11Lucas
“They did what?”
My voice is a low hiss as I sit up, ignoring the nurse’s hands fluttering around me in an attempt to get me to lie still. The rage blasting through me chases away all remnants of wooziness from the drug she gave me earlier. I have no idea how long I was out, but it was clearly too f*****g long.
“The terrorists attacked the hospital a few hours ago,” Sharipov repeats, his face tense and tired. “It seems we underestimated their capabilities—and their desire to get at your boss. As we didn’t find his body among the dead, we can only assume that they took him.”
“They took Esguerra?” It takes everything I have not to leap out of bed and strangle the colonel with my bare hands—which are still unrestrained, I note with some corner of my brain. “You f*****g let them ta
