Page 32 of Coup De Grâce
My dad walked closer and clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing hard. “You have so much family here. They’ll protect them and love them. You have to trust in that. If you want this to end, it’s the only way. Make them believe you’ve gone too far and there’s no way back. Only then can we begin to take them down.”
12
CASH
My head throbbedand my throat scratched with dryness. The first thing I noticed was the awkward angle at which I was sitting. The second was that my arms were tied to a chair. Fuck, everything hurt.
I could no longer feel Sally at my back. And if she was gone, so was the gun at my hip. Voices filtered in from the distance—a language I hadn’t heard in years, not since my days in the military. Not since I was last here, staring down a sniper from his nest.
It seemed like so long ago, yet it was still fresh in my mind. I could still remember creeping through the deserted streets, eager to get my hands on that HOGs tooth. It was the only way to ensure that fucking bullet wouldn’t catch me in the skull at a later date.
It seemed like a silly superstition now, since I was currently tied to a chair in the same fucking country I escaped from all those years ago. Someone could easily put a bullet in my head. The HOGs tooth hanging around my neck was nothing more than a talisman, and right now, it wasn’t doing a damn bit of good.
“He’s awake.”
I rolled my head toward the heavy accent, peeling my eyes open. Thankfully, it was dark where I was being held, which kept the throbbing in my head to a manageable degree.
The man standing in front of me studied me carefully, bending down in front of me. “Who are you?”
Judging by his accent, he was a local, but he spoke English very well. That had to mean that he spent time around Americans. At least, that was my hope.
“Cash,” I answered, not bothering with a last name.
He nodded and pulled something from his pocket, letting it dangle from his fingers so I could see what it was.
My dog tags.
“Military. Why are you here?” he questioned.
That’s when I saw the rifle in the corner, leaning against the wall. He followed my gaze and nodded.
“It was you. Why?”
I shook my head, denying it instantly. “It wasn’t me.”
“You have a rifle!”
“I didn’t fire it,” I argued, wincing as the pain in my head increased.
“Then who did?” he shouted, getting in my face.
“I don’t know.”
I was in a house, not a camp or some kind of hole. There were other family members around, all of them sitting in fear. Of me. They couldn’t be part of some terrorist network. At least, that’s what my instincts were screaming. So, I did my best to calm the situation.
“He wasn’t the target.”
“Then who was?”
That, I wouldn’t give away. Just because I didn’t think this man was a terrorist didn’t mean I trusted him either.
“You have a rifle, and from this,” he said, tugging on the dog tags, “you had the capability to take that shot.”
I was all alone in the Middle East. My team had turned on me. Or I had turned on them. Either way, there was no one to help me out of the mess I was in. If I refused to talk, they’d keep me here or hand me over. But if I explained myself…
It was a risk.
A huge fucking risk. There was no guarantee this man would believe me, or that he would be willing to help me.
