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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

A lyssa had known it would come to this.

She’d changed out of the dress because she’d known.

She’d taken the package Grant brought for her because she’d known.

She’d agreed when, the previous afternoon, Michael had insisted she be prepared, because she’d known.

Knowing didn’t make it any easier.

The phone call from Ghazi had been short but to the point. “A simple trade. Peri for the information I need to take over the drone system.”

He was no longer pretending he owned the company he’d hired her to hack. Everything was on the table now.

“The exploit isn’t ready, but I can create it.”

“Good. You will leave right now. Alone. Tell no one. Get in the car and drive away.” He gave her specific instructions, naming roads she’d driven all her life. “I am watching everything, so do not try to alert anyone. Do not try to get help. Do not try to wear a listening device or a tracker. You understand?”

“I understand.”

“We will see you leaving the property in five minutes or the girl will be harmed.”

“Ten minutes,” she said. “I’ll have to tell my mother one story and Caleb and my father another. Otherwise, they’ll realize I’ve gone. I can’t let them stop me.”

Her request was followed by a long stretch of silence.

Alyssa had stared out at the churning Atlantic. The dark blue water reflected a clear sky. In the distance, all seemed calm, but the waves crashing against the jetty told a more violent story.

“Seven minutes.”

“It’ll take what it’ll take, Charles.” She congratulated herself on remembering to use his fake name. “Trust me when I tell you, I’ll do everything in my power to save Peri.”

“Let’s stop pretending that Caleb is your fiancé, his daughter your future stepchild.”

“Irrelevant.” She didn’t temper her anger. “Peri is a child . She deserves protection. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She’d ended the call, praying as she’d hurried to the library to leave her things. Praying she hadn’t pushed the man too far.

Maybe, deep down, she’d hoped Callan would realize what was happening and stop her.

How foolish. How selfish and cowardly.

But she’d played her part. She’d said what she wanted to say and hopefully, he’d read the words she hadn’t said.

That she loved him. That no matter what happened, she loved him.

And then she’d driven away, beating Ghazi’s deadline by two minutes.

As soon as she hit the main road, she sent the text she’d typed right after she’d hung up with the terrorist.

It’s on. If it doesn’t work, tell Callan I’m sorry.

Grant responded with two words.

Got you.

He was telling her the tracker was working. God willing, Grant and Callan would get her out of this mess. If nothing else, Alyssa would be with Peri. If she could give her life to protect the child’s, then that would suffice.

Or, if all she could do was offer the little girl comfort at the end, be with her until she joined her mother for eternity…

Please, Father. Please…

Alyssa shook off her fears.

Focus.

She drove a mile past the turn she was meant to take, rolled down her window, and tossed her phone into a gully. Then, she did a U-turn and drove back to where she’d been directed to turn.

The two-lane road was narrow and deserted, flanked by thick forest on either side. A few houses sat at the ends of long driveways, but nobody was out this afternoon.

The deeper she drove, the higher her anxiety spiked.

Four minutes later, she spotted a silver SUV parked ahead. A man stood beside it.

Benson.

He pointed to the spot in front of the SUV, and Alyssa parked the Mustang and got out, leaving the keys in the ignition for Callan.

He might not get his daughter back, but his car would be found.

What a ridiculous thought.

Benson approached, a gun pointed at her. “You’re alone?”

“Yes.”

He checked anyway, then nodded toward the SUV.

The passenger door opened, and Ghazi stepped out.

He looked just as he had a few days earlier, but his veneer had been scraped away. To her, he no longer resembled the polished British entrepreneur he’d pretended to be.

This man was a terrorist. A killer. And he wasn’t bothering to hide it anymore.

“Where’s Peri?” she asked.

“You didn’t think I would bring her with me. I had to ensure you weren’t followed by police. Or CIA agents.”

Did he mean Dad? Or Callan? Or both?

She tried to keep her face impassive. “You told me to come alone. I came alone.”

“I will take you to the child as soon as you’ve been thoroughly searched.” He gave Benson a go-ahead nod.

Alyssa fought the urge to fight as the meaty man pawed at her clothes, her hair, her body. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths and prayed, prayed, prayed.

When he took her shoes off, she knew.

She’d cut a slit into the sole and shoved the narrow disk inside.

But he saw it, pulled it out, and held it up for Ghazi to see.

“A worthy try.” The man actually smiled as he took the tracker and flipped it into the woods. “You are good, Alyssa Wright. But I am better.”

She hoped she looked suitably horrified at the man’s arrogance.

Arrogance that, God willing, would bring him down.