Page 46 of Freeing Savannah

Screams rang out, and hostages ducked. The sound of gunfire was muffled, barely audible above the cries from the hostages. Flashbangs cracked, and the air thickened with smoke and adrenaline.

A tango moved into Voodoo’s line of sight, and he didn’t hesitate. He fired, and the guy dropped. He took out three more before spotting Savannah, huddled with Daphne, Kandy, and Henry. She was wide-eyed, but alive. Relief slammed into him. But there was no time to let his guard down.

Nariman wasn’t among the tangos.Fuck. Did he slip away?

Voodoo turned, instincts screaming. “East stairwell,” Haley said through his comm, and Voodoo gave another prayer of thankfulness for Haley.

“On it.” He called.

“Heading toward the spa level.” Voodoo sprinted. Following Haleys instructions as she followed their prey on the hotel’s surveillance cameras.

Past the concierge desk. Up seven flights. Through a dim reception area and down the mosaic-tiled hallway toward the Four Seasons’ famed indoor pool, a surreal glass-roofed space now cloaked in eerie silence.

Nariman ran along the edge of the water, and Voodoo shouted for him to stop. Surprisingly, he did, his hand shaking as he slowly turned, gun drawn. “It’s over. Put the gun down,” Voodoo ordered.

“You think this is justice?” he snarled instead of listening. “That man smiled with the butcher who signed my wife’s death order. Called it a victory.”

Voodoo raised his hands, slowly approaching. “That man” was clearly the Senator and he couldn’t deny that, in his opinion, McNabney was most definitely a villain due to the reprehensible way he treated Savannah. But there wasn’t much he could do about that at this moment. “This isn’t how you win, Nariman.”

The man’s eyes widened as if shocked Voodoo knew his name. “This is how the world hears us.” His voice cracked. “We begged for help. The West gave our enemy weapons and oil contracts instead. You . . . you let them parade that girl around as a symbol of peace while we buried our families in unmarked graves.”

The man was becoming increasingly unhinged. He had to act quickly to de-escalate the situation before it spiraled out of control. He nearly failed to see it, yet as a flicker of movementcaught his eye, Voodoo reacted immediately and braced. Nariman lunged.

The two men collided, and Nariman’s gun went clattering across the wet tile. As he was wearing his dress shoes, not the ideal footwear for hand to hand combat, Voodoo slipped, resulting in a clumsy fall that sent both of them into the water. The splash echoed loudly off the tile, marble, and glass.

After surfacing, they fought in the pool’s blue glow. Grappling with fists flying, while water thrashed around them. Voodoo’s ribs took a brutal elbow from a lucky knee strike to his stomach. Twisting under Nariman, he surged upward, slamming the man against the wall of the pool.

Nariman came back hard, grabbing for Voodoo’s throat, but he ducked under the water?he was a SEAL after all?and resurfaced behind him, locking an arm around his neck.

“Enough!” Voodoo growled. “This won’t bring them back!”

Nariman sputtered, weakened, his rage giving way to grief. “He . . . needs to answer . . .”

Voodoo pulled him to the edge of the pool and wrenched him over. Nariman went limp in his grasp, alive, but spent.

Footsteps pounded down the corridor. Mustang and Midas burst in, weapons drawn, eyes scanning.

“I got him,” Voodoo said between gulps of air. “He’s done.”

As Mustang zip tied the subdued leader’s hands behind his back, Voodoo leaned against the cool tile, drenched, heart still thundering in his chest.

He only had one thought now.

Savannah.

CHAPTER 18

Five minutes.

That’s all the time they had before another hostage would be dragged to the center of the ballroom and executed.

Savannah’s pulse thundered in her ears as the lead terrorist’s voice echoed through the vast space, counting down in harsh, deliberate tones. Beside her, Kandy whimpered and Savannah couldn’t blame her. The situation was as terrifying as it was shocking. She curled her hands into fists in her lap to stop them from shaking, but it didn’t help. Tremors ran through her whole body, and she was so cold in her sleeveless dress that her teeth chattered. Her gaze flicked to the gilded clock high on the far wall. Four minutes. Maybe less now.

Where are you, Sawyer?

The terrorist barked something in another language and two men moved toward a trembling elderly diplomat. Savannah’s stomach twisted.

Then—BOOM.

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