Easing up from the cot she lay on, Emily whimpered as her stomach spasmed and nausea thickened in her throat.
“Don’t move too fast. That drug will pop in your head like a bullet if you do,” a dark, male voice warned her.
It was too late. Her head jerked to the side as blinding pain shot across her skull. And she should have known better. She should have been prepared for the pain, because it wasn’t the first time it had happened.
“Easy, girl.” The voice was weary, strained. “I can’t help you. Just ease up. They left some water on the little table beside you. It will help.”
Holding her head, Emily rose up again on the thin mattress, reaching shakily for the glass that sat beside a crude pitcher. The water was stale, but clean, and though it did nothing for the pain, it eased the horrible dryness in her mouth.
She had to think now, she reminded herself. She had to find a way out of this. Kell couldn’t save her this time. This time, Jansen would make certain he couldn’t find her. Somehow, they had found the weapon she had strapped to her thigh, because it was gone. But the skin-tag was still on her back. She could feel it. It was her only hope.
“It’s hard to believe Kell let you out of his sight long enough for you to be kidnapped.” A heavy sigh followed the words. “Hell, I thought he’d have figured out who Mr. White was by now and come racing to my rescue.”
She lifted her head, peering through the dim light to the man crouched in the corner of the room, his brilliant blue eyes blazing through the darkness with an almost demonic brightness.
She knew those eyes. She had attended his memorial service when the DNA results of a recovered body had come through weeks after her release from the hospital.
“Nathan?” she whispered. “Are you Kell’s friend? Nathan Malone? Captain Malone’s nephew?”
A crazed smile tilted his lips.
“Yeah. That’s me.” A soft lilt accompanied the mocking reflection. “What’s left of me. And I assume you’re Emily. It’s been a while and the light isn’t at its best in here.”
Emily glanced around the room. There was a sliver of moonlight shining in from a barred hole above the bed and a whiff of a sea-laden breeze.
“Where are we?” It wasn’t where she had been before. Then, she could smell the rotting vegetation of the jungle and hear the call of exotic birds. None of that was present now.
“Not sure.” There was a shrug in his words. “Near the ocean. I’m guessing California from some of the slang I’ve heard from the guards, but I have no idea what part.”
Emily massaged her forehead slowly, fighting the dizziness that threatened to overcome her and the sick heaving of her stomach.
“They’ve been checking on you every little bit,” he informed her. “They’re about due back. Jansen seems pretty concerned that you hadn’t woken yet.”
Jansen. Emily clenched her teeth against the sickness threatening to choke her. She had trusted him. Her father trusted him. His daughter had trusted him.
God, why hadn’t she remembered? Except for the nightmares, she realized. Until Kell had come, she had suffered the nightmares each time she met with Jansen. And now she knew why.
“Bastard,” she muttered.
A snort came from the corner. “Kell told me once that you don’t cuss.”
“Well, Kell was wrong,” she muttered. “I just see no need to insert four-letter words into every other sentence I speak.”
She inhaled slowly as the pain in her head began to subside marginally.
She remembered Jansen and Fuentes arguing that night, outside the shack. Jansen had wanted to have her moved immediately, to fly her to Switzerland where he could hide her. Then the other girls, Carrie and his daughter Risa, were to be given to Sorrell.
Oh God. Jansen had been making plans to have Carrie and his daughter turned over to that terrorist. Into a harem where they would never be seen or heard from again. To do it before Richard Stanton and Admiral Holloran could launch a rescue attempt.
Fuentes had been furious. They had argued over it, with Jansen accusing the drug lord of sucking up to a son.
“You think that little bastard is ever going to care what you do?” Jansen hissed. “He’s a SEAL, you stupid bastard!”
“And you are little more than a terrorist’s rutting lackey,” Fuentes said. “I told you, I have not yet decided if my cartel will deal with those vipers. Do not push me.”
“It’s too late to back out, Diego.”
“I did not make this deal with Sorrell, my friend,” Diego snapped. “Until I decide it is in my best interest, Sorrell can suck my dick. The girls stay. They will make me millions on the black market. The videos of their willing rapes will benefit the cartel. Giving them to a terrorist only benefits your pockets.”
“You’re pretty.” Nathan sighed then. “Prettier than the other girls they’ve brought here to torture me with.”
“What?” Emily stared back at him in confusion, seeing the glazed madness in his too-lean features, the agonizing pain in his eyes.
“Is Kell coming for you, do you think?” There was a strange vein of wistfulness in his voice as he asked the question.
Emily breathed out roughly. “If he can find me.”
“Clay tricked him. Clay tricks everyone, lass.” Irish. That was the accent she heard. It was faint, just a soft flavor of a tone.
“Yes, Clay tricked us all.” She leaned her head against the wall behind her, her breath hitching at the knowledge that Jansen could have very well won this time. The skin-tag on her back had limited range, Kell had warned her. How limited she wasn’t certain.
“Don’t discount him.” Thin shoulders shrugged wearily. “He’s a murderous son of a bitch, our Kell. He’ll find you. He’ll find me. He’ll gut Jansen like he gutted those bastards that killed his wife.”
“He’ll rescue us. He’ll leave Clay to justice. Father and Admiral Hollaran will make certain of it.” She had to believe that. Her father and the admiral and Captain Malone would be with them, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind.
“Don’t fool yourself, lass,” A flash of teeth in a mocking smile. “My uncle will hand him the knife. Jordan Malone is nothing if not bloodthirsty as hell. Trust me, Clay won’t make it out of here alive.”
And he was right. She knew he was right. Kell would cut a swath of death through this place.
“Why has Fuentes kept you like this?” she finally asked him. “The scientist was killed more than a month ago.”
“And there, darlin’, is the million-dollar question,” he grunted. “Welcome to my hell. Meet Nathan ‘Irish’ Malone, current guinea pig to Diego bastard Fuentes and Jansen son of a bitch Clay. I’m their Whore’s Dust experiment, darlin’. See how much it takes before the SEAL breaks. Have I broken yet?”
Bitterness and rage were reflected in the hoarse voice as he pondered that question. His eyes glittered in the semidarkness, filled with icy, brutal resolve.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Join the club.” His head tilted back, and as it did, Emily noticed he was naked. He sat on the dirt floor, his legs drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them to hide his nakedness.
Pulling at the thin blanket that had covered her when she awoke, she tossed it to him. His head snapped up, a partial snarl curling his lips before he realized what had touched him.
His hand reached out, pulling the narrow blanket over his legs as his fingers seemed to caress it.
“Won’t get to keep it long,” he said before staring back at her. “They’ll be back soon.”
There was an air of predatory awareness about him, a wildness contained that was frightening. Several of his words slurred, but she couldn’t tell if it was the accent or something else causing it. She was terribly afraid there was something else causing it. Something like that drug, if what he said was true.
“Kell will be here,” she whispered. She remembered whispering it before. When she had held Carrie against her, abs
orbing the other girl’s shudders when they had been locked in the shack alone, awaiting Diego Fuentes’s decision.
Kell will be here, Emily thought. He’ll save us. Hang on, Risa, just a little while. He’ll save us, I swear it. He’ll make sure Jansen can never hurt you again.
She had broken her promise. Emily forced back her tears, her sobs. For nineteen months Risa had been gone. Had Jansen given her to Sorrell after all? Was the institution merely a cover story?
Kell would kill Jansen and for once Emily couldn’t even feel regret for it. She wanted to kill him. If she could shove a knife in his heart and twist, it wouldn’t cause her to lose a second of sleep. Monsters needed to be destroyed, and Jansen Clay was a monster.
“He’ll come for you,” Nathan told her softly. “Kell will cut a path of blood through this place that no one will soon forget. I hope they’re ready for the beast they’ve just unleashed.”
So did she. She prayed Kell found her. How much of a head start did Clay have on him? It couldn’t be much.
“Was Ian on the team?” Nathan suddenly asked, blinking back at her, and for a moment, just a moment, sanity seemed to glitter in his eyes.
“Ian Richards?” She nodded. “He was there.”
Nathan hummed as he nodded his head. Then he settled his forehead against his knees and seemed to be rocking himself.
“I see beauty, I see pleasure. I see the dragon’s maiden,” he whispered then. “Ah, lass, bring me sanity.”
A dry chuckle filled the shack as Emily watched the man with compassion. Whatever Fuentes had done to him, it had driven him insane.
Emily laid her head back against the wall, staring at the strip of moonlight that gleamed through the bars on the opposite wall. She could see the stars, but she didn’t know enough about them to tell where they were located.
She should have paid more attention in those science classes instead of goofing off, she thought with a small sigh as she rubbed at her bare arms.
“You look like my wife when you sit like that. Please don’t do that again.”
Her head snapped forward at the tormented sound of Nathan’s voice, her eyes widening as she glimpsed the wildness in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll never be okay,” he said then, distantly, his voice almost guttural as he watched her. “I see her sometimes in the women they bring to me. I hear her voice. I hear her crying. Is she crying, do you think?”
Emily swallowed tightly. “They drugged you.”
A bitter laugh left his throat. “Constantly, girl. I’m a hard-on packin’ fool. How long have I been here anyway? They don’t tell me these things.”
“Nineteen months.” She curled closer to the wall. She could distantly remember the effects of those drugs, and they had been hell.
“Nineteen months,” he said absently. “That’s a long time, isn’t it? Longer than I thought.”
She watched as he tapped his heel against the dirt. A steady beat, almost unconscious, tapping and grinding his foot against the floor as though searching for something.
“When they come back, they’ll bring the needles again.” His voice hardened. “When they do, they’ll tie you down, close to me. Don’t try to talk to me. Don’t cry. Play dead, you hear me? No matter what happens, you play dead. You got that, girl?”
Her breath hitched on a sob. Oh God, what were they doing to this man?
“Do you hear me?” Animalistic, grating, his voice demanded an answer.
Emily nodded frantically. “I understand. Play dead.”
“I don’t want to touch you. God. I don’t want this anymore.” His heel ground harder into the dirt. “Motherfuckers, they took the damned boots. Where the hell are my fucking boots?”
Emily wrapped her arms around her stomach, watching the anger building in Nathan as the minutes ticked by. She didn’t try to speak to him, or to question the madness that seemed to grip him.
She began to pray instead.
Twenty-eight
KELL MANEUVERED THE BLACK HAWK with precise, gentle motions. They were moving fast, below radar, the powerful helicopter eating up the distance as they maneuvered over the mountains and headed toward San Diego. At his side sat Clint McIntyre, behind him Macey worked his wizardry on the laptop, using the satellite link the copter utilized.
So far, they had bypassed any undue notice. Beside Macey, Reno Chavez checked weapons while Senator Stanton’s buddy retired Master Chief Strepton checked com links.
Admiral Holloran and Captain Malone and Senator Stanton talked in low voices, checking their weapons and equipment. Kell hated having them here. His attention would be distracted between keeping Emily’s father and Nathan’s uncle alive.
Kell just hoped like hell they could get through this without more lives lost. Except Clay’s and Fuentes’s. Those two he wanted for himself. He wanted to feel their blood washing over his hands, watch the life dim in their eyes.
“ETA twenty minutes,” Clint reported as he checked navigation and repeated Kell’s heading. “Go in as low as you can. The military keeps a close watch here and Clay could be utilizing the spotters.”
The mission was so damned clandestine that only Admiral Holloran’s office was aware of it. The knowledge that Jansen Clay had involved himself with Fuentes was a bitter pill to swallow, but it made sense. He had the connections to help Fuentes in his arms deals, as well as the drug business. But what was in it for Clay? The man had more money than he could spend in three lifetimes. What would make a man so depraved that he would betray his country, as well as his only child, with such evil?
Macey had detected where and how Clay had hidden his Gulfstream in the commercial air traffic, which suggested Clay had help somewhere in Homeland Security. The net was slowly materializing, but perhaps too late. The skin-tag Emily had worn had been activated after a message from Judas came through reporting Jansen had secured his hostage for the time being.
Three seconds. Macey had three seconds to pinpoint the location before they lost it forever. And he had done it. The son of a bitch was a fucking miracle worker.
Dawn was beginning to streak behind them, moving in closer as Kell flew the military helicopter at top speed, racing to land in their designated area before daylight appeared.
“The boys are in place,” Macey said softly through the helicopter mic. “Weapons and vehicles are awaiting us.”
The things that boy could do with a computer could make chills race up a man’s spine. If he allowed it. Kell had firmly pushed back the man he wanted to be and allowed the killer free. Cajun. That was his call name. That was the man going to war. The Cajun gator. Cold. A killing machine. Today, Jansen Clay and Diego Fuentes were going to die. It was that simple.
“We’ll hit the house just after daybreak if we stay on schedule,” Macey reported. “SEAL team two has a lock on the security and is awaiting our arrival. They won’t know what’s hit them.”
Macey’s boys. SEAL team two was in San Diego on a training exercise. Blood was the perfect teacher.
Emily.
“Town house is still quiet,” Macey reported. “Kira is out of danger but still in serious condition. We’re covered, locked and loaded.”
“I’ll take the house,” Ian announced from his position next to the doors. “Diego will have an escape plan. I’ll move on that and Clay as well if he’s following behind.”
“Team two, we’re moving into position, do you have us?” Kell spoke into the communications link Macey had established with the team as he neared their landing point.
“Team two ready and waiting,” Commander Charles reported.
Kell maneuvered the Black Hawk between the ridges several miles from Jansen Clay’s seaside mansion and set it down without a bump. He was throwing his safety harness and cutting the power as the doors slid open.
“Commander Charles.” Kell affected a hasty salute as he jumped to the ground, taking the gear one of the other black-clad SEA
Ls handed him. “Is your man on point?”
“In place.” Commander Charles’s dark head nodded. “The mansion is quiet with only a few guards on the perimeter and one dog. They aren’t expecting you, Lieutenant. We’ve located the shed the hostages are being held in and we have one of our snipers in place. Clay and Fuentes are on location and currently heading for the holding cells on the property.”
Clay. Kell could feel his blood boiling at the thought of the other man.
“We want the cell empty of unfriendlies before we go in,” Commander Charles stated as Kell geared up alongside Reno, Clint, and the senator. Macey and Ian jumped into a jeep, where Macey continued to hammer away on his laptop.
“We’ll move into position and await Clay’s exit,” Kell snapped. “But I want him, Commander. And I want him alive.”
“And Fuentes?” Charles asked, his eyes narrowing.
“However you can get him, dead or alive.” Unless Kell got to him first.
“Let’s load up.” Charles nodded. “We have a fifteen-minute drive ahead of us and dawn is heading this way. Let’s get this done.”
They raced for the jeeps, loading in with the rest of team two before speeding along the narrow track that led to Clay’s property.
No wonder they couldn’t find Fuentes. He hadn’t needed to buy his own property when Jansen was putting the drug lord up in his mansion. The three-story hacienda-style home sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean, surrounded by high ridges and accessible to normal traffic by only one road.
Normal traffic.
Fifteen minutes later the jeeps were parked a short distance from the cliffs on the sandy beach and SEALs were rappelling up the cliff face toward the mansion.
The mansion’s walls only extended to the cliff rather than completely surrounding the mansion. Even a mountain goat would have had problems scaling the cliff’s stone face. But SEALs were better than mountain goats. And the Cajun gator was in the lead, his knives ready, his mind clear, and ice for blood.