Page 22 of Lethal Pursuit

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MAYA WAS TRAPPEDin a waking nightmare.

They’d bound her hands and feet to a metal chair and left her alone in the middle of the small earthen room. The waiting was almost worse than the pain she knew was coming. Old fears rose up like specters to haunt her. In the dark, heart thudding in terror, she was nineyears old all over again, locked in the closet when her uncle’s footsteps came down the hall toward the bedroom she shared with Pilar.

Don’t come out,whatever happens.Her sister’s urgent whisper was still razor-sharp in her memory.I’ll let you out once it’s safe,but stay hidden and stay quiet.

Even at nine, it had been perfectly clear to her what Pilar had endured to protect her. Those masculine grunts and muffled cries of pain from beyond the closed closet door of their bedroom had painted a vivid picture in her brain that she’d never been able to erase. The hand-me-down double bed she’d shared with Pili had squeaked ominously, the oak headboard banging against the wall in a relentless rhythm until Maya thought she’d go mad.

Many times her fingers had curled around the handle of the wooden baseball bat in that closet, prepared to burst through the door and cave his skull in to save her sister. But time after time, she’d done as her sister said and stayed hidden in the safety of their closet. And she’d never be able to forgive herself for her cowardice as long as she lived.

Instead of acting, doing something,anythingto save Pilar, night after night she’d remained locked in that stygian closet with her hands clapped over her ears and silent tears streaming down her cheeks. The other adults in the house had ignored those pitiful cries tearing from her sister’s lips, either in denial or because they were passed out somewhere next to an empty bottle of wine. It had gone on for nearly two years until Pilar had finally agreed to run away because she’d at last deemed Maya old enough to endure life on the streets.

But no one can outrun the past. Though they’d escaped, in the end it hadn’t been enough. The memories had killed Pilar as surely as the coarse rope looped around her slender throat when Maya found her hanging lifeless from the shower rod in the dingy bathroom of the apartment they’d shared. The note Pilar had left on the kitchen counter was permanently etched into her mind.

You have to live,Maya. Living is the only way to get revenge on the bastard who did this to me. Swear to me you’ll never give in. Swear it.

She’d dedicated her life to upholding her sister’s dying wish. Here in this dark prison, that final promise was about to be tested to its limits.

Male voices came from outside the small room they’d placed her in. Maya swallowed but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her dry throat. Her heart thudded a hard, pounding rhythm and a cold sweat broke out over her skin.

These men lived by their own laws, their own code of conduct. Islam was supposed to be one of the most peaceful religions, but these men twisted it into an extreme, violent facsimile. That they were Muslims didn’t necessarily protect her from rape, though she hoped it would. They perverted their religion to suit their own agenda, so it was possible rape wasn’t an aberration to them.

Maya’s skin crawled. Having to endure that cruel degradation at their hands would be almost as bad as dying. All the SERE training in the world couldn’t prepare her for the brutal reality of that.

Her mind wandered back to a conversation she’d had with Pilar shortly after running away from theirabuela’shouse.

How did you stand it,Pilar?

I left my body and went somewhere else in my head. Someplace he could never find me or touch me again. A place where fear and pain don’t exist.

Maya had mentally prepared herself for the possibility of capture and rape as much as any female service member could before deploying. It had been something she’d thought about only in passing, telling herself the chances of it ever happening were miniscule. Now that the moment was here, could she take it? She would rather die than break under torture.

Someone swept aside the corner of the carpet covering the entrance and two men strode in, carrying a lantern. One remained by the doorway, while the other set the lantern on a crate close to her and came to stand directly in front of her. She fixed her gaze straight ahead, staring at nothing, careful not to bow her head or give any outward sign of fear. Given how frightened she was, it wasn’t easy.

A hard hand flashed out and gripped her jaw, forcing her head up. She didn’t bother resisting because she didn’t have much choice andit would be a waste of energy, but she refused to meet his gaze. His hold was forceful, bordering right on the edge of painful, his long fingers digging into her flesh like talons.

She stared stubbornly at the V in his throat, where his thick dark beard stopped a few inches above the collar of his shirt. She could see the edges of his defined pectoral muscles there, sensed the raw power in his arms and shoulders, his formidable will. This man was hard as steel inside and out. He radiated a cold, controlled anger she had no desire to see unleashed on her. It took everything she had to keep from trembling.

“Name.”

The cold rasp of his voice sent a chill down her spine. She drew in a breath, ready with the standard name, rank and serial number response, surprised at how steady her voice came out. “Lieutenant Maya Lopez, five-seven-two—”

“Enough.” He dropped his hand.

She clamped her jaw closed and waited.

He circled her slowly, like a wolf stalking its prey. He was tall, around six feet or more, somewhere in his thirties and built lean. The traditional baggy clothing he wore did nothing to disguise the raw power seething inside that whipcord body.

A shiver crawled through her as he spoke again. “It sickens me how weak Americans are to let women wear a uniform. Tell me, Lieutenant Lopez, why you are fighting this war.” His voice dripped with disdain at her rank. When she didn’t respond, he paused in front of her. “Answer me.”

“I can’t answer that question.” Now her voice shook.

“You will.Now.”

Here it comes.She tensed, preparing as much as she could for that first blow. It didn’t fall, and eventually Maya allowed herself to relax a fraction. All her senses were tuned to the man in front of her, locking on him with a kind of hyper-focus she’d only ever previously experienced during combat.

He shifted again, and Maya could feel the frustration pulsing off him. His hands flexed once, his fingers curling into fists of rage. Then he turned to the man at the doorway and barked something at him in another language. Pashto, maybe. The rug covering the openinglifted as the man rolled it back, then his retreating footsteps echoed until they faded into silence.

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