Page 81 of Operation Heartbeat

Shedidknow the way to the safe house. If she could get there, she would wait for him. And pray nothing happened to him.

Quickly, she snapped a photo with her phone of the images on the screen before she grabbed her purse and stuffed her feet into her boots. She burst out of the hotel room.

The hallway was empty and silent, and she ran the entire way to the exit. She needed to get to that safe house and pray that the team returned soon.

Outside, she spotted a taxi and ran forward, her hand in the air to hail it. It rolled up next to her, and she whipped open the door to launch inside.

“You speak English?” she shot out.

“Yes,” the driver said with an accent.

She sputtered. She didn’t know an address, only local landmarks. “There’s a stone building. On the corner of a square. Do you know it?”

“I think so.”

“Can you get me there? I’m in a hurry!”

“I will get you there fast.”

She perched on the edge of the back seat, her heart slamming. Her hand began to ache and she realized she was gripping her phone hard enough that it dug into her flesh.

The driver took off, traveling away from the hotel. At an intersection, she recognized the building. Denver had turned here.

“Turn here.”

The driver ignored her.

“Can you make the block and go back? We passed the turn.”

He didn’t give her so much as a glance to acknowledge her directions.

At the next road he took a turn that she was pretty sure would lead themawayfrom her destination.

He wasn’t taking her anywhere she wanted to go.

Her gut clenched.

Stay calm.

Though her logical mind gave that bit of advice, her body was short-circuiting in panic. Black spots formed in front of her eyes, and she realized she’d stopped breathing.

She sucked in a deep inhalation and fixed her gaze on the street, locking every turn the driver made into her brain. As they sailed past a sign, she plugged the street name into her mind too.

She stared at the driver’s profile. He didn’t look back at her, but his hands were clamped tight on the steering wheel.

“How much farther?” she asked him, forcing her tone to remain steady and not give away the fact that she knew she was being kidnapped.

“Not far.” He turned his head a little, giving her a good look at his profile…and a tattoo on his neck.

Not just any tattoo.

Thetattoo.

NINETEEN

The tactical maps and computer tablets were spread out on the coffee table again, and the Blackout team had all gathered around in preparation for the debriefing. Con didn’t take a seat. He was too keyed up after that op, and not for the right reasons.

When it came to rescuing Deniz’s wife, they had won the day. But they failed to stop that shipment from leaving port.

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