I know the feeling, brother.
“They’re in Mexico,” Derek revealed.
If that were true then, depending on their exact location, Emma was only a short flight away.
“Why Mexico?” Grant asked.
“I can explain that, too.” Derek shot the man a smug grin. “So, I got to thinking...this Khaled asshole has to have some sort of tight connection to do the shit he’s done. Plus, with Karim on the inside, he’s going to make sure he can keep a close eye on Sadiq the only way he can...by putting him someplace familiar. Someplace he knows with people he trusts around him.”
“But as you pointed out, Karim’s locked away,” Coop commented. “How’s Karim going to get people to watch over Sadiq while he’s inside?”
“How’s he been doinganyof this shit?” Trace’s question was rhetorical. “Through the double-crossing son of a bitch working for Homeland.”
And right now, the how didn’t matter. Not to Trace. What did matter was that Derek got to the fucking point.
“I hacked into Karim’s personal financials and property records and got a hit.” D picked right back up and moved on. “The signal triangulated to a piece of land owned by one of Karim’s distant relatives.”
With a click of the keyboard, they saw a satellite image of a piece of wooded land about two hundred miles south of the Texas border. Hidden away in the middle of the trees was a clearing that covered a ten-acre radius.
And in the middle ofthatwas a large, stone structure.
“That’s it.” Coop’s face lit up with the same, overwhelming hope filling Trace’s chest. “That has to be where she is, right? So, what are we waiting for?”
“Confirmation that Sadiq Khaled has been spotted in that area.” Ryker ended the call and rejoined them. “Which, I just received.”
Hell, yeah!
“When do we leave?” Trace asked sounding every bit as anxious as Coop to get Emma and bring her the hell home.
Ryker looked at the entire group and said, “We’re wheels up in an hour.”
****
The stinging in Emma’sneck had begun to fade. But it was still there, a reminder of how much worse her situation could be.
Much, much worse.
It had been almost three days since that horrifying video had been made. Almost three days since Emma had been forced to sit in that chair with a huge ass machete pressed against her throat...and she thought she was going to die.
But you didn’t.
What she did do was show that asshole Sadiq she wasn’t going to be a pawn in whatever grudge he had against Jake McQueen.
Emma had been so proud of the way she’d stood up to him. How she refused to read the man’s ridiculous speech full of lies.
But then she felt the blade at her neck. Felt it cut into her skin, and then...The man lifted the machete away and knocked her out cold.
She’d woken up back here, in her cell. They hadn’t bothered with the hood, making it so she could see everything clearly.
Emma wasn’t sure which she preferred.
Since that day, she’d been given water and bland rice to keep her from starving to death, and a bucket to use as a toilet. They’d bring the food and water once a day, then leave.
No more videos. No more beatings. Nothing but time for her to sit by herself and think of her family...and Trace.
Emma wondered what he was doing. Prayed he was okay. Later, as the dark shadows of night would fall upon her, she would admit in the privacy of her personal hell that she loved him.
I love you, Trace.