No Turning Back (4 page)

Sick to his stomach, he whipped open his phone and dialed Luke, wondering what he'd say. Nothing would surprise him at this point, Ben thought, trying to ignore the deep burn under his sternum. This CIA shit was going to kill him.

Basra

Luke Hutchinson eyed the congealed lump of hospital food on his plate with disgust. The package next to the dish said it was Cream of Wheat, but come
on
. With his head pounding and his stomach doing somersaults, you'd think someone would have had the decency to put something appetizing in front of him. Broth. Crackers. A banana maybe. At least bananas tasted pretty good when they came back up again.

He wanted the hell
out
of there. His doctors, though, made it clear they thought that was a piss poor idea. Luke doubted it would sway their opinions any to know he'd been on the verge of killing an incredibly dangerous terrorist two days ago, and every second he spent sitting on his ass in a hospital bed was time he couldn't afford to lose. So his head hurt and he puked a lot. Big deal. He'd survived much worse than that in his lifetime. The physical symptoms weren't the problem anyhow.

No, the thing keeping him in that hospital bed was the very real fear he'd messed up his melon. As in, permanently.

The thought terrified him. His mind, the thing he'd always counted on to get him through whatever situation his job put him in, was broken. Not that he was crazy. At least, not more than he'd been before this operation.

When that Air Force missile had veered off course and exploded too close to him, the crack to his skull had shorted out something in his brain. He didn't remember chunks from that night. Nothing about the op before the strike— not the intel, the briefing he must have given the team, the firefight they'd supposedly been in. Nada. Zip. Whole thing was a blank screen for him.

Luke supposed that was normal enough. He'd suffered concussions before, understood a person generally suffered some memory loss regarding the surrounding events. This was different. This time, he couldn't remember critical events before the explosion, or one of his team members. Sam. Samarra Wallace, a CIA communications specialist he'd enlisted to work this op. She'd gone AWOL the day Ali had been killed in the bombing at the compound and hadn't surfaced since, except to text Ben saying the op they'd planned in Basra needed to be aborted. Now here Luke was, lying stuck in the hospital, while Tehrazzi was out there plotting his next move, and Sam was gone. For the life of him, Luke hadn't been able to remember what she looked like.

That ate at him because he'd always had a photographic memory. He never forgot anything, let alone something that significant.

The only things he knew about Sam were from the picture he'd accessed in the CIA database using his phone. She was a twenty-seven-year-old redhead, five-feet-six-inches tall and weighed one-thirty or so. He figured she must have been good at her job, too, for him to have hired her. The black hole where the rest of her portfolio should have been was what kept him from sleeping. Even if it turned out she wasn't involved with Tehrazzi, it still meant his memory was shot. And with pieces already missing, what else was gone? Sure as shit something else was, because that's just the way his luck went.

His cell buzzed on the nightstand like a dying fly. Recognizing Ben's number, he let out a relieved breath. For a second he'd thought his ex-wife Emily might have been trying to reach him again. On their last conversation he'd unintentionally blurted out that he loved her, spilling the most carefully guarded secret he'd been carrying around for the last twenty-odd years. He wished the hell he'd puked and passed out like a pansy before he'd said it instead of afterward.

“Hey,” he said to Ben. “What's up?”

“You sound chipper.”

Ben's familiar Boston accent was a welcome sound. “Can't complain.”

“Good, then I'll get right down to it. Davis reported in. Sam went missing at a fake checkpoint the afternoon of the Basra op.”

Luke's hand tightened around the phone. “Who was it?”

“Cab driver that was with her thinks they were Mahdi army.”

Shit. “Any intel as to what they did with her?”

“Looks like she got away somehow. Davis is still digging.” Ben paused. Cleared his throat. “Thing is, if it was Tehrazzi's crew... She's probably dead by now.”

Luke let out the breath he'd been holding ever since the mention of the Mahdi army. If they had taken Sam, for her sake he prayed they'd killed her quickly. He'd found some of their dead captives in the past and knew firsthand what kinds of horrors Tehrazzi's bodyguard could perform with his knives. Sick bastard loved his work, to the point where even Tehrazzi could hardly stomach him. That in itself was scary.

Luke tried to puzzle it all together. Sam was a contractor for him. A techie. Not even an operative. What possible use could she be to Tehrazzi, other than the intel he'd already gotten about the op in Basra? There had to be something more to it.

Ben cleared his throat again. “I'll uh... keep you posted. If we hear anything we'll act on it right away.”

“Good. I'll meet you up there as soon as they let me out of this place.” That had better be soon.

“Roger that. Later.”

Luke hung up and set the phone next to his disgusting breakfast. He wasn't sure what was making him more nauseous, the food or the fact that Tehrazzi might have one of his team members. And a young, attractive female at that.

Baghdad

Deep in the shadows of the alley where she'd spent the afternoon, Sam sighed as she counted the remainder of her dwindling cash supply. Only enough to see her through a couple more days, if she ate sparingly. Her stomach let out a harsh growl. She was so damned tired and hungry. How much longer was she going to have to keep running on her own? The past few days hadn't changed her situation any. She was still in danger, and knew for sure the Mahdi Army was looking for her. Whether or not it was because the CIA had sanctioned it or because someone higher up the terrorist food chain wanted her, she still didn't know.

Thinking about everything that had happened, Neveah's missing letter bothered Sam almost as much as the rest of it, because the letter detailed Nev's arrival in Kabul with her Doctors Without Borders team. Why
that
letter, unless someone would use her cousin against her? She didn't want her cousin to get caught up in any of this. Her secret fear was that her job would endanger someone she loved, and she loved Nev more than anyone in the world.

Digging in her bag, she pulled out her phone and stared at it in indecision. The last text she'd sent had been to Ben, warning him to abort the op in Basra. That was days ago now. She wished she knew what had happened out there, but had been too afraid to contact anyone from the team. Given that she'd cut herself off from everyone that knew her, she needed to check and see if the people who'd threatened her had sent any new messages. Trouble was, as soon as she fired it up, anyone looking for her could track her.

She'd left her custom made device in it to act as a beacon in case of emergency. Right now, it switched on and off with her phone, and as soon as she turned on the power, it broadcasted a signal to the guys back at the Tactical Operations Center so they could follow it. She'd programmed the thing and she could disable it at any time, but something made her hold off. Sam wasn't quite ready to cut that lifeline back to her teammates.

At times she wanted to contact Luke and the others so badly she almost risked an attempt, but knew she couldn't. Not yet. Not until she knew what the hell was going on and who was setting her up. She'd seen way too many movies where the CIA lackey wound up dead to cover up someone else's mistakes. Or secrets.

Sam wasn't interested in fulfilling that role. But damn, she'd love to hear Luke's Louisiana drawl right now, telling her everything was okay.

Deciding to leave the device activated for the time being, she took a breath and turned the phone on, waited agonizing seconds for it to reset, and then dove into her e-mail. Funny how good the Internet and cell service was here, considering Baghdad was essentially a war zone. But then, no one used technology like the US military.

As the e-mail loaded, her heart began to pound. Knowing the activity in her account would alert her old teammates made her feel terribly exposed.

When it was ready she opened the file, and her stomach dropped as she saw the text and the attached photo.

We have something that belongs to you. Everyone has a price. This is yours.

Her muscles went rigid.
Oh, shit
.

No signature, no clues for her to figure out who'd sent it. Expelling a deep breath, she clicked on the photo. And saw her personal nightmare.

Neveah. Hands tied behind her, surrounded by three masked men holding various weapons. Her face was white, eyes wide, mouth pinched. Terrified.

“Jesus!” Sam closed the file and shut her eyes, fighting off the fear and anger warring in her soul.

Terrorists. Had to be, and it explained why the letter from Nev had gone missing. They'd been the ones threatening her, the ones following her. Now they had Neveah, the most precious thing in the world to her. Sam fought the rise of tears. Why had they done this? She was only a communications contractor. What could they possibly want from her that they would go to the lengths of kidnapping her cousin? It didn't make any sense.

Sam forced herself to take a breath and think logically. At least now she could be reasonably sure the CIA wasn't after her. They might be watching her, would certainly be trying to find her since she'd disappeared without a word, but maybe they didn't have a hit team after her. She prayed that was true, because right now she needed their help. They needed to know about Neveah, and maybe they already had details she didn't. If anyone could help her now, it was Luke.

She typed out a quick text message, intending to send it, then shut it down and move away from her location. Attaching the e-mail she'd received, she set her thumb over the send button. Then she hesitated, considering the possible repercussions of the action. What if the kidnappers found out she'd been in touch with a CIA team and killed Neveah as punishment? They hadn't told her what they wanted from her yet.

You know you can't handle this on your own. Send it.

Before she could change her mind she hit the send button, transmitting it to Ben. She didn't know why she chose him instead of Luke or Rhys, but it had to do with her gut, and didn't bother wasting energy worrying over it. The instant the message sent, she shut off the phone.

Ben would help her. She didn't doubt that for a second, and yet she'd hesitated to contact him before now. He'd been so kind to her, warm and funny, working the communications equipment with her after Luke had brought him to Baghdad. Whenever she was around him she felt... safe. He was the kind of guy you could rely on when things got tough, and she needed him more than ever. But for now she had to wait until she was in another secure location to check her phone again. Tomorrow, maybe.

Since she'd just given them and the people holding Neveah the means to track her, Sam had to move. Immediately. No matter how exhausted she was, no matter how alone and afraid she was. Dragging herself to her swollen feet, she turned out of the alley and wound her way through the quiet market, moving south away from the river, wishing with every step she had Ben there to keep watch over her.

Ben sat at his computer terminal at the Tactical Operations Center where Luke had set them up when they'd arrived in Baghdad a couple weeks ago. On either side of him, more computers monitored terrorist chatter and analyzed surveillance video they were keeping tabs on. He was good with computers and electronics, but nowhere near as talented as Sam. The irony didn't escape him that she would have been the most useful person in tracking herself.

Ben shook his head. With the amount of technological equipment in the building, you'd think
something
about her would have turned up, but they hadn't found a single piece of data on her since she'd disappeared. They had no idea where the hell she was or if she was even alive. He had to face the facts. At the end of the day, all the technology in the world wasn't enough to find her if she'd chosen to cut herself off. Thing was, none of them knew if it was because she wanted it that way, or because she'd been murdered.

The only thing they knew for certain was that her cousin Neveah had been kidnapped by a group attached to Tehrazzi outside Kabul. She and the rest of her Doctors Without Borders team were the first to re-enter the country since 2004, when their predecessors had been kidnapped and killed by the Taliban. Some Einstein in the Afghan government had decided that security had improved adequately since then, so they'd stupidly approved the humanitarian mission in Kabul. Well, guess what? Things hadn't improved. If anything, security had deteriorated over the past few months. The Taliban and other militias were gaining strength there and Ben had a real bad feeling history was about to repeat itself with this new group of American hostages. The proof was playing on the monitor in front of him.

Security cameras in and outside the cinder block clinic had recorded the brazen daytime kidnapping. The first members to be taken were an orthopedic surgeon, a geriatric specialist and an oncologist, all men in their fifties. The pediatrician was next, a guy in his early thirties. But it was Neveah's capture that most interested Ben because she was Sam's cousin, plus it gave the best view of the attackers, and thus the best information to nail them with.

He played the video back one more time. A camera mounted above the exterior door outside the examination room Neveah occupied showed a booted foot lashing out. After two solid kicks, the door flew open and crashed against the wall.

Neveah and her half-naked female patient jumped as three men wearing black masks stormed into the room, armed with handguns, AK-47s and knives. The patient screamed and scrambled to cover her face and breasts while Neveah stood pressed against the wall. Women and children wailed in distress outside, cowering in the dust.