Saint

by Zoe Dawson

  This was just a moment out of time. Soon they would be parted again with thousands of miles between them. There was no future for her and Saint. There were only the memories of what she’d had with him to hang onto.

  Her reality was David, DC and the ATF, working toward the next step in her career just like she’d planned.

  Saint came back to the front and sat in the seat diagonally from her. She was disappointed he wasn’t close, but only for a moment before she got her wits about her.

  He straightened. “Go ahead, LT.”

  He listened for a moment and grimaced. “Anyone hurt?” After another pause, he said, “Damn.” He ran his hand over his face. “Who stitched him up?” He shook his head and grinned. “Good thing chicks dig scars.”

  He chuckled and she remembered how much she loved his laugh.

  “We’ll see you when we see you.”

  She turned to look at him. “Everything all right?”

  “The team got slowed down. They hit an IED and blew the axel on the SUV. They’re on foot and Pit is injured.” He held up his hand. “Not bad. Gash on the thigh, but it’s painful for him to walk. He’s a trooper, though.”

  She looked down at the gas tank. It was half full. “Hopefully we don’t run out of gas before we get to them.”

  “How much?”

  “Half.”

  “Ah, okay. I didn’t look when we boarded. Was too busy.”

  “Well, the base isn’t much further I think.”

  “It’s so dark, it’s hard to figure out where we are. We don’t have the lights of the city to guide us.”

  “It would be nice if we had the moon at least. I hope it doesn’t rain.” She bit her lip and looked up at the sky, but again there was nothing but darkness. “Did you see Zasha and Darko at all?”

  “The team has a bead on them. They’re up to something. He said he sent Dragon and 2-Stroke to find them and keep an eye on them.”

  “Good. Then we’ll know where to go after we make the military base.”

  His expression went still. Without saying anything, he studied her a moment, his gaze narrowing, his tone noncommittal. “Don’t you think it would be a better idea for you to go back to DC and let us handle them from here?” She stiffened. He watched her with an intent, steady look, as if assessing her state of mind. His voice was quiet and low when he said, “You got beat up and almost— I think it would be better if you bailed.”

  She was about to blow up and tell him he was out of his mind if he thought she was going to run back to the States with her tail between her legs. Zasha and Darko were going to pay for their crimes, and she was going to be there when they were either apprehended or killed. It was her duty, but then she saw it for just a moment before he was able to mask it. His fear…for her.

  Aella could handle that kind of concern. Barely. But her anger dissipated. It was too much. Her breath jammed up in her chest. And all those feelings she’d tried to hold at bay came rushing through her, sending a fountain of need surging inside her. As if trapped by his gaze, she stared back at him, unable to break away—not really wanting to. She was so lost in his eyes, in the pulse-racing weakness.

  She hit a terrible bump, and everyone was momentarily suspended above their seats. The spell was shattered, and she tore her eyes from him and focused once again on the road.

  When she had the bus under control, she looked back at him in the rearview. He gave her a steady stare.

  Her heart pounding and her pulse thundering in her ears, she weakly rested her head against the seat. She felt as if she had too much blood in her body. Too much heat. Too heavy a response. She tightened her hands on the wheel, trying to bring her body under control. This was not supposed to happen—not all these primitive feelings, not this fever of need. She’d always considered herself a controlling person, hardly given into weaknesses. But she had a weakness now—hot, pumping weakness that made her whole body throb. This had all started out as a simple rescue mission—Saint rescuing her—but suddenly, it had gone way beyond that. Never had she wanted anything the way she wanted him.

  “I appreciate your concern, Zach. But there is no way I am going anywhere except after Zasha and Darko. They have a lot to answer for in the death of many ATF agents.”

  She moved her eyes to the road and off him. For the rest of this journey, it was best if she kept her mind on the road, getting to the rest of his team and finally locking down Zasha and Darko.

  Everything in her froze. There was a pinprick of light behind them. “Saint…someone’s behind us.”

  He immediately rose and headed toward the back of the bus. She glanced at the road and the side view mirrors almost constantly, but the light only got larger and closer.

  She already had the vehicle going as fast as she dared on these dark, uncertain roads.

  “Dammit! It’s a chopper and I’m going to guess it’s not friendly.”

  Warsame! He was after them for murdering his father. He was the only one who had command of a helicopter.

  “It’s Omar’s son! He must have sent them after us.”

  “Keep driving. Don’t stop for anything.” He knelt down and picked up something off the floor of the bus, then smashed the window in the emergency door with the butt of his pistol, clearing the glass. “Girls get down and stay down!”

  He went to one knee and brought something up to his shoulder. Then there was a whoosh of air and several seconds later the chopper exploded into a bright fireball in the sky.

  Even as she cheered, her heart sank. There was another light.

  “There’s another one!” she shouted.

  “I see it,” was his tense response.

  But this time he didn’t have a moment to spare to grab another RPG launcher. The chopper fired and hit the bus, jerking control of the wheel out of her hands. The percussion shattered the windows. The explosion spun the vehicle toward the side of the road, knocking it onto its side, sending her and the screaming children against the opposite intact glass. Below her, the metal windows chewed up vegetation as the bus careened out of control. Glass rained down on them.

  The bus hit something, the front crumpling as it was pushed into another direction. Before she knew what was happening, Saint was there, pulling her from the seat.

  “Get to the back,” he shouted.

  Her body protesting, her muscles sore and her skin sensitive, she climbed over the seats until she reached the girls. They huddled around her.

  They heard the chopper circle overhead and then bank for another pass. “We’ve got to get out!” she yelled.

  Just as they were about to move, the bus teetered forward.

  “Move to the back,” Saint shouted. There’s a sheer drop off. If you unbalance the bus, we’re going over.”

  Naval Support Activity Bahrain

  NCIS Middle East Field Office

  Juffair Bahrain

  Special Agent Nora Everly slipped into the data center. She approached Rick Erich’s desk. “Do you have those satellite photos I asked for?”

  “Sure,” he said, reaching for a folder on his station, knocking other images to the floor.

  “Way to go, oaf,” she said, and he let out a good-natured laugh.

  She bent down and scooped the photos up into her hands, but something bright caught her eye and she looked closer. Her mouth went dry, her heart jumping. “Have you had a chance to look at these?” she asked.

  “No, I just came back from my break. What’s up?” He turned to look at her and his features tightened. “Damn, Nora. What do you see?”

  “This looks like…like the special operations base in Somalia is being attacked.”

  “What? Let me see those.”

  The minute he looked at the images, his face went white. “You’re right. Some shit is going down there. Alert the boss.”

  Nora sat in the chair across from her boss’s desk as he tried to make JSOC understand they had a disaster playing out in Somalia. The images from the satellite had been horri
fic and clear. People…Somali troops and Americans were dying on the ground there.

  They had tried to raise the base from their end, but no dice.

  “How much longer,” she asked, looking at her watch. “It’s been thirty minutes.”

  The phone rang and her heart raced.

  When he answered, he nodded his head, then said in relief. “Good luck, sir.”

  Thebephatswa Air Base

  Botswana, Africa

  Kit “Iceman” Snow had just gotten into his bunk when his cell chimed, along with the phones of the other three men from his unit who were in Botswana to protect a team of Hot Shot firefighters training Botswana’s force on how to fight fires. He sat up and checked his screen. The other guys, Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael, Remington “GQ” Nash, and Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta all started to move when they saw the message. They were wanted in the briefing room a-sap.

  “Let’s move, boys.”

  Ten minutes later they entered, and their CIA liaison, unit liaison and commanding officer were standing in the front of the room. “Take a seat, gents. This is going to move fast.” He pulled up some satellite photos on the screen. “This is the special forces base at the Somalia airport.”

  “Damn,” GQ said. His sandy hair always looked perfect whether he was standing in the wind or after wearing a helmet for countless hours. He was the pretty boy of the group, and no one let him forget it. “What the hell is happening there?”

  “We don’t know. We can’t raise the base or…anyone for that matter. Not even the presidential palace, which also looks under siege. We’re going to drop you into the area. Your mission is to find and assist the SEAL team already on the ground.”

  “Their LT?”

  “Ford ‘Fast Lane’ Nixon,” his CO said. Kit swore to himself. That was the squad Neo “2-Stroke” Teller was in. The brother of their former leader, Dean “Striker” Teller.

  “When do we go?”

  “Now. There’s a perfectly good plane waiting on the runway for you.”

  Entebbe UPDF Air Force Base

  Entebbe, Uganda

  Milo “Professor” Prescott was the last man to step foot off the C130. He and his team were here to train Ugandan special forces in the newest counterterrorism procedures for recovering an aircraft taken by terrorists. It had been a long flight and even though he’d gotten some shut eye on the plane, his system was fucked from constantly crossing the globe.

  “Hey, do you think there’s somewhere around here where we could get some chow and a drink?” Zephirin “Gator” LaBauve asked.

  “Doubt it,” their LT Adrian “Rock” Lane said. “Besides the time difference, we have to report at 0600. Don’t get any rowdy ideas.”

  “Aw, Rock, you’re no fun,” Sam “Buck” Buckard drawled in his thick Texas accent, leaning on their very large teammate, Native American Dakota “Bear” Locklear.

  “Yeah,” Gator chimed in. “Laissez les bons temps rouler! Let the good times roll.”

  “Not tonight guys,” Rock said.

  His other teammates, Callen “Blitz” Berenger, Mateo “Zorro” Martinez, and Andrew “D-Day” Nolan, all turned to give Gator sympathetic looks.

  “LT has spoken,” Professor said.

  When they were almost to the barracks, Rock’s phone chimed. He looked down at his phone and said, “Change of plans, guys. We’re going to Somalia. Fast Lane’s team needs us.”

  “Somalia?”

  “Mogadishu, our brothers are in trouble.”

  “Fuck,” Gator said. “I’m sure there aren’t going to be any places where we can get chow and a drink in freaking Mogadishu.”

  “Amen to that, brother,” Buck said, “But those guys are going to owe us.”

  That put a grin on Gator’s face.

  Professor wasn’t smiling. His BUD/S brother was on that team, and if anything happened to him, there was going to be hell to pay.

  6

  Saint didn’t move a muscle until the bus stopped wobbling. He looked over to where the door was located and formulated a plan.

  “Aella, when I tell you to, open the emergency door.”

  “All right.”

  “No one else move. Go ahead and open the door.” He felt the vibrations as Aella shifted to reach the handle to the door, then he heard a thud as it opened, slamming against the bottom of the turned over bus.

  “All right. Do you see the RPG launcher?”

  “I do!” Yasmiin called out.

  “Can you hand that to Aella? Hurry.”

  There was again movement, and the bus jiggled a bit, but stayed stable.

  “I have it,” Aella called out.

  “Good. Set it down outside the door as gently as you can.”

  “It’s out and down.”

  “Okay, this is going to be the tricky part.” He shifted his position and adjusted his body toward the door of the bus that was above him. “When I say, jump out the door all at the same time. Can you all do that?”

  “Yes,” Aella said, echoed by five voices and one sob.

  “I’ve got Uba,” Yasmiin said.

  “All right. Hang on but get ready.”

  “Saint! The chopper’s coming back!”

  He had no time to finesse this. He reached for the handle and opened the door. The bus shook but stayed balanced. Pulling himself from the seat area, he crawled to the tilted floor, grasped the edge of the doorframe and pulled himself up onto the outside of the bus. He could see the chopper in the distance, and they had seconds to pull this off. He started to run along the side, then shouted. “Jump now!”

  He felt the bus tilt and increased his speed as a missile hissed away from the chopper headed for the front of the bus.

  When they all jumped off. He shouted, “Run! Run!”

  He saw Aella dip down then all of them were running for the nearby trees, thick near the river.

  The missile hit the bus and exploded the moment he got to the end. The concussion slammed into his back and propelled him off the edge of the bus. He fell to the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him from the impact and the explosion. With a groan the bus fell away from the cliff’s edge in a twisted metal fireball. He lifted his head as the chopper swung around to come in for another attack. He pushed up and ran for the trees. Aella waited there with the kids and the RPG.

  He saw men fast rope from the helo.

  He took the weapon from her and turned, rushing to the middle of the road, making him the preferred target. Going down to one knee for stability, he set the weapon to his shoulder, aimed toward the sky as the chopper came in low and fast right toward them. “Run,” he ordered, and they scattered into the deep cover of the trees.

  The chopper zoomed over him, banking to come in at him again. His eyes were peeled for the men the bird had set down. They were still far away and moving cautiously. The sleek helo came screaming toward him, guns blazing.

  Saint didn’t move as the bullets smacked the dirt all around him, two flew past his ear with a short whistle, the heat of one of them scoring his cheek. Through it all, his focus was crystal clear and locked on the chopper. He waited for the optimum time, then depressed the switch for the RPG. With a controlled jet of explosive energy, the shell exited the tube with a short violent sound. It hissed, the heat from the weapon warming his face and shoulder. The rocket struck the machine in seconds with a speed of 383 feet per second, detonating on impact.

  Saint discarded the empty shell, and pulled his weapon, immediately going to his belly. He scanned the area with his night vision goggles. The three men were coming at him straight on. Not the smartest choice, but they had no idea he was a special operator and downrange was his home. He belly-crawled to the darker side of the road where the fire from the bus and chopper were dimmer. Then, he rose to a crouch and flanked the three men, slipping behind them. With a burst of his weapon, they all went down.

  He took off back to Aella and the girls, suddenly feeling the effects of the bus crash. His legs felt heav
y, but he pushed through the quicksand-like feeling. He hadn’t blacked out in the bus, but his head had taken another beating. Couldn’t be good for the concussion he’d experienced from that very first explosion.

  He ducked into the trees and ran harder. They had to get out of this area tonight. The crashes pinpointed their location like a beacon. He had to contact Fast Lane as well and let him know they were now on foot.

  He scanned the area with his NVGs, then called out, “Aella?”

  She emerged from behind some cover, carrying Uba. The other girls huddled around her, clutching her shirt and jeans.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. He crouched down and pulled a flashlight from his pack, the medic in him kicking in hard. Before they were going to run like hell out of here, he needed to make sure they were all sound.

  He checked over each girl, found cuts, bruises and scrapes, but nothing more serious. He moved on to Aella. When he approached her, she just stared at him, her eyes a bit glassy. He cupped her face and made her look at him. She’d been through a lot in the last seventy-two hours.

  He caressed her cheek with his thumb, and she focused on him. “Are you all right, babe?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, her hand rising to his forearm where she curled her fingers tightly squeezing. “Just tell me what we need to do.”

  He looked down at the girls, then back up at her. “We can’t stay here. I know you’re all tired and banged up, but we have to keep moving. Our main priority is water. We need to find it and get hydrated. Then once we find somewhere to hole up, I can treat all your cuts and abrasions. Sound good?”

  Suddenly, Uba broke into soft sobs and before Aella could pick her up to comfort her, Saint had her in his arms. “What is it, sugar?” he asked.

  Her soft, sad brown eyes met his, and she buried her face in his shoulder. He looked helplessly at Yasmiin.