Chapter Four

Cold seeped up from the rough cement floor, and Lizzy wiggled her toes, trying to warm up the ice blocks that were now her feet. She shivered like a tuning fork, and her body thrummed as a cold breeze shifted the air. The sun had set hours ago, and the shouts outside the barred window had finally fallen silent.

The women were placed in separate rooms. Lizzy hadn’t seen anyone since the phone call to John. That seemed like hours ago. Lizzy ignored the scuffling in a dark corner of the room—not wanting to know which critters crept in the shadows. Instead she focused on the grimy wall in front of her. Aside from smaller scrapes, her thigh throbbed in time with her racing heart. A well-placed kick from one of the attackers would result in a bruise the size of a plate.

She’d allowed them to call him, and if he came, he’d see her like this—weak and dirty. That was not how she’d imagined their next meeting. Instead, she’d imagined running into John in a market in Kenya. With a handsome stranger on her arm as she strolled in the bright sunlight looking tanned and happy.

In her nonsensical fantasy, John would pull her into his arms and beg for forgiveness. He’d drag her mouth to his; her legs would wrap around his strong waist as his large hands gripped her ass and settled her… Okay, that was so not what she should be focusing on, while huddled on a broken stool at the mercy of angry strangers in piss-ant Pakistan.

Lizzy gingerly adjusted the metal cuff that chained her sore wrist to the table. Her mind wandered back to Johannesburg—to the last time she’d seen John. The day she’d sent him away.

“Lizzy, I’m so goddamn sorry that I lied, that I didn’t tell you sooner. If I could take it all back—”

“This isn’t about us. I was in trouble long before you came along. I need space, maybe I’m running away, but it’s what I need to do.”

John pressed his business card into her hand. “That’s my international number. If you ever need anything…”

Lizzy nodded as angry tears ran.

He led her to his car. Too soon they pulled up to her drive and Lizzy tamped down the heartbreak. She chose her last words carefully. “You’re a good guy. You deserve someone great in your life. I hope you find peace.”

He stared straight ahead as she studied his handsome profile. This gruff Samson was supposed to be her first. John should have been her first and last. Instead he’d fallen between deceitful cracks and all that was left were bittersweet memories. Lizzy kissed him on the cheek. “For what it’s worth, I loved you too.”

In a haze, she climbed out, shut the door and walked out of his life.

The willpower to fully exorcise him from her world failed her at the first turn when later that same night, she’d dug out his business card, stroked his name and memorized the number.

Now her willpower failed her again—months later—when she gave John’s number to Javid Ibrahim the man who had rescued the women and had crouched in front of her and asked who else she wanted to call. Apparently, Ethan Matthews, the CEO of JetHaven and the man she worked for, wasn’t answering his cell, and the JetHaven office phone went straight to voicemail. Captain Stuart and the first officer weren’t answering the phones in their rooms. Her father could never know. He worried enough about his daughter living so far from home.

The only man who could get her safely back to Kenya was John Calaway. All she knew about John was that he worked for an American covert team stationed in East Africa. Lizzy was betting on his spook connections. John was probably out in the field. If he didn’t come, perhaps he could send a rescue team of sorts.

If help didn’t arrive soon, the women would be transported to a holding facility, and Lizzy had a feeling that the prison system would suck them in like quicksand.

Javid entered the room, placing an open bottle of water in front of her. Lizzy drank while studying his white Punjabi suit—traditional Pakistani clothing that looked like a pajama set. Spotless and clean compared to her now torn and sullied outfit.

“Have you heard anything?”

“Not yet. We are running out of time.” Javid adjusted the pakol perched on his head. “Once the news reaches Inter-Services Intelligence headquarters, they’ll send police officers to pick you up. My fear is that the men who come will be corrupt.” Tension in the room ratcheted up.

The two drunk girls wandering into the local mosque’s gardens had gotten Lizzy into this mess. It was considered sacrilege for female non-Muslims to trespass on holy property. Brianna’s satchel full of alcohol ramped up the charges.

The mob of men that attacked Lizzy, Suzie and Brianna intended to stone the girls to death. Thankfully, they had been shoved aside by Javid and his class of moderate scholars. Javid taught at the Dar al-nur Masjid Madrasa, an Islamic school for religious instruction, which sat next door to the mosque.

Javid and his men had raced the women to an older abandoned seminary three blocks away, before the growing crowd of protesters could catch up.

Two officials from the local town council insisted on detaining the females until law enforcement placed them under arrest. Now it was a waiting game. If the mob had their way, Lizzy and her partners in crime could be jailed or put to death, and those morbid possibilities had her shaking in her chair.

“Why can’t I see my friends?”

“It is not up to me. I am trying to help as much as possible, but you are considered to be detainees. Risking that phone call to your man friend earlier may get me arrested.”

Loud voices in the passage had Javid on his feet.

“Mr. Ibrahim,” Lizzy called. “Regardless of what happens, thank you for your help.”

Javid nodded once before stepping out the door.

Straining her ears, Lizzy made out an American accent. The voices switched between English and Arabic. Lizzy’s stomach somersaulted, and her palms grew damp. Was John on the other side of that door? A part of her prayed he was, another part screamed no. Lizzy wasn’t ready to see him again.

Time dragged as negotiations rose and fell. Finally, the door opened and a man stepped through, carrying a bottle of water.

She registered cargo pants, a black T-shirt and gray hoodie. The large build seemed fleetingly familiar until the man stepped into the light. Not John, but a soldier with the same hardened look, like he owned the small space and any other territory his alpha boots stepped on.

Inky eyes assessed her, seeming almost black in the dim light.

“Are you injured?”

Lizzy swallowed back the relief at his American accent and he repeated his question.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He spoke over his shoulder. “They cuffed her, and they’ve used a Darby 121. He won’t be happy about that.”

A second man stepped through the doorway. His white-blond hair glowed in the dim light and contrasted with the sooty-haired giant standing before her.

“Yeah, well, there’s one of him and four of us. We’ll calm him. Is that table nailed to the floor?”

“Yip. We’ll retrieve the bolt cutters from the truck if this shit isn’t resolved.”

“What’s a Darby 121?” Lizzy asked.

“Discontinued handcuffs only used in a sprinkling of third world countries,” the brute said, twisting off a cap and handing her an open water bottle. “You need to keep hydrated.”

“Are you with John? Are the other girls okay?”

He ignored the questions as he examined her wrist, before speaking again to his teammate. “It’s interfering with circulation—fastened way too tight.”

Lizzy tried again to get his attention. “What’s your name?”

“Ryker.”

“And your angelic friend standing in the doorway, looking like he’s gonna sprout wings?”

“What the—?” Choir Boy stepped forward.

Ryker snorted. “That’s Phoenix. Under all that angel dust, he’s one tough mother. We’ve both got your back…even though you and your tipsy fucking friends got yourselves into this.”

“I didn’t know they had alcohol on them.”

Ryker stood up. “Yeah? You should’ve just stayed at the hotel.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Don’t get your pink panties in a knot. Be patient. We’re on the other side of the door if you need us. I need to make a few calls to smooth the way. Phoenix will check on your two cabin mates and find the official with the key to that.” He pointed to the cuff.

“What time is it?” Lizzy asked, shifting her numbing ass.

“2100 hours.”

She’d been locked in this room for six hours. Trust didn’t come easily, but the two big warriors were all she had. Lizzy reached out with her free arm and grabbed Ryker’s hand. “Thank you. I’m darn terrified. If I get out of this, I’ll hunt you down and buy your team a lunch. Complete with Heineken beers and double malted milkshakes, and whatever dessert you want. I can bake. I’ll make a Malva Pudding. It’s a South African recipe that’s all syrupy and—”

“Enough.” Ryker released her hand, smiling. “It’s a deal. Regardless of pudding, we’re not going anywhere.” He paused at the door. “Do you want us to call your family?”

“No. They’ll just worry.”

Ryker stepped out. Phoenix winked at Lizzy as he closed the door. “Later, Puddin’.”

Ten minutes later, Phoenix looked on as a surly local pulled out a key and loosened the cuff. After they left, Lizzy waited and waited. Despite the cold permeating stiff joints, she dozed off, waking suddenly to a warm hand on her knee. Oh, God. John was there. So solid and male as he filled her vision. His hand cradled her cheek as his rich brown eyes blazed with savage fire.

“You feel like ice. Where’s your damn scarf?”

First words in six months and that’s what he says.

“I—I don’t know. I guess at some point it was yanked off?”

“Max, she’s shaking like a leaf. Find an asshole with a blanket, robe, jacket. I don’t care, find something, she’s a mess. My jacket is in the car.”

A shadow moved. Max was here? And apparently Lizzy looked like a “mess.” Just the impression she was going for.

“I’m fine,” she said as she drank in the man before her, almost wanting to run hands through his thick brown hair.

“You’re fine?” John’s voice raised an octave, as he yanked up her thin sleeve. “You’re littered in bruises; your clothes are all torn up. Look at your wrist, look at it!”

Lizzy spoke carefully. “I’m aware of what I look like—feel like—believe me. Considering the circumstances, I’m just peachy.”

“Peachy, Peachy!” He stood and towered over her.

“You don’t have to yell.”

“Do you know where they wanna take you? The next stop is an ISI interrogation room. You don’t have a clue what that is. It’s like a medieval torturing facility in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere! One of the town idiots out there thinks you’re an American spy.”

“I know this is bad—”

“That doesn’t begin to cover it. You’ve literally caused an international incident.” John pointed at the closed door. “I have four agencies and the Pakistani Police Force involved. I’ve dragged fellow task members into this mess, men who were trailing a high-value target in Afghanistan and instead had to race here to rescue a spoiled only child. A little girl who’s up for a Darwin Award for staggering around Peshawar in a drunk haze!”

“That’s a rotten thing to say!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, princess, when I get a phone call from some random guy telling me that you’ve been attacked by an angry mob, and then I sit on a goddamn plane for six hours wondering if you’ll still be in one piece by the time I get here, I kind of lose my shit!”

“I wasn’t the one drinking! I didn’t even know they had the bottles. I tried to get us back to the hotel.” Lizzy kicked him in his perfect shin.

He swore, turned and paced the room. “I know, Ryker told me.”

“Then why did you say—”

“Because if we can’t extract you tonight, then I might as well toss my life away. I’ll infiltrate every facility I can to find you.”

“It won’t get to that.” Max entered the room, rounded the table, and gently placed a large jacket over Lizzy’s chilled arms. “I* Kashmir is in the other room.”

“Thank God.” John ran frustrated hands through his hair.

“What’s an I* Kashmir?” Lizzy asked.

“Here, drink.” Max jammed a straw into a juice box. “I* stands for Inspector General—Inspector General of Police. Faisal Kashmir heads up the KP Police. He’s an ally.”

Lizzy took a long sip of the mango-flavored juice. John stared through rusted bars onto the street below.

“Johnny, a word?” Max said.

“I’m not leaving her.”

“In the hall, now. This isn’t our jurisdiction. We’ll need to cooperate.”

John stepped out. Lizzy finished the juice. Played with the straw as time dragged by.

Max walked in followed by John, Ryker, Javid and a man she didn’t recognize who wore a navy jacket and matching beret decorated with ranks and insignia. Crossed silver swords decorated his shoulder. He gave her a gruff look before tossing a file on the table and taking a chair opposite. This must be the I* Kashmir guy. Lizzy remembered his name because it sounded like the word cashmere.

He opened the file and threw her passport on the table. They’d removed it from her person earlier. A photocopy version lay in the file along with a thin pile of paperwork. He grumbled as he sorted through documents.

“Lizette Steyn. You’ve caused a great headache for me, this night. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Lizzy looked at him blankly. “That I’m sorry?”

He raised a thick brow.

“No, I really am. It has to be like one in the morning, and I’m sure you have a family waiting for you at home. Please apologize to your lovely wife. If you’re not married, well then, I apologize for saying that you are. In any case, I’m sorry for keeping you—”

“Lizzy, enough.” John growled.

I* Kashmir raised the other brow before bursting into laughter. “I’m married with three children, so I take no offense. You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you?”

Great, of course her diminutive size was mentioned. Lizzy flashed a polite smile as he extracted a form and handed it over.

“You will need to sign this statement.”

Lizzy looked to John for confirmation and he nodded. Arms crossed, he looked formidable standing in the shadows.

“What does it say?”

“Firstly, that you were unaware of the mini bottles of whisky, or that the other two cabin attendants were consuming the alcohol. Secondly that you did not intentionally wander onto holy ground.” Kashmir handed her a pen and showed her where to initial.

Both statements were true enough, but Lizzy paused before signing her name.

“Lizbug…” John warned.

“What happens to my friends?”

“They are not your concern.” Kashmir nudged the paper.

“Sign the damn thing,” John snapped.

“What will happen to them?”

“They are in measurably more trouble than you. Intoxication in public, trespassing on mosque grounds while inebriated, comes with serious charges.”

The pen trembled. “I can’t leave them.”

“I swear to God—” John erupted and Max stepped into the foray, touching her shaking wrist. His pale gray eyes pinned her with a magnetic stare.

“We’ve contacted their respective embassies in Pakistan. Your boss—Ethan Matthews—is flying into Pakistan tomorrow. His legal team is landing in Karachi tonight. Refusing to sign this statement will not make one ounce of difference to their situation. In fact, it will make it more difficult. The legal counsel needs to focus on just two of them.”

Lizzy held back hiccupping tears as she placed the pen down, needing time to think. “This was Suzie’s third flight.” Lizzy grasped the I*’s wrist and he looked up. “She’s sheltered and naive, and so young. Don’t let them lock her away for one stupid decision.”

“People make stupid decisions every day. My overflowing prisons are evidence of that.” Kashmir pulled his hand back and picked up the pen. “Don’t let me add your name to that list, Lizette Steyn.”

“Promise me you’ll protect them best you can.”

“I have a town full of angry citizens demanding justice, but I will try my best.”

Lizzy signed her name in a blur, and Kashmir gathered the papers. “I don’t want to see you in my city again, Miss Steyn. I suggest you bid for other flights in future. You’ve been flagged by Inter-Services Intelligence.”

John stepped in the I*’s way. “Get that cuff off her. Now.”

Kashmir nodded. “I’ll send someone in.”

The men left. John sat down in the chair opposite. She ignored him. Frustration at the girls’ predicament had her simmering.

“Once we’ve transported you to a safe facility, we’ll get you checked out. Aside from feeling a little battered, are you okay to walk?”

“Look at you, sweeping in to rescue me—again—even when I don’t want you anywhere near.” Lizzy regretted the words the second they spilled from her acidic mouth. That was a mean thing to say and she flinched at the sudden hurt in his eyes. “I’m sorry I sa—”

He spoke carefully over her apology.

“We’re never going to get past Johannesburg, are we?”

“Don’t bring up South Africa. This isn’t the place.”

He studied the table. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

“Do what?”

“Care. Worry about your life, worry about your soul. This is too hard.”

“What are you talking about? We haven’t seen each other in over six months.”

He rubbed a thumb over a knuckle. “Your last flight was to Rwanda. Before that you flew to Iraq. I have your damn roster memorized. You took a vacation two months ago in Mauritius, with your parents.” He looked grim.

“John—”

“I know it seems stalkerish, but the reality is that I want you safe. Your job isn’t anywhere near safe, and it kills me not knowing where you are.” His mouth turned further down at the corners as he shrugged. “I can’t be your guardian and move on with my life—or meet someone else. I need to let go of us.”

He stood, and panic took hold. Her eyes welled. He refused to look up.

“You’re leaving me here.” 

“Never. I trust my task-force brothers to look after you. We’ll get you home, and then it’s all up to you.”

“What I said just now, that was unfair, and it was a lie.” Lizzy tried to stand. The handcuff stopped her, her thigh locked up and she cried out from pain.

“Fuck!” He clenched a fist, raising it to punch the wall, instead he lowered his arm and paced the room. His muscles quivered with tempered rage.

Lizzy wasn’t scared. The realization had her sitting back down. She’d never been afraid of this man, only of the hidden possibilities of their unknown future. The past six months were a hiatus, where she slowly found her way back to forgiving him. Ironically, he’d used the time to find an escape from her. 

She’d pushed away this beautiful warrior, with good reason, and now it was too late. She’d never see him again. That hurt more than anything Ivan or any other human could ever do to her.

John slid down and crouched against the wall. She searched for the right words, her mind still stumbling for rationality after struggling through the past eight hours.

John stood. “Be safe, Lizbug.” 

“Please don’t go.”

He walked away, and she lost it.

Lizzy shouted his name to a closing door. Her shout turned into a wail and Lizzy wept, shame ripping her heart from its foolish position, her sobs ringing through the lonely space.

She despised herself in that moment. John was right; she was a sniveling and selfish princess who’d learned nothing since moving to Kenya. Still demanding of others—still pathetically lost.

Ryker came in and unlocked the biting cuff before shuffling her out. Her thigh muscle spasmed from sitting for so long, and her leg collapsed. Phoenix swept her up, carrying her to the vehicle as Lizzy gritted her teeth from the pain.