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A slight shrug. “He could have saved himself. Just like Fahd. I trust you won’t be so foolish.”
She’d be defiant, but Kira was still missing. “Bring Kira to me, and I’ll tell you what you want.”
His smile deepened. In addition to his scars, he had dimples. Friendly dimples. “I have a present for you first.”
A tingling started in the back of Diana’s neck. Never trust a terrorist bearing gifts.
Rafiq clapped his hands. “Bring him.”
Him?
The two henchmen left the room, going in the opposite direction from where she’d entered. A moment later, they returned, dragging Jamal between them.
The fifteen-year-old glared at her as he entered the room, his hands and feet shackled together with chains that formed an X.
Her eyes burned as she looked at him. He was a child. A victim of Rafiq. A monster made, not born.
He’d tried to rape her. He’d held her prisoner for six weeks. And yesterday, he’d tried to blow her up with a pipe bomb.
She felt sorry for him and hated him at the same time.
And then there was his brother. There weren’t really words to describe how she felt about Bassam, who had at times protected her. But he was never her friend. She knew he would strike like a snake if needed.
Still, in the end, she’d been the viper.
She looked at Jamal, who hated her with all his being. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want Bassam to die.”
No. She’d wanted Jamal to die. He was the one who’d hurt her. Scared her.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as Jamal looked at her with dead eyes.
She didn’t regret what she’d done in order to survive.
She’d betrayed Fahd.
Looted a site.
Killed Bassam.
For a cause. The same cause so many others had died for. And if she could just buy more time, they might finally have a victory. Were the drones in this room? Recording everything? Freya had promised the FBI would swoop in the moment they got video of Rafiq.
They were on standby in Newport News. How long would it take for them to get here?
Could they stop what was about to happen to Jamal?
“He tried to kill you,” Mason said, incredulous that she would cry at seeing Jamal in chains.
She looked at the younger Gardner, a man whose wealth came from buying artifacts from terrorists. His money paid for attacks on schools that led to the impressment of boys like Jamal into Rafiq’s army. “You and your father sent me to Jordan to be abducted and killed.”
“I sent you to Jordan to work and study,” the elder Gardner said.
“Bullshit. You sent me hoping Fahd would share the secret with me.” She waved to the mockup of the slot canyon behind her. “Your canyon replica is the same fucking canyon they took me to the first day I was abducted. The one they wanted me to dig to find artifacts for your Signature Line. You already had the interactive museum in the works.” She swiped at the unwelcome tears. She didn’t want them to see her pain, but she couldn’t pull herself up.
She and Jamal and Bassam and Kira weren’t people to these monsters. They were tools to be used and abused and discarded. One wanted power and destruction, the other two just wanted money.
Money.
Money.
