Page 44 of Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team)

Her hands flexed at her sides, itching to grab for the stones, the urge to fight pulsing through her bloodstream. When she thought of what might be coming, of the agony and terror they would surely inflict, part of her was willing to risk pissing them off so they’d shoot her here now as punishment.

A quick death like that was surely a thousand times less painful to whatever heinous plan they had in mind.

But her survival instinct was too strong. It refused to let her give in to the idea.

She wanted tolive, goddamn it. She wanted to see Adam again, make a life with him again. She’d do anything for that chance, even if it meant selling her soul. As long as the chance at being reunited with him existed, then she would endure anything.

Brave thoughts. They did nothing to quell the surge of terror that lashed through her when Hadad drew nearer.

His cold black eyes stayed locked with hers as he stalked toward her, and she saw the fervor there. The lust for blood and vengeance.

She fought back a shudder as a chill snaked through her, held her breath.

He stopped mere feet from her cell door, stood there staring down at her for a long moment, letting the anticipation and fear swell. She could see how much he loved this. How much he relished toying with her mind.

Her chin came up, her spine snapping taut.

You pathetic fucking bastard, she told him with her eyes, glaring up at him with every ounce of contempt she felt. What she wouldn’t give for a five-minute hand-to-hand fight with him.

She’d use every trick Adam had ever taught her, show this piece of shit excuse for a human being that she was the opposite of helpless. She’d smash in that long, straight nose and gouge at those hate-filled eyes.

He was far bigger than her, way stronger, so she knew she’d come out the loser in that altercation. But at least she’d go down swinging and not like the helpless victim he was making her.

“You’re going to be the star of my little show,” he told her, his accented voice smug with satisfaction. “But first you will make a video statement using the guidelines I give you. If you behave and do as you’re told, you will be rewarded. If not…” He let the sentence trail off, the cruel smile he gave her telling her just how much he hoped she disobeyed. “You will be punished.”

Gritting her teeth, Summer held that dark, soulless stare, refusing to be the one to look away. If he was going to the trouble of making a video of this, then it likely meant he intended to broadcast it. Clearly he meant it as a taunt to her government.

Officials would see it. They would know she was still alive, and that would ramp up search efforts. Maybe somehow an analyst would be able to figure out where the signal had originated from and locate them from there.

But she already knew that was a long shot and that she and the others couldn’t wait that long. She had to somehow figure out a way to tell them where they were, without tipping off Hadad and his men.

Her mind whirled, racing to come up with a plan. If she could somehow convey their location, give some sort of embedded message during her statement, that might be enough to enable authorities to stage a rescue effort.

Buthow? What could she say and how could she say it without giving herself away?

She thought of Adam. As soon as the video went live, it was only a matter of time before he was alerted to it. He knew her better than anyone.

There had to be a way to come up with a secret message he’d understand. She had to think of something, it was her and the others’ only chance.

Her heart raced as ideas tumbled through her mind.Think Summer, think!She’d been working on a report that mentioned Northern Shuneh, had left it at the hotel.

Yes!Hope and elation exploded inside her.It had to work. She had to figure out how to relay the message.

She had a brief moment’s satisfaction when Hadad’s smile faded in the face of her silent defiance, but it was quickly replaced by derision. “Stand up,” he commanded quietly, the deceptively soft tone somehow ten times scarier than if he’d shouted it.

With no other choice but to obey, she did. Slowly. So as not to disturb her little weapon tucked safely out of sight. There was a slim chance she might be able to use it yet.

“Turn around, hands behind you,” he ordered, his voice gruff now, impatient.

They were going to cuff her.

Her heart sank at the realization, then redoubled its rhythm, the blood pulsing in her ears. With both men standing here, she had no chance. And without being able to use her hands, she was pretty much defenseless against them.

It went against every instinct she possessed, but there was no other way. Moving carefully, she turned and backed toward the bars of the cell door.

One of them, probably Hadad, grabbed her hands in a painful grip and twisted her wrists, making her wince and bite back a cry as he secured the plastic cuffs around them. Tight enough to cut off the blood supply. Already she could feel the veins in her hands swelling, the cuffs trapping the blood there.

A squeal of metal hinges signaled they’d opened the door. Before she could turn her head to see what they were doing Hadad yanked her backward, making her stumble.

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