Page 6 of Protecting Josie
The man speaking English—clearly a leader of some kind—got more and more frustrated. Eventually he lifted a foot and kicked Nate in the side, and he toppled over onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. He was facing Josie, and seeing the blood oozing out of his nose and from numerous cuts on his body made a growl escape from deep within her gut.
She wanted to cry out. To beg the men to stop, to leave Nate alone.
But all she could muster was that deep, hateful growl.
The terrorist leader didn’t even turn her way. He hovered over Nate and stared down at him with a look so terrifying, so full of anticipation, it made Josie’s skin crawl. This wasn’t a man to cross, and Nate had done just that simply by remaining silent.
“That all you got?” he mumbled from his vulnerable position on the floor.
“You think you’re tough?” the leader asked. “Big tough US soldier? We’ll see how you feel tomorrow when we increase our techniques to make you talk.”
“Waterboarding? Oh good. Iama bit thirsty,” Nate taunted. “Your people seem to have forgotten to bring me any sustenance. I’ve come to enjoy Damavand water. It’s produced right here in Iran, right? Delicious.”
Josie could see the leader’s lips turn down in a furious scowl. She wanted to tell Nate not to antagonize the man. Forsomeone who claimed he didn’t talk much, he certainly couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut at the moment.
“You want to be waterboarded? We can accommodate you,” he said, before his leg swung back and he aimed his boot at Nate’s head.
This time, Josie hissed. She couldn’t stop herself. But thankfully, Nate jerked his head back at the last second, and the man’s boot only grazed his temple.
The leader said something in his language to the other men, and they filed out of the cell, taking the chair with them and leaving Nate lying in the middle of the floor. His hands were still shackled and attached to his ankles, and he looked…broken.
For the first time in weeks, since the first days of her captivity, tears dripped down Josie’s cheeks.
At the last moment, before he left the room, the leader turned and looked directly at her. Josie froze. Having someone notice her was something she both yearned for and dreaded.
He asked one of the other men something as he gestured toward her with his thumb. The other man responded with a shrug. The leader barked out what sounded like an order, then she was once again alone with Nate.
Shivering—Josie didn’t like the look in the leader’s eye as he left—she used her fingers to wipe her cheeks of the lingering tears. She was probably smearing dirt from her hands to her face, but what did it matter? She was so dirty, she didn’t even think about what she looked like anymore.
Glancing over at Nate, she saw he hadn’t moved. Was stilllying on his side, each breath he managed looking labored and painful.
She opened her mouth to say his name, to ask if he was all right, but nothing came out. It was stupid anyway; ofcoursehe wasn’t all right. Josie had no idea what to do. But the truth was, she couldn’t do anything to help him. They were both in big trouble, she knew that down to the marrow of her bones.
But then it occurred to her—something shecoulddo to help Nate.
Turning, she looked at the cup of water at the corner of her cell. Nate had to be terribly dehydrated. Thirsty. He’d said as much to the leader guy. No one had brought him any water or food since he’d arrived. And he’d been beaten every day.
Her mouth felt as dry as cotton, her lips were cracked and bleeding from lack of moisture. But Nate was worse off.
Moving carefully, Josie picked up her precious cup and slowly scooted across her cell floor. This was the first time since Nate had arrived that she’d moved away from the wall she considered her safe base. But he was hurting. He needed this more than she did.
Nate must have heard her moving, because his eyes opened and he watched her scoot toward him.
“I’m okay,” he slurred. “Piece of cake. Those assholes hit like girls. Wait, that was rude, I know some women who hit pretty damn hard. I’m not gonna break, if you were worried.”
Josie kept her gaze on his as she approached. He was lying about three feet away from the bars that separated their cells. She carefully placed the nearly full cup of water on the floor and pushed it toward him.
Nate frowned. “What’s that, Spirit?”
He’d started calling her that the day before, because even though she’d obviously been through hell, he could see her spirit shining through her eyes, refusing to give up. At least, that’s what he claimed. He’d said he needed to call hersomething, and since he didn’t know her name, that would work until she felt safe enough to share her real name with him.
But it wasn’t a matter of feeling safe or not. It was that she literally couldn’t speak. For whatever reason, every time she opened her mouth, no sound came out. A psychologist would probably have a field day analyzing her and coming up with all the reasons why she couldn’t talk, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but making sure this man lived. And he needed water to do that. And that was something she could give him.
She nodded at the cup, but Nate didn’t even look at it, his gaze locked on hers.
He spoke again, but this time his words were barely a whisper. “They’re coming, Spirit. It won’t be long now, we just have to hold on until they get here.”
Josie gaped at him, equally surprised by his words…and the swift anger they caused inside her. How dare he try to raise her hopes! Insist that some mysterious rescue team would just swoop in and take them out of here.
