Page 1 of Protecting Josie
CHAPTER ONE
Nate “Blink” Davis swore as he lay on the floor right where his captors had dumped him, kicked the crap out of him, then, thankfully, left him alone.
It was safe to say his second mission to Iran had been just as much of a shitshow as the first one, when his teammates had been killed and injured.
No, that wasn’t true. This time, the team had completed their objective of finding and taking out the terrorists they’d been sent to eliminate. And strangely, Blink wasn’t pissed that he’d been taken captive. Probably because he’d done what he’d failed to do the last time he was here.
Save his SEAL teammates.
At least he hoped. They’d been surrounded with no way out. It was déjà vu. But he’d determined this time wasn’t going to be like the last. Even knowing exactly what would happen—he’d either be caught or killed—Blink took off running.
He only prayed the SEALs had honored his sacrifice and done what they needed to do to get away.
So no, Blink wasn’t freaking out that he was now a “guest” of the Iranian Armed Forces. He’d come to terms with his decision because it hopefully meant good men would live. But his actions hadn’t been a suicide mission. He wanted to live too. Thanks to a lot of introspection after his last mission to Iran, and with help from his therapist, he’d realized that just because his friends had died, that didn’t meanhislife was over as well.
Saving Remi also had a hand in that realization. If he hadn’t been in the right place at the right time, she’d be dead. And seeing his team leader, Kevlar, so happy with Remi, the love of his life, renewed Blink’s determination to use his experience and abilities to help others.
Now, like then, some sixth sense deep inside him screamed that what he’d done was meant to happen. It seemed corny as hell…but Blink couldn’t dismiss the feeling that he was right where he needed to be at the moment.
Which was ridiculous. Who in their right mind thought that being locked in a cell, with torture definitely on the schedule by those who’d dragged him in here, was fate or some such stupid shit?
A noise had Blink turning his head, but it was dark in the cell and he saw nothing. It hurt to turn his neck, he noted. His ribs also ached, but he didn’t think they were broken…yet. Blood was dripping down his arm and his temple, places where he’d been struck, and he was thirsty. So damn thirsty. But he was alive. That was all that mattered.
A SEAL never left a SEAL behind, and he had no doubtsomeone would be coming for him. He just had to endure whatever these assholes dished out in the meantime. Which he had no doubt he could do. He’d trained for this. To be a POW. Sort of fucked up, but that was just how the world,hisworld of special forces, worked.
At first, Blink wasn’t thrilled to learn he’d be expected to wear a damn tracker, like he was a fucking dog or something, when he’d joined his new SEAL team. But now? His lips tilted upward in a satisfied grin. A man named Tex was out there watching, probably planning his rescue already. Blink hated that someone else would have to put their lives on the line to save his damn hide, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful.
He heard something again, and Blink realized he’d gotten lost in his head for a moment. It was something he did a lot now. It was the only thing that kept him sane when he’d been processing what happened to his previous friends and teammates.
Forcing himself to stay in the moment, he squinted, trying again to see through the darkness. There was a small bit of light coming in through the bottom of the door that entered into this makeshift prison. He hadn’t noted much when he’d been dragged inside…a couple of cells, no windows, the smell of mold, mildew, and maybe not surprising, body odor. There was one door to the room, and when his captors left, it slammed shut with a finality that would strike fear into most prisoners.
The rustling sound happened again, and Blink called out, “Is someone there?”
He got no response.
But he hadn’t imagined the sound. Groaning, he did hisbest to sit up. His wrists were shackled to a chain around his ankles. Thankful that he hadn’t been hogtied with his hands behind his back, Blink swayed as he tried to identify what he’d heard in the cell next to his.
Using his shoulder to wipe away some of the blood trickling down his temple, he waited for his eyes to adjust more fully to the darkness. A couple minutes passed before something finally started to come into focus.
Blink wasn’t sure what he was looking at. An animal? A child? Whatever was in the cell next to his wasn’t speaking. Wasn’t moving at all. It was huddled in the far back corner, wearing something…maybe brown or black.
“Hello? Do you understand English?”
Still no response. Blink asked the same question in Spanish, French, German, and then in Arabic. He didn’t speak any of those languages, but had studied enough to be able to ask the simple question.
Whatever it was, it didn’t utter a word. Or even move.
Blink sighed and lay back down on the concrete floor. His head throbbed with pain. He’d probably imagined whatever he thought he saw. Lord knew he’d been up for forty-eight hours with no sleep, and with the beating he’d received, along with the lack of water—or food, for that matter—he was nearing the end of his rope.
Besides, it didn’t really matter what, or who, was in that other cell. They were as fucked as he was.
Closing his eyes, Blink let himself relax for the first time in a week. Maybe he should stay awake, explore his cell, see what weaknesses he could find, try to figure out a plan ofescape. But being shackled as he was, and with his reserves as low as they were, he wasn’t going anywhere. Not right now.
Getting some sleep so he could be as prepared as possible when rescue came was the best thing he could do at the moment. And if the torture he knew was imminent began before his rescue, he’d need to be ready. And that meant letting his body recharge as much as it could by sleeping.
Josie England stared at the man in the cell next to hers. It had been so long—how longexactly, she had no idea—since she’d heard anyone speak English. Or even heard someone talk to her who wasn’t yelling or ordering her around.
The first thing out of his mouth was the F-word, after their captors had left him alone in the cell. Which amused her as much as it surprised her. Then, when he’d asked if anyone was there, shewantedto answer him. But she couldn’t. She’d even opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was as if her vocal cords were frozen.
