Page 35 of Indirect Attack
Ben, too, would be lost forever if the terrorists had their way.
Without a doubt, I knew that when Ben heard I had been kidnapped, he would come after me, guns blazing. But he didn’t know what I knew now—that apart from the dig site, the terrorists were targeting him, too. And he was going to walk right into the trap they’d lain. And all that was before the terrorists would blow up Florin.
Jerking back, I pulled at the handcuffs until my wrists were raw and painful, but despite the rust and its age, the pipe rattled but didn’t budge. I didn’t know anything about escaping restraints like these, and even if I did get out, I was sure I wouldn’t get far. This wasn’t some movie where the heroine made a daring escape to warn everyone. I was stuck here, entirely out of my depth and helpless. And I was going to lose Ben just when I’d thought he was back in my life for good.
“No. You can’t think that way.”
The stern words rang in the empty room, and even though they’d been my own, I felt my flagging, faltering hope rally slightly.
Sure, the terrorists were a formidable force. I knew nothing about them, but what else could they be? But Ben was a formidable force, too. He was a Marine, after all, and he would have an entire squad of Marines behind him, with him, covering his back. It wouldn’t be Ben alone.
I had to have faith that Ben would be okay because I knew without a doubt that was what he was to me. I’d always known it, even when I couldn’t admit it to myself.
He would come for me, and he would beat the terrorists back. I knew he would. He had to.
I hoped.
Chapter 17
Ben
EVERY MOMENT FELT LIKEa moment too long. I knew that with every minute that ticked by, we had less of a chance of finding Jasmine alive.
If she was still alive at all.
It was a thought on which I couldn’t dwell—it would have frozen me to the spot, and what I needed to do most now was focus.
Usually, it was easy for me to find and sink into that center, to find that place where I didn’t have to think, just act—where I could pull away from myself and become the Marine who got things done. I’d had a lot of practice over the years, first as a kid trying to get through my father’s harsh training and then when I joined the military. It was the way I survived what I did and what I saw.
But this time was different—this time was personal. This was the woman I loved in the hands of terrorists. I’d seen too much over the years, the torn, brutalized, bloodied bodies, not to know what might await me.
The worst part was, I didn’t even know why they had taken Jasmine—did they have some scheme, some kind of plan, or had it been random?
“Rusev.”
I looked up to see the CO leaning on the door as I finished strapping on my gear. His expression was solemn, his eyebrows drawn down.
“The intelligence team is here.”
“Thanks, sir.”
Night had fallen, and the air was still despite the organized chaos of the deployment as we made our way across the base. A sliver of a moon hung in the sky, enough to light the way but not enough to make it too bright, which suited our purposes perfectly.
I followed the base commander to his office. Along with the Marines leading the charge, several uniformed men waited, eyes still smudged with black from their mission.
“Rusev, this is Tucker, Goran, and Nelson—intelligence.”
I nodded in greeting, noting that one of them had his arm in a makeshift sling, his face creased with pain.
“We’re bringing Rusev in on this because he has a personal tie at stake here,” the CO informed the three senior Marines, who looked unsure why the base commander had included me.
The information seemed to mollify the other Marines—slightly, at least—and we all gathered closely around the table.
“We had a hard time of it,” the head of the intelligence team started as he moved his shoulder and winced. It was then that I noticed the blood caking the black fabric over the area, still slightly shiny and wet. “They had an ambush waiting for my team, and they took out another entire team. We can only assume it was a long-term plan to eliminate us and then attack.”
“Their intel was good,” the man with his arm in a sling muttered. He looked like he was barely staying on his feet. “Too good.”
“Their attack on the dig site came pretty much without warning,” my CO added. “They’ve had time or leeway to planwhatever they have, leaving us in the dust. And we they only took one person. We suspect it’s the archaeologist named Jasmine Davis. Whereabouts and status unknown.”
