A vision of Ava, flat on the mat, flashed through his mind. But she was a soldier, not a woman. Well, until she made a move that had him at instant surrender. He forgot everything as her lips pressed to his. It was as if the world had reversed polarity. He felt upside down. His life was never the same again.
Remy shook her from his thoughts. These women weren’t Ava. They wouldn’t be able to defend themselves like she could. Didn’t they understand that Venom would be back for more?
A tingling sensation at the back of his neck alerted Remy. Someone was watching them. Remy scanned the dusty dirt roads, searching for the person.
“We’re being watched,” Remy said.
French looked around. “Three o’clock.”
An older man peered through a windowless opening. He stepped out of view when he realized he was spotted.
“He knows something,” Remy said, heading to the crumbling house, which was no better or worse than the other dwellings in the village. They were poor. A roof over their heads and walls to shield them from sand storms was better than nothing.
It was a preying ground for filth like Venom.
French clamped a hand on Remy’s shoulder. “He will come to us.”
“We don’t have time.”
“If we spook him, he won’t talk. Let’s go find some water and let him come to us.”
Remy curled his fingers, clenching them into a fist.
“He won’t talk if we pound on his door,” French reasoned.
“What door?” Remy gritted, looking at the faded cloth hanging in the doorway. He knew French was right, but it didn’t ease the tension practically choking him.
“Come,” French said, heading the opposite direction. “He will follow us and confront us when he feels comfortable. I’m sure he doesn’t want the rest of the village to see him talking to the outsiders.”
Remy walked alongside French. “I still don’t understand your reasoning for your work or the life you’ve led, but thank you for your help.”
French laughed. “You’ll probably never understand, but you’re welcome anyway.”
“I had thought you’d changed, but I still see a little bit of French Fry.”
French’s mouth gaped. “I haven’t been called that since . . . well, it’s been a long time.”
Remy nodded. “It has been a long time. Thanks for looking out for Ava,” he added. The words, while honest, had a nasty aftertaste. It should have been Remy not French.
French glanced uneasily at Remy.
Was French worried Remy took exception to their relationship . . . whatever it was? He should say something, ease French’s mind. But he couldn’t. The claw of jealousy dug its talons in.
“Your impression of me keeps wavering,” French finally said. “But I’m no longer French Fry. And I didn’t look out for Ava, at least not how you think. My motives are purely selfish; motives you wouldn’t understand.”
Remy heard the annoyance and frustration in French’s words. He didn’t feel the need to smooth any ruffled feathers. Remy was awkward enough in these situations; he didn’t need to make it worse by offering words that could be twisted. He would leave it alone.
“There might be a well around here,” French said. “I doubt they have running water.”
Remy sidestepped a group of chickens pecking at the ground. He briefly wondered what they were eating. He could only see dirt. Just like the village, made out of the same earth and rock. No trees to provide shade. No speck of hope in the war-battered locals’ eyes.
“There,” French said, pointing to a well just beyond the village.
It was on the tip of Remy’s tongue that they had enough water in the jeep, but in this heat, he’d take the spare moment and fill his reserves. His tongue already felt coated with dust.
Remy sat down near the well and eased the pack from his back. Remy hadn’t felt comfortable leaving his pack behind in the jeep. Vehicles and gear were stolen all the time. He didn’t want his own gun pointed at him.
“At least this one has a pump,” French said. “The open-water reservoirs that are sometimes used aren’t safe for some stomachs, especially mine.”
“My son,” a wavering voice said.
Remy and French looked up to find the older man had indeed followed them. He held out a sketch pad, the edges worn.
“My son,” he said again, pointing to the book.
French took the notebook from the man and flipped through the pages. He stopped suddenly. Lifting the notebook so the man could see, he asked, “Your son?”
The man shook his head. He chewed his lower lip, finding the right words.
Remy wished he could help. He was never good with foreign languages. What little he did know was forgotten long ago.
“Gone,” the man said.
French frowned and pointed to the open notebook again. “Who?”
Tears welled in the man’s eyes. “Gone.”
“What’s in the book?” Remy asked.
French flashed the sketch at Remy. Their eyes locked with silent communication.
“Your son?” French asked the man again.
The man wiped the tears from his eyes. “No. No son. Son gone!” He stepped closer to French, his face filled with grief as he pointed to the portrait. “Venom! Venom take son!”
If Remy hadn’t been sitting down, the revelation would have knocked him flat.
The man took the notebook and flipped a page. “Here. Venom here.”
French glanced from the book to Remy. “We found what we were looking for.”
“This is a mistake,” Remy said, refusing to believe. “He must be confused.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
The man shoved the book at Remy. “Find. Find son.”
Remy nodded and accepted the book. “Find son,” he agreed. Remy swallowed, holding his stomach back.
Chapter 14
Ava rested on the floor for a good hour, keeping her leg propped on the chair. She didn’t think it was broken, but it might be bruised at the very least. What she needed was a splint to help keep it secure for a bit. Unfortunately, there was no one to aid her. While she had heard murmurs and shuffling in the hall, no one came to check on her.
Well, she wasn’t going to lie on the cold hard floor and wait for help. There was a forest right outside. She could use a couple of branches to make a crude splint. After that, she had no idea what to do. It wasn’t as if she could go far. But, she’d sort that out later.
Easing her leg down off the chair, Ava twisted to flop onto her belly. She pushed up and grasped the chair. With strength that was slowly returning to her, she lifted herself up and sat on the chair. Giving herself a moment or two, she took a breath before continuing. Ava held the back of the chair and lifted herself into a standing position, keeping the weight on her good leg.
Here goes nothing, she thought, taking a trial step. She cried out as she crashed to the ground, jagged pain stabbing at her.
Ava cursed, letting the explicative carry some of her agony.
It seemed her leg was truly broken after all.
And she was stuck in hell.
* * *
David knocked on Jared Boyer’s door. Boyer’s truck was in the driveway, so he had to be home. It was crucial that David speak with him. Greyson had contacted his Turkish connection and paid a steep sum for information leading to Venom. With Boyer’s help, David could be overseas in a matter of hours with a team standing by.
Remy was in over his head, and it was David’s fault. He should’ve told Remy the truth when he had the chance. But there never seemed to be a good time, and then it was finally so buried in the past that it remained that way. David didn’t have the heart to drag Remy back to that painful time.
God, when he had found Remy, wandering the desert, barely alive and out of his mind, David thought he might’ve been too late. Remy was covered in slashes and burns, which David promptly found were of his own making. The drugs coursing through his
system were psychotics, fueling Remy with enemy visions. The only enemy present was Remy, spurred by a series of injections that ran up his arm like a train track.
David pounded on the door again. “Boyer! Open up!”
The door cracked open. “What?”
“I need your help.”
“I was just on my way out. I got an urgent call.”
“This is more urgent,” David said, pushing the door open. “It’s about Remy.”
Boyer stepped back and allowed David to enter. “What’s this about? I have a plane to catch.”
“Ava has Remy. I think she’s working for Venom. I can’t get in touch, and I know something is wrong.”
“What do you know about Venom?” Boyer asked, becoming more interested.
“I got information from a Turkish connection. He said Venom has a weapons ring and that he’s dangerous. Crazy dangerous.”
“How so?”
“You’re going to think this insane, but he’s experimenting on people with psychotic drugs.”
“To what purpose?”
David rubbed the back of his neck and took a long breath. “This is where it gets even more bizarre. According to the Turkish connection, Venom is trying to make human weapons. And I believe it,” David quickly added. “Ava must have pumped Remy with the drugs before the attack. When I found him weeks later, he was out of his mind with a trail of injection scars. He was fighting a war with himself.”
Boyer looked thoughtful for a moment. “What did you do when you found him?”
“I brought him to an abandoned shelter, restrained him, and let the drugs wear off.”
“And then he was okay? Were there any side effects?”
“He seemed fine, if not a little confused. To this day he thinks he was in an enemy prison.”
“And you didn’t correct him?”
David shook his head. “I should have, but I thought I was protecting him.”
“Protecting him from what?”
“Himself.”
* * *
Ava propelled her way down the corridor using only her forearms and elbows, dragging her legs behind. She fought to control the pain as she maneuvered out into the open without cover or defense. She refused to linger in the holding room until someone decided she was no longer worth the ransom. Remy trained her never to quit.
“Never quit, never stop, and never let the enemy have the last say,” he told her.
That was all well and good when you had working parts, she scoffed. But Ava continued anyway. It was as if he was with her, being obnoxiously encouraging.
She loved that about him. According to Remy, no one was weak. Broken bones meant nothing to him.
She wished he was with her now.
“Going somewhere?”
American accent?
Ava looked back to find Hollywood standing behind her, his arms crossed. “Screw you,” she said, continuing on her path.
With a few quick steps he was in front of her, blocking her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She paused to take a breath. “To find a couple of sticks.” With a grunt, she continued, plowing past him. She had to look ridiculous, she knew, but she wasn’t going to stop.
He stepped in front of her again. “I could do this all day,” he said dryly.
Ava looked into his eyes. “Either shoot me or get the hell out of my way.”
He twisted his mouth, then moved to the side and allowed her to continue. Ava could feel his hovering presence as she made her way to the exit. She was sure he was going to try to stop her again when she finally made it to the door. Looking up at the doorknob high above her head, Ava now understood why he didn’t bother stopping her.
From her position on the ground, the knob looked as if it was ten-feet high. Reaching up, her fingers grazed it. She just needed to lift herself a couple of inches. A couple of brutal inches. If the socialite weren’t behind her, she would cry.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“Go to hell!” Ava pushed up and grasped the handle, turning to open the door.
“I’m already here,” he muttered, holding the door for Ava.
After Ava cleared the door, she stopped to take a break.
“Would you like help now?” he asked.
Ava glanced up at him. “I don’t need help from a terrorist.”
“I’m not,” he said simply.
“You could’ve fooled me,” she said.
“Do I look like a terrorist?” he asked. “I can barely shoot straight.”
“Then why are you aiding these men?”
He laughed. “Because my cousin, Natan, talked me into it. Although I think he tricked me, but I can’t prove it—nor would he let me.”
Ava groaned. “If I ever get up, I’m going to kick his ass.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Natan’s voice boomed from behind. “What is she doing out here?”
“I believe she’s escaping,” Hollywood said.
“And you were going to let her?” Natan asked, his brow creased.
“No, just making sure she was okay.”
“It’s not your job to help her, Mikael.”
“I don’t see anyone else doing it.”
Ava relaxed as the men argued. If Natan was going to haul her back inside, she would save her strength. Although, he looked like he was in as rough shape as she felt.
“Go and help with Toma. He’ll wake up any moment now.”
“What about her,” Mikael asked, nodding at Ava.
“I’ll deal with her.”
“You won’t kill her,” he stated, but it seemed more like a question. When Natan didn’t respond, Mikael sighed. “Just remember who the real enemy is.” Mikael headed inside, leaving Ava alone with Natan.
“I gave your cousin the option of shooting or getting out of my way. I give you the same,” Ava said, gauging Natan. He didn’t budge, nor did he fire a shot at her. He stood there looking as if he was in deep contemplation. Again, Ava waited, conserving her strength. If Natan decided to make a move, he’d catch her within a few steps.
“You said you could help,” he finally said, the words choppy as if he had to force them out.
“That was before you broke my leg,” Ava snipped.
Natan glanced at her leg, raking his hand through his dark hair, gripping it as if he wanted to tear it out. Leaning down, he touched her leg. “Where is it broken?”
“Near the ankle,” Ava replied. She wanted to tell him to bugger off, but pain and broken bones had her nearly begging for help. She wouldn’t beg.
Gently rolling the hem, he inspected. “Does this hurt?” He pressed down above her ankle.
Ava squeezed her eyes shut. “Not at all,” she ground out.
He laughed. It was mirthful and unexpected. Ava glared at him.
“Can we call a temporary truce?” he asked. “Let me at least set your leg so it heals properly.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like seeing anyone in pain.”
“Then you’re in the wrong business.”
“You helped me before with Toma. Let me help you.”
Ava nodded. It was the best offer she’d receive. “Temporary truce.”
He called out, and within seconds, one of the guards came in and plucked her up off the ground. Tears sprung up as the movement tweaked her leg.
“Sorry,” Natan said. “I didn’t tell him to be gentle.”
“No problem,” Ava gritted. “I’ll be sure to repay the favor.”
* * *
Natan cut the bottom portion from Ava’s pants. She sat on the table, scowling at him as he worked. He deserved no less. But he needed her help. He had to make her see what they were doing was right.
“We are not terrorists,” he said, grimacing as she cried out when he reset the bone. “Sorry.”
“If you’re not terrorists then who are you?” she asked between hiccupping breaths.
“A really pissed-off family.”
“Yes, we tried that until Venom took Toma.”
“Toma?” Ava was suddenly alert. “What do you mean Venom took him?”
“Toma is my cousin. He comes from a village to the east of us,” Natan said, wondering how much to tell Ava. He knew from experience that if a person didn’t have enough information, they couldn’t be as useful. But could she be trusted? They only took Ava because the man named Brock was already long gone on an aircraft carrier that Natan had no hope of boarding. Ava had been on a punctured life raft. It was easy enough to capture her. One of his men had the cargo plane ready for takeoff as soon as they returned to shore.
“East of us? Where exactly are we?”
“Iraq, near the Turkish border.”
Ava grimaced. “I knew it.”
“We could’ve left you to die on the sinking boat.”
Glancing at her leg, Ava said, “I think I’d have been better off there.”
“It wasn’t a unanimous decision.”
“Had to take a family vote?”
He smiled. “Something like that. You won.”
“Lucky me,” she said dryly. “Tell me the story. What did Venom want with Toma?”
“I don’t know. We’ve been piecing it together when we can get Toma to talk. As you could probably tell, he’s not really chatty. I was at home in London when it happened.”
“I heard your accent, along with Mikael’s. He’s definitely American. Where are the rest from?”
“Everywhere, though about half are here in Iraq.”
Ava snapped her fingers, coming to a conclusion. “You’re Assyrian. I couldn’t peg it before.”
“How did you guess?”
“When families are spread across the globe, it usually has to do with politics and racism. Persecution has a way of scattering people.” Her gaze shot up to Natan. “Sorry.”
He nodded, continuing to tend to Ava’s leg. She was right. Throughout history they’d been targets, deprived of their ethnic, cultural, and even national rights. They were even victims of genocide.
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