Relentless (Option Zero 2)

“That’s a relief. The footage we got tonight was amazing. This story needs to be told.”

She agreed. Brenda’s story and so many more needed to be told.

“It’s a long drive back. You want me to go with you? Keep you company?”

Owen was the newest member of her team. It wasn’t the first time he had indicated he’d like to know Aubrey on something other than a professional basis. He was a nice guy, but getting personally involved with a coworker was never a good idea.

“Thanks but the alone time will do me good. I’ll call you guys tomorrow after the meeting and we’ll make plans then.”

“Okay, well…have a safe trip back.”

She waved at the rest of the team as they loaded their equipment into the vans. “Great job tonight, guys. See you soon.”

Amid a loud array of goodbyes, Aubrey got into her rental car and started the engine. She waited until her team had driven away, and then turned back and looked at the house where Brenda lived. What an amazing woman she was, an incredible survivor. She had endured and won.

How many more were out there? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? She knew the estimates, but that’s exactly what they were. Estimates. Only God knew how many there really were. She did what she could, but making films to inform people only went so far.

Not for the first time, she thought about the man she’d briefly met a few years ago in Kosovo. Over the years, she’d met many men she’d found attractive, but few had stayed in her memory the way this man had. Which was strange since he hadn’t even said a word. She didn’t know his name, where he lived…knew nothing about him other than he rescued people from horrific circumstances. Something about him had not only warmed her blood, but had also touched her heart. It had been the first time she’d felt a connection to anyone since Lion.

Shifting the gear into drive, Aubrey blew out a ragged sigh as she drove away. She must be tired, wishing for things that could never be, wanting a man she would never see again. Yearning for a man she’d never even seen. Life was reality. Dreams like that just didn’t come true.

Chapter Nine

Montana

Feet propped on the railing, icy-cold beer in his hand, Liam took in the vista before him. When he’d moved to Montana, he’d lived in an apartment for a while before finding the perfect location to build. He had known in his mind exactly what he wanted—Cat had described it perfectly.

During those few days, when they’d had nothing but darkness and each other, they had talked about everything and nothing. Amazing the intimate details that could be shared without revealing the things that most people thought were essential. He might not know Cat’s real name, where she’d lived, or even what she looked like, but he knew her. There was no doubt in his mind that he knew the real Cat.

He could still hear her voice, hoarse from her coughing, as she told him her dream. “I want to live in the mountains. We went to the Rockies for vacation one year and then once to the Smokies. There’s just something about the heights, they’re majestic and ancient. I remember sitting at the top of a peak and just absorbing the moment. I love going to the beach for vacation but only for a few days. The thought of coming home to my own private, secluded hideaway, surrounded by mountain mists with air so clear and fresh you can taste it, would be like heaven.”

She had gone on to describe in surprising detail her dream home. A house surrounded by mountains, hidden from the rest of the world. A peaceful refuge.

When he’d found the land, he’d designed the house, using Cat’s words to guide him. Okay, yeah, that was stupid. The place was way too big for him. Most times he wasn’t in a location long enough to even justify renting a room on a weekly basis, yet he’d felt compelled to build a house for a woman he would likely never see again.

Again? Hell, he’d never seen her at all.

Where she’d been taken, what had happened after they’d pulled her out of that cell might be something he would never know. He knew she’d been tortured, beaten, and raped. For days, he’d heard the recording of her screams of pain, of terror. She had called out for him, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing for her. Her cries were ingrained in his psyche and would never leave him.

But what had they done to her after that? Where had they taken her?

The helicopter crash had delayed his search for weeks. Six of them had survived the crash. Dragging his ass through the Syrian desert with multiple injuries had been nothing compared to the knowledge that if he didn’t get home, Cat would never be found.

As soon as he and the other survivors had made it to civilization, he’d demanded a search be conducted. Thanks to Hawke, the request had been approved. Liam hadn’t been able to go himself. Four broken ribs, a broken shoulder, and a bullet in his side had prevented him from being able to do anything other than wait for word. It hadn’t been good.

The entire prison was gone—demolished. Most likely a drone strike but no one could say who was responsible or why. The incinerated remains of three bodies had been found—all male. No identifications had ever been made.

She hadn’t been there when he’d left. He told himself that over and over—she hadn’t been there. He had gone through the prison, searched every nook and cranny, called her name. She had been taken somewhere else. But by whom? And to where?

When he was well enough, he’d gone back. He had to see for himself that there was no hope, no sign of her. He’d found nothing but the crumbling remains of a destroyed structure and a barbed wire fence that had surrounded the building.

He’d even hired a group with cadaver dogs to search the area, and they’d come up empty.

There had been no report of an American disappearing from a market in Paris. No one had filed a missing-person report that remotely matched the description she’d given him. She had family, had mentioned a cousin. Wouldn’t someone have looked for her, demanded to know what happened to her?

It was as if she’d never existed, except in his mind. He might’ve been weak from the beatings and little nourishment, but he’d been lucid enough to know she was not a figment of his imagination. Cat was real, and he’d spent twelve years looking for her, to no avail.

He had used what little she’d told him about herself to search. He knew she was an actress and a student. There’d been no unexplained record of a student missing from any college remotely close to New York.