Guarding Aisha

by Zoë Normandie

  At that moment, Jake knew he would only hurt Aisha by interfering further. He may have just become the most hated man in the CIA.

  As Aisha disappeared in the crowd around her, his chest ached like an elastic band stretched too far, and his instinct screamed out to fucking do something. It was probably for the best when an official distracted him by approaching.

  “Chief Wilder.” A woman with NCIS credentials and a serious expression greeted him.

  Jake stood squarely, crossing his arms. “That’s me,” Jake affirmed. “Or, it used to be me.”

  She nodded curtly, her bun of light brown hair shining under the tarmac lights. She was in civilian clothing but professionally dressed.

  “I need you to come with me.” She held up a gold badge. “Special Agent Sophie Lafontaine, NCIS.”

  “I’m not in the military anymore,” he replied, still trying to track Aisha’s movements.

  The woman frowned at him. “Again, I need you to come with me, Chief. This is non-negotiable.”

  He looked over and saw a few agents trying to get Aisha into an SUV. Of course. Who the fuck knew where they were taking her? He wished he could say that she’d be safe then. But he wasn’t so sure, given their track record. He needed to be there. He should be there. He wanted to break out in a sprint and jump on the back of the SUV.

  Across the tarmac, Aisha looked back over at him and mouthed something that he couldn’t make out. What was she saying?

  Fuck it. He was making a break for it. His feet started moving toward her, but Sophie stuck out one feminine arm and blocked him.

  “That wouldn’t be wise,” Sophie warned. “Let her go.”

  Jake frowned at her. He didn’t need anyone pushing him around. He looked back to Aisha, but she was gone. She was already in the SUV, and it was driving away.

  Why did he let it happen? He should have never taken her to the jet. He should have run away with her. He felt anger and hatred and everything awful.

  Fuming, he whipped his head back to Agent Lafontaine’s sharp blue eyes.

  “This way, Chief.” She pointed to a door on the side of the airport hangar.

  20

  Sophie laid out a pad of paper on the plain melamine desk before her. The look on her face straightened Jake’s spine. Something about her screamed don’t fuck with me.

  Jake watched her as she prepared. She wore her light brown hair in a traditional military style, swooped into a bun at the back of her head. She was civilian but had that once-sailor look. He knew it because he’d lived it. He wondered where she’d been stationed.

  “Chief Wilder,” she began, “are you familiar with the clause ‘duty to warn’?”

  “Isn’t that when cops have to tell people if there’s a credible threat to their safety?” Jake suggested.

  She nodded. “That’s why I’m here. We have a duty to warn. Someone is trying to kill you.”

  Her eyes were full of concern. In the moment they’d spent together, Jake got the impression that she was a straight shooter and a dedicated agent. Which meant he could probably assume that she was speaking the truth.

  “What the hell does that mean? Who?”

  “It means we’ve been made aware of a threat against your life that we find credible enough to warrant this conversation.” Sophie explained. “Consider yourself warned.”

  She rapped the desk in front of her like she didn’t want to be there any more than he did.

  “That’s it?” He sat back, trying not to laugh like a madman. “You’ve got to be kidding. If you have information, just fucking bring the asshole up on charges.”

  Jake rubbed his rough hands over his rough face. He needed to shave. He needed to shower. He needed to be home. He needed to sleep. He needed to fucking find Aisha.

  She closed her notebook sharply. “It’s not that simple. Credible information is intelligence, not evidence.”

  “So… who is trying to kill me?” Jake pressed. “Do you have a name?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s all that I’m allowed to disclose.” She said curtly, but she scribbled something down on the paper.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he said. “Then what’s the point of telling me?”

  She seemed unfazed by his remark. “Duty to warn, our legal obligation: that’s the point.”

  “Be still, my beating heart,” Jake scoffed.

  The bureaucratic acrobatics were baffling. So NCIS didn’t give a fuck about his life—they just didn’t want blood on their hands if he got offed and they’d known about it.

  Sophie appeared less than amused.

  “I thought I was seeing things,” Jake began, “but now I wonder.” He gauged the official’s reaction. “We were being followed, and the guys had guns. I’m thinking they want the defecting princess, right? Next thing I know, they’re taking shots at us. That’s no surprise—her father will allegedly do anything to get her back. But then I get out of my car to inspect the damage. All the shots were directed at the driver’s door. At me. Tell me. Why?”

  “That’s very disturbing.” Sophie’s brow was pinched. “I’ll look into that.”

  She had an even cooler poker face than he did, which was pretty incredible. Her icy eyes studied him, and she betrayed nothing. But he felt it was important to relay the information anyway, just to see if she would bite.

  Jake wondered what her game was. Was she friend or foe? What was she really after? Duty to warn seemed like an excuse to take him aside. He wondered what exactly made her want to talk to him.

  “The service has been investigating drug problems in one of the SEAL DEVGRU troops,” she said like she’d read his mind. “Your old troop. I think by now you are aware of this. It’s the worst-kept secret.”

  Jake nodded. He’d hoped as much after shit hit the fan in the Sahel. He’d hoped there would finally be some accountability for the poisonous leadership tearing the troop apart.

  “Did you know that an outside firm ran a cultural assessment within your specific SEAL team because of these alleged… drug problems?” Sophie asked lightly.

  A little too lightly.

  Jake suspected they’d finally hit on the real point of her visit. He knew exactly what she was talking about—he knew the consultant, Olivia. He’d met her in the flesh. Months ago, she’d gone to Mali and ended up getting engaged to his buddy, Master Chief Ryder Luciano.

  “It’s unprecedented,” she went on. “No one has ever hired a consultancy to look into Special Forces culture.”

  “Really?” Jake asked.

  “A private consultation? Not at that level.” She leaned in. “And you know what? It was a pretty thin report, considering all the accusations. It looked censored. Nothing at all about unlawful killings or drug abuse.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow.

  “Do you know anything about this?” she asked, remaining as cool as ever.

  “Yes,” Jake replied. “I was there.”

  She sat silently, waiting for him to elaborate.

  But he had nothing else to say. Those were memories he’d resolved to leave in the past.

  Jake reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. He flipped it onto the table between them. Jake and the guys had already been approached by someone from the CIA who was working to take down Senior Chief Blackshot and the troop commander, Lieutenant Doug Fuller. It was time to share.

  After eyeing Jake and the card for a moment, Sophie reached over and picked it up. As she read the name on the card, she broke out into outrageous laughter. Jake’s body shifted back. What the hell?

  Once her laughter had reduced to a few scattered chuckles, she took a deep breath.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “What?”

  “So, the CIA?” She took a few deep breaths, trying to regain her calm. “How the hell will this help me?” She threw the card back on the table dismissively. “I know Aidan King. Very well. Why are you giving me his card?”

  Sophie sat there, a cat’s smile drifting acros
s her lips. Jake guessed that there was a lot more to that story.

  “I think you should call him,” Jake explained slowly.

  She lifted her eyebrow and waited for him to continue. But he didn’t. It wasn’t his place, and he didn’t want to get into it anyway. Not then. Probably not ever.

  “Look, Jake.” Sophie leaned back in her chair, choosing her words. “Aidan King has obviously decided to interfere here because he’s the one who sent me to talk to you. Funny, that.”

  Jake’s eyes widened, surprised at the turn of events. He’d met the CIA intelligence officer a month ago, when Ryder’s beaten body had been pulled out of a pile of burning rubble in Mali and transported back to Washington for medical attention. King had been there, and he’d called Jake to tell him where to find his broken friend. Jake never had much time for intelligence, but he had time for King.

  “They closed the war crimes investigation,” Sophie continued. “I think you know this. Your troop has been vindicated, whether that’s right or wrong. I’m not in a position to re-open that investigation, no matter what Aidan King wants from me. It’s a done deal.”

  Jake nodded silently, unwilling to tell her his own opinion: they never should have closed that investigation. There were guilty fucking parties in his troop, the commander and the senior chief included. But damn, he and Ryder had also been in that troop, and deep down Jake knew they all deserved to get hung up.

  “Ten-four,” Jake said bluntly.

  “You’ve got nothing to say about that?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” Sophie nodded understandingly, perhaps seeing the pain in his eyes. “Stay safe, Jake. I have to go.”

  She rose to leave, and Jake followed suit. He walked with her back to the door of the hangar.

  She turned and looked up at him thoughtfully. “Thanks for your time.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Jake said. “I’ve done nothing right.”

  She looked at him like he’d said something incredibly irritating. But she just shook her head and, opening the door, gave him one last curt nod. Then her lean firm walked briskly away.

  And so Special Agent Sophie Lafontaine vanished into the night, leaving Jake with that same bottled-up feeling he always had. The sun was just beginning to rise, and for the first time, instead of wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself into this mess, he considered how the hell he was going to get himself out.

  21

  It had been five days since Aisha had been appointed her modern ocean-view condo in Virginia Beach. Five days without Jake, and she felt like an addict coming off a high.

  That’s all it had been, she supposed: a drug. And in the end, she got burned. He’d never seen their relationship as anything other than an easy avenue to pleasure. She should have seen the signs all along. Had he ever tried to share about himself? Had he ever tried to make future plans with her?

  As she sat on the edge of a small bed in a small room, she wrung her hands, which were dry and cracked from neglect. She’d let her long, silky black hair become ratted, and her once-perfect complexion was tired. Without Jake, she felt weak. Lifeless. She’d tried to take care of herself once she’d gotten to the Virginia Beach safe house, but the bathtub only made her think of Jake. And the mirror only made her think of how empty she felt. How alone.

  Why hadn’t she protected herself? Why had she given herself to him?

  Letting out a shallow breath, she looked around her room. It was plainly decorated in soft blues, likely some sort of vacation theme. She guessed it was a rental, but who could know for sure? It wasn’t exactly like Kate was jumping to share the CIA’s plans with her.

  Like someone else she knew, Kate was keeping her at arm’s length. Aisha was never confided in, never trusted, and never taken seriously.

  She picked up the old book beside her. Its cover was cracked and antique. She couldn’t even make out the title. Of course they wouldn’t give her anything with internet access. They didn’t want her to do something stupid like contact her sister, even just to tell her she was okay.

  Even TVs had internet access these days, so they had stockpiled her room with books. All sorts of books. Kate even took requests for titles. But Aisha could barely focus on the words. She couldn’t even put her own words together under the weight of her depression. Not that Kate hadn’t tried.

  The interrogations had begun as soon Aisha was brought to the house. Kate reminded her how safe she was. How the house was a safe place to talk. But Aisha didn’t like it. She didn’t like any of it. Nothing felt like it was safe.

  Aisha stood up from the bed, careful not to let it creak. She didn’t want to be heard. She wanted to disappear. How she missed the fresh air. She had barely been outside since her days in Canada with Jake. She pushed the thought from her mind. It pained her to reminisce.

  She had to be strong.

  Absently finding her way to the smooth white windowsill, Aisha ran her hands along the edge of the glass. Winter in Virginia Beach was not like winter in Canada. The ocean air wafted in through her open bedroom window. Seagulls could be heard, and the sun was shining. It was a beautiful day.

  The fresh air called her name.

  The long sandy beach, though cool, was busy enough. And that played in her favor—if she snuck away for a moment of air, she could blend right in with the dog walkers and beach joggers. No one would even notice her. And that’s how she wanted it to be.

  She slicked her hair into a high ponytail. It curled disobediently and kissed her shoulders, in need of a good brushing and perhaps some serious conditioner. But those were problems for tomorrow. Aisha just needed to breathe. She needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  So that’s what she did.

  She threw off her sweater and donned a sporty-looking T-shirt over her yoga pants—a genius American invention. Maybe assimilation into Western society wouldn’t be so bad. She certainly didn’t miss anything about the palace. More like the prison, Aisha thought as she walked toward the bedroom door.

  And then she stopped. The seagulls still chirped and the sun still shone. But Aisha looked around her small room. She’d fled her repressive father for what? Another prison.

  And now, if they sent her back, she’d be dead. Her father would kill her. Point blank.

  Aisha felt the tears again, but no one was beside her to pat her back. She leaned against the doorframe and tried to be silent, but the liquid poured down her face. Not even the ocean air could soothe her.

  She grimaced in pain. She needed Jake, and she hated that she needed him. She felt like screaming. Shrieking. She should never have allowed herself to lean on him. Now she was truly alone, and she couldn’t stand on her own two feet.

  She had known better all along, but then again, she never listened to herself.

  Aisha quietly snuck down the stairs. The living area opened onto a back patio and a large swath of beach. Kate was taking a call in the office at the front of the condo.

  “I requested those documents a week ago,” she snapped into the phone. “And now you’re telling me they’re fucking missing?” After a pause, she said, “I don’t care. Find them!”

  Aisha’s eyebrows rose, but she told herself not to read into it. These complications were only to be expected. She’d been an unanticipated drop into Kate’s life, and no one had been prepared for her defection. And Kate had a job to get back to.

  With Kate plotting in the front office, Aisha could easily make a break for the patio door. So she did. Foolishly feeling like she had nothing left to lose, she slid open the screen door. As soon as she felt the air on her face, she sprinted toward the beach.

  It felt good to be free.

  Halfway to the shoreline, she keeled over, her hands falling to her knees. She alternated between heavy nose breathing and heavy mouth breathing. Oxygen obeyed, flowing through her lungs as she closed her eyes. The gentle ocean breeze blew her ponytail around her back. Her toes dug into the sand. She could hear children laughi
ng and playing. The sun was warm and loving on her skin. Caring. She felt alive.

  She was a free woman, and it was high time she started making people understand that.

  “You’re dead,” a deep voice said in a matter-of-fact tone behind her.

  She whipped around, feeling her broken heart burst through her chest and throat.

  But it wasn’t Jake.

  Wild-eyed, she searched her adversary—a sandy-haired man standing ten feet away. His hands were dug into his green utility pant pockets. He wore a sly smile, and there was an evil twinkle in his coal-black eyes.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, scanning the horizon for help, backup, anything.

  “You are very cavalier with your safety, young miss,” he said, ignoring her question.

  She was speechless—and she was all alone. Jake’s self-defense training spiralled through her mind, and she willed herself not to freeze this time.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said in a bored tone. “I’m surprised you thought it was safe for you to be out here alone. If I wanted to, you’d be dead by now. Not very smart.”

  The tall, fit man let out a skeptical little whistle. Like she wasn’t even worth his effort.

  She had to get away. She looked left and right frantically and started to make small steps around him. Unfortunately, he put out his hands to block her. He was ready to use force, and she knew it. He had an unhinged look that she’d only seen in the eyes of another veteran.

  “Not so fast.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I’ve got a question for you.”

  He looked down his nose at her and frowned. He was really enjoying his cat-and-mouse game. The only question was: when he would go in for the kill?

  “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

  He leaned in a little closer, and her spine wilted in fear. Aisha instinctively took a step back, but every time she did, he advanced.