Page 93 of Lethal Deceit

Adena groans and frowns at Caleb. “We should have given it back to her.”

“We don’t know what’s on it yet,” he says.

I’m so out of sorts that it takes me a full five seconds to work out what “it” is. When I do, I almost wish I hadn’t.

The same terrorists who think it’s an honor to kill innocent Americans want the memory card.

Samantha’s low groaning and the sound of her feet being dragged along the floor make bile rise in my throat. How can I sit here and watch?

These men are savages. And there’s no telling what they’ll do when they realize she doesn’t have what they want.

Samantha

Fighting through the pain growing in intensity in my ribs, I let the thug who was responsible drag me down the hallway. He stinks of garlic, cigarettes, and stale sweat, but I hang on to him, slowing him down as much as possible so whoever is watching gets a better view.

When he shoves me away from him so violently that I smash into the wall, I bite my lip to keep from crying out. He opens a door and pushes me against another wall. My heart leaps in my chest as he starts patting my body down so roughly I know he’s doing it on purpose. When he reaches the parts that Mick avoided, I close my eyes and try not to let him see how much it’s hurting me when he squeezes and fondles areas he has no business touching.

I’m so mad, I speak without filtering myself. “Are we finished?”

He raises his hand, and I wince, clenching all my muscles to prepare for the strike.

“Think I heard someone calling you, Hamza,” a voice says.

I look past him, and as my eyes adjust, a woman comes into focus. Brooke. On a mattress in the corner of the room, with her hands bound together and her back pressed against the wall. Given the glazed look on her face, she’s just woken up. That explains the lack of movement.

Hamza sneers at her, but he leaves me be, closing the door and locking it behind him. The second he’s gone, I turn to face her, hoping there’s still enough light to activate the night vision so Mick and the others can also see.

“You know his name?” I ask her.

She gives me a wry smile. “I have a knack for getting information out of people.” Her eyes pop wider as she looks me over. “What areyoudoing here?”

I ease onto the mattress, groaning as I try to find a position that will allow Mick to see her clearly but not aggravate my burning ribs. “Getting molested. I should have worn a burka,” I say.

“I think you mean ahijab.” She pauses then says, “So, youarea killer.”

I shake my head, unsure of what to say to her. If there is any chance that they’re listening to our conversation, I need to be very careful.

“I haven’t killed anyone. I’m just trying to stay alive right now. Same as you.”

She flicks her tongue over her split lip. “Mick said he found you.”

“He lost me again. He’s back in Miami. He’s in trouble with the Coast Guard.”

Her head rests against the wall. “Itoldhim not to get permission first. He’s such an idiot sometimes.”

Despite the pain I’m in, I cover a smile and look down at my hands. Outside, the rain has grown heavier and is pelting against the window pane, making it even darker. I wish I could ask her about Mick, but the risk outweighs the reward. It seems like such a redundant question, but I know it’s what Mick would want to know if he were here. “Are you injured?”

Brooke shakes her head and gestures to her swollen lip. “Just this when I talked back. Something I’d advise against doing.”

I smile at her. “What about food, water, bathroom breaks?”

She cocks her head, and her brow wrinkles slightly. “They’re treating me fine. But I think that could change if I don’t quit praying so loudly.”

She’s been praying? Wow. Okay.

She’s remarkably together for someone who’s been kidnapped.

“Why aren’t you… you know, afraid?”

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