RELENTLESS

by Christy Reece

  Cursing under his breath, Liam took a step back to regroup. The voice had been a woman’s, quivering with terror.

  “Okay, you do have some cards. How do you want to play this?”

  “Me and the girl walk out of here. Once I’m safe, I’ll let her go.”

  Yeah, right.

  “What happens if I say no?”

  “Easy. I kill the girl.”

  “And then I kill you.”

  “Maybe so, but you got a dead girl on your hands. I’m assuming that’s not in your plans.”

  The guy had a point.

  Liam stepped a few feet from the attic entrance and said softly, “Hey, Ash. You close?”

  “On the second floor. Did I hear right? He’s got a hostage?”

  “Yeah. Can you come up here and keep him busy? I’ve got an idea.”

  “On my way.”

  Should’ve expected this. The op had gone too smoothly. With the exception of the lookout that Eve had taken care of, they’d experienced almost no resistance. Yeah, a shot here and there but nothing they couldn’t handle. In his experience when something was too easy, there’s trouble brewing. He’d never lost a victim, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  Ash came up behind him. “What’s the plan?”

  “You keep him talking. I’m going to go at him from the outside.”

  “How’s that?”

  “There’s a balcony and a window.”

  “You do realize that’s not really a window, right? And that balcony? It’s for decoration only. It’s not built to hold a gnat’s ass, much less a two-hundred-pound man.”

  “Yeah, but it is a way inside. Just keep him busy. I’ll do the rest.”

  “Hey,” the guy shouted, “what’s going on out there? We got a deal or not?”

  “Hold on,” Liam yelled back. “I’m conferring with my boss.”

  “Well, hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

  “Be right with you,” Liam assured him. “I can’t authorize squat without talking to the boss man.”

  “Well then, let me talk to him instead.”

  “Yeah…okay. That’s a good idea.” Liam sent a grin to Ash. “Keep him talking. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

  Liam headed downstairs, hearing Ash’s authoritative warnings of what happens in most hostage situations. Sounded dire, but Liam knew this asshole’s kind. He wasn’t going to give up without concessions. OZ didn’t do concessions.

  Sean and Xavier met him in the foyer. “What’s the plan?”

  “Follow me around back. I may need a boost.”

  He had to give them credit. Instead of telling him it was a boneheaded idea, they followed him.

  Double-timing it, he was at the back in seconds. Daylight had broken, giving him a good view of the railing he needed to get to. There was only one opening on this side of the house. His best bet was to go straight up.

  Hearing a noise, he turned to see Xavier holding a rope with a grappling hook. “Sean’s looking for a ladder in the garage. If this holds, I figured it might get you there faster.”

  When they weren’t working, he and most of his OZ teammates spent hours climbing the Bitterroot Mountains. Scaling a house should be a lot easier. Hopefully, he’d find a foothold or two to help him on his way.

  Taking the coiled rope, Liam took aim and hoisted it up at one of the balcony posts. He missed the first time around, grunted in frustration, and gave it another go. Second time, he snagged the post and gave it a good, hard yank.

  “This’ll do.” Thankful for the gloves he’d remembered to stuff in his jacket, Liam was gloved up and walking up the wall in seconds. Ash continued to talk to the guy, delaying him by assuring him that he wanted to work out some kind of a deal. Ash was good, but the tone in the man’s voice said he was getting impatient. Liam needed to get up there ASAP.

  Fifteen feet from the balcony, the steel post creaked audibly. That wasn’t good. Liam climbed faster, hoping he could make it before the thing completely broke. Nine feet from his destination, the rail bent and then snapped. In a flash, he was plummeting to the ground.

  Grabbing hold of a protruding brick, Liam stopped the free fall. He plastered his body to the wall and assessed the situation. A thirty-foot fall might not kill him, but it would lay him up for a while. He didn’t intend to fall.

  Doubly thankful for his gloves, Liam found invisible little crevices in the brick and started the climb again.

  “Stryker, you on your way?” Ash said in his ear. “This guy’s getting antsy.”

  “Couple more minutes.”

  Thunder rumbled overhead. A storm was brewing, and the sweltering humidity covered him in a sheen of wet, hot heat. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he fought the sting. Stretching with all his might, he reached the bottom of the decorative balcony and hung on for several seconds to gather his strength before swinging himself over the railing. He landed with a soft thud and held still for a moment to ensure the thing would hold him. When nothing moved, Liam took an easier breath.

  Peering into the small window, he noted a few concerning things. The guy had his gun pointed toward the door where Ash stood. He was burning up, his clothes, soaked in sweat, were stuck to his body, and his face was tomato red. Definitely agitated. But most concerning of all, Liam could not see his captive.

  “Ash, you see the woman anywhere?”

  “I spotted her once. I think she’s in the corner to the right of the window. Looked like her hands are tied.”

  “I’ll grab his attention. You get the woman.”

  “Copy that.”

  Liam took another quick look inside and inwardly cursed. Taking a clean shot was out. The guy had moved, and now most of his body was hidden behind a stack of boxes. Liam considered his options. If he tried to wing an arm or shoulder and missed, the man could easily swing around and take out his captive.

  He took a step back and quickly considered his best plan for entry. Ash had been right. The window was barely a window and was for decorative purposes only. There was no latch, no way to slide the thing open. The only way in was to go through it. The glass was thin, not double-paned. It was going to hurt, but with no other options available, this was his best bet.

  Grabbing hold of the window frame, Liam told Ash, “I’m coming in.” Slamming his feet into the window, he crashed through.

  Aubrey stood looking up at the small shattered window where Liam had been. Her heart in her throat, she had seen him climb up the wall and then almost fall to his death. She had been sitting with some of the rescued women, offering comfort where she could.

  Without realizing it, she’d jumped up and started running toward him. Just when she was sure there was no way for him to save himself, he’d grabbed hold of something and halted his descent.

  Knees weak, she’d then watched as he climbed back up toward the balcony, grabbing hold of what were apparently crevices in the bricks to help him move upward. It soon became apparent that he was an expert climber.

  She had finally been able to breathe when he’d climbed onto the small, rickety balcony. She, along with several of the operatives, stared up at him. She hadn’t had any idea what he planned. She certainly hadn’t expected to see him hang from the window’s edge and then slam through the glass.

  Multiple shots rang out and then there was silence.

  Her earbud gave her an idea of what was going on.

  “Thought you were going to distract him,” Ash said.

  “He was out of my line of sight. Couldn’t take the chance.”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Check on the girl. I’ll be fine.”

  “Gideon, we need a medic up here,” Ash said.

  “Already on my way,” Gideon answered.

  Feeling helpless, Aubrey glanced over at Jazz, who stood beside her. “What can I do to help?”

  Her face showing her concern, Jazz shook her head. “Nothing. Gideon has medical training. He’ll take care of them.”
<
br />   Aubrey followed Jazz back to the tents that the aid workers had set up. The young women ranged in ages from late teens to mid-twenties. Those waiting to be treated sat quietly, sipping coffee or soft drinks.

  “What’s the protocol now?”

  “We stand by and assist where needed. Our part is mostly over. Liam and Ash will check with Tessa, the head of the aid group, to see if any of them are willing to talk to them.”

  “That’s not mandatory?”

  “No. Our main goal is making sure they get what they need. If Tessa believes any of them are willing to answer questions, she’ll let us know.”

  “Do you ever follow up, check to see what happens to them?”

  “Liam keeps tab through the various aid organizations.”

  “Ash is in charge of OZ but Liam is in charge of rescues?”

  “Not all of them, just the ones involving human trafficking. And speaking of the devil, look who’s here.”

  Aubrey glanced around and spotted Liam walking toward them. He had more than a few cuts and scratches on his face and arms, along with two bandages, one on his left wrist and another on his neck. Other than that, he looked none the worse for wear.

  She watched, secretly fascinated, as he headed directly to the first tent and stuck in his head. Several seconds later, he retreated. Each time, she saw something odd change in his demeanor. His gait when he’d walked toward the tents had been confident and determined. His shoulders had been straight and proud but with each tent he checked, his shoulders seemed to slump.

  He turned away from the last one, and his eyes searched the remaining women waiting their turn in the tents. He shook his head slightly, and Ash, who stood beside him, laid a hand on his shoulder and murmured something in his ear.

  Whatever he said must not have set well with Liam, as he pulled away and stalked off.

  Jazz sighed and shook her head as if she knew what was happening and it had saddened her.

  Curious, Aubrey said, “Why is he upset?”

  Shrugging, she said, “It’s a Liam thing.”

  Before she could inquire what that meant, Serena came up behind them. “Everyone’s in custody.”

  “What about the guy in the attic?”

  “They’re taking him to the hospital. He should be well enough to go to jail soon.”

  “Liam looks rough,” Jazz said. “How badly is he hurt?”

  “I asked, but you know the answer.”

  Jazz gave a laugh. “Of course. The one we always get.”

  Both Jazz and Serena said in unison, “It’s not Syria.”

  Her knees like jelly, Aubrey sat down abruptly in a chair. There was a strange buzzing in her head.

  “Hey, you okay?” Jazz asked.

  “Yes,” she answered weakly. “Just a lot to take in.”

  “Need some water?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She gave both women what she felt was her very best fake smile. Jazz seemed to buy it but Serena looked both concerned and puzzled.

  “What...” Aubrey cleared her throat of the sudden dryness and started again, “What does that mean, ‘It’s not Syria’?”

  “They were on a mission together there,” Serena said. “All of them were injured. Liam, too.”

  “So whenever any of them are hurt,” Jazz continued the story for Serena, “the answer we usually get when we ask about their injuries is—it’s not Syria.”

  Syria.

  Before she could parse the implications of that information, Jazz asked, “Do you want to try to talk to any of the women?”

  Refocusing, Aubrey said, “If possible. I don’t want to cause more harm.”

  “I’ll double-check with Tessa. See what she thinks. In the meantime, you want to go through the house. See the aftermath?”

  Her eyes tracked to where Liam had gone. She definitely wanted to go inside the house, but her instincts told her to follow him.

  Reading her intent, Jazz took her arm and tugged her toward the house. “I know you want to get his take, but it’s not a good time right now. You can talk to him on the way back home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Liam stared into the night. The face reflected in the airplane window showed the grim countenance of a beaten man. Dark thoughts swirled in his head. He was done. He couldn’t do this anymore. Looking for Cat had consumed him for years. She was his first thought in the morning and his last one before he dropped off to sleep at night. When he wasn’t working on an OZ op, he was digging for intel, hoping to find some kernel of information he’d missed.

  Giving up was not his way, but in this he had no choice. If he was going to have any kind of life—any peace at all—he had to let her go. She was likely dead. After twelve years of captivity and torture, how could she not be? It defied all odds that she could have survived even a few years, much less twelve.

  So why did he feel as though he was abandoning her all over again? The darkness he’d felt the day he’d left the prison without her was once more washing over him. Once again his soul was ripped to shreds, and he had no clue how to stop the bleeding this time.

  He saw the reflection of Aubrey Starr before he felt her sit beside him. Turning, he looked at her, really looked at her. She was attractive, there was no denying that. Soft golden hair, gray-blue, intelligent eyes, and a natural upward curve to her full lips as if she smiled often.

  She hadn’t been a burden, not like he’d feared. She had, in fact, even made him smile a couple of times. There was just something refreshing and pure about her interest in their operation. Not self-serving but empathetic and caring.

  Realizing he hadn’t been exactly friendly to her, he did his best to give her a welcoming look.

  “You look angry,” she said.

  So much for the effort.

  “Been a long day.”

  “The operation was successful. Twelve women rescued. No one died.”

  “Yes.”

  “And yet?”

  He shrugged. “There are a lot more out there.”

  “But for today, you can’t be happy for those you rescued? For the families that will be reunited? For the bad people who will be punished?”

  If only it was that simple. Or maybe that’s the way it should be.

  “Yeah, I guess I can.” He took a breath and said, “Sorry you didn’t get to see what you came to see. Things didn’t turn out as we’d planned.”

  “I saw more than I’d ever seen before. The house…” She shook her head. “I don’t think it should be called a house, more like a torture chamber. I cannot fathom the hell those women endured.”

  “Did you get enough for your project?”

  “I’m not sure. I need to put my thoughts together, get everything down. Once I do that, I may have questions.”

  “I’m sure any of us can help you with that.”

  “Serena said you’re the go-to person for human trafficking.”

  “I’ve had my share of experience.”

  “Is there any reason you’re so interested in it? Do you know someone who was trafficked?”

  No way would he tell her about Cat. The last thing he wanted was their story to end up being discussed in a film. That was private and none of anyone’s business.

  “It’s a multibillion-dollar business. The idea that people sell human beings to make money is repugnant. I want to do my part to stop it.”

  He could tell she was disappointed in his answer. Her eyes darkened, lost a bit of their sparkle.

  “Whatever the reason, I’m sure the people you’ve rescued are extremely grateful.”

  “What about you? Why do you do what you do? Seems the whole focus of your films is on informing people about human trafficking. Did you know someone who was trafficked?”

  “No. But I’m of the same mind as you. The evil of selling a human being for profit is a disgusting act that needs to be stopped.”

  “I’ve seen your films. They’re good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This n
ew one you’re making. It’s a follow-up to your first one?”

  “Yes, but I want to go more in-depth. I felt like I just barely scratched the surface in the first one.”

  “I understand you’ve created some enemies.”

  “That’s not uncommon. I can protect myself.”

  There was a wide divide between being able to personally protect herself from an assailant and protecting herself from an assassin.

  “You’ll be safe at OZ.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t stay at OZ. I have to get home, get to work.”

  “We can arrange protection for you.”

  “I can afford my own protection. I’ll be fine.”

  The thought of her in harm’s way bothered him immensely. Okay, yeah, he was attracted to her. Had been the moment he’d spotted her in Kosovo. He told himself his protectiveness was normal. That was his job. Had been since the day he’d popped Bobby Bishop in the mouth for saying something off-color in front of his sister.

  Aubrey Starr was stubborn, independent, passionate about her work, and beautiful to boot. The fact that he was attracted to her doubled his need to protect her.

  He’d talk to Ash, get her the protection she needed. Did she know that that producer’s death was no accident? He hadn’t asked Ash if he’d told her and was frustrated that he didn’t know. She would need the best protection out there. OZ knew some of the finest bodyguards in the world. They would make sure she stayed safe.

  “I understand you were once in Syria.”

  The question came out of the blue, and he was definitely not in the frame of mind to talk about Syria. “Yeah.” His voice was hard, hopefully deterring any further questions.

  “I wanted—”

  “Syria is in the past. It’s not something I want to relive or revisit.”

  “But I—”

  He gave her the hardest look he could give to a non-enemy. “Forget about Syria. Understand?”

  “Yes…okay. Sorry.”

  Hell, maybe he was the one who should be sorry. She looked as though she’d been slapped.

  He couldn’t talk about his missions in Syria. Any of them. They were all still classified. And the one that had changed his life? No way in hell. He could only imagine what a filmmaker would want to do with that story.