“What do you need? What do we need?” I yank open the building’s outer door and head for the stairs. Maybe the exercise will help break up some of this tension banding its way around my forehead.
“Don’t you have someone working for you who used to be a spook?” Nomar asks.
“Yeah. Trevor Moana. He was a Targeting Officer for ten years.”
A muffled curse carries over the line, and then Nomar clears his throat. “We need him. If he has any contacts in this area, it’ll help. And I need money. The only way to get shit done over here is to grease the right palms.”
“How much?” Nodding to Marjorie, I head for my office to drop off my briefcase.
“Ten grand.”
“Just tell me where you want it and consider it done. Once I talk to Dax and Trevor, I’ll let you know our ETA.”
“Get here safe, Marine,” Nomar says before the call clicks and goes silent.
Having a plan eases some of my nausea. “I’m coming for you, buttercup,” I say quietly before I head for Dax’s office to fill him in.
The small lines of tension around his eyes deepen as I tell him all three women are missing and the four men were shot.
“The locals told Nomar stories of their daughters going missing.” After a pause, I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Nomar’s waiting for me at the Uzbeki border.” I don’t know how to ask for what I need, and I tighten my grip on the arms of the chair until my knuckles crack.
“Take Trevor with you,” Dax says, and my body feels like a balloon someone just let all the air out of. “And…I’ll call Ryker. Doesn’t matter who has Joey, he and his team…they can get her out.”
“Dax—” I don’t know what to say. Bringing in Ryker isn’t something I want to be responsible for. Dax would have to coordinate, and he’d be forced to confront his demons. As much as I think he needs to, that has to happen on his own terms. Otherwise, it’s asking for trouble.
“I talked to Ry last night. Couple of hours after you left. This is what he does, Ford. K&R. Let me help. I can’t…go with you. But I can do this.”
The pain in his voice echoes what’s in my heart. I’ll never understand exactly how hard it is for him to stay behind a desk. He’s former Special Forces—used to being the one making things happen. And now, he can’t do more than coordinate from here. Even that requires adaptive, specialized equipment.
I lean forward. “Let me get there first. Get the lay of the land. I’ll take Trevor. He’s got contacts all over the Middle East. But…” I pull the chair closer, “we were already understaffed this week. And if I take Trevor, there’s no one to watch Evianna. Unless you want to pull Ronan or Vasquez off nights.”
Dax shakes his head. “Ronan’s too green. He’s only been with us for a month. He’s fine as a backup to Vasquez, but not on his own. Not with a guy who’s escalating to violence.” Rubbing his neck, he huffs. “You do realize asking a blind man to step in as bodyguard is fucking ridiculous, right?”
A hint of the man he was before Ryker came back and set him on edge returns, and I choke out a laugh. “Maybe.”
My phone buzzes. “Shit,” I say quietly. “Nomar arranged for transpo from Turkey. But I have to be there in thirty-six hours. I typed up the case notes first thing this morning. They’re in your inbox.”
Dax pushes to his feet and steps around his desk. When I stand, he offers me his hand, then pulls me close enough he has to crane his neck look up at me. For some reason, he wants me to see his eyes, even if he can’t see mine. “Promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t go dark on me. Check in, and if you need help, you let me call Ry.”
I can’t tell him how much his support means to me. Not now, when all I can think about is Joey. So I pull him in for a quick hug. He stiffens, but doesn’t resist.
“Be safe,” he says as I head for the door. “And get her back alive.”
“I’m going to try.”
If I don’t, I won’t be able to live with myself.
Joey
By the time the van rolls to a stop, I can’t feel my fingers, my butt is numb from sitting in one position for hours, and the tight gag has rubbed the corners of my mouth raw.
Zaman glared at me for most of the trip. Whoever he is, he’s very protective of this Amir Faruk. He was almost kind when offering me the water—even when he put me in that horrible hidden compartment. But as soon as I started asking questions, his entire demeanor changed.
The back doors of the van open, and Zaman yanks me to my feet. My legs won’t hold me, and I start to fall, but he catches me and slings me over his shoulder.
