.

And
when the tears were gone she climbed out of bed, stiffened her resolve and
didn’t allow herself to recall the dreams after that. She spent her time
getting stronger and waiting for Carlos. She focused her attention on what she
had to do and not what she had lost.

Carlos
may have broken her, but she wasn’t beaten. She could put herself back together
again. Carlos wanted her on her knees, begging for mercy. She had never begged
a day in her life. Not the first time he tried to break her, and not now.

Her
pain was buried deep, saved for later when she could process it. Noah had
taught her how to categorize pain, where to shove it down deep and how to use
it. He’d taught her how to survive.

Now,
she would use those skills.

Carlos
would not win this game. And he wouldn’t know he had almost won. As long as she
still had breath in her body, she’d fight. For her brother and for her country.
Because Carlos Santiago needed to be eliminated. She’d almost done it once.
This time she would succeed.

She
would beat him at his own game.

* * * *

“Are
you ready?”

Attie
glared at Carlos and allowed him to lead her into a darkened room. She
stiffened, then relaxed. Why bother to hide it? Carlos already knew about her
fear of the dark. He used it against her whenever he could.

Their
footsteps echoed as they walked. She sensed movement around her, though she
couldn’t pinpoint it. She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the cry of
a cat. Not a house cat but a large, predatory cat. The cry was followed by the
sound of splintering wood. Good God, Carlos was going to pit her against a wild
animal?

Girding
herself for a fight, Attie waited.

Beside
her Carlos squeezed her shoulder. “This is the last test. Due to unexpected
circumstances I was forced to alter the game a little, but it has only made it
better.”

Tension
built in the air. She could sense Carlos’s excitement and knew this was going to
be big.

“Here
we go. Look in front of you and don’t look away. I want to watch you.”

Attie
turned her attention to the room in front of her as the lights slowly came on.
Dim at first, so all she could see were silhouettes. Then, degree by agonizing
degree she was allowed to see what waited for her.