To the right, toward the beach, the scene looked the same and the street running by it presented no threat. Then he turned to the left and saw the three black SUVs rolling down the hill toward the building.
"I wish I could believe you, Dak. I really do. But we both know that's not true. I wonder, are they already there? Are they on their way up the stairs or elevators right now? Dak? You there?"
Dak twirled his finger at Will, signaling that it was time to leave. Will immediately understood. He lived under the constant threat of having to bug out at a moment's notice.
He rushed into the bedroom and returned seconds later with a rucksack he kept next to his bed.
Dak shouldered his gear and made for the door. "Sorry, Bo, I lost you for a second there. Seems like the connection is—"
He ended the call then broke the phone in half. On his way to the door, he tossed it in the sink and ran water over it to make certain any data could never be recovered.
Will held the door open for him and the two men left the apartment, hurrying into the hallway.
Nine
Istanbul
Nicole's eyelids peeled open. She immediately regretted waking as her dry eyes felt like they'd been sandblasted. In her mind, she imagined a sound like rusty hinges creaking on a door. Blinking didn't make things any better, not at first. She closed her eyes again and kept them shut for several seconds, counting in her head until she reached ten. It didn't help that the lights in the room were bright.
Room? What room? She didn't know and had to open her eyes again. As before, opening her eyelids caused a scratching sensation, but this time it wasn't as bad. She blinked again, and it finally began to bring soothing relief.
Nicole looked like a caged bull as perspiration beaded on her nose. The gag tied around her mouth kept her quiet.
Then everything crashed into her memory like a tidal wave: the man, the stairwell, the conversation, the confusion.
She'd thought it was Dak. Did she even dare admit to herself that she initially hoped it was him? Even with all she'd said, the way she'd spoken to him, the angry tone she'd used, the truth was, Nicole wished she could do what Cher suggested in her hit song. If she could turn back time, she would, she would listen more and argue less, be less narcissistic, less bitter at Dak for wanting to serve his country more than her.
But she couldn't. It was too late to fix anything on her end, and yet she felt as if a good amount of her indignation was justified. He could have made more of an effort too, could have decided not to join the military. She had even offered to support him while he figured out his path.
She cursed the confusion racking her soul, twisting around her heart like boa constrictors suffocating their prey. One second she loved him, pined for him in ways she never had for anyone else. The next, she hated him, hated that he'd left her to fight a war she didn't understand.
Nicole felt something wrapped around her waist. Her wrists and ankles, too, felt tightly bound, causing the fingers and toes to tingle with numbness. The sense of smell returned, and she detected the scent of lilac. She recognized it immediately as one of the candles sitting atop the counter in her kitchen. After a few more seconds of blinking, the scratchy feeling on her eyeballs subsided. Her blurred vision made it difficult to see anything familiar, but she doubted the man had taken her anywhere. At least, not yet. And the candle was definitely a giveaway. She doubted he had something like that in his place, wherever that was.
She struggled to recall what happened after she'd turned around to find it wasn't Dak she'd been talking to in the stairwell, but a stranger with a gun and a menacing face to match. She didn't remember much about what happened next. He’d closed the gap fast. He was on her in seconds, pouncing like a cat that had been stalking her for the last hour, waiting for a slip-up before taking his prey. Her head ached. Deep, throbbing pain pounded the back of her skull and rolled up over the top of her head. Along with the blurry vision, that told Nicole everything she needed to know.
She'd been drugged.
Nicole recalled trying to take a step back, but he'd warned her to freeze. Then there was the pinch in her arm as his left hand whipped around and stuck her with the needle.
"Oh, good. You're awake." The voice shook her from the fog. She turned her head and found the man from the stairwell standing in the kitchen, her kitchen. The rest of the apartment appeared through the haze, her vision clearing by the second. The visual confirmed her initial suspicions.
Questions floated to the front of her mind, several of them. Nicole couldn't collect her thoughts enough to ask a single one. She wanted to know who he was, what he wanted, why he was here, but none of that came out of her mouth. Even if the gag wasn't choking back the words, her mind still couldn't decide on which question to ask first. Instead, she just sat there, sneering at him.
"You must be wondering who I am," he went on as he strolled around the kitchen counter and stopped in front of her. He'd placed one of her dining table chairs across from her. She also sat in one, though she was bound to it with extension cords wrapped around her waist and chest. She wasn't sure what the man had used to bind her hands and feet, but it felt like it was probably duct tape.
"Not much for talking?" the stranger asked. "Oh,
