Ignoring her plea, Michal turned to Thomas. “Stay with her,” he ordered.
She watched, her heart racing, as Michal shoved the door inward and entered the room. Thomas stood a few feet away as if fearing, like Raoul, she might cost him his life, as well, if he got too close.
The seconds turned into minutes and still she gleaned nothing from the hushed conversation in the room. Ami prayed with every ounce of strength she possessed that they hadn’t found something in the room that would contradict her story. Surely Tanner would not be so careless.
Carlos hated her. He would like nothing better than to nail her. She could imagine him on his hands and knees going over every square inch of the place looking for clues against her. She trembled. God, how much more of this could she stand? She closed her eyes and tried to slow the drunken ’round and ’round sensation in her head. She summoned the image of her son and focused on him, pushing away all other thought. He was all that mattered.
“Ami.”
Her eyes opened to Michal standing in the doorway, looking directly at her. Before she could dredge up a proper response, he had taken the few steps that yawned between them.
“I want you to come into the room and look closely at this man. Tell me if he is the one who hurt you.”
Panic broadsided her. Man? What man? Her gaze flew to the open doorway. Carlos and three other men were crowded around someone seated in a chair. The image of the man tied to a chair in the cellar flashed through her mind. That scene had resulted in death. Not again. Who…
Surely it wasn’t the man who’d actually inflicted her injuries. Tanner wouldn’t have left him to face certain death. Though the idea wasn’t completely without appeal, she didn’t want to be responsible for his death. Michal, without question, had murder in his eyes.
Her mind whirling with confusion and fear, Michal ushered her into the room. Carlos and the others parted, revealing the man tied to the chair.
For one long moment Ami was unable to speak. He was tall and thin, Libyan maybe. She peered into his dark eyes and saw the fear there.
“This man,” Michal explained, “is the leader of a subversive group who has made more than one attempt on my life. According to witnesses, his people moved into this place shortly before we arrived. Carlos has reason to suspect they have had someone watching for our arrival.” Michal turned to her then. “Now, tell me if this is the man who hurt you and I will make him pay.”
Dead silence fell over the room as all present awaited her response. She thought of Raoul and how he had died to provide an excuse for her stupid attempt at escaping. How could she have ever believed even for a second that she could escape this nightmare? Now this man was to die, too.
She couldn’t do it.
Not even to save her own life.
She shook her head adamantly, ignoring the resulting pain. “No, it wasn’t him.”
The pent-up breath the man exhaled echoed in the otherwise silence.
Carlos looked ready to throttle her…or worse. Michal appeared taken aback and Ami felt certain she had just signed her own death warrant.
“Look again…more carefully,” Michal urged. “Are you certain?”
With no other option, Ami did as he instructed. She looked at the man and surmised from the swelling of his face and the blood leaking from his busted lip that he’d already paid a hefty price for something he hadn’t even done.
“No,” she said firmly, determined not to be responsible for another man’s death. No matter what kind of extremist or terrorist he was, she would not be his judge and executioner. “It’s not him.”
Michal peered deeply into her eyes for what felt like an eternity before he turned to Carlos. “Let him go.”
“What?” Carlos bellowed. “We cannot—”
“Release him,” Michal ordered. His attention shifted to the prisoner. “Tell your people that I am far from finished. I will not forget this transgression. Nor will I overlook another.”
Glowering at both her and Michal, Carlos did as he was ordered, cutting the man free then jerking him to his feet. “Go!” He pushed the man toward the door.
Ami recoiled as he staggered past her, at once relieved and fearful. He collapsed against the door frame and didn’t appear able to go farther. She’d been right. Carlos had already worked him over considerably.
“Get him out of here,” Michal ordered, his patience at an end.
Carlos grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to attention. “What are you waiting for, imbecile? Get out!”
When Carlos would have shoved the prisoner through the door the man twisted, his right hand snagging Carlos’s weapon from his waistband.
Ami’s breath left her in a whoosh and the scene lapsed into slow motion. Displaying surprising strength, the prisoner shouldered Carlos aside and leveled the barrel of the weapon on Ami. “American whore!” he screamed.
