Page 64 of Lethal Deceit

I offer him a weak smile and accept his comfort with as much humility as I can muster. “You have experience with hostage negotiations?” I ask.

He shakes his head and jerks his thumb to Luke, who’s conferring with Jake and Adena. “He does. You want an extraction, I’m your man.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

He reacts to my reply with a look of caution as he places radio equipment down on the countertop.

“Where’s Samantha?” Caleb asks.

Adena, her phone glued to her ear as she speaks to Delilah, says, “Bathroom.”

Jake mumbles something and glances up at me from a tablet. “Seriously, you people are too trusting.”

Luke gives him the side eye before nodding. “You’re right. Go check on her.”

Shaking my head, I move before he does. “I didn’t even see her leave.”

No one replies. Adena is talking to Delilah about trying to triangulate the call—whatever that means—Luke and Jake are looking at Jake’s tablet, and Caleb is pouring himself what I imagine will be the first of a lot of cups of coffee.

That leaves me.

I stalk into the bedroom, frustrated, anxious, and furious at myself for letting this happen.

At the sound of the shower running, I bang on the door. “Get out of there.”

No response.

Great. Everyone else is otherwise occupied. I have to be the one to wrangle her.

With anger driving me, I ram my fist on the door and yell loud enough that she’ll hear me over the water running. “I’m not kidding. Open up, or I’ll come in there and drag you out.”

When I get no response, I immediately step back and aim my heel at the lock. It gives under the force, and I shove the door so hard it swings back at me, nearly hitting me in the face.

When she doesn’t scream at me to get out, I step into the room as steam billows out into the bedroom. In seconds the steam disperses enough for me to see why she didn’t reply.

The window is open, and Samantha is gone.

Samantha

I scramble over the second fence, landing with a thud that makes me regret not packing my running shoes.

It was a risk taking the precious moments to change into the only other outfit I had, my shorts and T-shirt, but there was no way I could have left the house wearing clothing that would have stuck out. If that was their strategy, they really should have removed the clothing I had in my pack. Adena may have tossed my dress in the trash, but even that has worked to my advantage. My pack might be damp still, but it’s lighter, and the outfit will keep me cool in the heat.

Out of breath from the exertion of climbing over three fences so I could get to another street, I take a moment to check out my surroundings. I might be out of breath, and I might be a sweaty mess, but I’m now a whole lot closer to my destination. Adjusting the pack on my back, I increase my pace to the nearest street sign and smile to myself when I see I’m one right turn away from the mall.

Perfect. I have my cash. I have my insurance policy.

Everything is perfect.

Except that an innocent woman is going to die because of you.

The smile dies, and my steps falter as if something pulls them back.

But I can’t go back.

I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, just like I’ve always done.

I increase my pace, walking as fast as I can, my lungs burning as if I’m sprinting. When I’m safely in Cuba, I’ll find a doctor and get a proper examination to ensure I didn’t sustain any lasting damage.

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