Xander’s chest tightened as he searched the screens.
They were gone.
“Huh. How about that? Disappeared, both of them,” Higgins muttered as he began another round through the footage.
Xander kept his eyes on the screen as it continued to play footage from the basement hallway, certain he must have missed something. Then it dawned on him—the doors to the lift never opened from the hallway view. Either they had gone to a different floor, or… his gaze shot to the bottom left corner of the screen and he noticed one small, important detail. The date of the video, in blocky white numerals, was from yesterday.
“Karl,” he hissed and rolled away from the monitors. “My friends, congratulations. You’ve been hacked.”
His words were met with a chorus of obscenities from both officers.
Xander rose and headed for the door, his pulse racing. “Reset the system and unblock access to the basement. I’m going down there.”
• • •
Leila bit back a cry as Amir dug the knife deeper into her skin. Unable to take the pain any longer, she clenched her eyes shut and opened her mouth to scream. But before she could make a sound, the pressure stopped. Even though he had released her neck, the pain continued.
He uttered an expletive and footsteps stomped away.
She snapped her eyes open, only to be surrounded by complete darkness. Along with a few confused shouts, a soft yellow glow flared up in the hallway, illuminating Amir’s silhouette as he walked out of the room, hands curled into fists.
She took in deep, erratic breaths. Her knees buckled and she slid down the post. Soliman would have given his speech by now. They’d have noticed she was gone. Help was on the way. She only had to hold on a little longer.
Leaning her head back against the cool metal to stare at the ceiling, she made a silent plea for divine intervention. In the dim lighting, her gaze fell on a steel banding wrapped around the column, keeping several cables running from the floor to ceiling in place. It was at an awkward height. She would have to stretch to reach it, which would be problematic considering the wound on her arm. But the sharp end jutting out may be just what she needed.
Before she could act, there was movement at the door. Amir backed in, holding Karl’s shoulders while one of Amir’s thugs held Karl’s feet in the air. His limp hand dragged along the floor. The goons dumped the body on the ground with a soft thud and left.
She averted her gaze. Whether help was on the way or not, she had to get the ropes off. With renewed strength, she managed to push herself back to her feet.
At that moment, two of Amir’s thugs returned to the room, each of them holding a canister in their hands. They paid Leila no attention as they began to dump the fluid contents of the canisters on the floor and splashed it onto the wooden shelving units.
Leila’s heart pounded against her chest as the pungent scent of gasoline met her nostrils. She swallowed down a cough, not wanting to draw any attention to herself, and slid her wrists up the pole until the rope snagged on the metal banding.
Amir’s shadow filled the doorway, and she stopped. With arms crossed, he watched from the threshold as his friends finished their job. Slowly, she twisted her wrists again, feeling the sharp metal bite at the rope, fiber by fiber.
Once the thugs left with the canisters, Amir pulled something from his pocket. After a sudden jerk of his hand, he held up a single match with an orange flame dancing playfully on the tip. The flickering light illuminated his face, the flames reflecting from his remaining eye as the deep shadows darkened the scar down his face. His lips curled upward and he let go of the match. Flames shot up at his feet, the inferno spreading rapidly across the doused floor. Without another word, Amir left, shutting the door behind him. A loud, sliding click told her she was locked in.
The flaming liquid seeped ever closer to her feet. With rapid breaths, she hurried her effort to cut the rope on the steel banding. As the heat rose, Leila broke out in a sweat, rubbing desperately against the sharp edge. Her hands and wrists stung every time she slipped.
Finally, the rope gave way and she could snap the last few threads with a tug. She scrambled around the fire toward the door. Again and again she shook the handle and jerked to no avail.
Panting, she spun around, eyes darting all over the room. Her keycard. What happened to her keycard? Amir must have used it to lock the door. She hadn’t even noticed when they took it. She eyed the keypad but didn’t have the slightest idea what the emergency code could be to unlock it. She slammed her fist on it in desperation, but all it did was blink back at her in red and buzz angrily.
“I know it’s wrong!” she cried out, the flowing tears giving her eyes relief as the air grew hot and dry. With her back against the door, she scanned the room for something she could use to smash the door open.
She squinted against the bright flames flickering up the shelving, crackling fiercely as it consumed the wood. Wisps of gray plumed toward the ceiling, curling down along the walls. Her throat burned with each breath as she struggled for what little of the hot air was left.
Her gaze fell on Karl lying on his side on the floor and her heart clenched. The flames licked closer toward him.
Traitor.
He had betrayed her. Even if he was doing it to gain his wife back, he should have asked for help. She then remembered something he had said—he was the one who tipped off the FBI. He had tried. A pitiful attempt, but he must have hoped Mark would have been able to connect the dots.
She grasped his leg and dragged him away from the blaze. A large red puddle remained where he had been lying, leaving a trail on the floor.
With Karl nearby, she leaned up against the door and slid down it, feeling exhausted and helpless. At least she wasn’t alone in this.
She laid down on the floor and tried to keep breathing steadily, despite the fiery pain with each breath. Her eyes grew heavy as her thoughts drifted to everyone upstairs, unaware of her plight. Wouldn’t someone have noticed? What if there had been a delay and everyone was still enraptured by Soliman’s speech? Her eyes slid shut to ease the burning sensation her tears could no longer relieve.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Xander bypassed the lift, no time to waste, and opted for the stairs. After taking the steps three at a time, he reached the bottom of the staircase and slipped out his pistol as he crept toward the doorway. Small, round holes stippled the door. With a sharp intake of breath, he hesitated before opening it, fearing what he would find on the other side.
Blindly rushing into the hallway wouldn’t be the best move. He leaned forward and listened. Muffled voices came from the other side. There were rushed footsteps as if people were going back and forth between a short distance. Although there was no way to tell exactly how many people were behind the door, they seemed to be busy. The fact there weren’t any screams, or sounds of fighting, made his pulse race. What had they done to silence Leila?
Heart pounding, he eased the door handle downward and tugged, praying it wouldn’t make a noise. He held his gun up near his shoulder as he inched the door open, enough to see what was happening in the hallway.
Holding flashlights, three men faced each other, deep in a heated discussion. Two wore ski masks, but one kept his deformed face bare. Amir. Standing by a puddle of blood on the tile floor.
Xander closed his eyes and turned his head away. He was too late. Much too late. Holding onto the small hope she was alive, he swallowed the lump in his throat and yanked the door all the way open. He aimed at Amir and fired two rounds.
It would have been a hit if Amir’s two friends hadn’t noticed him and shoved Amir out of the way. The bullets plummeted into the wall behind where Amir’s head had been a split second earlier, showering the three men with splinters of concrete.
A gun appeared in Amir’s hand. Xander ducked into the stairwell, keeping his back flat against the wall next to the door.
“I’m going to need backup,” he said into his earpiece as bullets pelted more holes in the door.
“Affirmative.” The voice in his ear was brisk and to the point.
