Page 41 of Lethal Pursuit

Haversham’s eyelids fluttered. He struggled to open them, blinking up at Jackson in confusion. A pained groan escaped his cracked lips.

Thank God.“That’s right, come on back.”

His eyes focused slowly, taking Jackson in first. When he looked to the side and saw all the masked men standing around the room, hewent rigid, a sheen of sweat breaking out over his face.

Jackson hated being responsible for making him endure more of this bullshit. “Sorry, man.” He eased back and threw a pointed glare over his shoulder at Khalid, who lowered the weapon and handed it back to the man next to him. Jackson’s heart rate slowed. He didn’t dare look back at Maya as a suffocating silence filled the room. Jackson refused to let them see his anxiety. They’d feed on it, ramp up their efforts to break him in front of the others.

Khalid kept staring at him, and Jackson stared right back. It was the only show of defiance he could give right now. So, he challenged him with his eyes, wanting whatever the sadist had in mind to be done to him, rather than Maya or Haversham. Compared to them, Jackson was in perfect health. He held that evil gaze.What now?

A cold, cruel light entered Khalid’s eyes. He jerked his head to the side, indicating a spot between Maya and Haversham. “Get over there and sit down.”

Though everything in him rebelled at following the command, he had no choice. Rising from his knees, he stopped when Mohammed approached and reached for one of his wrists. The muscles in his arm tensed, wanting to strike. Needing to. His nostrils flared, a molten anger igniting in his blood. It took everything he had to remain still and allow the kid to secure his wrists behind his back yet again.

Once it was done, he shuffled stiffly to his place against the wall, filled with loathing for the men holding them and for the powerlessness he felt in that moment. Sinking into position a few feet away from Maya, he could feel her fearful gaze on him and the rage faded, replaced by growing despair. He stole a glance at her with his peripheral vision. If there was a way to save her by offering his life for hers, he’d do it.

That others may livewasn’t just a motto he lived by as a PJ. It was everything he stood for. And if he was going to die saving a life today, he wanted it to be Maya’s.

Cold settled over him. Whenever he’d thought about the end over the past couple of days, he’d always envisioned himself fighting right until his last breath. Sitting on the hard-packed floor waiting for whatever happened next, he was filled with the awful realization that he’d just submitted to his death instead.

* * *

THEPJ’sDARKeyes blazed with loathing and defiance as he lowered into position between the other prisoners. Though he was bound, Khalid watched him closely, trusting him least of all. This soldier was the biggest threat to them, with the Defense Secretary practically senseless and the female so battered. She sat rigidly against the wall, definitely afraid, dried tear marks staining her face, raspy breaths catching in her throat. No threat to him in a physical sense, even if she hadn’t been restrained.

And yet she remained impressively strong, despite her injuries. She’d fought him every step of the way down the corridor, somehow understanding what he intended for her and the others. Khalid took note of the dried blood on her mouth and chin, the end of the crude cardboard splint supporting her bound wrist, the guarded way she held herself.

As they made eye contact, the look that flashed in her eyes took him by surprise and gave him pause. It was more than hatred. It was pure determination. Perhaps he’d underestimated her, with her smaller size and weak female body. Aside from the physical damage and fatigue, she was still willing to fight and would do so the second she had the opportunity. Khalid didn’t plan on giving her one. Not her, nor any of the others.

Ignoring the lingering vestiges of disquiet plaguing him, he paused a moment to collect himself and clear his mind. The camera was recording on the other side of the room. He’d ordered his men to cover their faces so they couldn’t be identified later, but the captives had already seen his own. Khalid couldn’t see their expressions, but he felt his men’s disapproval. It pervaded the entire room like a toxic fog. A spurt of alarm hit him, the sense that he was losing his men’s loyalty making his pulse quicken.

He’d fought for the chance to lead his own men and now that he stood on the brink of clinching their support, he risked alienating them forever. “Let us begin.”

Khalid did another visual sweep of the room. He could tell from their body posture and the looks in their eyes that the men were uneasy about this. They were afraid of angering Rahim with this nextstep, but there was no more time. The Americans were closing in, moving closer every hour, and he had to extract the confession from the Secretary in the next few minutes. His reputation, his future and the next phase of this war all hinged on Khalid getting that confession on tape.

Never taking his eyes off the prisoners, he removed his treasured revolver from his belt and handed it to Jihad, who stood behind him. “Take out all the bullets but one,” he instructed in Pashto. Jihad took the weapon from him and flipped open the cylinder. The metallic sound of rounds sliding out filled the room, then aclicking-whiras he spun the cylinder.

“Untie her hands,” he commanded, gesturing toward the female. One of the men came forward to slice the bonds holding her wrists behind her. She blanched and set her jaw before bringing both hands to her lap, cradling her splinted left wrist.

Once again, he turned his attention to the Defense Secretary. The man was watching him out of slitted, pain-glazed eyes. Khalid spoke the English words slowly, in a clear voice. “So far you have refused to make the statement I want from you. You leave me no choice but to try a different sort of persuasion.” He nodded to Jihad. “Give the female the gun,” he said in Pashto.

When he faced her, she turned even whiter, her features frozen like a mask. “Russian roulette. You know this game?” He could see from her reaction that she did. “There is a curious expression you Americans have. ‘Ladies first.’ Since you are a female and the only officer here, you will go first. Pull back the hammer, place the revolver to your head and fire one shot. If you refuse, I will shoot one of your comrades. If you try to turn the gun on any of us, the consequences will be far worse.”

To ensure he was protected, he took one of his men’s pistols and chambered a round, watching her closely. The metallic sound of the slide was loud in the quiet room. With the solid feel of the weapon in his grip, he spread his feet shoulder-width apart and watched Jihad bend down to hold the loaded revolver out to the female.

FOURTEEN

THE GUY WASfucking crazy. Or high. Maybe both. He had to be if he expected her to take the revolver that could potentially end her life, let alone think she’d actually put it to her head and pull the trigger.

She reared back from the masked man holding out the pistol to her. He was taller than the others and broader through the shoulders. This close, she could smell the scent of dust and desert wind on him. His gaze was unflinching, calm. He betrayed no emotion whatsoever, even though he was essentially asking her to risk committing suicide in front of the others. What the fuck was wrong with these people that they couldn’t see how warped this was?

There was no way she was touching that revolver. No. Fucking. Way.

“Take it.”

She ignored Khalid’s low command and cast a frantic glance at Jackson. What the hell did she do now? Her stomach plummeted when the expression on his face registered. He was pale and tense, his lips a thin, bloodless line. She tried to read his eyes, sent him a silent plea.I don’t know what to do.She didn’t have the active POW training he had. Jackson stared back at her and shook his head. The helpless rage in his eyes made her want to cry.

He couldn’t help her now. She was on her own.

The man crouched at her feet gestured with the pistol again, urging her to take it. Raising her eyes to his, she let him see her hatred and disgust for all that he stood for. Her rage intensified when she caught a spark of amusement there. He thought this was funny? They were all fucking cowards, tormenting helpless prisoners. If she’d been healthy, she’d have loved to take them on one by one until she dropped. At least then she’d go down fighting. This helplessness on top of everything else was too much to bear.

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