“I’ll prepare our dinner. We take turns watching her. Hasan will have our heads if she escapes. Maybe sitting in the wooden chair all night will make her softer,” her assailant said as he wrapped her blonde strands around his fist. “She’s pretty. Casim will like her hair coloring. He prefers American ladies.”
“Leave her be,” the man warned.
Her attacker reluctantly let go and followed the other into the kitchen. The smell of rice cooking and spices she didn’t recognize filled the room, making her stomach growl.
After they ate, the two men sat at a table and played cards. The driver went off to bed, and she let her shoulders relax as the other man took first watch. She must’ve nodded off because when she peeked, the driver sat on the couch. He read a book,and his head bobbed and jerked back as he fought sleep. Rebecca bided her time until his head lowered to his chest in slumber. Her hands frantically worked the knots on the rope. It took almost an hour to get untied, and she moved slowly to undo her feet.
The soft glow from the kitchen light gave her enough sight for her to spy his gun on the side table. Weighing out her options, she decided to knock the man out, search for keys to the room where they held her teammates and grab her phone.
Moving silently, she rose from the chair. Rebecca gently picked up the weapon and smashed it over his head. The driver fell to the floor, and she used the ropes to tie his hands and feet. Glancing around, she ran into the kitchen and tied a towel around his mouth.
Her hands worked swiftly as she checked for keys and ignored her body’s pain. Finding none, Rebecca hugged the wall, listening for any signs of the other man. She turned the knob to her room, grabbed the device and her coat, slipping the phone into her boot. Knocking softly on the wall, Rebecca hoped one of her coworkers would hear her. When no one made a sound, she frowned. The best bet for all of their survival lay in alerting the CIA and getting a message to Leo’s team. Rebecca knew once Matthew knew the location, the men would move Avie and her son, Deni. Knowing how Shadow pestered her, she felt assured he’d keep them safe.
Slipping out the door, Rebecca glanced down at her chest for any sign of the snipper gun. When no red dot appeared, she ran toward the dense wooded area. She grimaced and held her arms close to her body as her ribs made her want to scream in pain. Rebecca stopped every few minutes to catch her breath and listen for any signs of someone coming for her. Shivering in the freezing winter temperatures, she focused on imagining the warmth of Julio’s body next to hers. He radiated heat, and halfthe time she slept under a sheet to avoid overheating. Crouching low, she shielded the phone with her coat to keep light from giving away her location. She powered it on and checked for cell coverage. No bars. She cursed under her breath. Leaning against the tree, she prayed for something to come into view. The temperature dropped even further, making her body stiff as she ran, holding her ribs.
Her thoughts drifted to the coworkers she left inside the cabin. Even if she managed to overcome the other assailant, Rebecca doubted Harrison or Jackson would wake in time for them to escape together. Her best bet remained in contacting the CIA and getting a team ready to take the bastards after Hasan arrived.
“Come on, Rebecca,” she urged herself as her teeth chattered. “They’re counting on you.”
She reached a road and turned right, sticking to the woods. Rebecca lost track of how far she walked, but she marked her turns to lead the team to rescue her friends. A cabin appeared through a clearing, and she took off in a dead run, ignoring the pain. She beat on the door, calling out for help. When no one came, she grabbed a piece of wood stacked up against the house and ran around to the back door. She broke the glass and turned the latch, letting herself inside.
“Hello?” she called again.
Silence greeted her.
Locating the bathroom light, she flipped it on and closed the door, allowing enough to seep through the crack and still appear as if no one broke in. She cleared each room and searched the house for a landline. Finding none, she searched for the keys to the car in the garage. As she entered the kitchen, she pulled out a can of peaches from the cabinet, opened them, and searched for a spoon. Sighing, she ate the fruit and sat down, taking out her phone again. The signal didn’t appear any better. Taking outthe weapon she stole from the driver, she checked the magazine, counting four bullets.
“Use them wisely,” she said out loud, rising from her seat. Throwing away the can, she put the spoon in the sink. Returning to the garage, Rebecca went to the car and studied the older model. Her hot-wiring skills might be a bit rusty, but it seemed worth a try. Rebecca knelt and pulled the wires from under the dash, connecting them. The car refused to start. She tapped on the old gas gauge, realizing even if she started it, it most likely didn’t contain gas. The cabin appeared deserted from what she saw. Maybe someone used it as a vacation spot or summer place. Dust covered the vehicle and the furniture. The fridge didn’t have any food, and the cans in the cabinet were close to the expiration date.
Her body, now fed, grew weary, and she needed to rest. Yet Rebecca refused to stop thinking of the two men. She opened the dresser drawers, layering socks, and found a pair of winter boots. Trading them for her cowboy boots, she sat on the bed and put them on. Rebecca gripped the phone, willing Julio to find her, then turned it off and placed it inside the sock, closest to her skin.
According to the clock, Rebecca had two hours before sunrise. She needed to find help. Slipping back into the dark, she pressed on for the men still held captive. The sooner she brought aid, the faster she could fly back to Texas and into Julio’s arms.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rebecca hid beneath some brush as a man walked in the woods, searching for her. Since dawn, the men descended on her location and at every turn, she seemed to find more of them. With four bullets to her name, she couldn’t afford to shoot and risk giving away her location.
Her fingers felt frozen and her toes, despite the extra sock layers, no longer hurt but went blessedly numb. She needed to find someplace warm to hide soon. Unable to reach her office or Julio, Rebecca felt the beginning stages of panic setting in. Her friends might pay the price for her decision if she didn’t get help to them soon.
The man paused a foot away and took out his phone. “There’s no sign of her. I’m telling you we’ve searched the entire area.” He listened for a moment and then said, “I don’t give a shit what your device says. It must be broken. We’ve scoured the place. She’s not here.”
Rebecca waited until he walked a fair distance before banging her head against her fists. They put a tracker on her. She recalled the night before and nearly groaned at her stupidity for not checking her clothes or coat sooner. She passed out, leavingthem ample time to plant one on her body. Rising from her hiding spot, she sprinted in the opposite direction from where the last man came from. Counting five of them, she ducked behind a tree and took off her coat, tracing along the pockets and edge. Her fingers finally landed on a round disc near the zipper of the hood.
“Damn it, Rebecca. Now you’re swearing at yourself. Use your damn head,” she admonished as she rechecked the coat again and then her clothes. Ripping open the new coat, she removed the tracker, smashing it with a nearby rock and grinding it into the dirt.
She shoved her arms through the sleeves as she surveyed the area. Cars and trucks seemed closer as she heard semis on their brakes or blowing their horns. Rebecca turned toward the noise, still sticking to the edge of the wooded area. The slamming of car doors not far off in the distance made her keep moving. Either they recruited more people, or they left.
Her cheeks felt on fire with wind burn as she made it to the highway. She crouched low under a bridge as she took out her phone. She dialed her office and it rang. She nearly wept in relief when the operator picked up.
“It’s Rebecca Rhodes. I need you to connect me with Director Stills, please.”
“Please hold,” the woman said politely.
A minute later, he picked up the line. “Rebecca, where the hell are you, Harrison and Jackson?” he answered.
“I’m using a burner phone, sir. I’m not sure of my location, but the last three cars have New Hampshire license plates. Director Jackson, Harrison, and I have been taken hostage. Rahimi and his cousin, Hasan, ambushed us at the airport.”
“What the hell do you mean?” he shouted into the phone. “How did this happen?”
