Rachel's mind immediately went to Ghost. To the way he'd looked at her this morning before leaving, the kiss he'd pressed to her temple, the casual "be safe" that meant so much more than the words implied.
He'd seen the footage by now. His security system would have caught it all. He knew she was gone.
And if there was one thing Rachel knew with absolute certainty, it was that Logan Hayes didn't leave people behind.
The words stuck in her throat but she couldn't stop them. "Selling weapons to the same insurgents who kill American soldiers doesn't exactly scream 'national security.'"
Langley laughed, a genuine sound that was worse than the threats. "Oh, Rachel." He shook his head, expression dripping with condescension. "You really don't understand how the world works, do you?"
The rope bit into her ribs as Rachel jerked forward against the restraints. The fibers scraped across already-raw skin but she didn't care. The anger tight in her chest was stronger than the pain.
"I understand perfectly."
Langley's face changed. The easy confidence cracked, just for a second, and irritation bled through the mask. He didn't like being challenged. Didn't like that she wasn't breaking the way she should be.
He stepped closer. His gaze moved over her face, lingering on her cheekbones, the curve of her mouth, the exposed skin where her shirt had torn and slipped low over one shoulder during the abduction.
Rachel's stomach turned over.
She'd seen that look before. In too many war zones, in villages where protection came with a price women paid in ways that made her want to burn the world down. It never ended well.
"I didn't realize how attractive you were," Langley murmured, his hand hovering near her face. Not touching, not yet, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his palm. "It would be a shame to keep marking up such a pretty face."
Every muscle in Rachel's body locked tight. Her spine went rigid against the chair, shoulders pulled back, chin lifted. She wouldn't recoil. Wouldn't give him the fear he was fishing for.
Let him look and see nothing but stone.
Langley's smile sharpened, lost what little warmth he'd been faking. The performance was over. Whatever he'd been pretending drained away, replaced by the cold calculation underneath.
"You have something that belongs to me." His voice returned to business, smooth, practiced, controlled. "And I intend to get it back."
Rachel kept her features still. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come now, Miss Parker." Frustration crept into his tone. "You're a smart woman. You think we don't know about the footage? The thumb drive you've been hiding?"
Ice flooded Rachel's veins but she didn't let it reach her face. They knew. Of course they knew. You didn't build an operation this sophisticated without having eyes everywhere.
But knowing she had evidence and actually finding it were two different things.
Langley leaned in close enough that his breath brushed her ear when he spoke. "Tell me where it is."
Rachel kept her gaze locked on the far wall. On a rust stain shaped vaguely like South America. On anything except the man six inches from her face. "No."
The slap came from nowhere.
His palm cracked across her cheek with enough force to snap her head sideways. Pain tore across her jaw, sharp and consuming. For a heartbeat everything whited out, vision blurring, ears ringing, the world tilting on its axis.
When it cleared, she tasted blood. Copper coating her tongue, hot and thick. Behind her back, her fists clenched hard enough that her nails bit into her palms. Her breath came in sharp gasps that she couldn't quite control.
Langley flexed his hand, examining it like he was assessing the damage. "That was disappointing."
Rachel turned her head back slowly, deliberately. The left side of her face was already swelling, she could feel it, tight and hot beneath her skin. Her vision was slightly blurred on that side. She met his gaze and held it.
"Go to hell."
His eyes narrowed, jaw flexed. "You are a fighter," he said, tasting the words like wine. "I like fighters." He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck with the casual ease of someone preparing for physical activity. "But fighters break too. Everyone does eventually."
The knot in Rachel's stomach pulled tighter but she refused to look away.
