Page 12 of Rescuing You

Finally, her toes touched the ledge. She shifted her hands to the tiny outcropping of stone and shimmied across, back to her prison, where at least she was safe. Barely remembering to be afraid of a fall. Because she hated to think what would happen if she were caught. Baba would move her to a windowless room for sure. There’d be no fresh air. No opportunity to escape.

And if Hasan found out…

Or Waleed.

Baba wouldn’t be able to protect her. Maybe he wouldn’t care.

The distance that had taken long, painstaking minutes to cross earlier, she now crossed in seconds. She reached the windowsill of her room and launched herself through.

The room was still dark, the door closed. Thank You. She stood, pressed her hand to her chest to calm herself down.

And then the light flicked on.

She was blinded and trapped.

Leila gasped and stepped away from the figure who stood between her and the door, but there was nowhere to go.

CHAPTER THREE

Michael shouldn’t be here.

He’d probably lose his job if Brock found out he’d flown to London against orders. And lose it for no good reason, considering this trip had yielded exactly nothing.

Michael had hopped on a plane a few hours after Sam and Eliza’s wedding, a small ceremony after church on Sunday. Since he’d arrived at Heathrow Monday morning, he’d been searching for information about where Leila might be.

He’d connected with contacts and discovered whom Vortex had visited while he was there—two men already on the CIA’s watch list, people suspected of funneling money to terrorists. Vortex was believed to be connected with a branch of ISIL—the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant—recruiting followers in Europe. There’d been rumblings that the group was plotting something, but nobody had been able to figure out what.

And this trip hadn’t helped. Michael had learned nothing new about Vortex, and nothing about Leila at all. Nobody had seen her, not at the airport, not in the neighborhoods or establishments the terrorist had visited before he’d flown back to Baghdad a few days prior, alone.

Which meant Stone had been right. Leila hadn’t gotten off the jet in London. So where was she?

The jet had continued to a small airport in Turkey, where all the occupants disembarked. According to the owner of the charter company, that had been the end of that client’s charter.

Leila had been in Turkey. Was she still? Or had she been taken elsewhere?

Was she safe now? Was she still alive?

It was killing him, not knowing, and for the first time, he had an inkling of how Sam had felt all the years Eliza was missing. Of course, Eliza had left willingly.

Leila had been kidnapped. Despite what the photos showed, Michael was sure of it.

And he was going to find her.

Please, Father. Help me find her.

He returned to his hotel and the cookie-cutter room that looked like it could be in any hotel near any major airport in any major city in the world. He flopped onto the bed, frustrated.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock, but he was exhausted. Not sleeping for two nights would do that. London had been a waste of time. He ought to head back to Maine and hope Brock never discovered his little jaunt to England. Not that Brock had forbidden him to go to England—or anywhere, for that matter.

He’d only forbidden him from looking for Leila. If he found out where Michael was, of course he’d know why he was there. If Michael were smart, he’d head straight back to the States.

But he wasn’t smart. He opened his laptop and booked a flight to Istanbul. Maybe he could pick up Leila’s trail there.

At least he’d be doing something.

CHAPTER FOUR

Leila blinked in the bright light, bracing for a blow.