They already knew she was the codebreaker. After all, they found her.

  Oh, Crew, I’ll find a way to get you out of there.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. With each dirty, bloodstained garment she stripped off, more tears flowed. When she stepped under the shower spray, her tears dried up, though.

  A hollow feeling filled her insides as she scrubbed away the grime of being in that cell. The bruises were all tender and she didn’t even want to look at herself, but she got out of the shower and faced the small rectangular mirror over the sink.

  Seeing the state of her swollen eye made her grimace. She bore several cuts on her face that were scabbed over. By the time she dressed in the set of clean clothes Lena left for her, Teigen had once again located her core of steel that got her through so many information exchanges and meetings in dicey places.

  She returned to the room and found Sophia still asleep. Teigen stopped and stared at the woman’s face.

  While the scientist was clearly ill, her pale face bore no cuts or bruises at all. It looked like they had totally different captivity experiences. Teigen was battered and Sophia’s face was just…pale.

  Not that she couldn’t bear hidden wounds or scars on the inside. And maybe their captors had given up on beating her months ago.

  Teigen shuddered to think of what could have happened to her in that bunker but didn’t.

  Her mind turned back to Crew. Was he in a cell just like hers—maybe even in the very cell he’d broken her out of?

  No, he shot the lock off the gate. They’d imprison him elsewhere.

  Her chest burned with the pain of knowing she was the reason he was there at all. He’d come to rescue her. Now she had to find a way to save him back.

  SIX

  They thought they could break him. They were fucking wrong.

  Crew had nothing and everything to lose.

  He’d gotten acquainted with four different men who switched off torturing and interrogating him. But he guessed there were at least thirty other men living in this bunker.

  From what he gathered, the government knew they were here, and what they were doing, but didn’t give a damn. During his time in Blackkout, Crew had met more than a few corrupt government officials. It didn’t surprise him that they’d turn a blind eye to what went on here. Abubakar was known for keeping government stooges on his payroll.

  They dragged him out of his cell several times a day for what he’d come to think of as the “agony sessions.” The typical methods to break a man were used—blaring screamo music, pain, threats.

  He’d been forced to strip and been blasted with water a few times. Damn near froze to death afterward when they threw him back in the cold cell too.

  What kept him going was Teigen. If she’d endured even a fraction of this hell, he could too.

  They had him in chains again. He swayed on his feet, his ankles bound together and his arms raised over his head. He was starting to lose feeling in his fingers, but give him a chance and he’d still find a way to make a fist and beat the first man who got close enough.

  They took his shirt a few days before, and blood trickled down his bare chest. They’d used that heated, sharp instrument on him so many times he felt like a science experiment and a pin cushion rolled into one mean, ornery bastard.

  His ears rang from the blaring death metal music they thought would drive him insane enough to give up some intel. What they didn’t know was Crew liked heavy music. He’d attended more than a few concert festivals that lasted for days. Hearing it now, even at high decibels, was far from unpleasant.

  He grinned at the camera aimed at him across the room. Seconds later, the music cut off, leaving his ears ringing.

  Two of his captors entered the room. He knew their faces from wanted posters back in one of the war rooms of the Pentagon but couldn’t remember their names. All he needed to know was that they were under Abubakar’s employ.

  “Have you had enough yet?” one asked him.

  Swaying in his chains, Crew managed to unfold his numb middle fingers and shoot him a double bird.

  The man’s eyes were already cold and dead but they grew colder and more lifeless at Crew’s response.

  “I suppose you don’t have anything to care about now that your team has left you.”

  “They’ll be back.”

  “They’re dead,” he said in a soulless tone.

  Crew knew they were lying, but his gut clenched anyway.

  “We killed them all.”

  “Lies,” Crew bit off.

  The man sauntered over to him as if they were about to have a leisurely chat. Widening his stance, he eyed Crew. “We found where they were staying and we blew them up.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  His lip curled. “You came after the codebreaker.”

  They kept pummeling him for information about Teigen. Fact was, he probably knew less than they did. He only knew she was taken from the market and tossed into a van. The image of her flashed in his mind in regular intervals, though—her arms and legs captured in motion as she fought her kidnappers.

  Now that he knew he’d been staring at his own wife, he wondered how he ever missed it. Maybe it was that phenomenon of seeing a person who didn’t belong there. In his mind, Teigen was in Virginia, leading a quiet life while she waited for his next leave. Or would have been.

  Fuck, no wonder she’d ended things. What kind of marriage did they have when he hadn’t seen her in five months and almost never called her?

  The guy’s sneer etched his entire face in the likeness of evil. “The codebreaker is a whore who exchanged sexual favors for kinder treatment. Maybe you should consider what she really is.”

  Crew’s stomach heaved with the pain of those words. Was it true? He didn’t know what Teigen was capable of anymore.

  Then he remembered her face. Beaten, bloody. Her eye swollen shut.

  She didn’t talk.

  When Crew didn’t respond to the taunt, the man went on. “We blew her up too. Along with the airport runways. The ports are all closed. Nobody will ever come for you.”

  “Why go to all that trouble for one man? You must think I’m worth far more than I am.”

  The door opened again and a third man entered. He crossed the room with measured steps as if he was in no hurry and that seeing tortured victims chained up was just part of his nine-to-five. A regular day on the job.

  He reached the guy harassing Crew and leaned over to whisper something to him.

  Without a word or even a glance at Crew, he turned and walked out, with the other two following him.

  Crew had no prayer of freeing himself, and when he said he had nothing and everything to lose, it was true.

  He didn’t have a wife, but he still had a chance to set things right with her. His team had left him behind, but they’d be back. And when they got here, the wrath of Blackout would descend on these motherfuckers.

  It was hard to gauge how long he’d been in this place, but he guessed three days. More than enough time for reinforcements to reach Egypt and rally with Blackout. If he were in command, he’d call for Charlie, Blackout’s second platoon. They didn’t often work with Charlie team, but united they were doubly lethal. The men in this bunker didn’t have a goddamn prayer.

  From beyond the door, he heard a commotion and men running.

  Whatever they found out stirred them up like hornets in a nest.

  Hope built inside Crew until he almost felt powerful enough to yank down the chains holding him prisoner.

  He had no doubt that his team was coming. And when they did, he’d fight alongside them.

  The door opened and two men rushed in. Crew braced himself for a beating—or worse.

  They reached for the chains. He expected the yank on his bruised wrists but when he felt the heavy metal go slack, surprise rippled through him.

  His deadened arms dropped uselessly to his sides and he staggered. His captor gave him enough chain binding his ankles to allow him to walk.

  When they dragged him out of the room and down the hall at a swift pace, he saw why they’d loosened his bonds and released his arms.

  They needed him to move fast.

  As he passed several cells full of moaning and injured men, he wished that he’d gotten a chance to hear those men’s stories, to learn how they got here and who was missing them.

  The chains around his feet clanked with every step. As they passed a cell, a stream of foul excrement ran across the stone floor.

  Crew looked straight ahead. They took his boots and all he could do was hope he didn’t step in human filth.

  Whether they planned it or not, the orange light down here was torture in itself. It meant they couldn’t sleep in darkness. Or wake with the sun on their faces. It left them in an endless limbo.

  His captor shoved him from behind. Crew stumbled in a bent position into the cell, and the door slammed behind him.

  He turned in time to give the man a knowing grin. “It’s over and you know it. Get ready to meet your maker.”

  His brown eyes drilled into Crew. Holding his stare, Crew let him see the force of his belief.

  His team was on the way. They’d get him the hell out of this godforsaken place.

  Then Crew would have another battle on his hands—to get his wife back.

  All the things they’d told him in the torture room played through his mind. Teigen’s appearance was proof that she never exchanged sex for kinder treatment.

  On the other hand, the woman Teigen insisted they save had unblemished skin. If she was willing to do anything to save herself from pain, what else was she prepared to do? And what could that mean for Blackout?

  What had he sent back with his wife?

  He gripped the metal bars and stared out at the stone wall opposite his cell.

  The light never even flickered. Unending orange. He felt as if he’d dropped onto another planet that didn’t share the same sun as Earth.

  Bowing his head, he pressed his forehead to the cool metal. He had to keep his wits. He only had himself to rely on down here.

  They were trying to mind-fuck him with lies that they killed his team. Even the tale that they’d blown up the roads and as a result the ports were closed was more believable than his team being wiped out.

  Not Blackout.

  From above came clanking noises. He knew the sound of battle preparations when he heard them. It sounded as if his captors were reinforcing the entrances, not that anything could stop Blackout.

  Once he got out of here, nothing would stop him from getting answers from Teigen either. He would demand she spill the story of how she got into this dangerous line of work. How did she know how to break codes, anyway?

  And why did she hide it from him all those months? There had been plenty of chances to tell him the truth.

  But you didn’t tell her everything either, did you? He never told her the rules of Blackout—that he didn’t exist on paper. At the time, it didn’t seem to matter since she was living on her own and using her maiden name.

  She didn’t know just how dark and dirty his world was, how much blood was on his hands. He kept that from her so she didn’t worry. What man wouldn’t?

  Now he could see it was wrong of him. If he’d told her about his work, it would have opened a door for her to confide in him.

  Shouts and thudding echoed through the bunker.

  A grim smile spread over Crew’s face. This was his path to freedom. He only hoped that on the way out the door, he got to personally finish off the men who’d given Teigen those bruises.

  * * * * *

  Frost straightened from Sophia’s sickbed. “Your lungs sound clearer. The antibiotics I managed to get for you are working.”

  Sophia nodded. “I have more air.”

  “Good. Any issues taking the steroids I gave you?”

  She shook her head.

  Teigen sat on her bunk nearby, watching the SEAL with a better bedside manner than most doctors she’d visited. The big man might be tough and dangerous, but he treated Sophia with the utmost care and put some color back in her cheeks.

  He stood back to assess his patient. “Did Lena talk to you about where you want us to move you?”

  “She did.”

  “And?”

  “If I return to Germany, the men will only find me again. I’m going to go to America with you and talk to somebody from your embassy about helping me find a safe place to live.”

  Frost’s expression was unreadable as he studied her. “That will need to be cleared with Sparrow.”

  “Lena said she would suggest it to him.”

  Frost dipped his chin in a hard nod. “Then I’ll leave it to him. Keep drinking fluids and take all your medicine.”

  He started out the door. Teigen leaped off the bunk and ran to follow.

  “Frost!” She grabbed his arm.

  He pivoted to face her. “What is it?”

  Casting a look over her shoulder, she moved away from the door with Frost in tow. She pitched her voice low. “I don’t want Sophia to hear this.”

  He stared down at her with as much interest as he might show a bug on the sidewalk. He might be good with Sophia, but he was cold to Teigen. She thought she knew why too, but there was nothing she could do about his view of her.

  “I know you’re planning something. Something big.”

  Not an eyelid twitched on the huge man.

  “I know you can’t tell me anything. But you can get me access to Sparrow. I need to talk to him.”

  When he didn’t respond, she added, “Please.”

  He jerked his head for her to follow him. The sound of voices came from the main room where the team had argued about whether or not they were going back to rescue Crew and was once more packed with more people than made up the Blackout team.

  Frost lengthened his strides and cut across the room. They reached a couple of guys standing around shooting the breeze.

  Hand out, Frost grinned. “Heyyy, Overstreet. Good to see ya, man. Been a while.”

  The two men gripped hands and Frost brought the tall, built man with light brown hair closer and thumped him on the back.

  Teigen scanned Overstreet’s uniform. It was identical to the badass black the rest of Blackout wore.

  The team they called in for reinforcement had arrived.

  That meant they were going to the bunker soon. Maybe even within the hour.

  She had to find Sparrow.

  Skirting the perimeter of the group, she craned her neck to see over all the tall, broad men. She spotted Lena and tried to catch her eye, but the woman was looking at someone, a crinkle in her brow but a small twist to her lips.

  Teigen pushed through two bodies. “Excuse me. Excuse me, please.”

  A guy looked down at her, head cocked.

  She marched around him before he could ask the question she saw plain on his face—what was she doing here?

  I’m saving Crew, that’s what. She’d broken off their marriage in order to protect him from this exact thing. Now she had to fix it.

  She ducked under another’s arm and scanned the faces of the men surrounding her on every side. Where was Sparrow? She felt like a toddler in a family reunion, searching for a familiar face amid a sea of strangers.

  She spotted Ramsey. The man’s Roman god features would stand out to any woman who clapped eyes on him. He was chatting with another man, a bottle of water in hand which he gestured casually with. To anyone looking on, they might look like they were discussing football or the best barbecue joint in town, not preparing for a black op.

  She made a beeline to him, hoping he could tell him where Sparrow was, but just then a muscled torso cut off her view. By the time she managed to get around the dude, another man had moved into the spot where Ramsey had been standing.

  This was ridiculous. Sparrow had to be around here somewhere.

  She stopped in front of one of Crew’s teammates. They called him Bishop.

  He looked down at her, eyes crinkling, not with a smile but in concern. “What do you need?” he rumbled.

  She wasn’t going to cower in front of anyone, let alone someone who was going to fight for Crew.

  Lifting her jaw, she said, “I’m looking for Sparrow.”

  Something moved behind his eyes that resembled a worm of disapproval. But Bishop glanced around the group. He pointed. “Off to the right.”

  “Thanks.” She whirled and bumped into what felt like a solid brick wall.

  A hand steadied her as she bounced off the man who had the most strikingly vivid blue eyes she’d ever seen. “Sorry. Who are you looking for?”

  “Sparrow,” she said, struck by just how blue those eyes were.

  He jerked his thumb. “Back there. Want me to pick you up so you can see?”

  Oh dear god.

  “No, I don’t want you to pick me up. I just want to get past you please.”

  “Name’s Henner, by the way.” His eyes lit with amusement, but she wasn’t sticking around to talk to him more about his demeaning question. She hurried where he pointed and finally broke through a cluster of three men chatting about weapons.

  “Sparrow!” She strode up to him.

  He cocked a brow. “What are you doing?”

  “I’d like to talk to you. It will only take a minute.”

  He stared at her as if deciding if it was worth listening to what she had to say. She’d heard all the whispers from Crew’s team. She only caught snippets but it was enough to piece together their belief that she was responsible for him being taken hostage. Not only had they come to rescue her, but he was captured after she insisted they take the scientist.

  Finally, Sparrow broke away from the group and walked across the room.

  She followed and braced herself in front of the commanding officer. He wasn’t any scarier to look at than Crew was, but he lacked the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her.

  She shook herself. “You’re going after Crew.”

  Sparrow issued a noisy breath, probably exasperated with her. “I might as well tell you that we are.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  “I want in.”

 

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