Page 112 of Hot & Heavy

Ian got up, let Sam out, then followed her around to the front of the house. Every couple of feet, Sam would stop and look back at him to see if he was following; then she would continue on her trek. She was probably taking him to a fish store or something. But no, Sam went down the street, crossed over, then started to walk behind a small Cape Cod-style house with an overgrown lawn and shabby exterior.

"Sam, come back here," he said in a loud whisper, not wanting to wake anyone who might still be asleep in the house. There didn't seem to be any activity around the place, but he'd seen a red car in the garage through the small glass windows of the door.

Red car? Holy shit! Geek had said the tangos took Maddie away in a red car. No, it was impossible.

This would be too much of a coincidence. But then he remembered his prayer less than an hour ago. He glanced skyward and thought, I've heard of the power of prayer. If this is what I think it is, You have made me a believer.

He followed Sam to the back of the house, where she sat near the back corner, meowing. There was no basement that he could see, at least no basement windows, but Sam seemed to sense something there.

"Is Maddie down there?" he asked Sam. I'm either crazy or really smart, not only talking to a cat, but expecting an answer.

Sam meowed.

From inside the house, Ian thought he heard someone complain, "It's that damn cat again."

Another person said, "I'm going to shoot it."

Ian looked at Sam, whose ears perked up. Then she shot away toward home.

"No, you're not. You can't attract any attention from the neighbors."

Then another person must have entered the room. This one spoke in Arabic.

Ian's heart began racing and his heart lifted hopefully. He walked carefully toward the front. Then he took a chance and peered into the garage. Yep, a red Mustang convertible. Sam was sitting there waiting for him on the front sidewalk.

With a joyous spirit, he ran off, a surprisingly agile Sam beside him. When he got back to his house, he rushed into the kitchen, where the whole bunch of them were sitting at his table or standing around, all of them scarfing down the gourmet meal of eggs and beer. The motley bunch looked at him expectantly.

Ian smiled, for the first time in what seemed like forever, and said, "I've found Maddie."

Inside, though, he had one last prayer: "Please, God, let her still be alive."

Chapter Sixteen

She gave new meaning to the term "senior citizen"…

Madrene was beginning to loathe garlic.

She was lying on a blanket on the floor, having emptied her stomach once again into a smelly bucket in the corner. That was when she heard a tap-tap-tapping noise on the upper part of the wall.

It must be a mouse. She rolled over and tried to think of more pleasant times, to get her mind off her nausea. Of course, Ian came immediately to mind. She forced herself to go back farther into her memory, to those times when she and her family had all been alive and safe in their homeland.

The tapping started again. This time, the sound seemed to have a pattern to it. Tap, tap… tap, tap, tap, tap… tap, tap… tap, tap, tap, tap. She stood and walk over to the wall, peering up. That was when she heard the most joyful thing.

"Maddie? Are you there? Maddie?" a voice said in a loud whisper.

It had to be Ian.

"I'm here," she yelled. Then caught herself. "I'm here," she repeated in a low voice.

"Stay put, babe."

She wasn't able to do anything else.

"We're coming after you." Then there was silence.

Madrene had much to worry about then… and not just her own well-being. Musab Khazim, the man who'd arrived last night, was more vicious than the rest. When she'd not given him the answers he wanted, he showed her pictures on the tea-vee of people having their heads chopped off by other "shepherds" in their Arab lands. Madrene had no taste for head-lopping, and had never done it herself, not having the strength to heave a broadsword so strongly, but she had witnessed it more than once. She was not as shocked as these brutes expected her to be.

So the new man had stripped her naked and interrogated her more. Apparently, he did not share his comrades' qualms about harming a breeding woman, if his slaps were any indication. And what was it about men and their need to strip women of their clothing for purposes of humiliation? It was getting tiresome, to say the least. And chilly. But they'd let her put her jeans and tea-shert back on last night when she'd been banished to the basement again.