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Chapter One
A hidden compound in the hills on the far North border of Mosul, Iraq …
“Your time is up, whore and so is my patience. Let’s see if you’re still closemouthed about the company you keep and where the cowards are hiding after my men fuck you stupid.”
“Men? All I’ve seen in this hellhole are a bunch of mice. Agh!” The woman’s raw scream slammed against the sandstone walls of the dungeon she’d been locked in as the man viciously slapped her across the face. He glared at her where she was strung up with her feet off the ground in the chains hooked to the rafters. She had lost feeling in her arms long ago but her hands kept cramping from the effort to hold onto the chains to alleviate the strain on her wrists as her body weight kept pulling her down.
Ten days of hell, humiliation, pain, and hunger.
And still, her spirit hadn’t been broken.
Jordan Sutton was a fighter. One of three women who had completed army ranger training, she had deployed with the 75th Ranger Regiment in Iraq as an expert in counter terrorism strategies. She didn’t break easily— something the leader of the terrorist group, Daesh, was about to find out.
Hewas also the reason Jordan was in Iraq— now, ten years after she’d walked away from the military.
“You’re a fiery woman.” A hedonistic laugh cackled from his chest. “And very beautiful.” He scraped the dried blood from her cheek with his nail, unconcerned that he scratched her skin. “I have to warn them not to damage your face too much.”
Even strung up as she was, he towered over her. There was bulk on him. At first, she’d thought it was a sign of overindulgence, a love for rich food but she’d learned the opposite. He might be overweight but he was strong with wiry muscles beneath the traditional kaftan and baggy trousers he always wore.
He pressed his face into hers. Jordan didn’t show fear as the full lips flattened but her eyes sparked in recognition of the greed that glimmered in his onyx-colored gaze.
“You’re going to make me rich. I know just the sheik who would pay big money for an American sex slave like you. You shouldn’t have stuck your nose into my business, bitch! Now, all you have to look forward to in your future is pain.”
“Fuck you.” Jordan snorted up a glutinous ball of spittle and fired it into his eyes. Her head cracked to the side as his fist connected with her chin. Her vision blurred but she willed herself not to pass out. “Keep going, you bastard. Your tally is adding up.” She squinted at him in the dim light shining through the slitted opening high against the one wall. “You’re gonna squeal like a pig before I’m done with you.”
“Take the whore out of my sight. Tell the men I want to see her bleed.” He smirked as he looked into her glowering eyes. “She’s going to plead for my mercy soon enough.”
Jordan didn’t waste her strength fighting the two muscled guards, strong-arming her out of the dungeon and upstairs to the soldiers’ barracks. She would need it to fight when the time was ripe.
But I’ll be back for you, you bastard!
Ali Mohammed Fadhil had been on the FBI’s most wanted terrorists list since June 1996 in connection with a list of actions against the United States longer than her arm, which included conspiracy to use weapons of mass destruction and bombs resulting in American deaths. He’d been the mastermind behind the Khobar Towers bombing in Saudi Arabia— an eight-story structure housing members of the United States Air Force's 4404th Wing at the time— primarily from a deployed rescue and fighter squadron. In all, nineteen U.S. Air Force personnel were killed and four-hundred-and-ninety-eight of many nationalities were wounded.
He’d been at large ever since. Recent allegations that in coalition with a Lebanese militant group,Hezbollah Al-Hejaz, meaning Party of God, Fadhil was rumored to be involved in the resurgence of ISIS in Anbar, Diyala, Kirkuk, Saladin, and Mosul in Iraq. Their presence had once again started to spread to the United States.
For the umpteenth time since she’d been captured during an attack by terrorists on the temporary U.S. military camp a couple of miles from Mosul, Jordan cursed her decision to assist the FBI to find the elusive and most sought after terrorist. On the other hand, it was with her insight that she’d led them to his hiding place, giving them the perfect opportunity to capture him— the closest they’d come in years. It didn’t excuse the FBI agent in charge of the operation and the commander of the platoon for lying to her though. If not for that, she wouldn’t have been at the camp and become easy prey to the radicals which landed her in the hands of the bastard himself.
Ten years, Jordan. You’ve been at peace and have been safe for ten years! But no, you had to go and fuck it up by allowing the FBI to sweet talk you into coming on this mission.
She stopped walking as they neared the stairs. Her feet dragged behind her, which forced her captors to carry her.
Jordan was an expert at hand-to-hand combat but the regiment she was in hadn’t expected to be betrayed by one of their own. They had been caught unaware during dinner when they were attacked. She’d woken up zip-tied, then starved and tortured for days. It was time to lock in her mental reserves and regain her strength to fight for her freedom.
You better recharge quickly, Sutton.
She fought the fear in her mind as they reached the hallway awash with the sound of rowdy militant soldiers. The thought of rape had never occurred to her since she’d woken up in chains and came face-to-face with the terrorist. It wasn’t Fadhil’s MO. Being whipped to shreds, yes, but he had shown no desire to defile her. Now, the reality of what was about to happen, crippled her. Once they took her inside that room, she’d lose any advantage to escape.
Trying to take out the two guards would be a waste of energy. They were too strong and in her weakened state, she didn’t stand a chance to overpower them. If only she could find a way to detain them… to delay the inevitable and give herself the opportunity to conjure up a plan.
“Ugh… gah!” She started to retch and spit out the bile she was forcing into her throat.
“Fucking bitch! Look what you did to my shoes,” the guard grumbled, clearly irritated.
“Water,” she croaked. “I can’t… my throat… dry.”
The brute shoved her forward with a grunt, playing right into Jordan’s plan. She stumbled and dropped to her knees.
“Enough. I’m not falling for your shit, slut,” the second guard sneered and reached for her while the other turned away to wipe his boots clean.
