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headquarters and tell them that you’re giving yourself up as soon as I tell you to. Then you’re going to run, and keep them on your tail so they think you’re about to do something foolish.”
    “Something foolish?”
    “Yeah, like set off a bomb in a highly crowded area where hundreds if not thousands of innocent people will probably die.”
    “No. No. I’m not doing that.”
    “You will, or your team and your sister are dead.”

Chapter 3
     
    Shawna slowly came to. Immediately her head and jaw were throbbing, and she had no feeling in her arms. She blinked her eyes open. The smell of dampness, cold, dirt, and—was that food?—attacked her senses.
    She caught sight of the concrete, the darkness, and slight bit of light coming from a door. Her wrists were cuffed behind her back as she sat tied to a chair of some kind. She moved around with the little room she had and felt the stiffness all over. It was as if she had been run over by a truck. She hurt everywhere. Slowly her memory of what happened came back to her. She felt her heart racing. She closed her eyes as they welled up with tears. The three men from the bar had grabbed her. She’d failed. She hadn’t done what Keith had said. She wasn’t a trained soldier. She’d fought them best she could, but in the end the big guy struck her so hard he knocked her out.
    She swallowed hard and blinked her eyes open. She wondered where she was. Vaguely she remembered driving in the van. She remembered someone holding her on their lap. They stopped, and someone asked them questions. They mentioned her passport. Her chest tightened.
    She inhaled, the smell of food growing stronger as her belly rumbled. She was starving. Where had they taken her? Out of the country?
    She heard what sounded like male voices and footsteps. She didn’t know what to do. Should she pretend she was still unconscious?
    She closed her eyes, but the moment they entered they had planned on waking her. The kick to her chair jostled her body, almost making her fall over onto her side.
    She tensed the moment she locked gazes with their eyes. They looked Hispanic, maybe Mexican, and they looked evil.
    They yelled at her in their language. It was Mexican Spanish. They were holding large guns. AK-47s, if she was correct. They wore what appeared to her to be military uniforms. One guy thrust the butt of his gun at her thigh.
    She cried out. “What do you want?”
    He stepped forward, straddled her thighs, and grabbed her by the neck. He squeezed tight and she gasped, unable to fight back or fend him off because her hands were tied behind her back.
    “Cuadrone, release her now,” the other man said. Cuadrone gave her neck a shove, causing an instant ache. She nearly tumbled over.
    After Cuadrone pulled his gun back into position, a third man arrived with three other men.
    He wore a different type of uniform and appeared important. The others bowed and then saluted him. One small nod of his head and the men returned to their casual stance, staring at her.
    The big shot approached.
    He eyed her over. She damned the short shorts she wore to the bar and the stupid tight T-shirt that accentuated her large breasts. She was shaking she was so scared. Keith had said the men who might try to take her were evil men who would think nothing of torturing her, raping her, and beating her to get to Keith.
    She looked down, not even wanting to piss the man off by making eye contact with him.
    His shadow loomed over her. He was a tall man, bulky and thick. Not fat but muscular, she could tell.
    When she felt his fingers under her chin, she slowly looked up until their eyes met.
    “I am Captain Montoya. I’m in charge here. Do you know why you are here?”
    She shook her head. He squeezed her chin. “No,” she whispered, assuming that he wanted a verbal answer.
    “Your brother is in a lot of trouble. He has caused a bit of a situation and we need to find him.”
    She held his gaze, zeroed in on his tight, firm