Tuesday. Presidential Palace Dungeons Nouakchott, Mauritania.

Felix knew exactly what was in every pocket, could recite their resources down to pocket lint, and still—they didn’t have anything to help them escape.

By his estimation the cell was twenty feet by fifteen feet with two bunk beds. There was a toilet and a sink, but other than that, nothing. No one else was in the other cells that they could tell. No replies or sounds of occupants moving around.

The hardest part was losing track of the passage of time. In the dark, cut off from everything, a second could be a day or a year for all he could tell.

“Okay, so when they come, we should pretend I’ve passed out.” Jackie’s feet thumped against the stone as she made another circuit around the cell. “You jump them from behind, I’ll fight back. We lock them in—”

“Jackie, this isn’t a TV show. Those things don’t work.”

“I’m brainstorming.”

“What we need is for a single person to come in here. We could take on one, but not more than that.”

“Okay—how?”

Felix blinked a few times.

The darkness played tricks on his eyes, but this trick wasn’t going away.

“Is it just me...or is there—”

“Someone’s coming,” Jackie whispered.

Bit by bit, a pale light stretched across the chamber, chasing away the darkest of night.

“Tell them you can’t wake me up,” Jackie whispered. She stretched out on the bunk.

Felix wasn’t sold, but if this was the only card they had, might as well try it.

He crossed to the door and grasped the bars.

“Hey? Hello? Someone there?” he called out.

The light was coming from the opposite direction they’d entered the dungeon. He could make out an arch and—stairs?

Two feet and a white hemline came into sight.

Felix squinted, his eyes unaccustomed to even the least bit of light.

A dark skinned man padded around the corner and into view.

“Hey—you speak English?” Felix asked. This was such a dumb plan. “She’s hurt. She’s passed out. She needs help.”

The man stopped just out of reach on the other side of the door. His lantern light was weak, maybe because the battery was dying, or something else. He peered past Felix, holding the light up, and stared into the cell. He spoke words that meant nothing to Felix and only further frustrated him.

“I said she’s hurt, man. Hurt, understand?”

The guy kept talking, but not to Felix.

Jackie’s head popped up, and she said something Felix still couldn’t understand. He’d never been so frustrated not understanding what people were saying as he was now.

“What the hell?” he said.

Jackie scrambled out of bed and across the cell.

“His name is Malick. He used to work at the mines, for my Dad’s company in the admin office,” she said, as though that would explain it all. “Before that, he was a slave.”

That made a little more sense.

“Okay—what’s he saying now?”

“He thinks he can get one of us out of here, maybe both.”

“Just open the gate and we’ll walk out.” Felix pulled on the bars.

“Sh.” Jackie slapped his arm. “It’s not that easy. There’s PPM guards all over the place, plus a lot of the palace staff is scared.”

“Okay, then he gets you out and I’ll find a closet to hide in until later. If we’re both getting out of here, it has to be soon, and we can’t leave one person in this cell.”

Jackie translated, she and the man going back and forth.

Their would-be rescuer seemed hesitant, from the lines on his face to the nervous glances over his shoulder. If Felix thought he could reach out and grab the guy, he’d force things along, but the other man was too cautious.

Jackie clapped her hands together, then winced.

“He’s going to take us up one floor. He thinks he knows a place we can hide for now, but he has to go get the keys.”

“Shit,” Felix muttered.

Jackie said something else to the man, then he turned and walked away, leaving them in darkness.

“What all did he say?” Felix asked.

“Just that the word is parliament is going to vote Samba into office, but no one wants him. There are people gathering outside the palace to protest—and that’s a big deal. They don’t allow protesters here.”

“So if—or when—Hamadi is president, things are going to get bad?”

“From the sound of it, yeah.”

“We could use that to our advantage then.” In chaos, it was easy to slip away. He could hustle Jackie out—to the airport or head south again. If Hamadi were dealing with an uprising of his own, he wouldn’t care about them.

Their luck might very well be changing.

“How long until he’s back?” Felix asked.

“He didn’t say.”

“How do you know him?”

“One of Dad’s employees had a bunch of slaves, people complained, I complained and Dad had a sit down with him. He let the slaves go. Dad hired two—and here we are. I haven’t seen him in years.”

Felix shook his head.

The light filtered back down, chasing away the darkness.

The same man returned, quicker this time.

“What’s he saying?” Felix asked.

“We have to hurry. A bunch of PPM guards showed up with more prisoners—he thinks they’re parliament members who won’t support Samba—and they’re headed this way.”

The cell door swung open, and he drew a somewhat easier breath.

The new prisoners could very well include the rest of his team.

“Let’s go.” He put his hand on Jackie’s lower back and ushered her forward.

If he survived this, he was taking a week of lying on the sofa, soak in the hot tub and drink beer. That was if he survived, of which there was no guarantee.

“You make it out of here, go to the airport. Or see if your friend, that Yonni guy, can help get you out of here.”

“Yenna. You really suck at names.”

“We all have our gifts.”

They followed their rescuer up a flight of stairs, then waited on the landing while he checked to ensure the coast was clear.

“How’s he getting you out?” Felix asked.

“Laundry truck.”

“Shit.” He wished he could say this wasn’t the first time they’d used such things, but it wasn’t. In their line of work they got the job done however they could.

“Come on.” Jackie grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs.

Their rescuer-guide turned the lantern off and led them along a hall in what appeared to be some sort of old, historic building.

“We’re in what used to be the royal stables. Look.” Jackie pointed out of a square window. “You can see straight to the entrance through there.”

The man grabbed Jackie’s arm and patted a rolling hamper.

“Get in.” Felix grabbed her hand and steadied the hamper.

“Wait—but what about you?” She glanced at the other man and spoke Arabic as easily as if it were her native language.

Felix glanced over his shoulder. A PPM bus pulled up to the front of the palace. If that had prisoners in it, they would soon discover Jackie was missing.

“You have to go. Now.” Felix picked her up and placed her in the hamper.

“Felix.” She grabbed hold of his vest and pulled him down.

He kissed her, lingering for a moment, memorizing the feel of her mouth.

“Go to the airport. Understood?” He wouldn’t promise he’d meet her there, because he couldn’t.

“You have to come, too.” She stared up at him.

“As soon as I can, I will.” He cupped her cheek wiping away the tiny tear.

“Felix—I need you to come home.”

“I’m going to be right behind you.”

“Promise me,” she demanded.

If he did that, it would be a lie. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure she’d stay in the bin.

“Yeah. I promise,” he whispered, and knew it was a lie.

He didn’t need to hear her say what neither of them were speaking. He felt it, too. He’d have to be blind, mute, dumb and completely heartless to not know where she was going with these pleas to come to her.

Felix was falling in love with Jackie, and knowing her, she was one long pause away from getting the nerve up to say the words she couldn’t take back. The trouble was, he might not make it home if things went to hell.

He straightened and the other man put the wooden cover over the ancient hamper.

“Be careful with her,” Felix said, even though the man wouldn’t understand him.

The other man broke into a jog, pushing the hamper none too gently down a side path toward a secondary lot. A van waited to take Jackie to her next stop to freedom. Felix watched until they reached the van, then turned back to the front of the palace.

The PPM bus was unloading a long line of people. Some of them wore suites, others regular clothes and there at the end were three men in green clothing. Two of them swayed on their feet, barely able to stand, while the third kept a hand on each.

Felix swallowed.

Jackie was in the hands of friends on her way to the airport and safety.

The rest of Felix’s team could be on the chopping block before nightfall.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Samba reclined back in what was fast becoming his favorite chair. It wasn’t a throne, but given the difference people were already paying him, it would do. Everything was falling in line, all without the help of Zeina Razqa. Oh, she’d no doubt claim her mercenaries played a part in things, but their difference was negligible. The real heroes were his people who saw a need and acted. They were the heroes here.

“Sir?” Lemine stood at his elbow, the satellite phone in hand.

“What?”

“Yenna M'Barek wants to speak with you.” Lemine held out the phone.

Samba frowned and took the satellite phone. Yenna would be a problem. He hadn’t fled the country like many of the wealthier people, nor had he been rounded up in Samba’s attempt to cull the problematic members who would no doubt speak out against him. The best Samba had hoped for was that the man would remain under whatever rock he’d crawled under, but that wasn’t the case.

“Are you calling to congratulate me?” Samba leaned against the arm rest and stared out the windows onto a city that was now his. There were even people gathering in the streets for the upcoming celebration.

“Not yet, sir. I wish to inform you that I have been appointed the interim speaker of for the National Assembly.”

“Congratulations, Mister Speaker. May we have a long, profitable career together.” Samba gripped the arm rest. Nothing good could come from Yenna’s involvement.

“Thank you. On that topic, we wish to confirm that Jacqueline Davis is, in fact, in custody?”

“Yes. She cursed the Prophet.” The lie slid smoothly from Samba’s lips. If he was assuming the legal leadership, he had to have a reason to hold the Davis girl, and what better offense than one that would lead to a beheading?

“That isn’t like the Jacqueline Davis I know. I’d like to speak with her to confirm this. You’ll understand the due diligence given the situation we find ourselves in?”

“Of course.” Samba flicked his fingers and Lemine closed the distance between them. He picked up his pen. They had a unit of men sitting on the National Assembly building, keeping tabs on the members of parliament, but no one had noted Yenna entering or leaving the building.

Yenna parliament? Samba scribbled.

Lemine’s face scrunched up, and he shook his head.

Find out, he wrote.

“Have the Davis girl brought up,” Samba said

Lemine nodded and moved off with haste.

“Is there something I can answer for you in her stead?” Samba didn’t want to speak with Yenna, much less have the man appointed to the head of parliament, but what was done was done.

“There are questions about whether or not she is in custody. The answer impacts the vote, so before we can move forward, I wanted to ensure this was the case.” Yenna’s voice was easy, relaxed, as though this were a simple matter to clear up. This wasn’t like him.

“All will be sorted out momentarily. I’ll have Lemine call you back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hamadi.”

Samba grit his teeth and hung up the phone.

Mr. Hamadi.

He was the God damn president now.

Samba pushed to his feet and paced to the windows.

The bus of political prisoners he’d amassed rolled in. Some of them were members of parliament, and he would let them go, but not until after the vote. He needed this nice and legal, so the military would have to obey him. The others were outspoken business men, bank owners, CEOs, people who would make this transition difficult if they were free. After all was said and done, Samba would let them go to grumble in private.

“Samba. Mr. President.” Lemine sprinted into the room, all eyes on him.

“Clear the room,” Samba snapped.

People filed out, quick to follow the orders of a man who’d just taken the country by force.

The moment the doors thumped shut Lemine began speaking.

“The girl and the man—they aren’t in the cell anymore.”

“What?” Samba gaped at his assistant. “They were just put down there an hour ago.”

“I know, sir. I’ve got a trusted few men searching the grounds.”

“We have to do more. Lock the palace down. No one enters or leaves the grounds until she’s found.”

Lemine sprinted to the doors and barked the orders while Samba paced.

An hour.

“Was no one watching them?” Samba asked.

“No, sir...” Lemine’s gulp of fear was audible.

If they lost the Davis girl, if he couldn’t prove he still had her, did he have the resources to storm the National Assembly building? Was there time? He’d wanted to tie this up tonight and begin tomorrow with a new focus, shoring up his control.

“Someone helped her. Someone right under our noses.” Samba should have taken the girl to the PPM headquarters instead. The palace was not yet loyal to him. The traitor could be anyone, even Lemine.

“Sir?”

“What?” Samba paced back to the windows. A team of four men escorted a white male with blond hair from one of the historic, outlying buildings.

“Another American was found on the grounds. The one captured with the Davis girl.”

“I see him.” Jacqueline Davis couldn’t have gotten far. Not without help. Which meant she was very likely still under their noses. “Those bodyguards, the Americans? They’re on the bus, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Unload the bus. Line them all up. We’ll smoke the bitch out.”

“The driver does not know you’re here.”

“What?” Had Jackie heard him right? “You’re coming, too!”

“I can’t.”

She peered out through a slit between the hamper and the wooden lid at her savior. He closed the van doors, plunging her into darkness. The sound of his fist pounding on the side of the vehicle startled her enough she hit her head on the top of her hiding spot. The van accelerated, and the bin rolled, banging against the rear doors. She pitched to one side and grunted as something twinged in her neck.

This couldn’t be happening.

Felix was supposed to be getting out, too.

She couldn’t leave him.

The only times they’d been apart were horrible moments she never wanted to remember. Yes, he’d kept the secret about her mother’s condition from her, but he’d always been focused on her safety. And now they were separated again. She had no idea where they were going or what was happening. Her stomach knotted up and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t for the better.

It wasn’t like Felix could walk off the grounds on his own two feet. Samba’s entire entourage had seen them and would know immediately he was supposed to be locked up. Felix’s size and blond hair made him stand out in a crowd. He wouldn’t get twenty yards without someone wondering about him.

He should have taken the bin escape. She could have swaddled herself in enough fabric to make it out without arousing too much suspicion.

The van eased to a stop after only a few moments. The bin rolled forward, but this time she was ready. Lying on her back, she could brace her feet on one side and her hands on the other.

“Hey—what is this?” the driver said.

“No one is allowed to leave the grounds right now,” another man replied.

“What? Why?”

“Those are the orders.”

“I’ve got laundry. Linens. Come on, man. I’m just trying to do my job.”

“Orders.”

“How long is this going to take?”

The driver received no reply.

This was really not good. She sat up, pushing the lid up just a crack so she could peer out. With the bin rolled forward she could see out the side window of the van. The glass was dusty, but she could make out the side of the Presidential Palace and a bit of the roundabout in front of the building.

Why were there people outside the palace?

She’d briefly seen the crowds gathering beyond the gates, but not much. They’d been preoccupied trying to decide who got to leave.

“What’s that? What did he say?” the driver asked.

“A prisoner escaped,” another man replied.

Shit.

How long until those guards decided to search the van? How long until they found Felix?

Three figures crossed into her line of sight.

Jackie gasped and everything faded away except the man towering over his captors.

Felix...

“They found him. Can I go now?” the driver asked.

“Not yet. That’s not the one that’s missing,” the gate guard replied. “Park over there. Clear the gate.”

The driver muttered curses she couldn’t hear. The van eased backward and turned, sliding into a parking spot that gave her a wider view of the main courtyard in front of the palace—and the line of prisoners standing at the curb.

There were four men in green.

Jackie covered her mouth and stared at them.

A dozen of the men in red and black PPM uniforms marched out into the curved road, making a human wall between the prisoners and the on looking crowd.

Felix. Shane. Isaac. Adam.

None of them flinched.

Shane and Isaac swayed on their feet, but they kept standing tall.

Felix had said they’d die protecting her, but she hadn’t really believed him. Until now.

“Jacqueline Davis? Jacqueline Davis, if you can hear this, come out.” The English words crackled out through the speakers that would usually be used to call people to prayer. “If you don’t come out, these twelve individuals will be executed.”

Twelve?

All she could see were four.

She couldn’t let Felix die for her, not when she wanted him to live. Deep down she still wanted to go on that date, meet his family, see how long this spark lasted because he was someone worth coming home to. Under the gruff exterior and the false pretense that he didn’t care—he did. He cared a lot. It just took some digging to get to that heart of his. Being mad at him didn’t change that.

Jackie jumped in the deep end. That was who she was. She didn’t hold back, she did what she wanted, loved who she loved, and it could all happen in an instant. She didn’t know when she’d fallen for Felix, she just had. And she couldn’t let him die for her when she wanted to live with him. Because she loved him. Even if it was a new, immature love, she still felt it. Logic and reason didn’t play into emotions. A piece of her had recognized him and she couldn’t let him die. Not for her.

“Let me out!” She banged on the lid, repeating herself in Arabic over and over again until the hamper was yanked out the back. The jarring sensation of the bin hitting the ground dazed her, but only for an instant.

She shoved the top off her hiding spot and crawled out, ignoring the guns pointed at her.

The only ones who mattered were the ones aimed at Felix and the others.

“Move.” She shooed a man out of her way and strode forward, leaving her would be captors to quick step after her.

Felix turned his head toward her. She could already hear his better sense telling her this was a bad idea, that she should have fled when she had the chance, all the reasons why this shouldn’t be happening.

Samba Hamadi strolled into view, his grin wide.

“I’m here, Samba. What do you want?” Jackie stopped in line with the others. There were more than the twelve she’d seen. Many more.

“There’s someone who wants to speak with you.” Samba held out his hand.

Lemine put the phone in his palm and Samba pressed it to his ear.

Why did it all come down to her? In what world was she this important?

She grit her teeth and waited while Samba said a few words, his voice pitched low. He strolled forward and held the phone out to her.

“What?” she snapped. Her dad was the last person she wanted to speak with.

“Jackie Davis?” a man who was not her father said.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“My name is Yenna M'Barek. Can Samba hear me?”

“No.”

“I’m going to speak fast, then. I need for you to buy us time. Kyle said you would know what to do. We just need some time. You understand?”

Kyle was with Duke, Val and the team from the African Court. If they had a plan, and needed some time, that meant Samba’s time as president would be short.

“Jackie?” Yenna prompted her.

“That’s enough.” Samba reached for the phone.

Jackie leaned back, out of his grasp. The guard closest to her ripped the phone out of her hands. How did she say she understood?

“Take them below—and stay with them,” Samba demanded.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Felix whispered.

“Saving your life. You’re welcome.”

The guards shoved her forward, then the others, marching them back toward the stable. She stared past the building at the crowd.

It was bigger than before.

A lot bigger.

They weren’t doing anything, either. It was like they were waiting. For what? What had the others planned? What was going on?

Felix fell into line next to her and fit his hand around hers.

She swallowed and held on tight as they were led back down the stairs and into the dungeon. This time lanterns hung off the wall, providing some light. The smell of food tickled her nose, reminding her stomach that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Think about fries...

Jackie frowned at the man holding onto the food cart. He looked familiar.

The man glanced down at his folded hands.

She knew that face.

A dark scar crossed over his knuckles. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been bleeding and almost passed out when Val cleaned the wound.

“Face forward,” Felix said.

She stepped into the cell and walked to the farthest corner while the others filed in behind them.

“What? What did you see?” Felix whispered.

“That man? The one with the food cart? I know him.” She licked her lips.

“Yeah?”

“He worked for my Dad. When I was...eighteen I was on his yearly trip through the mines. We stopped here—in the city—for the night. This slave owner was going to kill him for...something stupid. All I remember was his owner had cut his knuckles and there was blood all over the sidewalk. I—also stupidly—stepped in. There was yelling and my dad made some apologies. He bought the man on the spot, took him with us to the mine up north and gave him a job.”

“Okay, so maybe he’s working here now?” Felix glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t give him away.”

The guards were clustered around the door while the man with the cart stood in the entry, handing out food, water and other odds and ends.

“I won’t. I need to talk to him.” Jackie wove through the crowd of dazed politicians to the cart. She couldn’t remember his name, but that moment, seeing him begging for his life, was burned into her mind for all time.

“Something to eat, ma’am?” he asked.

“Yes, please? How’s your hand?”

He picked up a plate and grabbed a napkin from the bottom of the stack instead of the top. He held out both items to her, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. A smile curled his lips, and a light seemed to shine from the depths of his dark brown eyes.

“Enjoy your meal.”

Felix took food for himself and the others, including a big stack of the napkins.

The other four Aegis Group Alpha Team members took over a corner, leaving the beds to the others.

“What did he give you?” Felix asked.

Adam approached them without saying a word.

Jackie unfolded the napkin. A piece of paper was tucked between the folds. She skimmed the lines, holding her breath.

“They’re coordinating an effort to take the palace.” She crumpled the paper and shoved it in her pocket before one of the guards took note.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“When?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped.

“Soon, I hope, because Samba intends to kill everyone in this room after they vote him in,” Adam said.