“You were unconscious last time I checked. Cut me some fucking slack.” Despite the harshness of my words, there’s no animosity between us.
“Listen,” he says, his voice raspy. “I’m sorry I put everyone in danger by grabbing Lisette and the kid.”
“I would have done the same thing.” Flopping back in the chair, I run both hands over my hair and down my neck. Tension turns my shoulders to granite, and I can’t wait to get out of Uzbekistan and back to the States where I can hire some private security for Joey until we know Faruk is no longer a threat. “You have the video surveillance you took of the compound? Wren wants to pull any face she can find and run it through her software. She’ll watch the airports—both here and in France—for any sign Faruk’s on the move and coming after his son or Joey.”
He nods and presses a button on the bed’s remote to raise himself up slightly. “My bag’s hidden under the corner of the mattress. Get it for me?”
Only a spook—or former spook—would go to such lengths in a hospital. The waterproof oilskin bag is no bigger than a book, and Nomar uses one hand to unzip it and withdraw a small data card. “This should have everything you need. Video from my initial recon and from the night we broke Joey out.”
“Thanks, man. When they letting you out of here?” I’m itching to go check on Joey, but she’s right. I need to trust her. She has two lethal bodyguards with her, Lisette and Mateen are using forged papers—courtesy of Matt and his guys—and security patrols the halls regularly. Hell, there’s a guard stationed not more than twenty feet from the kid’s room.
Nomar shifts, a wince flattening his lips. “Three or four days. Listen, you think there might be some work for me at Second Sight when I’m healed up? Never gave much thought to what I’d do after this. But…seeing Lisette’s face when I told her I was taking her with me…” He rubs his chin, a faraway look in his eyes for a moment. “I want to help people, Ford. I just don’t want to do it in this part of the world anymore.”
Reaching out, I clap Nomar gently on the shoulder. “Normally, I’d run a new hire by Dax. But pretty sure he’d be thrilled to have you join the team. Call me when you get back to the States, and we’ll make it official.”
Joey
Alec leads the way, but Jackson insists on walking behind me. I keep looking over my shoulder, my heart hammering against my ribs. Some days, I feel like I’ve beaten my demons. Others, they follow me everywhere.
My conversation with Ford plays on a loop in my head. I know he loves me. He’s not wrong. If I’d known about the danger this whole time, I might have been more tempted to cut myself. Or simply shut down. But he’s also not right either. We lost one another once because we were both too stubborn to open up. I won’t let that happen again.
At the door to Mateen’s room, I stop. “That little boy and his mom have been through hell. Can you both please wait outside?”
“No, ma’am. We have our orders,” Alec says as he reaches for the door handle.
“It’s a tiny room. With one window that doesn’t open. How about a compromise. You verify there’s no threat and then wait outside?” My entire body relaxes when Alec agrees, and after a quick sweep of the small room and even smaller bath, he emerges into the hall and stares down at me, one brow cocked.
“If anything seems out of place, you scream. Understood?”
“Loud enough to be heard in the next town. Understood.”
Lisette wraps her arms around me as soon as I walk into the room. Her hair is loose and long, dark locks flowing over her slim shoulders, and she wears jeans and a pretty floral blouse with a decidedly Western style. “I am so happy you could come,” she says as she releases me. “This is my sister, Noele.”
A younger woman, no older than twenty-five, embraces me and kisses both cheeks. “I owe you a debt I can never repay. Ten years we searched, and we had given up hope. Mama and Papa cannot wait to meet their grandson.”
“You don’t owe me anything. Except maybe pictures once in a while? Of Mateen growing up big and strong?”
Noele and I exchange email addresses, and I slide a hip onto the edge of Mateen’s bed. He’s playing FIFA again, and I peer at the screen. “Who’s winning?”
“I am! Want to play?” His eyes are bright and clear, though he looks so frail in the big bed. A machine beeps twice, and I glance over at the monitor. His blood glucose is still over two hundred—not deadly, but way too high—and with a tiny hiss, the screen confirms the delivery of a small dose of fast-acting insulin through the pump.
“Okay, kiddo. One game, and then I have to go.”
He pouts, but not more than two minutes into our match, he’s giggling as I try to make one of my electronic players headbutt the ball, but instead, send him sprawling face first onto the pitch.
Noele excuses herself to get some coffee from the hospital cafeteria, and Lisette curls up in a chair next to Mateen’s bed, letting her eyes drift close. She’s been through hell, and I can’t imagine what it’s like fearing for your child’s life. My attention wanders to the window where a flash of light from a building across the street distracts me long enough for Mateen to score the final goal. He cheers as the door bangs open, and when I turn, my heart stops, and I’m too scared to scream.
Dr. Simms—Mateen’s endocrinologist—falls to the floor as Zaman, dressed in scrubs and now clean-shaven, slams the butt of his pistol into the kind, older man’s head. Blood streams from the wound, and I try to scream, but no sound comes out.
“I know there are American security personnel in the hall,” Zaman says, his voice low and even. “If you alert them, I will kill the doctor. And we will wait right here for your sister to return, and I will have my way with her.”
No. “You are not going to hurt them again,” I say with more bravado than I feel.
Zaman’s hand flies, and as the gun connects with my cheek, pain explodes over my entire face, the world going dark and fuzzy, with tiny pinpricks of bright light scattered across my field of vision.
Sliding to the floor, I curl inward, desperate to protect myself from any more blows. Lisette’s voice echoes, like she’s far away, or under water. “We will not go back with you. My son will not become like his father.”
She screams as Zaman yanks her against him, but the sound fades when he wraps his hand around her throat. “Amir Faruk was very clear. The boy and the doctor. You are…expendable.”
