Running On Empty: An LCR Elite Novel

by Christy Reece

  She listened to the sounds around her. No traffic outside. Another prison like where they’d held Declan?

  Eyes closed, she listened harder. Birds squawked loudly. Was that a monkey chattering? So she was in a forest or a jungle? But where?

  The question of her location flew out of her mind when the door opened. She tensed, held her breath. What would they do to her now?

  Chapter Thirty

  LCR Headquarters

  It was standing room only in the small LCR conference room. Grim and silent, five LCR operatives, along with McCall and Declan, stared at still shots of Sabrina’s torture. Declan had been able to do so only by keeping his eyes off Sabrina. When this was over and he had her back safe, then he’d allow himself to combust again. McCall’s lack of response to the vending machine Declan had destroyed was a testament to the man’s understanding. He could see why Sabrina had such respect for her boss.

  Since the camera was jostled and moved around a lot, they were studying the stills of each frame. If the cameraman was as inexperienced as he seemed, there was the hope they’d be able to see something they weren’t supposed to see.

  “Can we zero in on photo twenty-three?”

  Declan glanced at the woman who’d asked the question. Above-average height, white-blond hair, stunningly beautiful. McCall had introduced her as Eden St. Claire. The tall, grim man beside her was her husband, Jordan Montgomery. Declan had never worked an op with Montgomery when the man had been at the Agency. He knew of his reputation, though. Tough as shit and hard as nails. Declan was glad to have him here.

  Angela clicked on photo twenty-three and enlarged it. The entire room leaned forward and focused on the photo.

  “Yes,” Eden said, “I see it, Jordan. There’s an opening in the door…just a crack, but something’s there.”

  “Zoom in closer on the door,” Declan said.

  For a second, the photo went out of focus and then became clearer. That “something” was someone. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood at the door, watching. Unfortunately, other than that one indistinct, large blur, Declan couldn’t make out any of his features.

  A chime sounded. McCall grabbed his phone, held up his hand to ask for silence, and began to speak in rapid Portuguese. Declan was able to understand only a few words, but by the expression on the LCR leader’s face, the caller had some significant information.

  Knowing McCall would share as soon as he could, Declan turned his attention back to the photos. “Angela, will you enlarge photo three?”

  Photo twenty-three shrank down, and number three enlarged on the screen.

  “Zoom in on that white speck in the corner.”

  Once again, the photo went blurry, and then the zoom became vivid and clear.

  “What is that?” Montgomery leaned forward. “A food wrapper of some sort? Candy wrapper?”

  Before any conclusions could be made, McCall ended the call. “Okay, one of our watchers in Brazil got a call about a small plane landing yesterday. Four tough-looking guys and one long, tarp-wrapped bundle.”

  “What part of Brazil?” Montgomery asked.

  “Right outside Rio.”

  “Your source is good?” Declan asked.

  “Very.”

  “Then I know where she might be,” Montgomery said.

  Declan twisted round. “How? Where?”

  Montgomery jerked his head toward the screen. “The wrapper. It’s from a mom-and-pop restaurant in São Paulo. There’s a small, abandoned village on the outskirts of the city. Perfect place to take a prisoner.”

  Declan studied the photo again, then all of the photos combined. Forcing the grief and despair down to the pit of his stomach, he made himself click on the video again. This time, instead of watching the surroundings for a clue or Sabrina’s torture, he took in the expertise of the cameraman, along with the lighting. His gut confirmed his thoughts.

  “No. It’s a trick.”

  “What do you mean?” McCall asked.

  “I think the cameraman’s doing a poor job on purpose. They’re too careful to have allowed these glimpses. Too professional. After all the shit they’ve been able to get away with, no way are they going to be so careless. They’re trying to lead us away from where she is.”

  “My source in Brazil is as reliable as they come,” McCall said.

  “I’m not saying she’s not in Brazil. I’m saying she’s just not in the area they’re trying to lead us to.”

  “Then how the hell are we going to find her?” Thorne asked. “This is our only lead.”

  “It’s me they want, not Sabrina.”

  “Maybe so,” Thorne said, “but in the meantime, they’re torturing Sabrina.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Thorne. Don’t bloody well tell me what I already know. She’s my wife.”

  “Is she?” Thorne said softly.

  Declan took a step toward the asshole. McCall placed a hand on his shoulder. “Back off, both of you. Steele, I have an LCR team in Rio. They’ll check out the village Montgomery referenced. If there’s any activity, they’ll let us know, and we’ll go there. In the meantime, let’s get in the air and head toward Rio. When those assholes contact you again, I want us as close as possible.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Steele.”

  Sabrina remained silent as she took in the man who sat before her. Instead of more torture, apparently it was time to talk. An interrogation or just a chance to taunt her? He was only slightly taller than she was—maybe six feet. He had an American accent, but she knew her languages. It was fake. Was he disguising his voice because she knew him or for another reason?

  The only good thing about this whole ordeal was the fact that she’d yet to see anyone’s face. Everyone wore dark cloth bags over their heads with holes cut out for eyes and a small slit for their mouth. If they weren’t allowing her to see them, they didn’t plan to kill her. At least that was her thinking. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t die from her injuries. They weren’t fatal yet, but what else was coming?

  “I see you’re going to maintain your silence. Perhaps a wise choice, as I’ve been told you have a volatile temper. I’d hate for you to offend me and have to punish you again.”

  He waited once again. His politeness was meant to lower her guard and put her off-balance. Whoever this man was, he knew she’d been through every type of training as an EDJE agent. Nothing he said or did would unbalance her.

  As if he’d read her mind, he said, “I’m aware that you’ve been trained to endure much. I also know that when you’re in good physical condition, you could easily kill me. However, I’m sure you’re in considerable pain. Just so you know, my men were instructed to go easy on you. Other than the unfortunate bump to your nose, your face has been left virtually untouched. If you survive this ordeal, you should have no lasting scars or impairments.”

  Going against everything she had been trained, Sabrina couldn’t help herself, she had to get some answers. “If you think this is the way to get Declan to talk, why torture him first? Why didn’t you just use me at the beginning?”

  “You were our backup plan.” His laughter was rich and deep, as if he were sharing a joke. “You have any idea what we did to that poor bastard? No one should be able to withstand that kind of pain or psychological bullshit. The man is a machine.”

  “Then you must know that whatever you do to me won’t stir him. He’s even asked me for a divorce.” It hurt to admit that, and the fact that she could well be signing her death warrant with that confession hadn’t escaped her, either. But she’d be damned if she’d let Declan back into their clutches again.

  “You’d better hope that’s not true, for your sake.”

  “You tortured him to make him hate me. Made him believe I was the one who betrayed him. Seems damn stupid to use me now.”

  Another deep and hearty laugh erupted from him. Did she know that laugh, or in her pain-filled mind was she hearing things that weren’t there?

  “I have to admit, that
plan backfired on us. But he’s fallen for you again.” And then, probably because he knew it would freak her out, he said, “Isn’t that right, Little Fox?” In Declan’s voice.

  Her heart clutched, and despite her best intentions, she was sure the agony of hearing those words in Declan’s voice was on her face. Cursing her weakness, she clenched her teeth and ground out, “You called Albert and told him about the meeting, using Declan’s voice. Albert isn’t the traitor.”

  “You think?”

  The fact that he wasn’t willing to reveal the name of the traitor was a puzzle but also slightly reassuring. Did he not tell her because he wasn’t sure of his plan, or because he intended to let her live?

  “How do you know so much about Declan and me?”

  “Now, that would be cheating, wouldn’t it?” He went to his feet. “Ready for round two?”

  The door burst open. Her four hooded torturers came for her again. Sabrina tried to shrink back into the wall, but that didn’t deter them.

  “Make sure we get enough convincing footage this time,” the man said.

  Refusing to give in without a fight, she managed a punch, recognized the soft give of a throat and the collapse of cartilage. Hands grabbed her, but before they could restrain her, she got off a hard kick to a groin. The bellow that followed was gratifying.

  She felt her feet leave the ground, and a new, fresh hell began.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Declan was thirty thousand feet in the air when the next email came. As much as he didn’t want to open it, he had no choice. This time, there were words to go along with the attachment. The message wasn’t long but was crushingly meaningful.

  “She’s not holding up as well as we had hoped.”

  Drawing in a breath, he braced himself and clicked on the image. The video wasn’t as long as the first one. Probably only thirty seconds, but it had been enough.

  Nausea once again surged into his throat. This time, he couldn’t fight it.

  Doing what he needed to do, he forwarded the email to McCall. On the way to the head in the back of the plane, he stopped at McCall’s seat. “Just sent you another email. Be back in a minute.”

  Not waiting for a response, Declan made it to the toilet with seconds to spare.

  Noah spared a pitying glance for Steele. Five years ago, he had been in his place. When Samara had been taken and tortured. He knew that feeling of desperate helplessness and a rage so intense it threatened to implode your insides.

  Clicking on the email, he grimly took in the terse note and then viewed the video. Four men, he assumed the same ones as before, surrounded a nude Sabrina, who hung from the ceiling by her wrists. Before looking for clues or hidden meanings, Noah took the time to evaluate her injuries. Dried blood covered her face, most likely from her busted nose. Her eyes were already half-swollen shut. Her skin was pale, so the purple bruising on her rib cage stood out in vivid color. He was guessing they were cracked. Those sticks they’d beaten her with would have had no problem breaking bones. The rest of her body was a mass of cuts and bruises. Hard to tell if anything else was broken.

  Noah lifted his eyes to her face again and was heartened to see the fierce gleam in her eyes. This was the LCR operative he knew. She still had a lot of fight in her and was not giving up. He had expected nothing less.

  Steele dropped into the chair beside him. The man’s face was bleached white, but the wrath blazing in his eyes said it all. He’d do what he had to do to get his wife back.

  “Did you pick up any clues?” Steele asked.

  “No. The camera never moved away. From what I can tell, she has a broken nose, possible concussion, cracked ribs.”

  “Her left wrist is broken.”

  Noah peered closer. Yeah, he’d missed that. Bruising and a protrusion of a bone. Hell, and she was hanging from her wrists. “Bloody bastards.”

  “They’re not finished with her.”

  “No,” Noah agreed softly, “they’re not.”

  “I need you to make me a promise.”

  Noah waited, already figuring he knew the request.

  “Once we find the location, all I’m asking is that you get her out alive. I don’t care what else happens. Just get her out.”

  Arguing would do no good. Noah didn’t plan on losing anyone to these SOBs, but he knew Steele needed the assurance. “You have my word.”

  “Aw, shit.”

  Noah looked over his shoulder at Thorne. The man’s eyes held a similar hell. She was his partner and his friend, but that wouldn’t get in his way of doing his job.

  “No real clues with this one. Just a taunt.”

  Though looking as though he wanted to let loose a string of vitriol, Thorne’s admirable control took over. He allowed himself one sentence: “I’m going to enjoy taking these assholes down.”

  “We’re all looking forward to that.”

  The cell phone on the table in front of him chimed. Noah checked the readout. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” Standing, he held the phone to his ear and relished the sound of his wife’s voice.

  “Noah, any news yet?”

  Declan couldn’t take his eyes off Sabrina. Would this be the last time he saw her alive? How the hell could he have let this happen?

  Cole Mathison’s words of warning came back to haunt him, and he knew exactly how he’d let this happen. While he had been focused on his own vengeance, concentrating on his own agenda, the one person in the world he would literally lie down and die for had been taken.

  “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

  Confucius’s statement fit this scenario too damn well. But if two graves were indeed needed, neither of them would be Sabrina’s. This, Declan swore on his life.

  What was going through her head as she endured this torment? Did she know he would find her? That he would tear the world apart to save her? Yes, she did. More than anyone else in the world, she believed in him. She knew him inside and out…knew his heart. She had so much more faith in him than he did in himself. When confronted with vicious rumors that he had been unfaithful, she hadn’t believed them. When he had told her he couldn’t love her anymore, had nothing left inside him, she had proudly stood before him and told him he was wrong.

  So, yes, Sabrina knew without a doubt he would come for her.

  He was aware that Thorne dropped into the seat vacated by McCall, but still Declan couldn’t move his gaze from the brutal image before him.

  “She’s tougher than any person I know, man or woman.”

  Declan appreciated the man’s reassuring words, but he wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Sabrina was tough—he had trained her. He knew everything about her. But he also knew, despite all that toughness and bravado, she was as fragile as any human. Her body could endure a lot, but at some point, it would fail her.

  “She ever tell you I made a pass at her once?”

  Declan tore his eyes away from the screen to give Thorne a crooked half smile. “No. She wouldn’t, though. That’s not Sabrina’s way.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. She turned me down, of course. Didn’t take long for me to realize that her heart was locked up with someone else. And it’s still locked up.” Thorne leaned forward in his chair. “She’s going to survive, Steele, I don’t doubt that for a minute. And when this is over, don’t let her go. If you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Take it from someone who knows.”

  Declan swallowed hard, trying to push down the giant clog in his throat. “Thanks for the pep talk. You’re not as big of an asshole as I pegged you.”

  Thorne stood and slapped him on the back. “Back at ya, man.”

  Declan slumped back into his seat and closed his eyes. Why hadn’t he died in that hellish prison? If he had, Sabrina would never have known what happened to him. He never would have gone after her. She would have eventually gone on with her life. Found another man to love and appreciate her.

  For the first time sin
ce his rescue, he wished with all his heart that Jackson had never found him.

  His cell phone chimed. Declan checked the caller ID and was surprised to see Angela’s name pop up.

  “Angela, you got something?”

  “Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”

  As Declan listened, he surged to his feet as a seething hatred emerged. How stupid he’d been. How very fucking stupid.

  Thanking her for the information, he ended the call and turned to reveal what he had learned.

  McCall was making rapid strides his way. “Got another call. I’ve got some info.”

  “Yeah, I do, too,” Declan said grimly.

  “Listen.” McCall placed his cell phone on the table and said, “Hey, Dixie, you have something?”

  “Hey, sugar.” The soft, female voice dripped with Southern charm. “We sure do. We’ve found our girl.” A hard edge entered her voice. “I hope you make those assholes suffer.”

  “We will. No worries about that.”

  “Good.” Then the charming, syrupy sweet voice returned, “She’s in Colombia, right outside San Felipe. Here’re the coordinates.”

  As McCall jotted down the location, Declan drew in a settling breath. Sabrina would survive. They would arrive in time to save her, and she would live. Then, when she was out of danger, and he’d held her one last time, he would hunt down the traitor and ensure that at least one of those graves would be needed.

  Outside San Felipe, Colombia

  The pain wasn’t bad as long as she didn’t move and barely breathed. Her wrist had stopped throbbing, and other than the strain on her shoulders and neck, she felt almost normal. Well, as normal as anyone could who was hanging from a hook in the ceiling.

  They weren’t through with her yet. She had pissed them off, and the next time they’d want retribution. She had been surprised at their naïveté. Did they have no idea who they’d captured? She didn’t need both arms and legs to maim or kill. One of those men had discovered that when she slammed a well-placed fist into his throat. She’d heard his gurgle of agony before he’d fallen to the ground. They’d dragged him out the door, and she knew he would never get up again.