Page 75 of Zain

Ghost scoffed and left the room.

“Ignore him,” Rami said calmly. “We’ve got a lead now.”

Zain rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against the wall. As far as the CIA was concerned, Dana was a liability. A loose end. She’d seen too much.

All along he’d been worried the terrorists had Dana, but the real perpetrator was even more terrifying. He shook his brother’s arm. “The CIA can’t be bought, but they can be blackmailed.”

CHAPTER 23

Dana kept herback against the wall and her knees pulled into her chest while she searched the ceiling and walls of her basement cell. Tremors took hold of her body. Her teeth chattered. But she couldn’t fall apart. Her captor would be back. He hadn’t gotten the information he wanted, and he’d do far worse to get her to talk.

She refocused her attention on her surroundings. She was almost certain there weren’t any cameras. Either way, she had to be careful. The guy likely assumed she was incapacitated. But now more than ever, she was fueled to fight. She had training. She could take him.

He’d bound her hands again, but she’d been a shaking, screeching mess when he’d done it, so the rope wasn’t as secure as it’d been before. Until she found a weapon or a way out, she’d keep her hands tied in case he came back.

Dana got to her feet and the room swayed. Sheleaned against the wall to prevent herself from toppling over. Just standing made her leg muscles scream and burn. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths until the ache in her limbs abated. Pushing away from the wall, she moved around the perimeter.

The cement walls were bare, and the odd chunk was missing. Even if she found a tool, trying to dig through cinderblock would be useless. She cast her gaze toward the window just above her head. It was now midmorning. If it weren’t for a piece of plywood against the glass, the sun would shine through brightly.

Dana inched closer to the window and examined the plywood. It wasn’t nailed to anything, just rested against the glass. She turned around. There wasn’t any furniture in the room for her to stand on. She stifled a growl of frustration. Then she spotted a bucket in a corner.

She crossed the room and peered into the bucket to find it empty. Thank god. Her overactive imagination had envisioned all kinds of horrors that would have haunted her for the rest of her life. She stalked away from the corner, gaining more clarity with every step.

This was what she needed. To move her body and stimulate her muscles to push out the shock. She sucked in a long, deep breath. The thick, damp air made the back of her throat itch, but she couldn’t think about the mold and mildew she wasinhaling. She reached a small closet—more like a nook, as it didn’t have a door.

Inside was a wet/dry vacuum—as if anyone had ever cleaned the place—and a pile of towels. Perhaps there’d recently been a leak. That would explain the wet towels and floor.

She knelt and grabbed the material awkwardly with her bound wrists. A sheet of plastic was crumpled beneath. What the heck? She unfolded the plastic and her heart stopped.

A burnt-red color stained it. Her heart slowed, and the sheet fell from her fingertips. She backed away from the closet, her heart hammering. The plastic had been used to catch blood. The water to mop up the mess.

Oh god. Oh god.

Someone had died here.

Panic kept her on her knees on the cool, hard floor. The muscles in her chest squeezed tighter and tighter, as if a boa constrictor circled her. Her pulse beat relentlessly against her forehead, and the sound was deafening.

Get a grip. If you don’t escape, your blood will be on there too.

Tears leaked from her eyes, and Dana wiped them away with her fingertips. Okay, nothing of use in the closet. She steered herself in the other direction and studied the wall. There had to be something in here, dammit. Anything.

She turned her gaze back to the corner. Thebucket would be useful to reach the window. If she could wiggle out of the ropes around her wrists, she could escape. She wasn’t going to find anything sharp.

Bringing the rope to the light coming in from around the plywood, she examined her restraints. The rope was wound around her arms a few times, and the loop on top seemed looser than the others. Using her teeth, she pulled at the slack piece and tried to work it over her hands. Her jaw screamed as she clamped down and pulled.

Minutes later, sweat trickled down the back of her neck. She stopped to catch her breath, panting heavily as she cursed the stupid thick material. Giving her mouth a break, she wrenched her arms apart. She twisted and turned her hands. The rope burned her skin but she didn’t stop.

She let her arms drop to her legs, her chest heaving. Her pinkie screamed and the skin on her wrists stung. Lifting her hands once again, she gently moved her arms. The rope had loosened. A thrill raced through her.

Yes!

Once she had the bindings off—

Footsteps stomped on the floor above. Dana tilted back her head as dust particles fluttered down like tiny warning flags.

Her pulse skidded to a stop, and the frigid hands of fear circled her throat.

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