Chapter 3

THREE

Cooper

Friday the thirteenth is always a shit day, and normally I stay in my office, keep my head down, and don’t come out until after midnight. Yesterday, of course, we had to go pick up a bigwig from the airfield a few klicks from base. And I needed to be there to greet him. All the fucking pomp and circumstance. I love the military most days, but every so often the uptight rules and regulations make me want to roll my eyes.

Things went wrong so damn fast.

One minute we’re heading to the airfield, the next, we’re upside down.

Now I’m in this fucking cell taking a beating.

Jesus fucking Christ, I can take a hit or ten, but this is ridiculous. They’ve been going at me for hours now. And they went at me last night too. They keep asking about where “they” are, which I pretend not to understand, but now they’re back with some dickhead who speaks enough English to get his point across. Trouble is, even if I knew what the hell they’re talking about, I wouldn’t tell them.

Ironically, that’s the worst part of the beating I’m taking.

If I was protecting something important, it would be a worthwhile sacrifice to get the shit beat out of me. But this? I have no idea who they’re talking about or why they think I know where they are.

They scream some more Arabic at me and finally—thank the fucking lord—they leave the room. They’ll be back, but at least now I can catch my breath.

I spit out another mouthful of blood and wonder if I’ll have any teeth left when this is over. Thankfully, they’re not that tough, so while they’ve done some damage, I’m okay. I was more worried about my buddy Doug Seghin. He’s out cold, still tied to a chair on the other side of the room. I’m pretty sure he has a concussion because when the Hummer flipped, it landed on his side first and he banged his head against the glass. Leo Passero has a broken arm, but he seems okay otherwise.

I make eye contact with him across the room and there is an unspoken understanding that this is bad. It was probably a few hours before anyone figured out we were taken, and by that time the trail will potentially be cold. These guys want something specific, which means they’ll keep us alive for a while, but who knows how long and what shape we’ll be in by the time they figure out we don’t know what they want.

“You think anyone’s coming?” Passero’s voice is hoarse. We haven’t been given any food or water, so it will only get worse.

“I think they’re looking for us, but whether or not they’ll find us in time…”

“Fuck, man. If these fuckers don’t do it, Mary’s gonna kill me.” His wife Mary is six months pregnant, and he’s supposed to be home in time for the birth of their first child.

“I’ll make sure she knows this wasn’t your fault.”

We chuckle together. There’s no other choice since neither of us is likely to cry.

“You talk to Nat?” Leo is the only person I’d told about Natalia and me. Not that we had sex, but that there’s an interest there and that I’m hoping to go see her at some point.

“Not in a few days or so.”

And now she’s going to think I ghosted her.

“You two would be cute together.”

“She lives in Limaj. If we get out of here, I’m going to Hawaii. Not sure how that would work.”

“You gonna re-up when the time comes?”

“What else would I do? Go into the private sector?”

Leo arches a brow. “Pays better and, you know, very little chance of this shit happening.” He motions to where Seghin is sprawled unconscious.

“There is that.”

“And you know, in the private sector, maybe you and Nat would have a chance.”

“She’ll punch you in the dick if she hears you calling her Nat.”

Leo grinned. “Yeah, well, I’d rather that than what’s coming.”

“Chin up, Marine. We got this.”

“I don’t got shit. I’m not a punk, but I don’t want to die in this hellhole.”

“I know, man. I know.”

Our captors left me chained to the ceiling, metal cuffs around my wrists and my arms above my head. I’ve been like this so long I’ve lost most of the feeling in my hands, which is probably a good thing since the rest of me is sore as fuck. At least Passero and Seghin are on the floor, chained to the wall by a chain linked to one of their legs.

“Hey, try to wake him up, will you?” I suggest.

Leo tries shaking Seghin, but he’s still out cold and that scares me more than anything else. If they’re going to kill us, we can’t stop them, but if we manage to find a way out, we can’t run and carry Doug too. Not to mention, if we get rescued, and Doug has been unconscious for days, his chances of recovery aren’t great.

“Keep trying every now and then,” I say quietly. I try to squirm to look out the small single window in the cell where we’re being held, but there’s barely a sliver of sunlight. It’s late in the day, and we haven’t eaten or slept, which will catch up to us soon. Unfortunately, I have a feeling another beating will happen before food or drink.

Leo and I exchange a look when we hear steps in the hall.

“Sorry, Cap.” He gives me a sympathetic look since we both know I’m going to take the brunt of whatever’s coming.

“We got this, Marine.” I close my eyes and let my mind drift. I discovered this was the secret to enduring torture. I can just put myself somewhere else, and the pain often doesn’t register until much later.

Someone is speaking Arabic again.

Well, yelling, actually, but I tune him out. I can’t tell him something I don’t know, and while I wouldn’t tell him if I did, I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t have a clue what this is about, which makes this that much worse.

“Answer the fucking question!” My captor backhands me, and I taste blood again.

I meet his gaze without wavering. “Captain Ryan Cooper. United States Marines. Serial number 723—” He hits me on the other side this time.

“Do you understand what I will do to you?!” The leader of whoever these fuckers are is right up in my face and I long to drive my fist into his nose.

“Captain Ryan Cooper. United States Marines. Serial number—” Smack!

Back to the first side.

“Your CIA isn’t coming for you,” he hisses.

“Captain Ryan Cooper. United States?—”

“Shut up!” This time he catches me in the ribs with both fists, hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

My head drops to my chest as I try to catch my breath.

“The only one who can help you is you,” my captor hisses. “Tell me where she is, or you will die here with my name on your lips. Yusef Mustaffa. Remember it. Say it .”

He can hit me as many times as he wants, but I’m not going to say shit.

Because now I know what this is about.

Fatima and the other ladies we helped escape.

This jerk is Fatima’s husband, and I’ll die before I tell him where she is. Well, not that I know her exact location, but I won’t tell him what I do know either.

“You will think of nothing but my name and my face as you die,” he growls.

I definitely don’t get paid enough for this bullshit.

* * *

After another beatdown that results in what has to be some broken ribs, they leave us alone again and I use the time to recharge. I feel like hell and would’ve done almost anything for a hot meal and an even hotter shower. I probably have a few more days of this in me, but Seghin won’t last much longer and I’m starting to worry. If no one is coming, we aren’t going to survive, and I refuse to die here.

Not like this.

At some point, I drift off to sleep but something wakes me. A scraping sound catches my attention, and my eyes fly open as I look around. It’s dark, and from what I can tell, Leo and Doug are sleeping. What the hell is that noise? Our captors are much noisier when they come for us.

“Leo!” I keep my voice low, but I know he’ll hear me.

“What’s up, Cap?” Leo is a light sleeper too.

“You hear something?”

We’re both quiet and there it is again.

“Either someone’s trying to get in or we got mice.”

“Rats,” I correct mildly.

“You guys suck.” Seghin’s hoarse whisper is a welcome distraction.

“Captain Cooper—you in there?”

The voice is decidedly American, and I whip my head around. “We’re here!” I call out.

“We’re getting you out—hang tight.” I don’t know who they are, but I want to kiss them.

A few seconds later, there’s a flash bang, the sound of metal-on-metal as they break through the door, and then a group of Navy SEALs burst in, and someone cuts me free. My arms are still numb, but I manage to stumble over to Seghin.

“He’s in bad shape,” I say.

“We got him.” A familiar face smiles at me from under his helmet and I squint.

“Jonesy? That you?”

He grins. “Sure is.”

“Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“You flirtin’ with me, Cooper?” My friend from college wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“If you’re gettin’ us out of here, I will absolutely flirt with you. I’ll even buy you dinner.”