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“Yeah, I know I do. You deserve it. I’ll see what I can do.”

I ended the call, snarling as soon as I did. I wasn’t going to hold my breath my military record would be cleared.

Even if my old buddy Kage Rollins had made peace and cleared my name. At this point and after so many years, who the hell would care?

Charmaine

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The constant dripping of condensation from recent rains had been comforting at first, cutting through the constant whimpers and strangled moans of the other women in the blockade-style prison. Now the sound did nothing more than grate my nerves.

Night had fallen, which meant creepy-crawlies were slithering their way underneath the cinderblocks and through cracks in the walls. At least two of the hostages were terrified of bugs and snakes, suddenly screaming at the tops of their lungs during the long hours of night.

I’d only been here two days, but already, I was feeling the effects of fatigue, hunger, thirst, and fear.

That’s what the bastards wanted, all of us so broken down we couldn’t fight back. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, almost instantly feeling something crawling over my shoulder. I brushed it away while trying not to succumb to despair.

My friends were dead. Killed in front of me. I would never forget the look of horror on Maria’s face mere seconds before her eyes faded into a haunted memory of who she’d been.

A friend.

A mentor.

Someone who’d fought for the rights of women and children her entire life.

Images of her bloody face remained in the forefront of my mind.

Why had I lived? Why hadn’t the bastards killed me at the same time?

Not a single soldier had said anything to me.

While they’d done a quick search of my body, I’d managed to secure the small envelope in my bra.

I’d barely had any time to think before rough-looking men carrying assault rifles had escorted me to a Jeep, tossing me in the back.

Now there were sheets of rain pelting against the building. Instead of cooling the air coming through the small window several feet in the air, it created a steam bath, especially with the number of bodies locked inside.

I glanced at the other women in the oversized space before sliding my fingers into the bodice of my tee shirt. If I was found with the jump drive in my possession, that would certainly mean my death warrant.

It was still safely tucked away. If I ever got out of the sweltering hellhole, maybe I’d finally have the proof needed for the authorities to put a notorious monster behind bars.

If I lived that long.

One of the women closest whimpered. Not in her sleep.

Not from acute pain, but from utter terror.

I’d tried talking to a few of the women kept against their will, but either they didn’t understand what I was saying or didn’t have the strength to answer.

Still, I’d recognized at least two of the women from the photographs.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said both to her and everyone else. After having little to drink, my throat was scratchy.

Not one of them said anything.

Not that I could blame them. Drawing attention was the worst thing any of us could do.

That had been proven the first few moments I’d been tossed inside the hellhole.

I wasn’t one to succumb to fear, preferring rage.

I’d fought. I’d scratched. I’d thrown punches.

I’d even managed to kick one of the bastards in the balls.

My punishment had been a hard crack of the butt of a rifle to my head.

The pain remained, only dulled by my will to live.

Sighing, I moved to an area separated from the others, slowly sinking to the ground. Sleep was difficult, fear of the guards coming in and choosing one or more women to beat or worse a constant threat.

I bent my knees, folding my arms around my legs, and lowered my head. Sleep was a necessity.

The dripping and pelting of rain continued, the noise becoming a dull roar in my ears.

But there was another sound, something entirely different than I’d heard before. I snapped my head up, glancing at the window. I could swear something was scratching at the concrete.

As soon as I heard another noise, I slowly rose to my feet, never dropping my gaze as I walked closer.

Wait a minute. Was that a head poking through the window? I inched even closer, taking a quick look behind me at the locked door.

Suddenly, a light swept down on the space.

Seconds later, a figure slithered through the small space, jumping down onto the dirt. He swept the beam around the room and instantly, the other women cowered.

I refused, instead moving even closer.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded, taking several shallow breaths. When he didn’t answer right away, I clenched my fists in case I needed to fight for my life and took two more steps closer.

He was strikingly tall, maybe six and half feet with broad shoulders, built like a fighter. I couldn’t see his face given the shadows, but his figure was both impressive and oppressive. Who the hell was this man?

“Lieutenant Maddox Grant. I’m here to escort you to safety.” He shifted the light he was holding to the other prisoners, taking a deep breath. “You’re Charmaine Douglas?”

I stared at him. The man had no accent. He was obviously American. Let me guess. This was the great Navy SEAL. “Yes.”

“We need to leave. Now.”

“How do I know you’re who you say you are?”

A single noise caught both our attention. “Sweetheart. We don’t have time to play games. Either you come with me, or you will die. It’s as simple as that.”

I shifted from foot to foot, immediately angered by his lack of tolerance. “Not without the others.”

“I was ordered to bring you to safety. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Come with me. Now.”

With my arms folded, I took another step toward him, daring him to cross me. He could tell my answer.

“Christ’s sake. I’m one man.” His insistence was full of frustration.

None of the women moved, frozen to the spot.

He cursed under his breath, glancing at the faces of the prisoners one at a time.

“Fine,” he hissed. “But you will do as I say. They can fend for themselves.”

“Asshole,” I muttered.