Out-Foxxed. Debra Webb

in his hand just in case Sabrina had forgotten.

      She reached for the lever, took a moment to visually brace herself for her attentive audience’s benefit, then pulled the door open.

      “Oh! Mary, you’re still in here.” Angie stood in the doorway, her short, stocky frame filling out a maid’s uniform, her arms loaded down with fluffy white towels.

      “Yeah,” Sabrina said, “the bathroom’s a mess. Those kids wrecked the place. It’s taking longer than I expected.”

      “I’ve got your towels.”

      When she took a step, Sabrina moved to meet her, from all appearances blocking her path. “That’s okay, I’ll take them.”

      Angie passed her the towels. “Well, if you’ve got it under control, I’ll move on. Natalie’s got problems in ten and fourteen, as well.”

      “Thanks, Ang.”

      When she walked away Sabrina closed the door. So, the control team was in position in the rooms on either side of them. Angie purposely didn’t specify the floor to throw off the men listening.

      The control team would prepare to launch devices into the room for auditory as well as visual monitoring. If they made a single wrong move or sound, the guys in here could go ballistic. But it was a necessary step at this point. Attempting to position any sort of device before an agent was in place would have risked the hostages’ lives. With Sabrina inside to do what she could to protect the hostages, the next step had to be taken.

      The tall guy grabbed the towels and shuffled through the stack. Sabrina used the opportunity to check on Stavi’s condition. He looked a little the worse for wear while Goon Number Three, the man who’d been beating him, looked revved for the next round. At this rate Stavi would be dead very soon.

      “Please,” Sabrina said to the boss. “I don’t have anything to do with this. Just let me go. I’ll leave. I won’t say a word to anyone.”

      The boss nodded toward the master suite and the tall guy hustled her off in that direction. The thuds and groans of new torture resumed behind her.

      The woman, looking wide-eyed and wringing her hands, stood exactly where Sabrina had left her.

      The tall guy shoved her toward the bed and then made some remark to Goon Number Two about her having a great ass. This he did in English, so she understood he wanted her to know he’d made the statement.

      As soon as Sabrina was next to the woman, she whispered, “My husband?” Her face reflected her anxiety about his fate.

      Sabrina arranged her expression into a mask of optimism. “He’s okay so far.”

      The intense discussion between the men recommenced. Sabrina was pretty sure this swiftly deteriorating situation wouldn’t last much longer. Stavi would be dead and then they would all die.

      “Oh, hell.”

      Sabrina stiffened. Whatever had just gone down had Big Hugh worried.

      “Fox, they’ve just asked your guard to bring in one of the children. We’re standing by for your instruction.”

      A new kind of tension roiled through Sabrina.

      “We’ll be okay,” she said to the woman, but her real agenda was to let the team know that no movement on their part was necessary, she had the situation under control for now.

      Goon Number Two stalked over to where Sabrina, the woman and her children cowered in fear.

      “What’re you doing?” Sabrina asked, her voice infused with terror.

      “The boy,” the man demanded. “Give me the boy.”

      The mother howled in agony. “No, no, no, not my son. Not my son!”

      The man slapped her hard. “The boy,” he commanded.

      “Wait.” Sabrina reached toward the man.

      He reared back to slap her. She lunged at him, her right hand fisted, the pad of her thumb set against that extra stone on the back of the ring she wore. She rammed her fist, ring first, into his throat.

      The back of his hand connected with her cheekbone sending pain radiating up the side of her head. Then he froze. He stared at her for a moment as if he didn’t understand what had just happened. When he started to reach for his neck, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor.

      The woman and children started to wail and sob, Sabrina joining the cacophony.

      The tall guy barged into the room. “What the hell is going on in here?” He spotted his pal, then aimed a suspicious glare at the women. “Shut up!” He leveled his weapon on Sabrina. “Move against the wall.”

      Sabrina flattened against the wall next to the window behind her. She reached for the woman and ushered her back as well. A child clung to either side of her. All were sobbing hysterically.

      “What happened?” the tall guy demanded, his question directed at Sabrina.

      “I don’t know.” She forced her voice to quiver. “He came over here to get the boy and he just stopped, looked kind of strange and then crumpled to the floor.”

      That she hadn’t reached for the downed man’s weapon would lend credence to her innocent bystander status.

      Keeping an eye on her, the tall guy squatted down just far enough to touch his fallen comrade’s neck. He felt for a pulse, a frown overtaking his expression.

      Speaking in that broken foreign tongue again, he called out to his pals in the other room.

      The torturer in the other room stormed in next. “What is taking so long? I need the boy.” He drew up short when he saw Goon Number Two on the floor.

      Sabrina held on to one of the woman’s arms and made small sounds of terror; the woman did the same. The children continued to whimper and sob, amping up the frustration level of the enemy.

      Sabrina figured that this was as good as it was going to get. Only one, the boss, was left in the room with Stavi.

      She pulled downward on the other woman’s arm. Their gazes locked. Sabrina nodded to the floor. The woman moved her head up and down in acknowledgement.

      Her right hand easing down to the hem of her uniform, Sabrina watched the two men prepare to drag their friend away, probably to join the dead security detail in the en suite bath.

      As soon as each man had crouched down and hooked an arm under the dead guy’s, she snatched her .32 out of its holster. Two rounds, one in the temple for the tall guy, one smack in the middle of the forehead for the torturer who turned to look up at her in surprise.

      She was halfway across the room when the boss suddenly loomed in the open doorway, his weapon leveled on her. Two more shots, this time straight through the heart. She hit the floor and rolled just in time to avoid the round he managed to squeeze off before he dropped. Unlike the jarring blasts from her .32, a swift hiss and pop were the only sounds his silenced weapon made.

      Back on her feet, she holstered her weapon and rushed to the corner where the woman and children huddled together near the floor.

      “Everything’s all right,” Sabrina assured. “Come on, let’s check on your husband.”

      Thank God the woman and children hadn’t been in the way of the single shot the bastard had managed. One of the lavish pillows on the bed hadn’t been so lucky.

      The husband was already shrieking and making all kinds of noise. He kept calling a name—his wife’s, Sabrina presumed.

      While the woman and children crowded around the injured man, Sabrina checked the two other hostages bound and still unconscious on the floor to ensure they were still breathing. Both were alive—drugged, she presumed.

      Time for her to get out of here.

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