Page 5 of Zain

Since they’d brought only a small fleet of men to disperse the protest, Jaysh wouldn’t want to fight law enforcement. Isaad’s face tightened, but he didn’t let go of the woman. Rakesh approached and Isaad repeated what Zain had said about the authorities.

“Farid,” Isaad said, addressing Zain using the false name he’d been living under. “Make sure everyone loads up.”

Isaad turned to Rakesh. “Take her as prisoner.” He shoved the woman at Rakesh. “She’s disobedient.” He gestured to the crowd with two fingers. “And grab two more. Let’s go.”

Rakesh called orders and towed the womantoward the waiting vehicles. She dug her feet in the ground, fighting. Warning bells went off in Zain’s head, and he mentally pleaded with the woman to keep calm. Acting out wouldn’t end well for her.

“No! Let her go!” A man broke through the crowd, blood dripping from his lip. He spoke in Pashto, but an American accent clung to his voice.

What the hell were these two doing in the middle of an Afghan protest?

Zain advanced on the man and held out his palm. Several of the troops had already jumped in their vehicles, but a few loomed uttering threats to warn the crowd against future revolt. “Hey.” Zain spoke in Pashto even though he’d bet his right arm the guy spoke English.

The guy’s eyes locked on Zain’s and something flickered in them—recognition? No, it couldn’t be. He’d never seen this man in his life. Of that he was almost certain.

Unease made Zain want to back away. To steer clear of whatever this man had brought to his door. Because he couldn’t take the fucking risk. Still, curiosity buzzed his cells.

The man took a step forward, his brown eyes flickering with fear as he swept his gaze to the woman being loaded in the truck. “You can’t take her,” he cried. “She’s—”

Smack!

The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious. One of the guards had slammed the butt of his guninto the back of his head. The guard sneered at the fallen guy and mumbled something.

Indecision made Zain hesitate. But he couldn’t interfere. Turning, he made his way to the vehicles and hopped in the back of a truck—the vehicle directly behind the one holding the female prisoner.

CHAPTER 3

Dana’s teeth chatteredbeneath her veil. Not from the cold. Oh, no. This was pure, undiluted fear stealing her body’s ability to pump blood to her extremities.

She’d been captured by a terrorist group.

This was the absolute worst-case scenario. Being rescued was next to impossible now. She sniffed back the moisture collecting on her eyelashes. Brick had tried to stop them from taking her. She’d heard his screams and watched in horror as he’d been struck in the back of the head.

It’s all my fault.

Even if he survived, Brick didn’t have the resources to save her. By the time he arranged for men to get here from Pakistan, where Ali lived, it’d be too late. She’d either be dead or maimed beyond recognition.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

If they’d done things differently. If she’d stayed closer to Brick. If she hadn’t taken on this godforsakensuicide mission. She knotted her hands on her knees. Feeling sorry for herself would do absolutely nothing. Keeping her legs drawn tightly to her chest, she stared at the shackles the terrorist—others called him Rakesh—had locked around her wrists. The tarnished metal was heavy. Nothing short of a bullet or key would crack it open.

The truck bumped and rattled beneath her. On the other side of the truck bed sat two young men, who’d also been taken prisoner. From what she could tell, they didn’t speak English. Some of the terrorists sat on a crate in the middle and some crouched low, hanging on to the sides of the truck. Each vehicle held at least a dozen people, and she’d counted five vehicles.

Zain. Where was he? From the low corner of the truck, she couldn’t make out any faces in the vehicle behind or in front of them. She’d glimpsed the other vehicles only when she’d been ushered onto the truck bed.

It had been him. She was sure of it. His eyes had flashed with warning when she touched him, but she hadn’t been afraid. Because something else screamed from his amber eyes. Concern. For her. She was sure of that because he didn’t flinch or remove her hand from his arm. He didn’t retaliate. Instead, he’d stood frozen, as if electrocuted by her voice.

But he’d heard.

Was he one of them now? The chances of her seeing him again were slim now that she was prisoner. She’d made it all this way and found him only to be captured and have the whole damn thing blow up in her face.

Even if she was lucky enough to speak to him again, he might just tell her to go to hell.

She closed her eyes as a torrent of fright swelled in her belly. They were traveling fast, and the whirr of the tires made bile creep up the back of her throat.

She lifted her gaze to see Rakesh. Heat burned her face. His eyes burrowed holes through her burka and his tongue slid over his bottom lip just above his beard. Revulsion crawled up the back of her neck. His eyes continued to hold hers as he kept the handle of his gun braced on the floor, the nozzle pointed to the sky.

Dana lowered her gaze. Her chest ached and a deep, black hole of self-pity wanted to suck her inside. The only certainty right now was the predatorial fire in Rakesh’s eyes. If she ever faced him alone, it’d be when she took her last breath. Because she’d rather fight until he killed her than suffer at his hands.

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