destroying it in the same manner.
They frisked the four of them, removing guns, knives and ammunition from Mac and Blade. The Deltas were forced to remove their bulletproof vests, and then they were searched again.
When the Taliban soldiers were satisfied, they tied their wrists behind their back with zip-ties, slipped black hoods over their heads and shoved them into a van that had pulled up behind the truck the men had arrived in.
Mac hated that he’d failed to protect Kylie. He should have gotten her away from the traffic jam sooner. He should have put up a fight with the men who’d captured them.
No. He’d done the only thing he could. If he’d tried to fight the dozen or so men, he might have picked off three or four, but not all twelve. They’d have shot him dead. Once the bullets started flying, they wouldn’t stop until Mac, Blade, Josh and Kylie were dead on the ground.
Being captured alive gave them a second chance to come out of the situation alive. Mac would do everything in his power to make that happen.
Chapter 8
When they’d flung Kylie into the van, she’d hit her head on the floor. The force of the blow made her black out. It wasn’t until she heard the sound of Mac’s voice whispering to her that she came to.
“Kylie,” he said so softly, she wasn’t certain if she was hearing him or dreaming that they were alone together in the darkness of the hotel room, about to make love again.
A jolt woke her the rest of the way, reminding her she was lying on cool, hard metal, not a soft mattress. And the darkness had nothing to do with night, but the bag they’d draped over her head.
“Mac?” she responded softly.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she said, moving her legs. She tried to move her arms, but a hard strand of plastic around her wrists kept them motionless.
“Josh?” she whispered.
“I’m okay,” he responded from somewhere behind her.
“Blade?” she asked.
“Here,” he said.
A voice shouted in Pashto, and someone popped Kylie in the side of the head.
She grunted and lay still.
“Bastard,” Mac said and moved beside her, as if trying to rise up.
The crack of plastic on something hard sounded, and Mac dropped to the hard floor of the van and lay still.
Kylie’s heart leaped into her throat. “Mac?”
Again, a man shouted in Pashto. Expecting to be slapped again, Kylie hunkered down. Instead of a hand, something hard and plastic slammed into her head.
Pain shot through her temple, and she blacked out.
How long she was unconscious, Kylie didn’t know. A rush of cool air revived her, and she realized the van was no longer moving.
Hands reached out to grab her arm. She was dragged from the van by two men, one on either side. They barely let her get her feet beneath her before they marched her across uneven ground.
The creak of door hinges sounded. The two men on either side of her shoved her hard, sending her flying forward. She landed on her knees on a dirt floor, the forward momentum taking her the rest of the way down. With her hands tied behind her back, she had no way to slow her fall. Kylie landed on her face, the jolt making her head swim from the pain.
The creaking of hinges sounded again, and then silence reigned.
“Mac?” she called out, her voice the only thing she could hear. “Mac?” Panic rose up her throat, threatening to choke her. “Josh, Blade?”
She couldn’t see, couldn’t move, and now, she didn’t know where the others had been taken, or if they were still alive. Where they hell was she? How was she going to escape?
For a moment, fear and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her. Kylie had been in some bad situations, but nothing like this.
With her hands restrained and her vision blocked, she couldn’t see her way out, physically or figuratively. Her breathing became ragged as she almost hyperventilated.
What was she going to do? How could she help herself? How could she help Mac and the others? This couldn’t be the end for them. It just couldn’t.
Now was not the time to lose her shit. Forcing back the wave of panic, she rolled onto her side.
“Breathe,” she said to herself. “Just breathe.”
For several seconds, she drew in breaths and let them out slowly, bringing her heartrate under control. As she calmed, her head cleared, and she struggled to a sitting position.
First things first. She had to get out of the sack