Page 110 of Hot & Heavy

Five days later, Madrene was bored to the point of barminess.

Oh, these miscreants had slapped her face back and forth a few times, and one of them had kicked her in the thigh, and one of them even punched her in the jaw, not to mention the large lump on her head from the piss-tole blow that first day in the car. But those various aches and pains were naught compared to what could have happened, or might still happen.

They questioned and questioned and questioned her about her knowledge of terrorist secrets. No matter how many times she told them she knew nothing, they refused to believe her.

The Shepherds of Allah—the name they gave themselves—were waiting for word from some important villain in their terrorist group. She shivered to think what methods he might use to get her to answer the ridiculous questions. He was coming here by airplane from a country called Eye-ran.

In the meantime, she had been moved from an upstairs bedchamber to this small storage room in the basement. Her captors claimed her constant nagging was giving them a headache. She told them they were giving her an arse ache. That was when she'd been kicked.

She was unrestrained down here because there were no windows, but upstairs her hands had been tied behind her back. She'd learned something interesting while up there. They were in a house in Ian's neighborhood. Although the man who'd captured her had driven away from this area, he must have been trying to confuse her. Once she was unconscious he must have doubled back.

She had been blessed with one bit of good luck. The reason why the shepherds were not molesting her or harming her was because they believed she was pregnant, and men of their religion revered breeding women. Little did they know, and she was not about to tell them, that she was barren. Who ever would have thought she would be thankful for a weak stomach, but she had been vomiting since that first day, probably due to the head blow. And her stomach had been roiling since then at the unpalatable food they gave her and the fetid air. They put so much garlic in every dish they cooked that the house fairly reeked with it.

All of the men had felt the need to touch her breasts to see if they were real— there was something about men and breasts—and one of the lackwits proclaimed that they must be so big because they were filling with milk for the babe. Men were such halfbrains betimes. This reprieve would not last forever, of course, especially if she got her monthly flux whilst in captivity.

Why do things like this always happen to me?

Where is Ian? Is he worried about me? Is he searching? Of course he would search in the beginning, but has he given up?

I wish I had not been so cold when he was leaving.

At this rate, I will never get back to Norstead.

She closed her eyes and tried to visualize Ian standing in his solar. Come to me, dearling. Here I am.

Please come.

There are surprises and then there are SURPRISES…

It had been a week and there was still no sign of Maddie. In fact, the CIA and SEAL command were talking about giving up the search. The D word was not used, but Ian knew they thought that Maddie must be dead.

Operating on coffee and very little sleep, Ian made his way into the base and went out for a solitary five-mile run on the beach. But today, even the mindlessness of long-distance jogging did nothing for him.

He showered, then tried to get some paperwork done in his office. He just kept staring at the picture of himself and Maddie which had been taken by Dan Sullivan in Baghdad. When he'd received it in the mail two days ago, probably from the slimeball, he'd slipped it into the frame which had previously held a picture of himself and his sister and two brothers.

His father, to his surprise, had been a rock for him. Somehow, the man who had been so hard on him seemed to understand his feelings for Maddie. His father had finally flown back to D.C. last night, but he'd pulled every string he could to keep the search going.

Ian heard a soft knock on the door.

"Max! When did you get back?" It was his sister's brother-in-law, Torolf Magnusson. Normally Cage's partner, Max had been a pain in the butt to Ian during BUD/S training, and, although he had become a colleague since then, Ian found his constant clowning an irritation. But then Ian suspected he was far too serious himself.

"This morning. Holy crap! I just heard everything that's been going on here. You got married?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately, you probably also heard that I couldn't hold on to the woman." He figured he'd better throw that in before Max made a joke of the situation.

"Don't go blaming yourself."

Ian shrugged. Everyone told him that, but it didn't make him feel any better.

"Is that her?" Max asked, walking up to the side of the desk.

"That's Maddie," he said, handing Max the framed photo to look at.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" Max cried out, alternately hugging the picture to his chest and gazing at it with incredulity. "It's impossible. Yes, it's possible, but, oh, my God! After all these years!"

Ian stood and came around the side of the desk to stand before him. "What's the problem?"

"Problem? It's no problem. It's a miracle." Max swiped at the tears that were welling in his eyes. "That's my sister, Madrene."