Page 17 of Rami

Screams and shouts followed. A beat later, August charged through the front door. The sight was as familiar to Rami as his own shadow.

Rami swept his gaze around the room and moved over trash, clothes, and other shit he didn’t waste time identifying. The scents of urine and feces mingled with the foul, bitter odor of drugs. The fog from the smoke bomb leaked out of the bedroom into the rest of the small space, and the powdery scent was almost fucking pleasant compared to the other smells fermenting inside.

His light landed on a form against the wall between the kitchen and the hallway. The person was wearing a black shirt and dark shorts—what Ivy had been wearing the day she’d been snatched.

“Get on the ground!” August screamed, as he burst down the hall and into the bedroom. The crack of two shots came next.

Rami moved swiftly toward the woman. She lay facing the wall. Brown, sweat-soaked, matted hair concealed her profile.

Even with all the commotion, she didn’t move.

Dread collected at the back of Rami’s tongue. Just moments ago, heat had been coming from her body. But maybe he was too late.

He lowered his weapon, dropped down beside her and ignored the grunts and cries from the other room. “Miss? Can you tell me your name? I’m—”

The woman rolled swiftly, and a guttural cry sounded from her throat. She swung at him, driving something sharp at his face. “No!” The choked gasp fell on a shaky wail.

He dodged her hand, and a jagged tip sliced his jaw. He snagged her wrist in one swoop, and a nail fell from her fingers and rolled along the slanted floor. Dazed, terrified hazel eyes connected with his, and the crushing force of pity hit him like a dumbbell to the chest.

His headlamp shined in her face and she winced, but he’d caught sight of dilated pupils hidden behind swollen, bluish eyelids. Her head lolled. It seemed as if her little attack had drained the last of her strength.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

He brought his free hand to the back of her neck, cradling her head. “Hey,” he said sharply. Her eyelids flickered but didn’t open again. “If you can hear me, listen. Is your name Ivy?”

Silence.

Fuck.

He stared at her face. Dirt smeared her swollen and bruised cheek. A deep well of rage formed inside him. Those motherfuckers. They’d beat her. Hit her. She was so thin. So pale.

But was she Ivy? He wavered. Her hair color and clothing matched the description, but given her rough physical state, he couldn’t be sure.

Defiance expanded his chest.

Ivy or not, he wasn’t leaving this woman. He’d break his own goddamn rule. Christ, she still might not survive.

“My name is Rami, and I’m here to take you home.” He hesitated. If this wasn’t Ivy, then they still had a search ahead of them. He had to know.

“Is that her?” August stalked up to him.

Rami didn’t ask about the people inside the bedroom. “Don’t know.” The woman’s hand twitched on his forearm, and he remembered something Gigi had said. He lowered her head to the floor, unscrewed the lid of the canteen, and dumped water on her dirty left hand. Using his shirt, he scrubbed her skin and then illuminated her knuckles with his headlamp.

A faint pink birthmark marred the delicate skin below her middle finger. “It’s her.” The triumphant declaration made his pulse kick into overdrive.

Yes. Thank god.

He scooped her up with one arm beneath her knees and cradled her head to his chest. “I’m taking you home, Ivy,” he stated. Confidence vibrated through his chest. “Cover us,” he commanded August.

Taschen’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “Dude. We got company. Get the fuck outta there.”

CHAPTER 6

“Run!” August’s voice boomed behind Rami as they darted across the desert floor.

Rami leapt over small rocks and made a beeline for the waiting van. Dust flew up from beneath his boots.

A motor roared from the direction of the compound. Rami kept his focus zeroed in on the vehicle. The newcomers weren’t close enough to take shots, but they were moving fast.

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