just enough light to see what was going on.
One man, his eyes black and glittering, came over and untied her hands. He stood with his rifle and threw a bottle of water into her lap.
Madison reached out for the water. Her fingers were numb. Fire shot through her shoulders as she moved toward that precious bottle of water. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and then forced her unfeeling fingers around the bottle. It took a minute to unscrew the lid but when the water flowed into her mouth, Madison groaned. She gulped down the water, feeling lightheaded and weak. When she finished it, the man threw her another bottle. She drank three of them before she was sated. Her stomach growled. The last time she’d eaten was at noon. She looked up at the soldier. Cringing inwardly, she noticed the raw hatred in his eyes as he glared down at her.
Madison looked past him and saw all six horses drinking deeply at the pool. Their bodies gleamed with sweat. They’d been pushed hard. As she scanned the area, Madison thought they were in a canyon from what she could make out in the deep shadows. Could she escape? Oh, God, if only she could! Everywhere she looked, it was desolate and desert. Craning her neck, she looked at the group of men standing, their heads together, talking quietly. What were they going to do with her? Where were they taking her?
Her hands began to wake up. She could feel blood coming back into them, the pain almost unbearable. Pushing the hair off her face, she felt close to tears. What had she done? How was she going to get out of this? As she looked up at the soldier guarding her, Madison felt the crushing answer. She wasn’t getting out of this alive. She didn’t know the area. She had no water and no food. These men knew this land because they lived here. Once again, she could only feel dread for what would happen to her. Her one stupid, childish and selfish mistake had landed her here. Tears burned in her eyes and she shut them. Madison didn’t want them to see her cry and she sucked it up, burying it deep within her.
“Get up!”
Madison snapped her head up. Another man in dark clothing stood, his hands on his hips, glaring at her. “Y-you speak English?” she rasped, her voice hoarse.
“Get up!” He gestured sharply to her.
Madison stood on wobbling legs. She saw the expression in the leader’s face, behind the black beard hanging halfway down his narrow chest. He turned and said something to the soldier. They both looked at her.
Suddenly, Madison felt like raw meat for sale, and it scared the bejesus out of her. Were they going to rape her? Oh, God...
“Move!” the man barked, gesturing for her to walk to where the horses stood.
Instantly, Madison moved. Relief shot through her. They weren’t going to rape her. No...no, not that. Dazed, weak from not eating, she was pushed toward the horse she’d been on before. In minutes, her hands were bound behind her once more. Groaning, the pain hot and burning across her shoulders, she was forced back onto the horse. They dragged the rope beneath the horse’s belly and again her ankles were bound. They placed the hood back over her head. The men mounted and the soldier who had guarded her tied the reins of her horse to the back of his saddle. They kicked the animals, moving out at a fast trot.
Madison found it tough to ride in this position. She compressed her lips, looking around but seeing nothing. From earlier, she knew they were moving out of the canyon and back on to the desert floor. Up ahead, huge mountains rose to her right. Where were they taking her? Her mind cartwheeled with terror. Wasn’t anyone going to try to rescue her? Did the Marines even know she was gone? When she didn’t show up at dinner, surely they’d realized something was wrong.
Tears began to leak down her drawn cheeks. Madison was alone. No one knew where she was or what had happened to her. With one stupid decision, her life, as she knew it, was over.
Chapter 2
Travis hissed a curse as he saw six riders coming right around the slope of a mountain. It was barely dawn, grayness tinging the mountain peaks above him. He used the Nightforce scope on his sniper rifle and counted five Taliban riders guarding someone in the center. That had to be Madison Duncan, but he couldn’t positively identify her with a black hood over her head. His eyes narrowed as he watched the horses moving at a swift trot. They were only three miles from the border. He spoke into his radio transmitter.
“Raven Main, Raven Actual. I have the package in my sights.”
“Roger. You are authorized to take action.”
Dammit, this was not going to be easy. Travis moved his scope, checking out the ground between him and the enemy. The Taliban were smart in remaining near the slopes. There was one piece of flat and open land where he could take his shots. Already, he had two more mags of three bullets each beside his left hand. He had to take out five men.
His lips lifted away from his teeth as the group turned in his direction. The woman’s horse had its reins tied to the back of a Taliban soldier’s saddle. That was not good. The possibility of the horse bolting, frightened and wild-eyed, as he started taking his shots, was very real. And with Madison Duncan helpless, there was no way she could jump off even if she wanted to. He saw the rope beneath the horse’s belly, saw her ankles tied to each end of it. Sonofabitch. Travis quickly painted a verbal picture for his master chief.
His heart slowed down because he willed it. Snipers could control their bodies like no one else could. His finger brushed the two-pound trigger on the Win Mag he had shoved against his right shoulder and pressed tight to his cheek. This didn’t look good for the American woman. There was a good possibility that when he shot the rider and he fell off, the horse would leap and run away.
His only recourse was to put a bullet in the head of the fleeing horse to drop it. And when it collapsed, Madison’s horse would more than likely plough into it. The belly rope around her ankles would stop her from being hurled over its head. Madison had no way to safely dismount and would very likely be crushed beneath that thousand-pound horse she rode. These were problems Travis had not expected. No one had. It put her at real risk.
His mind moved at the speed of light. There was little wind this time of morning, which was a plus. The light was getting brighter, and he could now see the group clearly through his sights. Which one to take out first, second, third? He tried to guess what the soldiers would do once they saw one of their friends lifted out of the saddle and punched six feet backward, dead before he hit the ground. The bullets were supersonic, moving faster than the speed of sound. The boom of the Win Mag would follow. That gave Travis time to pump more bullets into the targets before he had to drop the empty mag and slap another one into his rifle. By then, all bets were off. It would come down to the element of surprise and him shooting fast enough so that none of the soldiers could shoot Madison Duncan, once they knew they were under attack. And shoot her they would.
His other concern was that his Win Mag did not have a muzzle suppressor. If one of the soldiers saw the flash of his rifle being fired, they would target him. Travis had no problem with that, but he worried more that the soldiers would scatter to minimize the chances of the rest of them being killed.
This wasn’t going to be easy at all. He’d hoped they’d tie her hands in front of her. Hoped they wouldn’t have put a bag over her head. For a moment, he wondered how much pain she was in, knowing she’d been captured ten hours earlier. She was probably frightened out of her skull. If she got injured, there was no medevac flying in to take her out. It was simply too dangerous for a helo and its four-person crew to come anywhere near this area right now. So it all fell on Travis’s shoulders.
He watched the group move straight toward him. They would be across the half mile of open,
