A flash of the dark-skinned beauty assaulted his memories. Her legs straddling his scarred body, she’d writhed in ecstasy as he pumped hard into her, erupting in an explosive orgasm. She’d reached climax seconds after he did, satisfaction on her face as sweat ran down her neck and flowed between her ample breasts. Sunny hadn’t been repulsed by his disfigurement. Her hands caressed his rough, burned skin as if he was the man he’d once been before his life had been destroyed. The man his wife had loved.
“Was Sunny there? Did she lead the attack?” Tubeec asked, his breath quickening as he stifled the erection threatening to grow from the memory of her.
“I can’t be sure, but the coordination of the attack was definitely her handiwork. Calculating and methodical, executed with minimal errors,” Cangrejos responded.
More like his handiwork. Sunny Tate had learned a lot in her year of captivity with him. More than he’d expected to share, but she’d beguiled him. And when she’d worked off the debt owed to him, he’d kept his word and released her.
Tubeec rested his head against the warm metal of the side of the van. He didn’t need Wangari any longer. But Mena Nix was a different story. She’d made a fool of him by escaping his well-trained team. A fact that could never be known. Tubeec had to send the right message for this unfortunate turn of events.
Garbo turned and gave him the thumbs-up sign. The destruction of evidence against Deputy President Rono was complete.
Tubeec said, “How long have Assad and the others been searching for Mena Nix?”
“Not very long, but she will be easy to find. The terrain is harsh, and she’s inexperienced.”
“When you find her … encourage the men to … enjoy her. Make sure she won’t think about escaping again.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Squinting, Julian peered through the opened front door. The burned and charred remains of the compound’s stone wall still smoldered. Smoke tendrils danced toward the lightening morning sky. The heady stench of gun powder and rancid blood was strong.
Julian stepped over the crumpled dead body of one of the kidnappers. Bullet holes riddled the wall where Julian and Enzo had eliminated each threat inside. Rounding the corner back into the hallway, he watched as Enzo secured the only gunman who’d surrendered. The man had stopped talking, refusing to divulge any further information about the motive for the kidnapping or what Tubeec had planned for the hostages. The only information the bastard had given about Mena was that she’d escaped. A small contingent of mercenaries had been sent out to find her shortly before the TIDES team arrived.
Mena had been right here, in this compound.
And now she was gone. He was too late.
Julian watched as Glaze wrapped an arm around Wangari Irungu, leading her toward the front rooms of the compound. The heiress to the horticultural dynasty was overcome with emotion, crying as she leaned into Glaze, taking shaky steps forward. Deep purple bruises covered her neck and arms, marring her tan skin. Crusted dried blood trailed down the left side of her face from a cut on her eyebrow. Her eyes were disoriented and dazed.
Julian turned away and walked down the hall. Where the hell had Mena gone? How could he find out? He had to track her down. Had to find her before Tubeec’s men did.
Pushing through the door leading to the side of the property, Julian stepped out into the brisk humid morning air. Scanning the yard in the dim light of dawn, Julian saw something trampled in the dirt. He squatted down, lifting the object from the ground. Batches of thin ropes darkened red from what he suspected was blood. Had Mena been outside when she got away from Tubeec’s men? Were these the ropes that had bound her? Had she found a way to free herself from the ropes and escape?
“Coming in low for pick-up with ETA of three and a half minutes,” Sunny’s voice crackled through the earbud communications. “Reggie and his team have been alerted, and he’s diverting teams to Wajir County. Estimated arrival in one hour. They’re picking up the search for Mena. Julian, they’re going to find her.”
Mena didn’t have an hour. They’d already lost too much time. She was out there alone, with trained killers hunting her. He didn’t know how many of Tubeec’s men had left to search for Mena, but there was no way any of them wanted to report back to their leader that they’d lost one of the hostages. From what he remembered, Tubeec considered any type of failure by a member of his team to be a one-way ticket to the grave.
“Copy that,” Glaze spoke into his headset.
Julian asked, “Sunny, what’s the closest town to the compound? How far away would Mena need to go to reach people?”
“Pretty far … over thirty miles in any direction. Given how close we are to the Somalian border, let’s hope she didn’t head that way,” Sunny responded.
Tubeec’s men, al-Harakat, and marauding bands of rebels from Somalia weren’t Mena’s only concerns. As day replaced night, she’d get hit with the brutal heat of the desert. Even if she could hide from the men tracking her, she wouldn’t last long without food and water. Two days. Maybe three. His biggest fear was that she would get lost, roaming in circles and heading nowhere, increasing the likelihood that she’d succumb to dehydration, exhaustion, and heatstroke. Too many ways for her to lose her life out here. He couldn’t let that happen. He was going to find her. Now.
From the horizon, the helicopter came into view, dipped low, and landed about a hundred yards away. Blades whipped the wind into a frenzy, sending plumes of red sand swirling in the air.
Glaze ran ahead, half-carrying Wangari toward the helo. Enzo followed close behind, his gun trained on the member of Tubeec’s team they’d captured.
Jumping inside the helicopter first, Glaze turned and easily lifted Wangari inside, disappearing into the cabin. Enzo poked the captive in the back. The man fell forward then struggled to scramble into the helicopter with his hands and legs bound by ropes. Enzo turned and stared at Julian, waving an arm for him to come.
The dark bloodstains of the ropes in his hand convicted him. He knew what he had to do. He’d known from the first moment he met Mena, standing outside her workshop at the Genesis Gallery, that she was a fighter. She wouldn’t let life knock her down without trying to get back up and survive. He’d marveled at her bravery time and again as they fell in love. He couldn’t be upset with her for taking the opportunity to escape from the compound. She hadn’t known help was on the way. That he was doing everything in his power to bring her home safe.
“Montgomery!” Sunny said. “Don’t do this. Don’t go after her alone. Wait for the ASF teams!”
“I can’t,” Julian said, then turned and walked away from the helicopter. Approaching the stone wall, he picked up his backpack where he’d discarded it. Scaling the wall, he sat on top of it, surveying the land.
Mena was desperate, scared, and alone. The night sky would have been brightening, but still dark enough to provide cover. Which way would she have gone?
