Page 76 of Duty Bound

Away from the men hunting her.

Away from here.

“Who are you?” the man shouted again.

Being naked and screamed at was supposed to unsettle him, but he’d gone through worse during training. He’d been here before, and that gave him some comfort. This wasn’t a new experience for him.

Blade let his head drop and tried to appear as subdued and as feeble as he could. It was what they wanted. If he’d gone all gung-ho and said fuck you, they’d only continue the violence. Better to play into their hands.

“You are U.S. Army.” The other man sneered then spat on the floor.

Blade looked contrite, like he’d been found out.

Army was one thing. If they discovered he was Special Forces, they’d assume he’d been part of the hostage rescue. It didn’t matter that he was no longer in the unit.

So far, his capture hadn’t reached the Taliban leaders up in the mountains who were presumably still searching for them, but it would soon.

When that happened, all bets were off.

When he didn’t answer, he got a rifle butt in the head. The shock sent him reeling over onto his side again.

He didn’t move, tottering on the edge of consciousness. Maybe they’d think he’d been knocked out.

They kicked him in the back to make sure, so he moaned incoherently but didn’t move. Hopefully, they’d think he was too far gone to continue with the interrogation.

They weren’t giving it their all, anyway. It was a half-assed attempt to discover his identity. From what he’d seen so far, these guys were not particularly organized, and there was no clear chain of command. All things that acted in his favor.

Blade curled up in the fetal position on the cold, concrete floor and let the darkness envelope him. There was nothing else he could do right now.

When his head cleared, he’d take stock of his surroundings and try to figure out how the hell to get out before Lily’s captors came for him. As long as they didn’t know who he really was, he had a fighting chance.

Blade drifted in and out of consciousness. He had no idea how long he lay there. Eventually, he opened his eyes—rather, his one eye that wasn’t swollen shut—and looked around. He was in a concrete room, about twenty by twenty, with the door behind him and two windows in front. The blinds were broken, causing thin shards of light to shoot across the floor.

It was still daylight.

He grimaced as he tried to move.

Fuck, everything hurt.

They’d definitely busted a rib. Probably his collarbone too. He tried to move, then gasped as a deep, searing pain radiated through his left arm.

Christ.

His hands were still tied together, but he couldn’t move the right one without the left exploding in agony. Eyes watering, he added that to the injury list.

The room tilted a little. The wooziness was from a concussion caused by the repeated kicks to the head. At least it was no longer pounding like a goddamn jackhammer. That was a good sign.

After several false starts, he managed to get himself into a sitting position. It took a few wheezing seconds to recover. Using the wall for support, Blade staggered to his feet.

First thing’s first. Check the door and windows. He didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to leave them open, but you never knew.

The door was locked, the windows didn’t open.

Shit.

Outside was a yard of some sort.

“Well, I’ll be…” This wasn’t a secure compound. It was a house, and he was looking out onto a barren backyard. As he watched, an armed guard walked by.

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