Darkest Before Dawn (KGI series)

by Maya Banks

  A round of flipping the bird erupted, breaking the strain so evident in the room. Then Sam issued the order for them to load and go. Hancock didn’t have much time, judging by the grim lines marring Maren’s delicate, feminine features.

  “And just so you know, I’m in,” Maren said in a voice that rivaled her husband’s demanding tone. “Olivia can stay with Marlene.”

  You could have broken a stone on Steele’s face as he grappled with the knowledge that he’d be putting his wife—his entire life—in harm’s way. But he also knew that Maren was Hancock’s only chance at survival. With a resigned sigh that said he didn’t like it one bit, he gave a clipped nod and was rewarded with a loving smile that melted the big man to his toes.

  Sam gave the motion to move out. He planned to call Resnick when they got in the air and ferret out as much information as possible. Resnick would cream himself if he thought he had a shot at taking down Maksimov and ANE. Sam wasn’t above calling on the two black ops teams at Resnick’s disposal either, because they were going to need all the manpower they could muster if they had any chance of recovering Honor. Whether she still lived was a huge question mark, but if she was already dead, Hancock wasn’t going to be any more alive than she was, if Conrad could be believed.

  Maren still had an open line to Conrad, patiently instructing him as his frustration mounted at the helpless fury he felt over being unable to do more to stabilize Hancock. But Maren assured him that once the chest tube was properly inserted, Hancock’s breathing would become easier and less labored; he would be stable for the few hours the flight would take them, and then she could fully assess the damage. And then sorrow filled her heart, tears threatening, which she immediately hid from Steele because he panicked if she cried.

  And then, because he had seen them, she hastened to give the reason—sympathy—that had prompted her horror that this could have been Steele not returning from a mission. Or any of the other KGI members.

  “I’m sorry about the loss of your teammate,” she said to Conrad, her sorrow genuine. “I will do everything in my power to save Hancock.”

  “Thank you,” he said gruffly.

  “Honey,” Steele said, sliding his big hand gently over her leg and squeezing. “It won’t be one of us. I need you to believe that.”

  She looked up at him and then at them all, tears glistening on her eyelashes. “But it could be,” she whispered. “There’s always the chance that I’ll get a phone call like this one and it will be about one of you, and I love you all dearly. I can’t lose any of you, even as I know this is what you have to do. What we have to do. Just promise me you’ll be careful. And promise me you’ll get that poor woman out of the hell she’s enduring. Hancock protected me from that, but he can’t protect her now.”

  CHAPTER 33

  HONOR came sluggishly to awareness, confusion and alarm vying for equal control of her state of mind. Her head ached vilely and she tried to lift a hand to massage her temple but found herself unable to.

  As her vision cleared, horrific pain—a keen sense of betrayal—sliced her into tiny ribbons until there was simply nothing left of her. Just a vague nebulous being that hovered somewhere between life and death in the spirit world. Purgatory.

  Hancock had promised her he wouldn’t give her to Maksimov. Hancock had drugged her. Hancock had handed her over to Maksimov in a simple business transaction. Hancock was nowhere near this place, wherever it was.

  She wondered just how gullible she’d been. All that crap about being sacrificed for the greater good. That because of her sacrifice, Maksimov—and ANE—would be taken down, no longer a threat to hundreds of thousands of innocent lives. It seemed to her that this was merely a mercenary exchange. For money. Hancock had never denied being a mercenary.

  But why be so . . . cruel? So inhuman? Why even pretend kindness and caring when he possessed neither? It wasn’t as though she could have escaped him anyway. So why all the bullshit? Why even make the effort to comfort her at all? She would have preferred brutality, rape even, over what she thought to be something beautiful and . . . genuine.

  Maybe it was how he dealt with his conscience, but then he didn’t have one. He didn’t have a heart or a soul. So why? The question reverberated in her mind until she wanted to scream her frustration. Why be kind to her? Why pretend tenderness? Why pretend that she mattered? And for God’s sake, why give her false hope?

  That was the cruelest of all. To give her even a moment’s hope that what she’d accepted as her fate wasn’t to be after all.

  She looked wildly around her, trying to discern her surroundings, anything to get her mind from its soundless screams of grief and agony. But what she found only added to her terror and sorrow.

  She was in a . . . cage. Wrists and ankles manacled like an animal. The space was so small that she was forced into an uncomfortable position, her body contorted like some magician’s feat.

  So stupid. So foolish. So naïve.

  How Hancock must have laughed at her innocence. How he must have delighted in knowing he’d one-up Maksimov and even Bristow by being the one to have her first. The innocent little virgin. The supposed gift he was so humbled to have received. Sorrow vied with regret. So much regret that there was no room for fear over her fate. She was resigned to it after enjoying a brief respite. A short window of time where she’d allowed hope to bloom. She’d been so very foolish to foster the forbidden. She knew better and yet she’d allowed hope to grow, unchecked within her heart, encompassing her very soul.

  Her breath stuttered erratically over her lips as she glanced around her prison. She was in a tiny cage suspended from the ceiling, so even if she did somehow manage to wrest free of the manacles digging into her skin and get the cage open, she was at least a dozen feet above the floor. Not that she’d ever be able to free herself anyway. The restraints had torn her skin, and her hands and feet tingled from the decreased blood circulation forced by the tightness of her bonds.

  The height was dizzying, but her fear of enclosed spaces was even more crippling. Having spent an entire night trapped under the rubble of the clinic that lay around her in ruins had given her an intense phobia of tight, enclosed and airless places, even though the cage was well ventilated.

  Sudden unexpected pain screamed through her body—but no, the high-pitched shriek came from her, the sound of someone in unspeakable agony. Her skin was on fire. She could feel the horrible licks of the flames consuming her. Was she being burned alive? A vague recollection of something like a cattle prod, an instrument that when touching her skin delivered a shrieking electric shock that set her nerve endings on fire, drifted through her shattered memories. For a moment it was as if she simply short-circuited because she had no idea what had just happened. Only that it hadn’t been the first time it had been done to her.

  Then she saw him. The man who must be Maksimov. He held a long rod that he’d pressed to her skin, delivering a devastating electric shock that still had her nerves jumping and quivering. She was in no way in control of her body, her muscles giving involuntary jerks and spasms.

  She huddled there, weeping, not just from the shock delivered to her body, but from the ultimate betrayal Hancock had handed her. It was her fault for offering him her forgiveness. For giving him her trust when he’d proven he wasn’t deserving of it.

  But it didn’t make the agony any less. He had done what nothing or no one else had been able to do.

  Hancock had broken her.

  Not the clinic bombing. Not ANE. Not Bristow’s two attempts to rape her. Not even this asshole standing by her cage, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He enjoyed pain—inflicting pain. He thrived on it. If she could see any lower than his face, she was sure he’d be aroused, just as Bristow had been when he’d hurt her.

  But neither of those men, Bristow or Maksimov, had broken her or would break her.

  Hancock had broken her, and she no longer cared whether she lived or died. She no longer cared what was done to her because nothi
ng could equal what had already been done by Hancock’s hand.

  “I think I may keep you for a while before I let A New Era know of my precious find,” he mused, studying her as he circled the cage. “You’re surprisingly strong. For a woman,” he added with a sneer that conveyed all the disdain he obviously felt for the “weaker” sex. “I think you will provide me many days of entertainment. You’ll be a challenge and I do so enjoy a good challenge. But I’ll break you. You’ll learn what is expected of you.”

  “You can’t break me,” Honor said softly, speaking for the first time.

  Her tone was absent, disinterested almost, as if she were thinking of something else and he was a mere distraction. He wouldn’t like not being able to command absolute focus and attention. He was a man well used to deference from everyone. Well, too fucking bad because he wasn’t getting it from her.

  He looked faintly puzzled, as if he sensed something other than defiance, which such a statement would normally be construed as.

  “And why is that?” he asked in a mild tone that told her she hadn’t pissed him off. Yet. No, he was genuinely curious.

  She found his stare and knew hers to be vacant. Hollow. Lifeless. Already gone. His eyes narrowed as if he too saw what she knew to be there. And for some reason unknown to her, she got the impression that it bothered him. Which was laughable given he thrived on making others suffer so much that they became as lifeless and as hopeless as she already was, and he’d only just begun. Perhaps he was merely angry because he wasn’t the reason that she was already far gone from this world—and reality.

  “Because you can’t break what’s already broken,” she whispered through numb lips.

  He pondered her words for a moment and maybe she imagined it, but she could swear something in his gaze shifted and softened. Maybe she was just finally losing the final pieces of sanity that had seen her through this far because they were no longer needed. She needed no shield. No protection.

  If only . . .

  She didn’t even bother feeling shame or regret for not having succeeded in taking her own life. If she’d had any inkling of Hancock’s coming betrayal, she would have sliced through her carotid artery in a heartbeat to deprive them all. Hancock, Maksimov and ANE.

  He flipped a switch that caused the cage to lower closer to the floor, and then he reached through one of the bars, his fingers lightly caressing the bandages of her wrists, studying them.

  “I don’t suppose you can,” he murmured. “But I guess we’ll see then, won’t we? But, woman, do not think to defy me. You will instantly regret it.”

  She gave a faint ghost of a smile, one that matched the hollowness of her eyes, and as much of a shrug as she was able in the confines of her tiny prison. “I have no reason to defy you. My fate has been sealed. I know what my destiny is to be. I have no reason to live, so why make my eventual death worse by fighting the inevitable?”

  He frowned again, as though he had no idea of what to make of her. As though he’d never come across someone like her. And judging by the expression on his face, he didn’t much like puzzles he couldn’t solve.

  Any idiot could figure her out. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know when a person had already been driven past their limits. That she was already a hollow shell of a human being. Nothing could touch her no matter what was inflicted on her from now until whenever monsters tired of their sick, torturous games and finally gave her eternal rest and . . . peace.

  She closed her eyes, imagining resting with the angels. She could almost feel the soft brush of their wings and the comfort of their protective embrace.

  “Soon,” she whispered to herself. “Soon.”

  CHAPTER 34

  AS soon as KGI boarded the jets, Sam pulled out his secure phone and punched in the series of numbers that would get him to Resnick no matter what time of day or circumstances. Resnick answered on the second ring, his voice wary and alert.

  “Sam,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Adam,” Sam returned dryly.

  “Now that pleasantries have been exchanged, to what do I owe this unexpected honor?”

  His voice was laced with heavy sarcasm, which Sam ignored. Needling Resnick, just like needling Hancock, was taking enjoyment where he could, but this was business and there was no room or time for fucking around.

  “I’m not calling in a favor,” Sam said.

  “Thank fuck for that,” Resnick muttered. “I’ve learned your favors have a pattern of me nearly getting killed.”

  “You’re still alive,” Sam pointed out. “Look, what if I told you that we’re about to take Maksimov down for good and there’s a good possibility that we’ll take A New Era down with him.”

  There was a strangled choke as if he’d just inhaled a drag from his cigarette and it poured out of his mouth and nostrils in an excited rush. “You’re shitting me. No fucking way. You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

  Then his voice became suspicious. “We’ve been after Maksimov for years. Hell, everyone has been after that bastard for years, and no one has ever gotten close enough to him to bring him down without dying.”

  “You’re acquainted with Titan,” Sam said mildly, knowing the reminder would only piss Resnick off. “Hancock in particular. And Hancock has been hunting him for a very long time. He’s gotten close on two occasions only to let him go to avoid getting an innocent killed.”

  Resnick snorted. “Hancock would sell out his own mother to achieve his mission.”

  “And that’s where you’re wrong,” Sam said, his voice deadly soft, suggesting insultingly that Resnick didn’t know fuck-all about Hancock. “Maksimov fucked up big this time. He has something very valuable to Hancock, and trust me when I say Maksimov is a dead man.”

  “Tell me how Maksimov gets us ANE.” Excitement edged Resnick’s voice and Sam could hear the inhales and sharp exhales of repeated cigarette drags.

  “Can’t promise anything, but what Maksimov has that Hancock wants is also what ANE wants and will pay a lot of money to get. The plan was to stage the exchange, take out Maksimov and then set up a similar exchange with ANE.”

  “A FUBAR then,” Resnick accurately guessed.

  “Exactly.

  “What is it that Maksimov has that both Hancock and ANE want so desperately?” Resnick asked.

  “A woman,” Sam said quietly.

  Resnick groaned. “Fuck me. A woman? You Kellys and goddamn women. Swear to God.” And then as if what Sam had truly said sank in, shock registered. “Hancock has lost his shit over a woman?”

  There was a long pause as Resnick took his time to sort through all the what the fucks Sam knew were circling his mind.

  “Okay, so as shocking as it is that Hancock would lose his shit over a woman, what the fuck could ANE possibly want with this same woman?”

  “Honor Cambridge ring a bell?” Sam asked.

  “Of course. She was killed in an attack ANE took credit for. It was a relief center. Mostly Western volunteers and doctors and nurses.”

  “She survived.”

  “The hell she did,” Resnick sputtered. “There were no survivors.”

  “She lived,” Sam said quietly. “Not only did she live, but she evaded capture for over a week. She made ANE look like weak fools. They lost a lot of face and she became a beacon of hope to an oppressed people. ANE wants her and they want her bad. ANE fucked Maksimov over in a deal. Not ever a good idea. Bristow, the man Hancock was working for undercover as a way to Maksimov, learned of Honor’s survival and sent Hancock to get to her before ANE did. Bristow wanted favor in Maksimov’s organization. So he was going to give Honor to Maksimov, and then Maksimov was going to give Honor back to ANE for a hell of a lot more money than they originally fucked him out of.”

  “Okay,” Resnick said thoughtfully. “That all makes sense. Right up to the part about Hancock losing his shit because Maksimov has the woman Hancock planned to hand over to him from the very start.”

  “Look, you kn
ow everything I do at this point except that Conrad, Hancock’s second, said the night before the exchange was to take place, Hancock called the whole thing off. Came up with the idea of staging the exchange but ambushing Maksimov and executing him on the spot. He didn’t give a fuck about Maksimov’s connections, what he could lead Interpol, the CIA and God only knows who else to. All he wanted was Maksimov taken out and for Maksimov to never get his hands on Honor.”

  “Obviously things didn’t go as planned or you wouldn’t be calling me,” Resnick said grimly.

  “Hancock lost one of his men. Several are injured. Hancock is touch and go. I don’t even know if he’s alive at this point. But his second called and asked for our help. They want Honor out of Maksimov’s hands, and they don’t care how it’s done. He’s a sadistic son of a bitch and every hour she’s with him will be hell.”

  “I’ll send Kyle Phillips’s team and two others. You’re going to need all the manpower you can get. I assume you have every available man on your end.”

  Sam didn’t dignify that with a response.

  “I’ll send you the coordinates and I need your men wheels up in half an hour tops. And Adam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Two things. We’re operating blind here, so I need every single piece of intel you have on Maksimov. I don’t give a fuck how classified it is. I need it and I need it yesterday if we’re going to save her and take the Russian down.”

  “Done. The other?”

  “Honor Cambridge did die in that attack. You can not leak that she lived. Not yet. If we manage to get to her in time to save her life and get her back home to her family, then it can quietly be revealed that she was rescued by a joint special forces operation.”

  Resnick snorted. “As if that kind of information will ever be low key or quiet. It will be a media circus.”

  CHAPTER 35

  THE rural, rundown cabin in Bumfuck, West Virginia, where Titan had taken refuge smelled of blood and death. Resnick had complained that no wonder no one had been able to find Maksimov when he was meeting people in such a backwoods place.