The Protector

by Cristin Harber

  Begrudgingly, Chance acknowledged she might’ve made the right move. But he sure as shit wasn’t accepting it. He was the one who was supposed to risk his life for civilians. Mary Poppins wasn’t going to die on his watch. Protecting her was his job, and he’d failed.

  Chance took out his garbling earpiece and pulled on a headset. “HQ? You read me?”

  “Loud and clear, Midas,” Parker returned.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “Drop me back.”

  Next to Chance, Hagan’s chin snapped up. “Are you suicidal tonight, man?”

  “No.” He gnashed his molars, waiting for HQ to give him the go-ahead. He didn’t hear a word, and unlike his earpiece, the transmissions were clear. Chance readjusted his mouthpiece. “Drop. Me. Back.”

  “Negative, Midas,” Parker replied. “The current circumstances aren’t working for—”

  “Give me a break. She’s a civilian, and we’re not leaving an unarmed woman to fend for herself.”

  “No, we aren’t,” Parker said. “She’ll hang tight and we’ll send in another team.”

  “No.” Chance’s hands balled into fists. “I know the area.”

  Hagan put a hand on his shoulder. “They know what they’re doing.”

  Chance shrugged Hagan off. “There’s not a single reason to wait. Drop me back in.”

  “Negative,” Parker repeated. “We can’t let you risk—”

  “Damn it, Parker. If you don’t, she’s as good as—” Chance choked off dead when he caught sight of Teddy’s tear-swollen eyes locked on him. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice. “I need to do this.”

  No one spoke. Teddy didn’t look away. Chance felt like he might explode.

  “Midas.” Boss Man broke the silence. “If you go after her now, I don’t know when we can get back to you.”

  “That’s fine.” Chance could keep them safe until the team returned. “I told her to trust me. I said I’d be back.” He glanced out a window. Miles and time were speeding by. “I have to keep my word.”

  Eternity passed.

  “It’s your call, Midas.” Boss Man let out a long breath. “The odds aren’t good now or later.”

  “So we go now,” Chance requested.

  The transmission went silent.

  Chance waited, adrenaline flowing, hoping that headquarters was communicating directly with the pilot.

  Suddenly, their helicopter angled and circled round. Determination flooded his chest as he braced for the chopper’s hard turnabout. “Thank you.”

  “Roger that,” Boss Man said. “We’ll stay in contact, best we can. Until then, do what it takes to come back alive.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jane ran from the building, threading in and out of alleys until she saw a burned-out truck that looked familiar. Think, think. Where had she seen that before? Was that one different from any of the other burned-out and stripped trucks? Her brain was too tired to connect the dots.

  Maybe… maybe she’d seen it on the way from the airstrip. If so, hurray! She’d been going in the right direction. Dax had pointed toward the distance at a number of white tents. They were scattered as far as they could see. He’d said the tents were part of a refugee camp.

  And, hadn’t Dax said something about peacekeepers? She’d tuned out his attention-seeking conversations for so long, she hadn’t realized this time it would be important. Think… He’d said that they’d arrived at the same airport that UN and NATO peacekeepers had used. Hope squeezed her heart. Maybe there were friendly people at the refugee camp. She could find the peacekeepers and explain that she was American. They would help her. Or, if they didn’t, she could drop Dax Thane’s name, and maybe that would help her.

  Or, not. The Thane name could cause the whole disaster to start over again. She could be captured and put up for ransom again. There had to be good people there. Weren’t there always good people everywhere? Folks who didn’t want to barter, trade, or kill her? Was that too much to ask? The refugee camp was the safest bet… probably. Do you have any better options?

  Jane turned toward the building she’d been in, waiting one last minute for Midas to swoop in again.

  Then she waited another, more anxious minutes as a small-and-scary, but oddly contained fire blazed on one of the upper floors. No Midas with his night-vision goggles. No stealth helicopter with dangling save-the-day ropes. The refugee camp still seemed like the better option.

  Something small and furry skittered over her feet, and she jumped. Yes, a much better option.

  Jane trekked from the building, and the image of her hometown popped to mind. In all of her days growing up in Pensacola, she’d never once thought life would lead her to the opposite side of the world. What happened if she died here? Had she made any important contributions to society? Would she leave behind anyone heartbroken and missing her? Not really. Suddenly, the piles of money the Thanes had thrown at her in paychecks sounded like a pittance. The only good thing about that job still was Teddy.

  Jane headed in the direction of the refugee camp. Her travels took far longer than she’d estimated. Her feet hurt. Blisters rubbed her heels, and her tongue felt thick and dry in her mouth. Even with her slow pace, her muscles strained. But, finally, Jane reached the outskirts of this makeshift, ruined city.

  The open space between her and the camp seemed like no man’s land. Animals made unrecognizable noises. The darkness became impossibly darker, and the ground far harder to navigate. In some sections, she crawled on her hands and knees.

  Jane couldn’t guestimate how long it took to close in on the camp. The only sense of time she had was how the cover of night remained overhead. But she’d made it, and Jane collapsed in the shadows to catch her breath and work on a plan.

  Purple light warmed the dark sky, promising dawn would soon come. But even with the slowly brightening sky, she realized that the refugee camp wasn’t what she’d expected. It looked far less inviting with its seemingly unending chain-link fence topped by barbed wire. The barricade separated her from rows of pale tents.

  The tents were stacked on top of each other. They sprawled for as far as she could see.

  Cautiously, Jane approached the towering fence. For as large as the camp seemed, it was painfully silent. She didn’t see any signs of life. “Hello?”

  No one answered. Was it possible that every occupant was asleep?

  Or, maybe the entire facility wasn’t in use. After all, her information had come from Dax Thane. Not the most reliable source.

  She called again, “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  Jane slowly walked along the fence, but, despite her watchful gaze and careful pace, her breaths tightened. A mixture of wild anxiety and sleep deprivation pummeled her with doubt. How safe was a refugee camp? Why didn’t she listen to the news or prepare for this trip more than she had?

  Her fingertips ran along the rough, rusted fence, hoping to see a gate or friendly face.

  Finally, she found an opening in the fence that was large enough for her to crawl through. Would the camp be safe? Would Midas and his helicopter look for her there?

  She glanced over her shoulder and searched the sky for a helicopter. Nothing caught her attention, and Jane dropped to the hole in the fence. If another plan was to come to mind, now would be a good time…

  No other plans surfaced. She had to find someone in camp who would help her. How hard would helpers be to find? Jane pushed herself through the rusted fence and rolled to the other side. Her uncertainty grew as she sat up, somewhat surprised that she didn’t miraculously feel safer inside the camp.

  What next? She searched both directions, finding nothing new, and pushed herself off the ground. It was time to explore.

  The tents were as long as tanker trucks, but not nearly as high. She found that they were made of a canvas material and lined up in rows many tents deep. After she passed the front of several tents, deciding that the overlapped fabric served as doors, she picked one and carefully in
ched apart the heavier-than-expected fabric.

  Her nose twitched at the stale air. Rows of people slept, huddled on the floor or packed onto cots. She couldn’t imagine this many people living in this tight of a space.

  A baby cried deep within the tent, and Jane scrambled backward, suddenly terrified to be caught. Her plan hinged on helpers. How could she ask anyone for help when they didn’t have enough space to simply sleep?

  She hurried away and wound through the unending rows of tents, now knowing of families piled on top of one another, sleeping in inhumane conditions.

  Suddenly, Jane stopped. Which direction had she come from? She turned then spun on her heel again. I’m lost.

  You’ve been lost for a while, she reminded herself. But now, she didn’t know which direction to go in.

  The faint sound of footsteps crunching on rocky sand broke through her momentary paralysis, and as they came closer, her fear escalated. She bolted the opposite way. So much for her grand plan to find the helpers. She should’ve waited on the outside of the fence until she found a gate. Why had she snuck inside?

  She stopped again. Not because she wanted to. But her head was swimming. Jane ducked behind the far side of a tent and bowled over. Her hands rested on her knees, and she panted to catch her breath.

  An uncertain voice startled Jane. She jerked toward the voice. The quick move made black spots skew her vision, and she stumbled to the ground. Jane lurched back and saw a man towering over her. He barked angrily. She didn’t understand and couldn’t find the words to explain who she was and the help she needed.

  She choked over the dirt in her mouth, but finally managed, “I need help.”

  He motioned for her to stand, beckoning and calling over his shoulder. Time barely moved. She swayed on her feet, blinking sand from her eye as another man approached. This guy carried an assault rifle—he pointed it at her.

  “Help.” Her voice cracked, and she raised her hands. “I’m an American, and I need help.”

  Understanding crossed their faces. Grins tugged at their weathered faces, and in an instant, Jane knew that had been the wrong thing to say.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Her pleas for help remained unanswered, and their faces turned predatory. If they understood Jane, they didn’t seem to care. Another man joined them. He was also armed. Were they guards? Where were the peacekeepers she’d heard about? Hell, what were peacekeepers?

  With short commands and gestures, they made their orders clear. She needed to turn and walk down the aisle between the tents. Jane staggered forward.

  After another minute of walking down an endless lane of identical tents, they stopped. She sensed they were toward the center of the camp. After a moment of heated discussion, the man without a weapon pulled the flap of a tent open. The other man nudged her inside with the barrel of his gun. Bile tickled the back of her throat. She tried one more time—“I need help”—before stumbling inside.

  Her eyes had to adjust to the darkness—and then the bright flame when the first man struck a match. It flickered in front of his face. Jane realized that peace was the farthest thing from his mind.

  The flame settled on the end of the match, and he lit a lantern. An eerie orange glow danced on the canvas walls. This tent was far smaller than the others she’d peeked at. It was more like a portioned room that held a handful of cots, a makeshift desk, and trunks. She guessed it was some kind of officers’ quarters.

  What would they do with her? Both men studied her, doing nothing to ease her panic. They exchanged a clipped conversation, then, unexpectedly, left.

  She sank onto the packed dirt floor. Sand and grime coated the room. Jane waited. Time ticked. An eternity passed. Her eyes fought to close. Every part of her begged for sleep…

  The tent opened, and she jerked awake. The same men returned, and as they entered the tent, she saw the sky had changed to a morning light with teases of grays and oranges. Dawn! Sunrise! The new day arrived.

  Beyond this tent, Jane heard the camp coming to life. That had to be good news!

  The tent flaps parted, and a new man walked inside and greeted the others.

  The first man who found Jane yanked her onto her feet.

  Dizzy, she wobbled and groaned. When her head stopped spinning, she realized that the new man was speaking to the others. Unhappiness coated his words.

  As fast as she was jerked to her feet, she was dropped unceremoniously. The man who’d held her rushed from the camp.

  No one said another word until the man returned, seemingly apologetic to their newcomer. He held up a canteen and torn flat bread.

  Jane didn’t recall him offering them to her. She almost felt as though she stood next to her body, watching as she shoved the bread into her dry mouth and choked over the gritty water.

  Before she could appreciate the quench of her thirst, the newcomer reached for her. He gripped her jaw with one large hand and pinched until her jaw hinged.

  She cried out, gagging as his other hand hooked inside her mouth and yanked her head back, stretching her lips apart. Jane fought the hold but was too weak. The man peered inside her mouth and then pushed his fingers under her lips, as though he wanted to see her teeth and probe her gums.

  As if he was pleased to find she had teeth and a tongue, the man released her face and ran his fingers through her hair, tracing a pattern over her skull.

  “Stop.” She leaned from his inspection, but he easily shifted her to the side. “What are you doing? Stop.”

  He ran his across her shoulders and arms as an EMT might do while searching for an injury. He did the same to her legs. At her blistered feet, a long conversation ensued. She tried to jerk from their hold, but they held her ankles, still deeply engrossed over her raw, wounded feet.

  Then they let go. Jane sprawled on her back, staring at the top of the tent. They’d avoided her breasts, between her legs, and her backside, but they’d still managed to make her feel like an animal, rather than a person.

  They conversed as though she weren’t there. Did they think she was a spy? Transporting contraband?

  The conversation paused, and the men turned toward her. One shook his head. Another pursed his lips, and the others remained still.

  The newcomer offered a single word. Again, the first man shook his head.

  The newcomer pursed his lips and spoke quickly. Like before, the first man shook his head. But this time, he reached for Jane and grabbed her arm. She felt like Gumby, putty in his hands, and didn’t pull away when he positioned her fist above her elbow and then, with his other hand, squeezed her bicep.

  Each man studied her bicep. Her mouth soured. Dread rolled through Jane like a runaway locomotive. They were negotiating over her as though she were livestock.

  Her knees shook, and her stomach threatened to regurgitate the dry bread and water. But the faintest surge of adrenaline reminded her she wasn’t dead. Her pulse jumped erratically, and even though she was weary enough to faint, she closed her eyes until her mind cleared. Midas was coming for her. Somehow, someway, he’d harness that crazy determination that had been on his face and hunt her down.

  Goosebumps spiked at the back of her neck. She opened her eyes. Nothing had changed. The heated negotiations over her sale had their complete attention, but they were blocking the exit to the tent.

  Jane gripped the necklace around her neck. No one had thought to remove it, but the little knife wouldn’t be of any help now. It did, however, help her focus. She could picture her uncle training her in martial arts. She could see his face and hear her complaints when she was a child. He’d drilled her with repetition over and over again, promising her that her limbs would know what to do when her mind did not.

  She rotated her torso, spotted a target, then tornadoed her body with a roundhouse kick. The oil lantern flew across the tent. The fuel spattered over the cot and tent walls. When the glass shattered against the trunk, the flames were instantaneous. Jane sprinted out the tent door as the men flanked
the fire with furious shouts.

  She’d never been a runner, but her blistered feet covered as much ground as her legs could manage.

  It only took a moment before angry cries called out behind her. She cut a corner. The voices followed. Where was she going? Every row looked identical.

  Jane turned another corner and ducked into a tent. A group of women gasped and jumping away. She held up her hand, wanting help, needing them to hide her, but she could only gasp for breath.

  Outside the tent, a rush of footsteps pounded by. Every woman looking at her knew what the men were after. But they didn’t call for help.

  “Thank you,” Jane managed, and waited for the longest three seconds of her life. She ducked out the tent and ran the opposite direction.

  The morning sun allowed her to see small differences in the tents, to better catch the expressions on faces and assess enemies and potential allies. Despite that, she never stopped, still having no idea how to escape.

  Her heart slammed against her sternum, and its rapid beat drummed in her ears. She had to stop again or she’d drop dead. Jane slipped into another tent. Miracle of miracles, it was empty.

  Jane sagged onto her knees, too tired to continue and too scared to cry. She wiped away the sweat and dirt that coated her face. It wasn’t until a figure in a black kaftan robe stood directly in front of her that Jane realized she wasn’t alone.

  Enemy or ally? Jane slowly tilted her head back and met the dark eyes of a woman. A black veil framed her face, flowing into the layers of black fabric wrapped around her body.

  Jane weakly lifted her hands. “Help.”

  The woman roared and peppered Jane with questions that she couldn’t understand. She had no idea how to communicate but put her finger to her lips, begging for silence.

  Silence didn’t come. The woman’s voice grew louder with more authority. Clearly, she wasn’t an ally. It was only a matter of time before the men heard her warning cries. At any moment, Jane expected her pursuers to enter the tent. Then the woman stopped. Her dark eyes bulged as though she were waiting for an answer.