Page 42 of Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team)

The muscles in his jaw tightened, saliva pooling in his mouth. As his stomach lurched he stumbled for the bathroom.

“You okay?” Tuck said groggily from his bed.

Adam didn’t answer, too busy holding back the little bit of food he’d forced down before going to bed a couple hours before. He threw the bathroom door shut and flipped the toilet seat up just as his stomach heaved. He dropped to his knees and threw up until his abs burned and his throat felt raw.

Afterward he dropped his head into his hand and sat on the cold tile floor, covered in clammy sweat. He felt broken inside. Lost.

He scrubbed a hand over his damp face, forced his wobbly legs to unfold and push him to his feet. After rinsing out his mouth and brushing his teeth he hit the shower. As the scalding hot water pounded down on his bent head and neck he stood there with his hands planted against the slick fiberglass walls and fought to clear his head.

But all he could think of was Summer.

That night at the drive-in he’d wanted so badly to take her upstairs to her apartment and finish what they’d started. But he hadn’t. Back then he’d thought they’d have plenty of time to get around to that; that the buildup and anticipation would pay off for them in the long run.

Now it just seemed like a huge fucking wasted opportunity. Maybe his last, to make love to the woman who meant everything to him.

Aside from the stillbirth, everything that had pulled them apart seemed like bullshit now. He would trade places with her in an instant, give his life for her if it would set her free. Did she know in her heart that he was searching for her? That he wouldn’t give up?

He wouldn’t leave Jordan without her. He was taking her home, no matter what.

He just prayed it wouldn’t be in a body bag.

Tuck was waiting for him when he finally emerged from the bathroom. That deep brown gaze swept over him critically.

“Don’t say it,” Adam warned. “I’m still fully operational.”

Tuck didn’t respond for a long moment.

If they were reunited again, Adam vowed then and there that he’d make sure Summer would never doubt his love for her ever again.

A cell went off.

Adam’s gaze shot to the nightstand where he’d put his, but realized it was Tuck’s ringing. At this hour, the call had to be important.

Tuck leaned over and grabbed it. “Tucker.” His eyes met Adam’s as he listened. “Yeah, he’s right here.”

Adam’s heart beat faster.

“We gotta get down to the command center. A tip just came from a reliable source about a possible location on the cell, up near the Syrian border.”

The news hit him like he’d been mainlining shots of espresso for the past hour. Instantly all the fatigue was gone, his brain clear and alert, his body primed for action. Without waiting for Tuck, Adam grabbed his gear and rushed for the door, yanking his shirt over his head.

He was going to get his wife back.

****

Something big was about to happen. She could feel it. And Hadad was growing restless.

For about the past half hour Summer had watched him rushing back and forth, coming in and out of view as he disappeared out of and back into the building. He was barking orders, overseeing what his men were doing, and she only caught bits and pieces of what he said.

She could see it all clearly because they hadn’t put the hood back on her. Something that only made the churning in her stomach worse. If they didn’t care if she saw what was going on now, then it had to mean her usefulness to them had come to an end.

Her heart thudded hard against her chest wall and clammy sweat gathered beneath her arms, on her hands. What were they going to do to her? She’d seen a video of Hadad beheading a prisoner, and crucifying another. Cruel, agonizing and terrifying ways to die.

She tried to keep from imagining all the horrific ways they could torture and kill her, things she’d seen at work but now that her imagination had gotten rolling, it was impossible to cut off that train of thought.

Trying not to draw any attention to herself, she stayed motionless against the back bars of the cell. They’d put her in it a few minutes after Hadad had looked down at her with those chilling black eyes and told her he was going to take everything from her.

They’d cut her hands and feet free, tossed her dirty socks and a beat up pair of old running shoes before slamming the cell door shut and locking it. Huddled there in the dirt, she was pathetically grateful for the extra warmth. For the first time since she’d been taken, her feet weren’t numb from cold.

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