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Chapter 1

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EMILY SWENSON COUGHED as the armed man nudged her forward down the dark hallway. Her hand instinctively reached for her sidearm, but of course they’d taken her weapons as soon as they’d captured her. She shuffled along in front of him, her combat boots kicking up the dusty ground. Her thin tank top clung to her breasts, the worn pants she had on hanging from her slender hips. Fit and athletic before arriving in Afghanistan, she’d lost at least ten pounds since being captured. Probably more.

They’d fed her two small meals a day and kept her mostly isolated in a dark hut until they’d moved her two days ago to this new compound.

Her eyes swept down the dim hallway.

The guard hurried her along, pushing open a heavy door. “Move,” he muttered in a thick accent, and she held her breath as she stepped inside.

It smelled of food and some sort of incense and sweat. Her stomach roiled, but since she hadn’t eaten since this morning, it was empty.

She swallowed, trying to calm her gag reflex.

No one had harmed her yet. There was no reason to worry that this was the moment.

A heavyset, bearded man sat beside a table in the dim room, smirking. His long, dark beard didn’t conceal his delight as he hungrily eyed her. He nonchalantly rubbed his groin before uttering a string of words in Arabic.

Her eyes fell to the plates of food beside him. To the ornate glasses beside the plates. Although she didn’t speak the language fluently, she understood the intent behind this gesture—join him for dinner and then let him have his way with her.

She’d be allowed to eat, and he’d be allowed to have her whenever he wanted. Like some sort of twisted sex-slave, servile wife.

She’d seen the other women hurrying throughout the vast array of buildings when she’d been brought in, eyes down. Children scampered around them, kicking balls or playing with makeshift toys. Guards stood watch, looking mostly bored until she was brought through.

And then there was him.

The man seated before her was some sort of head-hauncho for this compound with multiple wives. He hadn’t raped or otherwise harmed her—yet. But she’d only been here two days. Emily knew he was growing impatient. The first night she’d met him, she’d skittered back as he’d chuckled.

Yesterday he’d eyed her hungrily in the hallway but only looked, not touched.

And now?

Maybe he’d intended to make her some sort of wife to him, but she’d die before she laid down and let him fuck her. Before she popped out his babies and let him keep her hidden away in this godforsaken place with the other women.

He barked something to the guard behind her, and the man promptly left, letting the heavy door shut behind him and leaving her alone with him.

Resisting the urge to tremble, her eyes flicked toward the food.

She was starving.

They’d probably drugged it or something to make her more acquiescent to his advances. She could fight him off, probably. But not forever. There were other men around, other guards just outside the door.

Would they tie her up or hold her down while he raped her? Could she stall him for another couple days and hope she could escape this hell hole?

She resisted the urge to shudder.

She was a special agent with the State Department for heaven’s sake. She protected others—foreign dignitaries, American officials. One night riding patrol with the guards around base and bam—she was captured.

Trapped.

Intended for the asshole, apparently.

Her eyes narrowed.

“You are American,” he said in a thick, Middle Eastern accent. His eyes ran over her fair skin and long, dark waves. They’d actually allowed her to bathe when she arrived at this compound, and that worried her. But they hadn’t dressed her in the traditional women’s clothing—she still had on her old clothes, although they’d been washed. She wasn’t required to wear a headscarf.

She met his dark gaze but didn’t respond.

“So strange, that you Americans have women in your military. We don’t allow our women to fight. You are weaker than men, no? And yet they sent you off to war in countries where you don’t belong.”

She pursed her lips together, glaring at him. There was no need to point out that she was not in fact in the military at all. Would he value her more if he realized she was with State? He’d probably be just as irritated to learn she was a trained agent whose sworn duty was to protect high-level government officials.

“I’ve never been with an American woman before,” he continued, his eyes raking over her with interest. “Such fair skin and dark brown hair. Tell me—is the hair covering your pussy the same shade as atop your head?”

Her jaw dropped, and she barely resisted gasping aloud.

He chuckled and licked his lips, looking over her some more with interest. She resisted the urge to cross her arms and step back. No doubt he could see everything through her threadbare tank top.

But she wouldn’t let this asshole see that he was getting to her. If he dared touch her, he’d get a swift kick to the balls. He was big, but Emily didn’t doubt she could get in a few punches and kicks before his guards returned.

She could probably even take this guy to the ground.

Of course, then she’d be left with the aftermath of his men returning. She couldn’t fight them all—not without her weapons. Not without adequate food and nourishment for the past month. Even if she did manage to escape, she wouldn’t be able to run very fast or far. She’d have to hide carefully so they didn’t find or track her.

“I could let my men have their way with you,” he commented dryly in a thick accent. “Unless you care to join me?”

She clenched her jaw, refusing to answer.

His gaze narrowed. “My patience is growing thin. You will come to me willingly tomorrow, or I will take you by force. You have one last night to come to your senses. You have been held by my men for thirty days. The Americans are not coming for you.”

He called out to the guards in Arabic, and the heavy door behind her suddenly swung open again. She felt thick fingers wrap around her upper arms as the guard yanked her backwards. She stumbled and then quickly regained her footing as she was marched off to the small room she was being held in.

One more day.

She had one more day to escape this hell hole before she was hurt.

She’d been taken prisoner over a month ago when they were ambushed, and although she’d been shocked that the guards hadn’t raped or assaulted her, she realized they’d been saving her for him—this jackass in the middle of the desert.

There was the ramshackle camp hidden near their base where she’d first been held. The other camps she’d been moved to—a day here, a couple of days there. And now this goddamn compound.

She refused to let him have her. To wait around for the American military to come to her rescue.

The guard opened the door to the dark room they’d been holding her in, shoving her inside. His hand briefly grazed over her breast, and she shuddered, not certain that it had been accidental.

A beat passed as she held her breath, and then he was leaving. Slamming the door shut behind him. She heard the heavy locks click on the door.

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding. The air was dusty and dry even inside this building. Emily took another breath, trying to steady her racing pulse.

She was escaping before tomorrow night. She didn’t know how or when, but she’d escape or die trying.