No Turning Back (25 page)

Sam's heart pounded. He won't do it, she kept telling herself, gaze glued to the knife. He wouldn't do it, because—

But he did.

He brought the blade down against the nape of the man's neck and started cutting. An inhuman scream ripped through the cave.

Sam whirled away with a horrified cry, clapping her hands over her eyes as though she could block out the sight of that knife slicing into human flesh.

Ben grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her out of the cave, the doomed prisoner's bloodcurdling screams following them. The bodyguard was still cutting him. She let go of her eyes and covered her ears with her hands, but the sound of his unimaginable agony bled through anyway. Oh Jesus, what had they done to Neveah? Bile rose up her throat.
Not my cousin, please not my cousin...
She couldn't bear the thought of that knife touching Neveah's soft nape, and wanted to scream in anguish.

“Sam.
Sam.
” Ben gave her a shake.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, still covering her ears. He tugged her hands away and held them tight in his.

His pale green eyes bored into hers. “Breathe, Sam, just breathe.”

She sucked in a ragged breath, realized she was shaking from head to foot. Her teeth chattered. “Jesus,” she gasped. “Oh Jesus, Ben... ”

“I know.” He pulled her into his arms, tucked her face into his shoulder. “Just hold onto me.”

Her arms locked around his waist, thinking of that poor victim. Was it over yet? What a horrific way to die. God, his screams. A shudder sped through her muscles.

Ben squeezed her tighter. “Shit, I wish you hadn't seen that.”

Yeah. That made two of them. She would never get the sight of that out of her mind. “How can he d-do that?” she whispered. How did a person have the ability to do that to any living thing, let alone another human being?

“No idea, except that he's a sick mother fucker.”

“D-do you think Nev— ”

“No. She's still okay. We're going to get her out, Sam. Count on it.”

She pressed her cheek against his hard chest, seeking more of his reassuring warmth and prayed it was true. She had to believe it was. She couldn't deal with the thought of Nev dying, let alone being murdered like her colleague.

When Sam was as settled as he could get her, Ben went back to the CP. Rhys stood outside the entrance.

“Is it over?”

Rhys nodded and gave a hard swallow. “Yeah.” His voice was gravelly, and he looked like he was fighting not to puke.

A wave of dread swept through Ben.

Rhys didn't get rattled. Ever. He was calm, level headed, cool under pressure. Always. He'd had to be, since they were kids. The hairier things got, the calmer he became. That's why he'd made Delta in the first place, and why he'd done so well there. But after seeing the video link of the hostage execution in real time, he looked ill.

Ben frowned. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah.”

That was Rhys. About as open as the vault at Fort Knox. Ben guessed it was the thought of Neveah going through the agony they'd just seen that was to blame. Rhys hadn't said as much, and he wouldn't admit to it, but she mattered to him on a personal level. That only upped the stakes for everyone involved.

“Anything else I need to know?” Ben asked.

“Yeah. There's more.”

Shit, more? He followed his brother back inside to the laptop, ignoring the way Luke and Davis stopped going over their maps to watch him with grim expressions. Rhys started the video again, picking up just as the murder had finished. The victim's headless body lay in a spreading stream of blood. Ben folded his arms across his chest and steeled himself for whatever came next. To his utter revulsion, Assoud bent down and picked up the severed head by the hair with one hand and raised it up for the camera. The victim's sightless eyes were half closed, his mouth still open in a soundless scream.

Ben's skin crawled.

An evil smile spread across Assoud's face, pulling at the scar in the center of his chin. In English he said, “Let's go see what the rest of our guests thought of the performance.”

“Oh, shit,” Ben breathed, thanking God Sam wasn't here to see this, and held his breath while Assoud stalked toward the back of the room to a crude wooden door. Someone followed him with the camera, catching every second of the grisly footage.

The door creaked open. Assoud flicked on a flashlight, aiming the high-powered beam into the stygian darkness beyond. Its light revealed Neveah huddled against a mud wall on a dirt floor, arms wrapped around herself. Her tormented expression made it obvious she was struggling not to show how terrified she was. The other two hostages, both men in their fifties, were dragging their hands through their unkempt, filthy hair and doing their best to hide the fact they'd been crying despite the tear tracks glistening on their cheeks in the beam of the flashlight.

Assoud's low, oily laugh bubbled up in the quiet. Ben clenched his jaw as Assoud raised that goddamn head up into the light so the hostages could see it. Neveah's horrified cry had Ben squeezing his fists so tight his hands went numb. Beside him, Rhys was stiff as a bronze statue.

Assoud swung the head to and fro, obviously enjoying his audience's reaction. “Would you like to say goodbye to your friend before I toss him down the mountain for the vultures?”

The only answer was Nev's quiet sob.

“No?” Assoud continued. “Then I wish you pleasant dreams. I'll be back again tomorrow for whichever one of you draws the short straw.”

Rhys stopped the video, but Ben couldn't look at him. He spun around and headed outside for some air. When he'd calmed down enough, he looked over his shoulder at his brother. Rhys’ deep blue eyes were filled with steely resolve. He flicked a glance in Sam's direction. “How is she?”

“Shaken, but not as much as she would have been if she'd seen the rest of it.”

“Yeah. Assoud made sure it wasn't a quick death, but the rest... ”

Christ. Ben's stomach rolled in response, threatening to bring up the MRE he'd eaten a half hour ago. All he could think about was Sam's reaction and what she'd said about her cousin.

Neveah had to have heard the execution from that filthy room. She must have listened to her doomed colleague's bloodcurdling screams as Assoud sawed the victim's head off.

The timer on the video said his death had taken at least a minute, maybe more. He must have screamed right up until the stroke that severed his spinal cord in the middle of his vertebrae. He must have felt every slice of that knife until then. No way would he have bled out in that amount of time. He'd been conscious and aware of everything right until the end.

Ben rubbed a hand over his own nape, thinking of the anatomy back there. Multiple layers of muscle tissue, tendons galore and a whole wad of tough ligaments to saw through. Christ. He could still hear the sound of that knife slicing, like a butcher carving up a side of beef.

The muscles in his jaw went tight, salivary glands working overtime, flooding his mouth. He swallowed repeatedly, and realized he was seconds away from throwing up for the first time in memory.

Calm down. Take a second. Puking's not going to help anyone.

But Jesus, if they'd done that to a middle-aged man, what the hell would they do to Neveah, a young, five-eleven knock-out? Rape? Torture? The possibilities turned his blood cold as ice water.

After sucking in a few more breaths, Ben glanced over his shoulder at Sam. She was chalky white but watching them anxiously, eyes huge and glittering with tears. Christ, he wished she hadn't seen any of that video. If it had been up to him, he'd never have let her in the cave, let alone watch it along with them.

Gut check time. This was exactly the kind of shit he and Rhys had trained for, had executed ops and rescues for. Hostage extraction might be Rhys’ specialty, but he didn't have his Delta teammates with him now. Out here in the ass end of Afghanistan, they didn't have anything more than the equipment they'd carried in, plus whatever strings Luke could pull, and that would most likely be in the form of chopper extraction, maybe some sort of air support. If they were lucky.

So here they were: a former Ranger with a hothead reputation he'd battled all his life; a former Delta member that was attached to one of the hostages; one out of action former SEAL that should still be in his Basra hospital bed; a CIA spook who Ben had never seen in combat; and a civilian female communications contractor. They were going to take on the ruthless terrorist cell that had just decapitated one of their valuable hostages with a K-Bar knife.

Go, team
.

Thinking about what Neveah's death would do to Sam, Ben's eyes burned with rage as he faced his brother. “Tell me we know where they are.”

“Wish I could.”

His jaw muscles flexed. “Then Luke needs to send Sam home. She can't take this, and it's fucking cruel of him to make her stay here.”

Rhys let out a slow breath. “She won't leave. Not unless we get her cousin.”

“You think I care if she wants to leave voluntarily or not?” Ben shook his head. “I have no problem tying her up and personally hauling her ass onto the next transport out.”

“Luke thinks we need her.”

Ben's spine stretched taut. “Fuck him. We already did this with Bryn. You want Sam to go through more of this? Maybe wind up dying out here just because we told her to hang around in case we needed her?”

“Don't underestimate her. She'll do what needs to be done.”

“I don't
want
her to hang in there. That's the whole point!” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Dammit.”

“At least she'll be with Luke at the CP and not on the op.”

Ben threw him a nasty look as he walked past. “Yeah? Well, gee, what the hell am I so worried about?”

Sam couldn't sleep. She lay on her side, huddled in the fetal position under Ben's bedroll. All alone, because the others were outside discussing their options to give her some privacy.

The wind gusted outside the flap in a mournful, desolate moan. She couldn't get warm. Not since she'd seen that horrific execution. How did one human being do that to another? How did someone have that little humanity to be able to do something so hideous? She shivered, staring at the weave of the blanket in front of her. It was almost dark now. Less than eighteen hours until the next deadline. What if they couldn't pinpoint the cell in time and the bodyguard killed Neveah? Sam didn't know how she would go on if that happened. Death was awful enough in any form, but to be hacked to death like that while you fought and twisted and screamed for mercy...

A tear rolled down her cheek and plopped on the sleeve of her jacket.

The satellite phone beeped next to her head. Wiping her face, she sat up and grabbed it. “Wallace.” Her voice sounded surprisingly normal.

“It's Miller.”

Her lips thinned. “Guess you heard the news.”

“Yeah. We've verified the killer to be Assoud.”

No news flash there. “Any idea where they are?”

“I just sent a cable to the Pakistanis. The ISI's going to assist us in locating them so long as we do the dirty work once they find them.”

She toyed with the corner of her bivy bag. “What's the... the thoughts on Neveah's chances?” Saying it out loud was hard. “Are they saving her for last?”

“We think so. More bang for their buck that way.”

His callous phrasing made her clench her hands into fists. “Is that right.”

“Just telling it like it is. She might be your cousin, but you're a CIA employee. You need to take your emotion out of this if you want her to get out safely.”

“Don't worry about me and my emotions.”

He chuckled. “Hutchinson said you were tougher than you look.”

“That's right.”

“Then tell me one thing. If it came down to choosing her or one of our guys, who would you save?”

She thought of Ben, and how he might be hurt or killed going in for Neveah once they located her. Sam bit her lip. During the op, she'd be the one watching the satellite feed and directing the team. Would she be able to function if Ben was hit? How would she ever be able to trade one of them for the other and live with herself afterward? But that's what Miller expected her to say, wasn't it. He expected her to go to pieces when tough decisions had to be made. Well, damned if she'd give him the satisfaction of being right.

She gripped the phone until her knuckles ached. “You know what they say. Blood's thicker than water.”

“Good to know. Have Luke contact me.”

In the midst of hanging up, the flap lifted and Ben's head and shoulders appeared in the opening.

“
Ben
.”

Yanking the cover down behind him, he came down on his knees in front of her and hauled her right into his arms. She clung to him, face scrunching in her grief, her fear. He didn't say anything, just held her tight and pressed his face against her hair. His strength soothed her a little, his body heat wrapping around her in another kind of hug. She rested her head on his hard shoulder and tried to focus on him, struggling to forget what she'd seen for a little while. He stroked a hand over her back, up and down, offering her the wordless comfort of his embrace. “Who was that?”

“Kabul.” She didn't want to discuss it.

He gathered her tighter. “I'm worried about you.”

Ben. God, she loved him. She didn't want him going after the animals that had Neveah. She wanted him safe and warm, next to her like this, but back home and far away from anyone that could hurt him.

He kissed her temple, then leaned away for a second. “Brought you something to drink.”

She sat up, wiped at her cheeks and waited while he poured something hot into a mug from a thermos. “Tea,” she whispered, perilously close to tears again. He pressed the cup into her hand, wrapped her chilly fingers around it.

The feelings in her chest were too full to be contained anymore. The timing sucked. It was all wrong— Neveah being held captive, the rest of them hunting through the tribal region of Afghanistan, racing against the clock. It didn't seem to matter to her heart, though. The video had given her a pointed reminder of just how capricious and cruel death could be. How fleeting life was.