Erin sat on the lowest step and cradled her head in her hands.
None of it made sense. She still didn’t understand how a group this disorganized had managed to breach the facility perimeter and get to one of the main buildings. They had new weapons. Explosives. Even the flash grenades were too sophisticated for a rag tag group of insurgents with no clear affiliation or support.
This shouldn’t have happened. Perfect attacks existed, but for the site security to allow those men through and her personal security to be in the toilet at the time?
None of this made sense.
And now the people holding her were probably back to fighting about what to do next. In the few glimpses she’d had of them since being tossed down here, everyone was fighting.
A door banged somewhere in the house and voices speaking over one another came closer.
Erin pushed to her feet and turned, backing against the opposite wall.
Someone clanged pots around, muttering to themselves.
She tilted her head, listening to more than the words. The scrape of feet. The rustle of clothing.
Two people.
“That should be enough,” the one moving around said in Arabic.
“I don’t see anything,” another replied.
Two men.
Enough what?
And what were they looking for?
Footsteps heralded a third and fourth person.
“Where is she?” one of the newcomers asked. Still another man.
“I don’t see anything,” the same voice said again. “Are we sure we have to move?”
“Yes,” the newcomer snapped.
Erin knew these four voices. If she saw their faces, would she recognize them? She swallowed and glanced around the darkness as though she could find a way out she hadn’t discovered yet. She’d combed every inch of the wall, wearing her fingernails down to the nubs trying.
“Come on. Get her out of there. We’re going.” The newcomer in charge stopped outside the cellar door.
A key fit in a lock. Metal rattled. Another lock undone.
The cellar door swung open.
Erin held up her hand, shielding her eyes from the kitchen light. After almost three days of darkness, even a little light was too much.
A man grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her up the steep stairs. Her head ached, and her eyes couldn’t quite focus after being in the dark for days. Someone spat curses at her while another jerked her scarf down, covering her face.
She saved her breath. These people had been hurt and wronged. They wanted a target for their anger. Begging them to see her as a person wouldn’t change them. With any luck, her compliance would make them lazy. When they underestimated her, that would be her one and only chance out of this.
“What are you doing?” a woman demanded. The only woman Erin had heard.
“We’re going,” the man in charge of this faction said.
“No. No, you are not,” the woman said.
“We have been here too long. It is not safe.”
“You cannot go anywhere now, you idiots. Weren’t you listening? The truck isn’t working.”
Several people muttered curses.
“What’s going on in here?” More men, more voices.
Erin swallowed. Something was happening out there. It was bad enough everyone was nervous, fighting and angry.
The kitchen was—what? Ten by twelve?
Were they going to cram nine people in here, some carrying weapons?
With tempers hot this sounded like a great way for an accident to happen.
“Americans!” Someone from across the home shouted.
Please...
A metal clang made Erin’s skin break out in goose flesh.
She’d heard that sound before.
“Look out!” someone yelled.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t help.
A bright flash of light dazzled Erin’s eyes, even through the fabric of her scarf.
Smoke filled the room in seconds. The people around her choked and coughed, some shouting orders that countered what someone else wanted. Her scarf provided Erin some meager protection against the smoke bomb.
This was her chance.
Erin took a step, only to have a pair of hands haul her sideways. She ran into a table, stumbled over a chair, all while trying to hold her breath.
Erin bounced off a doorway, giving her the perfect opening. She spun and her feet slipped on the gravel like sand. She went down hard. The hands holding her slid.
She rolled onto her knees and clawed the scarf from around her face.
The night sky spread out over head. So pristine and perfect. Another person rushed past her, choking for air. The one who’d dragged her from the house wasn’t in sight.
They’d abandoned her.
Erin shoved to her feet and jogged a few steps out into the night air.
The house was at the very edge of what looked to be a small village. She didn’t know if the house was being attacked, or if she was being rescued.
“Where is she? Someone find her,” one of her captors yelled from inside.
Shit.
Now or never.
Erin bolted, sprinting as fast as she could move her legs. Whoever had attacked the house might or might not be friendly to her. There was no way to tell. She kept going, arms pumping. She turned at the first opportunity, weaving between the homes. A dog rose out of the shadows right in front of her.
She saw the shape too late.
Her foot caught and she pitched forward. Gravel and sand scraped her skin. Her knees jolted hitting the ground, jarring her bones.
The dog yelped as it scampered away.
Erin coughed dust and shook her head. Her body throbbed with adrenaline, her limbs ached.
Feet crunched the ground behind her.
She would not go back there.
Erin shoved to her feet and swayed. Days without regular food or water were taking their toll.
“Erin Lopez?” The accent was American, but without light there was no way to tell if he was US military, private sector, or someone she didn’t want to run into in a dark ally.
She whirled to face a figure armed with a rifle. The man in the shadows was impossible to identify, beyond big.
“Who are you?” She wasn’t admitting anything yet.
“VIP asset is in hand,” he said to someone
