Undercover Captor (Shadow Agents 5)

“TINA!”

Drew was yelling her name again.

He seemed to do that a lot lately.

Her eyes cracked open. Drew was hunched over her. His face was haggard. And— “Do I smell smoke?”

He yanked her into his arms and nearly squeezed the breath from her.

With that crushing embrace, memories flooded back through her mind. She’d been about to board the plane. She hated small airplanes like that one, but she’d been determined to suck up her fear. Then Drew had called out to her.

And the world had exploded.

Smoke thickened the air around her. Tina pulled away from Drew and glanced over her shoulder. The plane was still burning out on the tarmac. “Rachel?” Fear cracked the word.

“She’s okay. Dylan has her.” Drew rose, pulling Tina to her feet, too. He kept a steady hand on her. “I thought I was going to be too late.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off the plane. Had the pilot gotten out in time? The flames were wild, burning so high and bright.

Sirens wailed behind her.

“A bomb, Devast’s weapon of choice.” Drew’s words vibrated with fury. “But how did he get close enough to plant it with so many agents here?”

“The pilot...” She licked her lips, tasted fire and ash. “He’s dead?”

“Pierce didn’t come out of the plane,” Drew said grimly.

Her heart squeezed in her chest.

Another minute and she would have been on that plane, too. She wouldn’t have come out.

Dark smoke swirled in the air around her. She tried to suck in air.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

But her normal routine for calming an attack wasn’t working.

A fist had her heart. Her lungs were burning. Clogged. Her eyes watered as she tried to pull in air. The muscles of her neck and chest were tightening. Clenching.

“Tina? Tina, what’s wrong?”

Her streaming eyes found his. “At-tack...” She needed her medicine. The inhaler that would help her.

But there was no inhaler there. Not in the middle of that burni

ng tarmac. No medicine. No help. And she remembered another time. Another place.

At the bank...she’d struggled to breathe. Her lungs burned. Her chest ached. The men with guns were shouting and fear clawed through her. Her father and mother had rushed to her because they’d known what was happening. Her father had reached into his jacket, grabbing for the inhaler he always carried, ever since her first attack had put her in the hospital at three years old. When he’d reached for that inhaler, one of the masked robbers yelled—then shot her father.

Her breath wheezed out. The smoke was so thick and dark. The smoke surrounded her. She couldn’t get air in—

“I need help!” Drew yelled. He was rubbing her back. “Baby, breathe for me. Nice and slow, okay?”

Didn’t it appear as if she was trying?

“Look at me.”

Her gaze flew to his once more.