Rekindled (Titanium Security Series) (22 page)

Alex barely heard anything beyond that Grace might still be alive. He held onto that hope with everything he had. “Where are they?” he bit out.

“Somewhere on the south side of Islamabad.”

His fingers dug into the leather seat so hard his knuckles were white. “How the fuck did they get through security, and what are the Paks doing about it?”

“No one knows how they got through, but from the initial reports it looks pretty sophisticated because they all had proper ID badges and paperwork with them. They must have had help from someone high up.”

A setup. But by whom, the Paks or the Syrians? Or was there another major player here that he was missing? “Where’s the investigation at?”

“The attackers split up into four dark SUVs and took off, heading south,” Evers continued. “They took what appear to be pre-determined routes out of the city. And when police gave chase, militants popped up at four precise locations to engage the cops just as the SUVs passed the same spot. After taking those casualties the Paks have pulled their law enforcement personnel back and are now tracking the vehicles using satellites and a drone. I just sent you guys the satellite footage link, but from all reports it looks like they’re still headed south.”

Alex’s attention snagged on that detail. “How far out are they?”

“Last I heard, about fifteen miles south of the city.”

He looked over at Hunter and Gage, still at the front of the cabin. “You guys get the link Evers e-mailed yet?”

“Pulling it up now,” Gage answered as he and Hunter stared at the laptop screen.

Alex strode over on shaky legs and held his breath while the footage loaded. He set his phone down and put it on speaker. “Watching it now,” he told Evers. Hunter zoomed in on the video of one SUV as it sped down an access highway, the Pak police vehicles chasing it. “Can you get in closer?” he asked, his attention riveted on the rear passenger window.

Hunter tightened the focus on the speeding vehicle but they couldn’t see inside the tinted windows, just the shape of the driver’s silhouette. Alex stared hard, wondering if this was the vehicle carrying Grace. Was she conscious? Did she know what was going on? Did she know he was trying to find her?

Hold on, sweetheart. Wherever you are, just hold on for me. I’ll get you out of there.

As they watched, the SUV rounded a slight bend in the road. When the police vehicles arrived at that same spot seconds later, sure enough, armed men burst out of another vehicle parked on the shoulder and opened fire with automatic weapons. The cops swerved as the bullets tore into their windshields and hoods. Several smashed into each other, others veered off the road and wound up in the ditch. Watching it all on screen, Alex knew the ambush was too well-executed to be anything but pre-planned by someone who knew what they were doing.

“The other three vehicles made a similar escape?” he asked Evers.

“Yes. The Paks are trying to set up roadblocks ahead of them, but it’s not easy because no one knows where their final destination is.”

“Karachi,” Alex finished.

“You sure?”

One hundred percent sure. “Yeah. This is all Hassani. He’s going to use Grace to make me come to him.” Because the bastard knew Alex would do anything to protect her, even sacrifice himself. He hadn’t woken up this morning ready to die, but he would willingly trade his life for Grace’s.

“Well, they can’t be planning to drive all the way there.”

“No,” Alex agreed. “Have the Paks search all the outlying airfields around Islamabad and then Karachi. Especially the small or abandoned ones. They’ll be hopping a plane somewhere outside Islamabad soon.” There had to be dozens of possible sites but they needed a break in the case and that was as good a place to start with as any. Alex glanced at his watch. “We’ll be landing in another forty minutes and I’ll get things rolling in Karachi. Keep me up to speed.”

“Will do.”

Alex ended the call and rubbed a hand over his face, then faced Hunter and Gage. They both watched him with grim, empathetic expressions that told him they understood exactly how he felt.

“Whatever it takes, man, we’ll nail him,” Hunter vowed.

“And get Grace the hell out of there,” Gage finished.

Alex nodded his thanks. “Ellis and Jordyn will be nearly an hour behind us. Alert them to the situation while I make some calls.” He needed to have everyone alerted and on standby so they were ready to roll the moment his team arrived in Karachi.

Right now he had to get it together and figure out what the hell he was going to do once he landed. Without a doubt Hassani would have everything for his plan in place already. He had the feeling Hassani wanted this to be personal. Did that mean Grace was the bait to lure him into a trap? Or did he want Alex to see her die first?

His stomach twisted at the thought. He wished he had a reliable piece of intel that would help him locate Grace the moment the plane touched down, but he knew Hassani would contact him eventually. Once he did, Alex would do whatever it took to save her.

As his gaze landed on the prisoner in back, a plan began to take shape. It was a long shot, but unfortunately it was the only one he had for now. All he needed was Hassani’s location and the chance to put it into action.

Because he wasn’t just going to kill Hassani when he found him; he was going to tear the fucker apart for what he’d done to Grace.

****

Rough hands lifted her, dragged her across something slippery. Grace struggled to open her eyes then realized she couldn’t see because they’d blindfolded her. Her mouth was dry, her lips stretched taut from the gag cutting into the sides of her face. Her hands were bound behind her with something. Both ankles were bound together. A sharp, pounding pain drilled into her skull with every heartbeat and her body felt sluggish.

She could hear the sound of an engine, but it was louder, higher pitched than a vehicle. Then she heard a whirring noise and a blast of hot air hit her face. The person carrying her threw her over his shoulder with a grunt, his steps ringing out as though he was walking on metal stairs as he descended. He dumped her across a seat. A moment later something heavy landed against her side. Doors slammed shut and this time she recognized the start of a motor turning over. More doors shut and the vehicle moved forward. Men began speaking in a language she didn’t understand, likely Urdu.

The more alert she became, the more her heart began to pound. Cold sweat bathed her spine. She remembered the confusion and panic in the moments before that needle had struck home, the sound of the gunshots out in the hall. Who had done this? And why? Were her teammates lying dead in that conference room? She started to shake. Something moved beside her. She jumped, then realized it was a human body. One of her teammates? She pressed closer to try to convey support without giving away that she was awake. The person beside her stilled.

They seemed to drive for a long time. Finally the vehicle slowed into a series of turns and came to a stop. Grace fought back the dark tide of fear as someone opened the back door and grabbed her beneath the armpits to haul her out. He draped her over one shoulder and began walking. She knew they’d entered some sort of building because the sound of his steps changed, the hollow echo telling her the space was large and open. He dumped her onto a hard seat and then she heard the rip of tape a moment before he seized her bound hands and taped them behind her to something on the back of the chair.

She tried to swallow but the gag had completely sucked the moisture from her mouth. A dark wave of fear threatened to take her under. She fought it, tried to hold onto hope. If they’d wanted her dead they would have done that back at the hotel, or at any point up ‘til now. They obviously wanted her for something else. Unless…

Unless they wanted to make her death public and had waited until this very moment.

She shuddered, sucked in a ragged breath through her nose. More men came into the room. She felt a tug at the back of her head and the blindfold fell away. She winced as the overhead light hit her eyes. As they adjusted she made out the four Middle Eastern men standing around her still in their suits—she recognized them as the ones she’d mistakenly thought were the Syrian delegation. They paid her no attention as she looked around. She was in some kind of warehouse and judging by the dust and broken crates everywhere, it looked like it was abandoned. There were windows high up on the walls, so filthy the light coming through them was muted. Glancing around the cavernous space, she spotted a familiar figure strapped to a chair behind her left shoulder, gagged as she was.

David.

She was so relieved to see him and know he was still alive that she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them David was staring back at her with pure terror in his eyes, his forehead creased in a frown. Grace turned her attention back to their captors. The men were gathered around something about twenty feet away with their backs toward her, talking amongst themselves. Something about the way they focused on the object sent a tendril of dread down her spine. They moved away a few minutes later and she finally saw what it was. A video camera, strapped to some sort of pole. And beside it, a crate with red writing she didn’t understand, but the skull and crossbones symbol was clear enough. Some sort of poison.

She jerked her gaze back to the men as her stomach dropped. None of them looked at her or David. As a group they walked away toward the wide doors at the far end of the building and left, letting the doors clang shut behind them. The sound echoed off the walls and ceiling with an ominous ring, as though they’d just locked her and David in a tomb.

Grace waited a few moments to make sure the men weren’t coming back, then set her bare feet against the dirty concrete and started shoving her way back to David. The legs of her metal chair scraped across the floor with hair-raising screeches, but the noise couldn’t be helped. She had to find a way to get her hands free. If she and David worked together maybe they could get the duct tape off.

David began scooting toward her as well, frantically rubbing his shoulder against his cheek to try to pull the gag free. A few seconds later he got it loose enough to drag away from his mouth. “Are you okay?” he demanded.

Did she freaking
look
okay? She ignored the question and kept scraping her way toward him, her progress frustratingly slow to avoid upturning the chair and toppling on her back. Her brain kept screaming at her to hurry, hurry, before someone came back or they carried out whatever part of the plan that involved the poison in that crate. Her gut told her that wasn’t just a prop to scare them.

“God, Grace, I’m so sorry,” David choked out. He was still trying to get to her, but at this pace the dozen or so yards between them seemed impossibly far.

She only paid partial attention to what he was saying, focused on getting close enough to see if they could work the tape free from their hands somehow. There was no time to lose.

“This is all my fault.”

At that she glanced up at him, saw the tears in his eyes. Dread curled in her gut but she didn’t stop inching toward him.

“I’m the one who alerted the media. I got a call from a producer offering me money in exchange for the meeting time and location. I took it to put a big dent in my debt, but that was before the security scare with you. By the time Alex came to take you from our hotel it was too late to stop it, and the guy threatened me with blackmail if I didn’t inform him of the change in venue. I’m sorry.” He sounded stricken but Grace shot him an icy glare all the same and he lowered his eyes.

They were halfway to each other when the clang of the release bar on the door made them both freeze. Grace whipped her head around to stare at the doorway, her heart thudding in her ears.

The door swung open. A shadow fell across the dusty floor. Then footsteps, ringing hollowly through the air. Her muscles tightened as the man came into view and the door clicked shut. A stocky, powerfully built man with short dark hair sprinkled with gray and a well-trimmed goatee. He wore a black suit with no tie, his bearing and posture radiating authority. His left hand was covered in a bandage.

Then he stepped into the light in the center of the room and Grace’s heart seemed to stop beating.

Malik Hassani.

He held her stare as he approached, his gait confident and a gleam of anticipation in his dark, deep set eyes. “You know who I am?” he asked her in a quiet, deep voice that resonated through the empty space.

Unable to speak even if the gag hadn’t been pressed against her tongue, she gave a stiff nod. Hassani’s mouth curved slightly and he flicked a glance at David before coming back to her. And then Grace knew. This was about Alex, and Hassani had brought her here to make him suffer. Either through her torture and death, or by Alex’s. Maybe both. Nausea bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

He paused at the camera to start it, the little red light blinking as it recorded. Meeting her gaze, he nodded at the crate beside him. “You should be intimately familiar with what’s in here.”

And then she knew. Knew what was in there and how she was going to die. And it was worse than anything she’d imagined—even worse than the terror she’d felt while she’d lain on that marble ballroom floor with her lifeblood pooling around her.

Hassani walked up to her and stopped within arm’s reach. He reached behind her head and undid the gag and she instinctively shrank away when the cloth fell, but there was nowhere to go. She ran her dry tongue over her lips and tried to swallow down the panic clawing at her insides.

In a casual move, Hassani reached into his pocket and withdrew a phone—the specially encrypted phone Alex had given her, she realized with a start. He slipped something into it and hit a few buttons to reactivate it, then pulled something else from his other pocket. The metal gleamed dully in the dingy light and a sharp snick sounded as the blade sprang free.

Grace made a choked sound and shrank away, her skin crawling at the thought of being sliced to pieces. Ignoring her reaction, Hassani stepped beside her, reached down to grip her numb hands and sliced through the tape. Her arms fell to her sides. She flinched at the pain as the blood rushed into her stiff shoulder joints and fiery pins-and-needles shot through her hands and fingers as the nerves woke. Her muscles were too stiff and weak to obey and she couldn’t pull free when he grabbed her hand and placed her phone in her icy fingers.