Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) (10 page)

These were her people…

It should be a good thing, shouldn’t it?

Abigail lay on the ground, staring at him from the other side of the Jeep.

He’d thought fear was an emotion she didn’t know.

He’d been wrong.

Abigail was afraid, and damn it if he didn’t want to wipe it away.

Abigail stared at the
bottom of the cargo plane. It was all over now.

She knew what would happen to her, and it wasn’t going to be good.

Swinging through that town had been a mistake. She’d been there once, a long time ago. But clearly not long enough for people to forget. The Mossad agents had been lying in wait for her. From the snippets of conversation she’d caught, they’d set up a half-dozen points in an attempt to capture them.

And they’d succeeded.

Because she’d been lazy.

Luke was strapped into a seat, handcuffed to the armrests some fifteen feet ahead of her. She felt his gaze slide back to her every now and then. He hadn’t spoken a word. Not a single sentence. But he didn’t have to.

By now, the Mossad network would have traced her history. At least the last six months, while she’d been setting up Abigail. Luke’s life would be an open book to them.

She could only pray that whatever traitor had burned her was gone. Eliminated. And the unknown force behind the Smith bombing was someone else. Another entity altogether. But what were the odds? She didn’t believe in coincidence, and life didn’t throw her a bone. Ever.

Abigail drew her knees up to her chest and put her head down.

She concentrated on breathing slowly. Keeping the panic at bay.

It would be like any number of interrogation exercises before. She’d gone through this over and over again without breaking during training. She could do it one last time. She had to.

But what would Luke tell them? Out of his need to protect her, what secrets would he reveal? And what would Luke say once he knew the whole, unvarnished truth? She’d been trained to deal with being captured—but how did she protect Luke?

She had no doubt
he
would be there for all of it. The man who’d changed her life. Who’d destroyed her heart. Who’d recruited her. Turned her into a weapon. A thing to be used and discarded, time and time again, because what else was she good for?

The old wounds still bled.

They’d never really healed.

The nose of the plane dipped, sending her stomach up into her throat.

They were landing. Where?

Abigail tilted her head to the side, listening, but the few agents closest to her were the silent type.

They’d taken off from an airstrip in the middle of nowhere on a cargo plane. If she had to guess, they’d fly at low altitudes back to Israel and one of the many covert bases that Mossad worked out of.

If they meant to play off her emotions, twist her loyalty into a noose, she knew where they’d take her. Back to where it all began—outside Tel Aviv. But the plane couldn’t land there without some kind of flight plan. The airspace was too closely regulated. So where? And what horrors were about to be unleashed on her?

She could only hope that Luke would not be brought along, that they wouldn’t make him watch her break. She’d rather he remember her as she was, instead of what they would make her into. Even when the interrogations were just an exercise, they’d pushed her to her limits. There was a very real possibility they would shatter her. She was worn down. Exhausted. Spent. But she had to hold on.

In a weird way, both she and Luke were right.

They had gotten free.

Her past had just caught up to her before they could make use of their freedom. If she were honest with herself, that island paradise sounded awfully nice. A hammock…Luke…no one around… She could spend an eternity like that, with the right man.

It was a shame she wouldn’t get to kiss Luke again, but at least she’d had him.

Luke felt, more than
heard, a door open. He’d lost track of time after they’d put a bag over his head, hauled him off the plane, put him in some sort of vehicle, and bounced down roads for what felt like ages before depositing him in this room. He only knew Abigail wasn’t there, and he was sufficiently immobilized by three sets of handcuffs. He was willing to bet he’d never once been left alone.

A foot scraped against the floor. It wasn’t tile or hardwood, something rougher. Concrete? Stone? The air was cool, slightly damp, which made him think something underground. The air had been arid and dry when he was outside, and he hadn’t been able to keep track of how many stairs they’d descended before coming to this room.

Light footsteps tracked closer and closer until Luke could feel the presence of another body.

“I’m going to take the bag off now,” a man said. His voice was smooth, his English only slightly accented. “Don’t try anything.”

Luke held still while the man carefully loosened the drawstring around his neck and pulled the bag off his head.

Luke blinked, orienting himself. A single light bulb illuminated the small room. The floor and ceiling were rock. They were in some sort of cavern network carved into the earth. The walls were concrete, and the only point of entry was a heavy door. A camera was mounted into the ceiling and pointed straight at him. Besides his chair, there was nothing else in the cell.

The man was older than Luke, but still young, maybe late forties, early fifties, with a liberal peppering of silver at his temples. Unlike the men who had accompanied Luke on the trek here, this man wore a suit, the white shirt crisp and clean, his shoes freshly shined.

Either they were underground near some metropolitan area, or close enough for Beardy to get there by a vehicle or helo.

“That’s better.” The man backed up, the bag held behind him in clasped hands. “Luke Briar, you work for the Aegis Group.”

A statement. Not a question.

Luke eased back in the chair. As a SEAL, he was tasked with saying nothing. When captured, he could only state his name and rank, nothing else. Aegis held no such requirements on their men, in fact, the Admiral had encouraged the men to say whatever was necessary to ensure a speedy and safe return. But this wasn’t normal, and Luke wasn’t going to play ball.

“I understand you’ve become something of a companion to the woman we found you with.” The man tilted his head to the side. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

“I haven’t heard a question until now.”

“Then let me rephrase myself.”

“Be my guest, and while you’re at it,” he rattled the handcuffs, “want to get rid of these?”

“That’s up to you, Mr. Briar. The woman you were with, what do you call her?”

“My girlfriend.”

“Really?” The man’s lips thinned. He didn’t like that answer. “And what do you call your girlfriend?”

Did he tell the truth, or stick to the story?

“Abigail,” Luke replied.

“I see. And what if I were to tell you that—Abigail—is not her real name?”

“I’d tell you to fuck off.”

“Luke, if I may?”

“You may not.”

“Mr. Briar.” The smile was not friendly. “You seem to not understand the situation you’ve found yourself in—”

“I understand perfectly well. We were driving, minding our own God damned business, and your men ambushed and kidnapped us. I’d like to talk to my girlfriend and a representative at the American Embassy. You have one of those here in Israel.” Luke prayed he could get someone on the horn. Maybe knowing about the bomb would be leverage enough? No, better to not breathe a word of it until they were out of here.

The man regarded him for a few moments.

“Aegis has a good reputation. You’re a smart man, Mr. Briar. I believe you are aware that, what did you call her? Abigail? Abigail is not what she appears. She is a traitor and very possibly a terrorist. We know her as Yael. We need to know where she has been. Who she has been with. It would go well for you if you were to share what you know with us.”

Luke tipped his chin up a bit.

Abigail had told him again and again to give up what he knew. She’d supplied him with dates, names, locations—everything this man would want. And it didn’t feel right.

“I think you’re wrong,” Luke said.

“I think you are either placing your trust in the wrong person, or she has you fleeced.”

“Looks like we’re not on the same team.” Luke shrugged. “About that call?”

The man stared at him for several seconds.

He rocked forward on one foot and pivoted toward the door.

Shit.

Some decision had been made. Something was happening.

What were they doing to Abigail?

The man tapped on the door, and it swung open.

They weren’t alone. How many people were there? Could Luke get free, break out? In time he had no doubt he could, but he was far more concerned about what they were doing to Abigail
right now
.

“Bring him.” The man walked through the door.

Two men in plain brown pants and shirts entered, one with keys, the other with a baton.

He eyed the baton wielder warily while the other loosened the cuffs attached to the chair and refastened them in double behind his back.

They either couldn’t—or wouldn’t—speak English. One said something, and the baton guy prodded him between the shoulders.

“I’m up, I’m up.” Luke stood and followed the guy with the keys, shuffling forward without haste.

They guided him down a hall. The stone ran along one side, above, and below while the right side was concrete. There were only four doors with viewing screens mounted next to them, and one exit he didn’t get the chance to see. Besides the two guards and Beardy, there didn’t appear to be anyone else.

Beardy opened a door and the guards led him into the cell at the very end. Luke barely glimpsed the screen before stepping in.

This one was larger, with two beds on either side, a table and a few chairs. There were four lights all trained on the chair bolted into the ground. Abigail was chained like some sort of crazed creature directly to the floor by handcuffs and chains on each wrist and ankle. Unlike him, she wasn’t blindfolded or bagged. Instead, she stared at the ground, her face impassive, smooth and unreadable.

Beardy gestured at the bed and spoke words Luke didn’t understand.

The key guy locked both of Luke’s wrists to the head of the bed and chained his ankles to the underside while the baton wielder stood back, eyeing Abigail more than Luke.

They were scared of her. Legitimately afraid. As if she could shake off those chains and rip them all to shreds. What kind of reputation did she have with these people?

“Here we are, all together.” Beardy grabbed a chair and sat facing Abigail but with a direct line of sight on Luke as well. Beardy spoke once more to the guards, who nodded and left, locking the door behind them. “Shall we speak English? That way your friend can understand us?”

Abigail didn’t respond, flinch, or even acknowledge Beardy’s question.

“How about we call the American Embassy now?” Luke asked.

“No one is speaking to you.” Beardy didn’t look at Luke, his eyes were all for Abigail. There was a predatory gleam in his eye. “He says your name is Abigail, that you’re his girlfriend. What have you told him, Yael? Who does he think you are?”

Beardy sat back, crossing his ankle over his knee, and bit his lower lip.

“Does he know the truth? Or did you lie to him to protect yourself? Use him as a cover? You were always good at using people.”

Who the hell was this guy?

Not once had Abigail used him. She’d tried again and again to get him to protect himself, to do what was in his own best interest. That wasn’t how a traitor or a terrorist behaved.

“Don’t listen to this guy, Abigail.” Luke leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees.

“Does Luke know you killed his friend? Ethan Turner was in that hotel room you blew up.”

“That wasn’t me,” Abigail said.

“Who else could it have been?” Beardy asked.

“I don’t know.” She kept her eyes on the floor.

“Did someone else kill the Smiths?” Beardy peered at her face. “You turned your back on your country, your mother, me, your people. The only people who would have you. After all of that, you just—what? Who have you been working for, Yael?”

She didn’t respond.

Luke wanted to break the handcuffs, stop the questioning, but he couldn’t.

On and on, Beardy asked about every single name Abigail had told Luke—and some she hadn’t. But she never once responded. Beardy detailed attacks, murders, bombings—all of which he had tied to her somehow. Occasionally, the man would lean back and ask her about some long ago operation, throw in a joke, some memory they shared, but she didn’t respond.

When nothing seemed to work, Beardy sat back, both feet on the floor. He’d practically forgotten Luke’s presence.