Tuesday, January 29, 2013

HEAT SEEKER by Lucy Monroe

HEAT SEEKER by Lucy Monroe

Goddard Project Series - Final Book

Always ready, always deadly. That’s the motto of the Atrati—a mercenary organization of black operatives who specialize in doing what no one else can.

A former sergeant in the Marine special forces, Kaden Marks dreams of one day having a family. But he’s haunted by the deeds of his past and won’t let anyone get close. Then a new mission comes his way. A fellow operative has had her cover blown—and it’s up to Kaden’s team to bring her out safely. What he doesn’t realize is that the beautiful but stubborn Rachel Gannon has no intention of letting herself be rescued...

Rachel will come out only when she can promise adequate protection for her unwitting informant. As a former DEA agent, Rachel still blames herself for her sister’s death—and is unwilling to let someone else get hurt because of her. But she hadn’t counted on falling for Kaden Marks, and falling hard. Now she must convince him to help her bring down the enemy’s entire organization—without risking the life of the man she’s come to love...



Rachel’s “interrogators” conferred in the corner of the starkly lit room, apparently unaware that one of the four languages she spoke fluently was the Farsi they were using. She understood another five well enough to eavesdrop with effect, but not to converse.

Not that her special affinity for languages was going to do her any good here. Even though she could understand every word they spoke, she couldn’t do anything about it.

The tallest, and coincidentally youngest of the three men, was shocked she had not yet broken. After all, she was only a woman. He was convinced she was what she claimed to be: a simple tourist who had been foolish enough to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

An older man with clear military bearing, and who the other two deferred to, said she had to have training in anti-interrogation techniques. Which meant: he did not believe her overly curious tourist story.

The third man evinced no opinion, simply glancing over at Rachel with unreadable eyes. He was the one who had attached her to the car battery and tightened her restraints by tiny increments every once in a while. They weren’t cutting off circulation yet, but they were close.

And it hurt. A lot.

Not enough to make her tell them the truth though. She was a highly trained operative, but her best preparation had come from life. She knew what kind of pain could break a person like her, but they didn’t have access to the means to do it. After all, she’d already lost everyone that mattered.

Her parents and Linny were dead. Grandma was in a home with Alzheimer’s and hadn’t recognized Rachel in two years. Kadin had left before she ever lost Linny.

There wasn’t anyone left to lose.

And they couldn’t break her with her body. Oh, she’d welcome death when and if it came. The torture was destroying her mind and her perspective, but Rachel would protect her unwitting source of information no matter what they did to her body. Jamila Massri reminded Rachel too much of Linny. An innocent young woman desperate for love caught up with a sadistic man.

It would take more than physical agony to force that name from behind the barriers Rachel had constructed in her mind.

She’d planned her escape route if those barriers started to fail and the idiots in the corner had no clue.
All she had to do was tip her chair sideways when the battery leads were connected to her body.
She’d fall into the puddle of urine and water they’d tossed on it to keep down the smell. The electricity would pass through her heart, but more importantly through her brain.

Instant fried cerebral matter.

And if she was lucky, the cement floor connecting with her head would kill her before the electricity even.

She hadn’t taken her only out yet because the part of her that wanted to do her job wouldn’t let go, the little part of her that still hoped, still believed in good winning over evil. She wanted to know who the top players in this information war were.

And maybe, just maybe...her agency would send someone to extract her in time for her to share that important news.

TGP didn’t leave their agents behind, but time was running out and she wasn’t counting on rescue. She never counted on anyone being there for her anymore.

Another bolt of electric agony jolted through her as she forced her mind to go over the escape plan again and again, even as she screamed the name of the one person she was absolutely sure she would never see again.


Kadin could hear the screams through the walls of the facility. His heart stopped in his chest as the agony in that voice paralyzed him.

He’d heard Rachel Gannon’s voice lifted in pleasure, he’d heard it broken with pain, but he’d never heard it scream like this. In that moment, he realized it was the one sound that might well break him.
“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Cowboy asked as he drew level with Kadin.

Kadin jerked his head in a nod and started moving again. He had to be all right, damn it. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. Rachel’s life depended on him keeping his head in the game and hearing the proof of what was happening to her could not get in the way of that.

Not even when it came special delivery with his name on it.

One damn thing he had never expected was for her to call out to him in her time of need. It had to be a mind game she played with herself to keep her real secrets locked inside, but hell if it wasn’t wreaking havoc on his brain too.


Rachel was on count seven-hundred and twenty when she realized it had been longer than three minutes since the last shock. She opened her eyes slowly, but even so, it took a moment to focus. Her vision was so blurry at first, the room appeared dark. But it wasn’t. The single light in the ceiling was still on and the stark light cast by it revealed that the men tormenting her were no longer in her cell.
She hadn’t heard them leave.

That was not good. Maybe she was farther gone than she’d thought.

Had the time come to take her escape route?

She took several deep breaths, trying to assess her condition and how close she might be to revealing something she did not want to without realizing it.

As Rachel contemplated her options, limited though they were, the door opened and an old woman shuffled in. She muttered a prayer in Farsi under her breath as she offered a cup of water to Rachel to drink.

Rachel didn’t bother asking for help. This woman was as trapped as she was. The first couple of sips of water were as bitter as the acid in Rachel’s mouth, but then the clear cold flavor of well water took over and Rachel’s eyes stung with gratitude.

The woman helped her drink the whole cup before stepping back.

“Thank you,” Rachel croaked out in Farsi.

With a nod of the cloth covered head, the older woman turned to leave.

“Wait.” The word cost Rachel, coming out of a throat raw from screaming.

The woman turned, her eyes filled with resigned sadness. “I can do nothing else for you.”

“You can tell me where we are.”

Though Rachel could make a good guess based on the way the woman was dressed.

“We are in the mountains, far from any city.”

“In what country?”


Okay, that was a lot further from Helwan, the small city outside Cairo she’d been conducting her investigation in than she’d expected. She must have been out a lot longer before arrival than she’d thought, or they flown her here.

Either way, she now understood why she’d been left alone for almost a day after being dumped in this less than hospitable room. The fact the big dogs hadn’t arrived yet made more sense too.

Moving her to Morocco was smart, but hopefully not as clever as the locator chip in Rachel’s hip that Vannie at TGP headquarters had installed.

“Thank you. What is your name?”

The woman shook her head and left without answering.

“Mine is Rachel,” she croaked out as the door closed. Her head dropped, the tiny reserve of energy draining from her.

She had no doubts her people would find her, but she was fairly sure at this point that it wouldn’t be alive.

Moments later, the door opened again - this time silently. Only the shift of air in the room giving the movement away. So, not her captor’s return.

But who? Had her agency sent a rescue team? Hope seared through her as worry rose up to meet it.
A man stepped inside, closing the door behind him with an economy of movement and absolutely no sound. She would not know he was there if she could not see him with her own eyes. Big, both tall and broadly muscled, he wore the newer black digital camouflage. His face was covered by a cotton ski mask, but his eyes were eerily familiar.

She blinked her own, unable to process what her brain was telling her. But her rescuer had Kadin’s eyes.

She knew with every particle of her remaining sanity it couldn’t be Kadin. Not here. Not now. Just her fantasies playing tricks with her mind. This was much worse than losing track of time during her torture. Reality was colliding with imagination and that terrified her.

She had to keep her mental faculties together. It was the only weapon she had left. And apparently, she needed to stop using old memories to fight the horror of the present.

“Kadin,” she whispered almost silently, the fear she’d refused to give into up to this point nearly overwhelming her.

The man heard her. His head jerked, but he didn’t say anything. He moved forward on quick, silent feet, dropping to one knee beside her. He flicked open a lethal looking blade and put it against the zip tie holding her wrists together.

“Wait!” she gasped.

He stopped. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m not here to hurt you.”

It was Kadin’s voice. Her mind had snapped.

Even knowing that, she asked, “Kadin?”


Impossible, but he’d just said he was Kadin. Maybe her rescuer would have agreed to anything; maybe men like him were trained to deal with delusional torture victims like her that way. One thing she was certain of. The man, whoever he was, was here.

“I’m not dreaming.” She said it aloud because she needed to convince herself.

She was fairly confident that she was in too much pain to be dreaming though. Besides, in all her dreams Kadin had never shown up in commando gear.

The Marines had taken him from her; she wasn’t about to have fantasies of him dressed like a soldier.
“No.” He brushed her cheek with a black gloved hand. “You’re not dreaming.”

That voice again. It could not be and yet somehow, her nearly broken mind kept insisting that it was. “It’s you. Really.”

“Yes.” Never one for long speeches, her Kadin.

No, wait. Not hers anymore. Not for a very long time.


“It doesn’t matter. We have to get you out of here.”


He made a sound a cross between shocked gasp and growl. “Yes.”

“No. Two of the top guys in the organization are coming tomorrow. One of them is an expert on interrogation.” And she was sure she knew which one held that dark claim to fame in his underlings’ eyes. “I know one, but not the other. We need that information.”

So, okay...her brain was still functioning. Which meant this man really was Kadin because she wasn’t so far gone she was turning fantasies into reality in her mind. She hadn’t done that for almost as long as Kadin hadn’t been hers.

“Then get it another way,” he growled in an almost sub vocal whisper directly against her ear. "You are not staying here to be tortured some more."

“They’re finished for the night.” At least she hoped they were.

“Bullshit. They’re giving you a chance to think it’s over before coming back and trying to break you.”

A more experienced interrogator might do that, but these guys? She was hopeful not. “They haven’t broken me yet.”

The sound of plastic snapping came from behind and then Kadin’s big hands were on her arms, massaging them as he slowly allowed them to relax downward. “This is going to hurt like a sonsabitch, but you can handle it, angel.”

The pain started then and she didn’t bother wasting breath on trying to argue or demanding he never, ever use that endearment again. She had to handle this and a lot more quietly than she had her torture. Yelling out Kadin’s name right now could get them both killed.

Once her arms hung at her sides, he made quick work of the ties holding her legs to the chair and then he swept her up into his arms. “They aren’t getting the chance.”

“Chance for what?”

“To break you.”

“And I won’t get the chance to identify the other major player either.”

“I’ll leave a team to do surveillance.”

“There’s no guarantee the bosses will show once it’s discovered I’m gone.”

“Is she for real, boss?” someone asked and Rachel realized Kadin was wearing an earbud communicator.

She wouldn’t have heard the voice except her head was right next to his. He should be carrying her in a fireman’s lift, so he had one hand available.

The fact he wasn’t messed with her head in a way the torturers hadn’t been able to.

“Boss?” the voice asked again.

“Yes.” Kadin didn’t sound happy when he said it either.

“Tell her we’ll take care of it,” another voice, this one with a distinct Texas twang, said.
Another day, another time...Rachel would have demanded to know how, but right now? It was taking every single one of her stay-with-it molecules to keep from passing out, puking or ignominiously doing both.


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