Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4)

by Sidney Bristol

  Abigail and Luke stared at the empty space.

  It’d worked…

  Luke moved first, stepping in front of her. If one of them were to take a hit, it needed to be him. She was worn out, while he was merely hungry and crabby.

  He edged closer to the opening and leaned his head out, but the hall was empty.

  “Come on,” he whispered.

  “Someone had to have heard that.” Abigail stayed close on his heels. “Turn left. Then it’s a forty-foot climb to the surface.”

  “Should we wait for the guard to come down?” He could see the tactical advantage in lying in wait, but was it worth it?

  “No. The guard will call for back-up. The closest village is…it’s close but not too close. He could call for help from there.”

  “Then we go up. Me first.”

  Luke peered up the stone stairs, but only the first dozen or so were in sight.

  He crept up five stairs before waving at Abigail to follow.

  Still nothing

  More rock.

  Every dozen or so steps was another ten-foot landing and a single light bulb.

  Abigail grunted behind him.

  He glanced over his shoulder when the lights went out.

  “What—?”

  “I pulled the cables down,” she said, her voice coming closer. “Now we are all blind. Hold onto me.”

  Her hand brushed his arm and he fit his fingers between hers.

  “Did you ever bring prisoners here?”

  “I did.”

  “How many lives do you think it saved?”

  “How many lives did it cost? It’s hard to tell. When I was recruited to the Taliban, my cell was captured. We brought them here. I sat down there with them and listened. Who is to say we saved any lives? I don’t know. I hope we did.”

  “What happened to those kids?”

  “After the threat had passed, they were sent back to America. As they were American citizens, it wasn’t our duty to pass judgment on them. Only stop them.”

  “Did you ever look them up?”

  “No. Because what if one of them went home and hurt someone else? I can’t think like that. Shh.”

  He tipped his head back and smelled hot air.

  His foot scraped in sand.

  Was it his imagination, or was it getting lighter?

  Another landing.

  That was light.

  They were almost to the surface.

  What was waiting for them?

  Luke tugged on Abigail’s hand, pushing her behind him.

  He went up the last dozen steps slowly and alone.

  The landing at the top served as an entryway. The door ahead of him was closed, but the ones on either side were open, the rooms dark. To his left, the guard room screens flickered.

  He pushed the entrance open a bit more. A big rock shielded the man-made entrance. Luke leaned out to see the lay of the land.

  A Jeep sat on a shelf of rock, the driver’s door open, stereo on.

  One of the two guards they’d seen reclined back, foot tapping against the dash.

  The guard had no idea they were out and free.

  Sorry, man…

  Luke crept closer, keeping low, and circled the Jeep. He yanked the passenger door open and grabbed the man before he could react. Luke wrapped his arm around the guard’s throat, squeezing as tight as he could. The smaller man thrashed, knocking them both down onto the rock.

  Abigail was there, looming over them like some dark angel.

  She had a gun in her hands and pointed it at the smaller guard. Her words were short, clipped, and cold. Luke couldn’t understand her, but the guard could.

  The guard stilled.

  Luke would be scared, too, if she were aiming that at him.

  “Handcuff him inside the guardroom,” she said.

  Luke rolled, dumping the man onto his stomach and planted a knee in the guard’s back. The handcuffs were warm from the desert heat, unlike the cold and colder sets they’d used on them. Luke shackled the guard, the skin on the back of his neck prickling.

  So far, so good. Too good.

  “We need to go,” Abigail said.

  “Agreed.” He pushed the guard into the first room on his right and fastened the second set of cuffs to an ankle, around a table leg and to the chain between the man’s wrists.

  Abigail was nowhere to be seen.

  Luke crept out onto the landing, peering at the Jeep.

  The doors were shut.

  “Here.”

  He nearly jumped.

  She thrust an assault rifle at him and crossed to the Jeep, tossing two more and a box of ammunition into the back of the vehicle before climbing into the driver’s seat.

  Luke bounded around the Jeep and into the passenger seat a second before she pointed the four-wheel drive Wrangler at what looked to be a drop off. His stomach leapt into his throat as the nose of the Jeep tilted down and they bounced from one rock shelf to another all the way to the sandy ground below.

  Abigail punched the accelerator and they took off in a plume of sand. “It was too easy. If they wanted to keep us they’d have been more vigilant. They should have had four guards. Two on, two off, but they only had two on us at all times. It doesn’t make sense. That’s not how I’d have run it. Why would they want us to escape?”

  “You don’t think we escaped on our own merit?”

  “No.”

  He didn’t want to think too hard about her words, about what it could all mean. He just wanted out of here.

  “Look. There. Dust.” She gestured out across the sand.

  “Can we circle back?” He turned, trying to get a feel for where they were.

  “And head straight for the village? No.”

  “Go faster.” He eyed what now appeared to be two separate plumes of sand rising in the air.

  “I am! It gets bogged down in the sand.”

  “Can we outrun them? Do you recognize the truck?”

  “Maybe?”

  He checked the ammunition on the rifle and slid the seatbelt over his head. They’d been captured once. He wouldn’t go down a second time without a fight. Abigail couldn’t survive much more of what they’d done to her. How the hell she’d held it together this long was beyond him.

  The dust rose up from around a hill and rocks ahead of them.

  “How long until they see us?” he asked.

  “I’m veering north to keep that between us. Maybe two minutes?”

  “What are the chances it’s someone who doesn’t care about us?”

  “No one has any reason to go near The Pit unless they mean to.”

  Great.

  They hadn’t needed to kill—yet. To protect her, he would though. He’d shoot and shoot to kill, which wasn’t something he’d had to do since Mexico.

  Luke swallowed. He’d killed. As a SEAL, it’d been his duty to protect and serve, which more often than not had meant killing. He’d come close to breaking not long before he’d been released. Too much death. Too much blood. His hands began to sweat. He’d kill again, but each death weighed on him. Wasn’t that why he’d gotten out? So he wouldn’t have to keep killing?

  He sucked in a deep breath and pushed it out, centering himself.

  Just a few more seconds.

  The Jeep bounced over rocks. The engine roared.

  Sand worked its way in from all directions, until even inside the cab was dusty.

  “God damn it.” Luke gripped the rifle a little tighter.

  Two military-style trucks with canvas tops rolled their way. The big, diesel engines and huge honking tires had a better chance on the terrain than they did.

  It was a Mad Max style showdown.

  “Go. Go!” He yelled.

  Abigail pressed the accelerator harder and the Jeep lurched ahead, but the diesel trucks had more traction.

  One blazed in front of them, turning and braking, while the other skidded to a stop behind them, throwing up sand.

 
Luke kicked his door open—and froze.

  “Travis? Marco?”

  “You know them?” Abigail’s voice was thin, high.

  “They’re Aegis. It’s Aegis!”

  He whooped and jumped out of the truck. He’d never been so glad to see a bunch of skuzzy men before in his life.

  Something was finally going right.

  12.

  Abigail kept her head up and spine straight. The hours since that morning were a blur; the Jeep ride, getting in the trucks, a hop over the border into Egypt on a cargo plane, a mad dash out of Cairo. Her best guess was that they were now in Marsa Matruh, a seaport on the north of Egypt, right where she shouldn’t be. There were plenty who’d want her dead, especially since word of her miraculous revival would be getting out.

  She was still on the fence about whether or not being rescued by Luke’s brothers in arms was a good thing—or very bad. Who’d given them the tip? Told them where to look? There was no reason, no logic, to put them in that part of remote Israel without some sort of assistance. Someone pointing the way.

  Her gut said that Baron had let them go.

  But, why?

  So he could issue a kill order on an escaped terrorist?

  To keep Luke’s blood off his hands?

  Because the person behind everything wanted to make her disappear permanently?

  There were too many options, variables, and unknowns. She was too tired for this. It was supposed to be over, not beginning a new chapter.

  Not to mention she was putting Luke at risk by being near him. This man who’d thrown his trust in with her. She didn’t deserve someone like Luke. His friend was very likely dead because of her. Luke hadn’t said it, but she remembered mention of a wife. A son. People who would miss Ethan. She couldn’t allow the rest of these men to die.

  Luke’s hand pressed against the small of her back for a moment, guiding her through a doorway, out of the courtyard, and into a single-room surgery. Judging by the equipment and supplies on hand, they were equipped to deal with just about anything in this room.

  She’d half-heard a conversation about getting her to a doctor, but she’d been more concerned with watching their tail than participating.

  Luke hadn’t left her side since the hotel explosion. She’d done nothing but bring him grief, and for some unknown reason, he believed in her. It’d been a long time since anyone trusted her like he did. Since someone knew who she really was.

  If she truly cared about him, if she’d somehow developed the ability to feel…she needed to leave him.

  “Let me wash up real quick.” The man named Marco followed them in and shed his jacket. He scrubbed up to his elbows with strong smelling soap.

  “Do we have to do this now?” she asked. Her injuries weren’t that great.

  “No—”

  “Yes,” Luke snapped.

  She sighed. Luke was puffed up, bristling and ready for a fight. She could either expend her lagging energy butting heads with him, or she could go through the exam song and dance.

  “Are you a doctor, too?” she asked Marco.

  “Me?” Marco glanced over his shoulder. “Nah, but I’m all we got.”

  “Marco was on medic duty for his unit.” Luke glared at Marco’s wide shoulders. “He’s also got his EMT licenses, right, Geronimo?”

  “Fuck you, Idris.” Marco pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and wiggled his meaty hands into them.

  He was a big man prone to frowning, judging by the lines around his mouth. Unlike many of the other men, his dark hair was longer, a bit shaggy. There was a wildness to him that was barely contained, as though he were only just human. This close, his sharp cheekbones could almost cut her.

  “You heading up to see Zain?” Marco asked.

  “Not yet,” Luke replied.

  “Okay, up on the table, please?” Marco patted the exam table.

  Abigail eyed the distance from the floor to the table. Luke toed a stool out from around the base and she could have kissed him. She stepped onto it, then sat on the table.

  “Where’s it hurt?” Marco stood in front of her, his gaze cool, impersonal.

  “I think I broke a rib. Here.” She pressed against the spot on her lower ribs where she’d taken a particularly nasty baton blow from the guards.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  “Hey.” Luke glared.

  “Do you want me to check her out or what?” Marco leveled a glare right back at Luke.

  Abigail grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head. Modesty was one thing she’d lost long ago.

  “Holy shit.” Marco stared at her chest, lips parted.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  She glanced down at herself. Seeing the bruises and marks for herself seemed to make them throb.

  “It looks worse than it is,” she said.

  “Yeah, right. I’m getting the X-ray. Hold on.” Marco turned and opened a deep closet. He stepped out with something that looked an awfully lot like a very thick tablet.

  “Oh, did the thing come in already?” Luke asked.

  “The thing did come in.” Marco brought the device to the table and popped off nearly half the device and laid it on the table. “Lie back for me?”

  “What is it?”

  “New toy in development. Mama Dean, our staff doctor, insisted the boss throw some money at this thing, so we got a prototype. I’m going to snap and move the plate up one side then down the other, okay?”

  With Luke’s help moving the plate, Marco was able to x-ray her entire chest in less than ten minutes.

  “You’ve got one break, but it’s not a bad one.” Marco frowned at the image before showing it to her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I want to listen to you breathe.” He snagged a stethoscope from a drawer, while Luke helped her sit up. Marco pressed the cold end to her skin, but it had nothing on the cold in The Pit. “Take a deep breath for me?”

  She pulled in as deep of a breath as she could. And still she didn’t feel as though she was getting enough oxygen.

  “Again.”

  Once more, she exhaled and inhaled.

  Luke squeezed her hand

  “Okay, what went on down there?” Marco stepped back and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “They knocked you around some, but what else? They do this to you, too?”

  “They water-boarded her.”

  “Then what I’m hearing makes sense. I’m guessing you’ve still got some liquid in there. Now, I can’t pull the fluid off to test here. That’d be best done at home. I’ve got some pain killers you can take for the rib, but otherwise—take it easy.” Marco’s gaze focused on her face. “You earned it.”

  Luke handed her shirt back, casting glares at Marco.

  “Unless you need me to look at something else, Zain wanted to see us as soon as we got back.” Marco stripped off the gloves.

  “All of us?” Luke asked.

  “Yeah. Ready, or you need a minute?”

  “Now is good.” The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could sleep.

  “Here. Take these. I imagine you know the dosage?” Marco tossed a bottle of pills over.

  Luke caught them and held them out to her.

  “I’m good.”

  “Okay, let’s go see what Zain found out.”

  Abigail paused to toss two of the pills back and slipped the bottle into her pocket.

  The right thing to do would be to leave, though a growing part of her wanted to stay. Luke… He’d captured part of her. And she didn’t know how to handle that.

  Did she leave, knowing a part of her would stay with him?

  Or did she stay, and pray that her revival went unnoticed?

  Would Luke still want her after the cost of her secrets sank in? He hadn’t properly grieved his friend yet. When that happened, he may very well want nothing to do with her.

  Marco led them up a flight of stairs and down a hall, through a set of
double doors into a large room with windows on two sides. On one, they had a great view of the Mediterranean Sea. On the other, the street.

  “Luke.” A man stood from the long, wooden table, threw an arm around Luke’s shoulders, and slapped his back. She stared a moment at the man’s other hand—or the gray prosthetic that served as his other hand. “You must be Abigail. I’m Zain.”

  Zain. Luke had spoken of the man as though he were some sort of magician. He regarded her with interest, but not what she’d call friendliness. He was right to suspect her. They all were. Their friend would not have died if it weren’t for her. His blood was on her hands.

  “I understand we owe you a debt of gratitude.” She shook the man’s hand.

  “Just glad to bring you guys back safe.”

  “Not to be rude, but where we at?” Marco hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and rocked back on his heels.

  “That’s what we’re getting at.” Zain’s gaze slid back to her.

  He didn’t want to speak in front of her. Or he didn’t know what he could say. If they’d had a choice, she had no doubt they’d have rescued Luke and left her. She, quite frankly, wasn’t their responsibility.

  “She’s on our side,” Luke said.

  Zain grabbed a tablet off the desk and turned toward the large, blank wall, his mind made up.

  A low hum preceded shutters descending over the windows, plunging them into momentary darkness. An overhead projector flickered to life.

  “Here’s what we know. Seven days ago, this man planted explosives in your client’s suite.” Zain flicked his wrist and a grainy image of a man wearing a scarf around his head outside of the hotel Abigail and the others had stayed at appeared on the wall screen.

  “His thobe is wrong.” She took a step closer. The image was too low-quality to make out the man’s face, but…

  “His—what?” Luke asked.

  “Here.” She crossed to tap the front of the man’s shirt. “You can tell he’s not Jordanian by the collar. The headdress and garb don’t match. I’d say…” She backed up and squinted, taking in the facial hair, the headscarf and thobe. “Are there other pictures of him?”

  “Yes. Here’s one from the lobby, and another from a hall security camera.” Zain tapped the tablet and two additional images popped up on the wall.