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Cat’s voice, full of fear, of tears, soared around him. They had recorded her assault…brought it in to torture him.
Liam shouted over Cat’s screams, “Where is she? Dammit, what have you done to her?”
“Your little Cat isn’t holding up too well.”
The Brit again.
“What have you—”
“We’re not through with her yet, but I wanted to bring you her greatest hits. Enjoy them.”
The volume increased, and Cat’s screams and pleas for mercy echoed through the hollow prison. She screamed his name multiple times, pleading for his help. Help he could not give her.
This was his punishment for not talking, his incentive to finally give them what they wanted.
Dropping to his knees, Liam crouched in a corner and, having no choice, listened to Cat being tortured. The recording lasted only a couple of minutes and then repeated, again and again.
At first he could concentrate only on Cat’s anguish, pain, and obvious fear. After a while, Liam forced himself to listen to other things. Three distinct voices—one with a French accent, one German, and the British one—engraved themselves into his mind. And as he listened, as he died a little inside with every scream and cry that Cat uttered, he swore vengeance on the men who tortured her. Someway, somehow, he would get out of here, and he would make each of them pay. This he swore. They would pay with their lives.
Chapter Four
Liam lay facedown on his cot. It had been three days since they’d taken Cat away. Three days of hell. Seventy-two hours of torture. Four thousand, three hundred and twenty agonizing minutes of not knowing if she was still alive. Still being brutalized, beaten.
There had been times in his life when he’d felt helpless, even hopeless. Nothing compared to this.
The recording of her assault had played for two days straight. Finally, in the middle of the second night, the batteries had gone dead. Didn’t matter. The words, the pain, the terror and degradation in her voice were ingrained in his brain, etched in his soul. He would never forget them for as long as he lived.
Despite his shouts and demands to talk to someone, no one had spoken to him. In silence, his daily meal was slid into his cell. He’d like to tell them to shove it up their asses, but starving to death would not save Cat. He had to be strong enough to rescue her. For that to take place, he had to get out of here.
He had a plan. Knew it likely wouldn’t work, but waiting for the perfect opportunity was not going to happen. He had to make it happen. If he died, then he’d damn well die fighting for something he believed in. Rotting in a cell was not the way he intended to go out of this life.
Next time his meal was delivered, he would strike. One way or the other, he would not be spending another night in this hellhole.
He closed his eyes, envisioning how he would escape, find Cat, and save her. There was no other option.
The ground shook violently, bringing him upright from his cot. What the… Earthquake? No. That had been no rumble, but a loud blast of sound. Two more blasts followed. Liam sprang to his feet, ready to go. Didn’t matter if this was friend or foe, he was damn well going to get out of this shithole and find Cat.
Was she still alive? Had they killed her? Was that the reason they hadn’t tried to question him again? What about Xavier? Was he still alive?
He didn’t have answers to any of his questions, but he was going to get out of here and find out.
Another blast sounded, this one even closer. Then the unmistakable noise of submachine guns. Whoever was here had come armed to win.
A door squealed open and Liam crouched in a corner. When the cell opened, he’d be ready to pounce
“Stryker!”
Xavier Quinn’s gruff shout was one of the best sounds he’d ever heard. Springing to his feet, Liam leaped to the cell door and yelled, “In here!”
Seconds later, Xavier appeared at his cell, AK-47 in one hand, a set of keys in the other. Dirty, bloodied, and disheveled, his friend was a sight for sore eyes.
“You okay?” Xavier asked.
“I am now. Who’s here?”
“Me and a couple of friends.”
As Xavier