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head. Where the hell was she? How did she know about her cousin if she'd cut contact with everything and everyone?
    Unless she hadn't.
    He ran through the possibilities. Maybe she was in contact with someone. Someone on the other side of this. He might be acting like a paranoid nut job, but he couldn't help that. Every Special Ops soldier had that trait. It's what kept a man alive in enemy territory when he only had a utility knife and his gut instinct to keep him that way.
    “We don't know it's her sending it.”
    Ben aimed a scowl at his brother. Damn, could Rhys be any less emotional? “We don't know it isn't, either.” And he was going to think positively until he found out otherwise.
    “Just don't want you getting your hopes up.”
    Too late.
    Ben stared at the digital image of the photo attachment icon on the tiny screen for another second. Part of him dreaded seeing it. What other surprise did Sam have up her sleeve? Ah, screw it. He opened the picture file she'd attached. The breath hissed out between his teeth when it showed Neveah tied up and blindfolded, surrounded by armed militants. Son of a bitch. The kidnapping had been bad enough, but it enraged him that anyone would terrorize an innocent woman that way. They'd purposely sent it to Sam for maximum effect.
    “Call it in to the boss,” Rhys said.
    The rare note of urgency in his deep voice had Ben swinging his head around to look at him. Rhys was staring holes through the screen, his mouth so tight the edges of his lips were white.
    Whoa. Seeing his twin display even that amount of emotion was a shock. Then Ben realized what it was about. Rhys knew Neveah, because he'd met her in Paris after an op he'd worked with Sam. Gauging Rhys’ dark expression, Ben had to assume she'd made enough of an impression on him that his brother wasn't able to stay completely detached from this.
    As far as Ben knew, that was a first for Rhys. “They won't touch her,” he offered by way of consolation, lame as it was. “She's worth way more to them alive.”
    Rhys pivoted around and headed for the door, shoulder and chest muscles straining the seams of his extra large, army-issue-brown t-shirt. “I'll get Davis.”
    Ben let out a breath and turned his attention back to the screen. With her cousin in their custody, the kidnappers were going to squeeze Sam for whatever information they wanted from her. Unfortunately for her, she had a lot that might be of interest to them because of her close contact with Luke. “Where the hell are you, Sam?” he muttered, dialing Luke and shoving the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could keep typing. How had she received the photo before they did, unless the terrorists were in direct contact with her? Another dangerous possibility for him to worry about.
    Ring number three droned in his ear. Come on, answer . He didn't hold out much hope that Luke would fill him in on anything else he knew. The guy was a living God in the Special Ops world, and tight as a fricking vault. Probably less than a handful of people really knew him, and fewer yet had his trust. Ben understood that part all too well. Aside from his brother, he didn't trust easily. Everyone else had to earn it. That went double for all these intelligence agents and operators. All of ‘em were professional liars to some degree.
    As the phone rang for the fifth time, his fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in commands to trace the signal from Sam's phone. With any luck, they'd have a location to start a new search from. “Hey,” he said when Luke finally picked up. “We've got a situation.”
    Basra, afternoon
    After talking to Ben, Luke set his phone down on the lap table he'd pulled across his hospital bed. So, Sam might still be alive and wanting to talk. Her timing made him suspicious, but he wasn't going to leave her out there on her own for two reasons: One, she might get killed if he didn't bring her in, and two, right now she was the best means of tracking