Page 8 of Duty Bound

"Can I have some water?" The younger guy shrugged, like he couldn't understand.

"Water." She made a drinking motion with her right hand. He gave a nod then disappeared, leaving her alone.

She looked around, surveying her new home. Nothing but rock. She couldn't even see the entrance from where she sat.

Shifting her position, she tried to get more comfortable. Sharp edges dug into her back, and the ground was hard and unrelenting.

Lily didn't have to wait long before an old man with a long beard and flowing robes came in with a flask of water. Judging by the way he carried himself, she guessed he was the one in charge.

He sat opposite her on the floor, crossed-legged, and set the water down on the ground just out of arm's reach.

"Salaam," he said politely, although his face remained impassive. "I hope you are not too uncomfortable."

Was he freakin' kidding? She was terrified, cold, desperate to pee, parched, starving, and smelled like a camel after three days of not showering. Otherwise, she was just peachy.

At least she'd had a bucket in the filthy room. This cave didn't even have that courtesy. And damned if she'd ask this guy for one. Or anything else.

"I'm fine." She kept her gaze down like she'd seen the women at work do when talking to their male superiors. It wasn't out of respect, she was too damn terrified to look at him.

He nodded in approval. "Do you know why you are here?" His English was heavily accented but grammatically correct, and she got the impression he was well educated. Definitely the one calling the shots.

She shook her head. "For ransom?" It was, she hoped, a convincing lie. No way was she going to let on she knew about the military software system and the codes. That was a last-option bargaining chip, and she still had one other option. If she could convince them that they had the wrong person, she might have a fighting chance of getting out of here alive.

"What is your name?" His eyes were dark and piercing. Did the question mean he wasn't sure?

Hope flared within her. If only she could convince him she wasn't who he thought she was.

"Jo Burke," she blurted out, using the first name that sprang to her mind—Joe's. In a strange way, it gave her strength. He wouldn't have backed down in this situation. Joe was a fighter.

She swallowed hard, the memories of him swelling in her throat, masquerading as a tremble of fear.

The man sucked in air over his teeth, his eyes tightening. "You're lying. Your name is Lilian Devereux, and you work for the Afghan government."

Shit.

They knew.

The realization left her cold, and she had to suck in air to prevent being sick. Still, she stuck to her guns.

"I am Jo Burke, and I am a reporter with The Wall Street Journal." The other hostages had worked for CNN. Hopefully, the correlation would give her story credibility.

"Liar! You are Lilian Devereux. Here is your picture." He threw a laminated ID card at her feet.

Looking down, she stifled a sob. It was her work keycard. She'd used it every day for the last four months to get inside the secure government building.

How the hell had he gotten hold of it? They must have bribed someone or had a man on the inside.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, she couldn't stop them. Faced with the damning evidence, she couldn't very well keep on lying. Her little charade was over.

"Now, I ask again. Do you know why you are here?"

Taking a shuddering breath, she shook her head. She might be Lilian Devereux, but she wasn't going to give him the luxury of answering his questions. If he wanted her to speak, he'd have to force the words out of her mouth.

He smirked, knowing he'd won this round. "I will tell you why. You are here because you have something we want. Something that is very valuable to the new regime. I think you know what that is?"

Go to hell.

She kept her mouth shut and her eyes cast down. God, that jug of water looked inviting. She fantasized about gulping down the cool, thirst-quenching liquid and began to salivate.

---