CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

October 3, 6:00 P.M.

Warehouse, Cusco Peru

OLIVIA’S WRISTS BURNED, her shoulders ached, and her tongue stuck firm to the inside of her cheek. When she woke up on the private jet, she found her hands bound uncomfortably behind her back, and a gag cutting into the corners of her mouth. She had no idea where she was and the man, who she now knew was Mustafa, Sultan of Rum, avoided her gaze, clearly having no intention of easing her discomfort or fears during the long flight.

A mix of relief and terror boiled in her gut as the jet touched down. Mustafa yanked on her arm, pulling her out of her seat, and roughly ushered her out onto a private airstrip and into a waiting van. By the look of the people, various signs, and scenery passing by on the drive through the city, Olivia deduced she was in South America. The fact that Cash and Diane were in Peru led her to assume Zara had brought her there as well, to use as leverage against them.

Once inside a cool, dark warehouse, Olivia found herself face-to-face with a beautifully striking woman. She said nothing, but Olivia had no doubt this exotic creature was Zara, the person behind all the death and destruction. The woman who had once held Cash’s heart. The knowledge that Zara orchestrated the ruthless killing of so many innocent people sickened Olivia, and it bothered her more than she wanted to admit that she had been Cash’s lover and, in the process, had destroyed his ability to let anyone else into his life.

Mustafa pushed Olivia into a chair before taking a seat in front of a computer. She watched as he nodded to Zara, then began pecking at its keyboard. Her gaze left Mustafa and slowly roamed upward until she locked on the woman’s emotionless eyes.

Zara grabbed a metal folding chair as she walked toward Olivia, never breaking the connection of their glares. With a flick of the wrist, she opened the chair and placed it, back forward, a few feet in front of Olivia. Zara straddled the chair and stared at Olivia with a crooked smile on her full red lips. Olivia held firm, refusing to blink.

“So, are you ready to tell us where the twelfth and thirteenth crystals are?” Zara asked.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have foolishly corresponded with your colleague.”

“I suppose that’s true, and it no longer matters. Cash will find the relics and trade the objects for your life. He’s always been a sucker for attractive women, so he’ll come through. Don’t worry your pretty little head. He won’t leave you for dead as he did me,” Zara said as she ran a hand down Olivia’s cheek.

Olivia flinched and turned her face away from Zara’s touch and focused on Mustafa. She was certain Cash and Diane would do everything possible to save her, but she also believed Cash would do the same for any civilian hostage.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep my word and let you live, once he delivers the last two artifacts. Unfortunately, Cash will not be so lucky. He must pay for his sins against me.”

Olivia’s head shot up. Tears filled her eyes. The thought of Cash trading his life for hers was too much to bear. He confused her, but she cared for him. She feared he might not ever forgive himself for past mistakes and commit to her completely, but she was suddenly desperate to find out if they could have a future together.

Zara laughed. “So, the thought of Cash’s death bothers you? This may turn out to be more fun than I anticipated. Decisions, decisions—which would be more fun? To make you observe as Cash suffers and dies? Or force him to watch Heinrich torture you any way he deems appropriate until you are just shy of death with no way to rescue the damsel in distress?”

Olivia closed her eyes and struggled to control her emotions. Her show of compassion for a man she was beginning to care deeply about had made matters worse. She refused to let Zara understand how much the idea of Cash being tortured pained her. The woman obviously derived great pleasure in watching people suffer.

“Cash cares only as much for me as he would any defenseless civilian being unnecessarily abused, since he apparently has more of a conscience than you. He seems like a nice man, and I don’t want to see him, or any of God’s creatures, suffer at the hands of a lunatic. I must confess that we just met, and I really don’t know him all that well, so you may not derive as much pleasure as you think from your sadistic plan.”

“Nice try. Neither one of you possess a passable poker face when it comes to your feelings for each other. You should have seen him struggle to conceal his rage when I told him Mustafa had bruised your lovely face. I thought he might lose his temper. Lucky for you, he remembered that I always leave instructions to kill the hostage in the unlikely event I don’t return. It was most enjoyable to push him to the point of violence and watch him strain to control the urge to slit my throat, knowing if he lashed out at me, my men would extract revenge on you tenfold.”

Olivia shrugged her shoulders and said nothing else, realizing the danger in divulging any information which could be used against them.

“Zara, Heinrich is on the cell,” Mustafa stated.

Zara strolled over to Mustafa and grabbed the phone out of his hand. The conversation was too quiet to reach Olivia’s ears. Relief at being rid of Zara’s close proximity washed over her. She wiggled her hands, hoping to restore feeling in her fingers, and the rope binding her wrists slackened. Unsure if it would be possible to loosen the knot enough to get free, she stilled, determined to try, as soon as she was alone. She refused to allow Cash or her sister to exchange their lives for her without at least trying to save herself. Despite her usually forgiving and gentle nature, the desire to see Zara suffer, as she had made so many others endure, began to creep into Olivia’s mind.

The call ended and Zara strode out of the room without a glance back at Olivia. Mustafa bolted to his feet and followed her like an obedient puppy. Olivia exhaled and tried to relax her muscles and focus on the rope securing her hands. She twisted her wrists until she could wedge her pinkie into the knot. The more she wiggled her wrists, the further she was able to insert a long, slender finger into the center, loosening the tie, but scouring her skin raw and drawing blood in the process.

The door opened and Mustafa reentered the room. Olivia stilled as he walked toward her. He stopped and knelt down in front of her, so close she could feel the heat from his body. Olivia looked into his eyes, trying to show as little emotion as possible, fearing he would discover what she had been attempting to do.

He brought a small glass of water to her lips. She tilted her head back slightly and drank. Although she feared the possibility of being drugged or poisoned, she hadn’t had anything to drink since leaving her country, and her throat ached from dryness. Besides, she doubted they would kill her until they got what they wanted.

“Good girl,” he said as he used his thumb to wipe the water that ran down her lip and chin.

Olivia flinched at the unwelcome touch. Mustafa stood and took a step back. He cocked his head and glared at her with an amused expression, studying her with intensity like she had never experienced before.

A trickle of fluid ran down Olivia’s hand and fear coursed through her body. She tried to lift her hands to slow the flow, but it was too late. Following Mustafa’s gaze, she knew by the change in his expression from amusement to pure rage that blood, not sweat, had hit the floor.