by Fiona Quinn
“Yeah. There are a lot more than that. The Davidsons pay them very well by Tanzanian standards. They’re all very loyal. The staff comes from a local tribe that has lived in the area for, I don’t know, a thousand years? And they want to stay on that land. They’re safe within the compound, have lovely servant’s quarters, all of their needs are met. I can’t imagine them allowing anything bad to happen there and upset that apple cart.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you.”
“If the tribal peoples let anything happen to the westerners there…well, their lives would change for the much worse. Their children’s too. London hired three teachers for their workers’ children. A primary teacher, middle, and secondary school. She’s set up college scholarships for the students if they pass their entrance exams. She’s very generous.”
“She sounds like a good friend.”
Ty dragged her computer closer. This was the first time he was getting eyes on the compound. Foxtrot and Echo would have even better satellite imagery. But Ty was interested in getting a feel for where he was heading—hopefully heading.
“I’ve never heard of unrest in the area. The animals are the real issue—the elephants, keeping the monkeys out, and snakes.” Kira turned and focused, skidding the cookie sheet of vegetables into the oven.
Ty surreptitiously slid a memory stick from his pocket and started downloading the photographic files. There were a lot of details in here that would be very helpful.
As he moved from photo to photo, Ty realized that the Davidson’s place had the same feel as the U.S. Diplomatic Mission in Benghazi, Libya.
Ty had been in Africa that September eleventh when Benghazi lit up. Not in Benghazi Libya, but Niger. Ty had merely seen pictures. But these photos on Kira’s computer brought up memories of that night.
It had been a hellish event, and he had Delta Force brothers in the mix.
With the news being broadcast on all channels back home, his parents heard the name “Ty” over the news and panicked.
He and Tyrone shared a shortened name Ty…that had hit Ty’s mom hard.
Ty couldn’t imagine the heartbreak of families who had lost loved ones that night and having that horror projected over the airwaves. He did know what it had done to his own family.
In the wee hours of the morning, in Niger, Africa, Ty was pulled from a sound sleep to the buzz of the phone. His dad was on the other end. “You have to help your mom,” he’d said.
“Look. Look, Pauline. He’s on the phone. Ty’s safe. He’s fine.” His dad held out the video connection for his mom to see.
Ty’s mother was lying on the floor in the foyer, bunched in the fetal position, her hands gripping at her heart.
“Talk to her, Ty. Keep talking.”
So he did. He recalled memories of the family. He talked about how he’d been accepted into the K9 handler training course and that he’d be home in the U.S. learning his new responsibilities.
The scene was overwhelming—to see his mom fold like that. She had always been a rock, his biggest cheerleader, and this... He couldn’t wrap his mind around how her fear for her son’s safety had put her on the ground.
“Keep talking, Ty,” his dad had whispered. “I have the ambulance on the way just in case, but I think this is an anxiety attack.” Then his dad got down on that cold slate foyer with his wife, wrapping himself around her.
Ty hadn’t noticed until then how white his parents’ hair had grown, how hard it was for his previously athletic dad to get down on the floor to comfort his mom.
When had they gotten old?
He wasn’t a talker, but Ty rambled on in the soft, soothing voice that was trademark for Unit operators. He had no idea what would help. He kicked doors. He drank beer and fired up the grill. At home, he was a good ol’ boy who hung out on the outer rim of the party. Watched. Enjoyed. Was part of and yet not. He’d always been that way.
And there was his mom, so upset when the news had said “special operations forces” and “Ty” that he thought he could very literally be breaking his mom’s heart.
She eventually got up off the floor, returning to her steady self. This was a new side of her he’d never seen before. Perhaps she had a public side like a sweater she pulled on, the thing that people would see—comfortable and warm. Underneath that, though, was terror.
Ty had seen that with his own eyes.
His mom was one of the few people in this world who knew what Ty did for a living—a dog handler for one of the most secretive specialized units in the world.
It was a burden he’d thrust on her.
That was a decade ago, and he’d taken that lesson to heart. He’d sworn to himself that he’d never ask a woman to live every day what he’d seen of his mom’s anguish that night.
Ty lived on a street at Fort Bragg with some of his Echo brothers as neighbors. He saw their wives. They were good actors, just like his mom.
Echo’s job. Their lifestyle. It put those he loved into distress and sometimes even physical danger.
Just last January, though, the Unit was in the crosshairs of a terrorist plot—a painstakingly laid out terror attack against Delta Force where they lived in Fort Bragg.
When the families were targeted, his friend Storm Meyers, now with the DIA, had discovered the plot and protected the Unit’s wives and children.
If Echo hadn’t saved Storm’s life, what would have happened to their own families these many years later?
Fierce. Strong. Level. Ty had run missions with Storm for years when she was still with the Army. Trained well enough to operate with special forces, Storm acted as translator. She patted down the women when the soldiers could not without putting the women’s lives at risk for allowing a man who was not their husband to touch their bodies. She talked to the women, gained their trust and their classified information.
Ty had been there at the end of her military career.
Out on a mission, Storm was the victim of an attack on her convoy—unconscious from an explosion. Omar Mohamed Imadi—who was still Abu Musab al Khalil at the time—had already been listed as an HVT (high-value target) by the Pentagon—took Storm captive. The mission to save Storm and the three other captives had been circulating in Ty’s mind and blood stream since White posted the pictures of Omar back at the base in Djibouti.
He couldn’t clear himself of the remembered sights and smells.
Of the horror and devastation.
For days Echo hunted the captured soldiers.
When they found the camp, Ty was the one to pull back the tent flap and found Storm bound, on her knees, with tears and vitriol in her eyes. They were trying to get her to read a poster. Anti-American, anti-troop, she’d refused.
Ty’s gun was fast. The blade at Storm’s throat was faster. With Ty’s triple-tap, the terrorist collapsed forward on top of Storm. Ty was at her side in a split second, pulling the terrorist off her. The terrorist’s dagger had pierced through Storm’s throat, the hilt had crushed her airway.
And while Storm blinked up at Ty, thinking that she had taken her last breath, and Ty was the last person she would see, Ty stabbed his own knife into her throat. It was a last-ditch effort—a Hail Mary.
His actions had contained zero thought.
There had been no time for deliberation.
The bullets whizzed over his head as he crouched over her. He used the tube from his camel water bladder to make a trach tube. Holding it in his fingers, sticky with gore, the taste of copper filled his mouth as he smelled the old penny tang of blood.
Now, Omar Mohamed Imadi was within reach.
Imprisoned, he could never plan and train his terrorist thugs to hurt people like Storm ever again.
Was Ty the kind of person who would put an untrained woman, tender and kind—someone like Kira—would he put a woman he loved into a position of fear and to possibly become a target like that?
The idea was a surgical assault. No one would even know Echo and Foxtrot were there. The s
ilent warriors. It required data and planning.
He would keep Kira safe.
If he wasn’t going to Tanzania on that plane, neither was she. He’d figure out how to preempt her trip if and when the time came.
If he was on that plane, getting the details his team needed, then he’d make sure Kira was clear before she was anywhere near a Delta operation.
Had he just thought “the woman he loved?”
Ty did not love Kira; he worked to convince himself.
It was a mirage, not a future marriage.
Just psyops fiction.
Ty had been warned to keep that both within his awareness and tucked away so that gentle, soft, intelligent, empathic Kira didn’t sense his duplicity and steer clear of him and his goal to get to the compound.
Ty needed to keep his head on straight.
He was here in Kira’s life for the sole purpose of manipulating her and taking down Omar Mohamed Imadi. Period.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kira
Ty had sat quietly at the counter, working from his phone while Kira had finished making lunch. They’d eaten companionably, then Ty had taken Rory out for some exercise.
Kira was starting to appreciate that Beatrice only needed the one walk and a few tosses of the ball in the afternoon.
Malinois were high-energy dogs.
She’d straightened up from their meal, having batted away Ty’s offer to do it himself.
And now, Kira was standing in the middle of her cleaned kitchen, watching Ty toss a ball in the air and Rory leaping over Ty’s head to snatch it from the clouds.
Those shoulders. Those thighs. That smile.
Kira’s libido had come to a simmer.
By the time Ty turned and headed back into the comfort of her air-conditioned home, Kira’s desire had come to a lusty boil.
When Ty walked through the door, he found her standing there with her fists balled; her arms were straight and rigid by her side, her eyes fierce and haunted. “I love having sex,” she announced loudly as if that thought had started as a pinprick that exploded a balloon.
The vehemence in her voice startled her, and her body jerked.
Ty stood very still. His muscles banded and rigid. His focus on her intense. She noticed it wasn’t the sexual intensity that she’d seen in men’s eyes in the past when she’d said, “Let’s go.” This felt…she’d characterize as soldier mode—protective and fierce.
It confused her, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Is it too soon for us to have sex?”
Ty said nothing. His eyes bore into her as if pulling away the packaging to see what was buried inside the present she offered.
It was the gift of her body.
Though, honestly, that was the way she’d thought about her sexuality before. She was sharing herself, her body, her emotions, her care—sex was a joyful gift. Had been a joyous gift experienced by both Kira and her boyfriend at the time.
To think that this might be it. That Ty might be the last pleasurable sexual experience of her lifetime was cataclysmic. As Ty just stood there looking at her, the full ramifications of the loss hit her, and tears streamed down her face.
Ty turned and shut the door.
Kira moved out of his line of vision, trying to tamp down on those thoughts, to dam the ugly crying back for a later time when she was alone.
Incredibly, this was it.
She’d be flying to Tanzania the day after tomorrow. Her uncle would be there, and she would be required to tell him what she’d decided to do—marry the stranger or lose her family.
She couldn’t lose her family. The thought was devastating.
Ty followed her into her living room, where she’d curled onto her sofa.
“I’m sorry.” She stretched her fingers wide. “Please—”
Ty sat down beside her, reaching out his hand for her. Instead of taking it, Kira moved into the open space made by his lifted arm.
He pulled her into his lap, tightly up against him, wrapping her in his arms—not sexually—protectively. He skated a hand down her hair. “It’s not too soon for us to be together, Kira.” His words were a warm whisper in her ear. “I want you in my bed. But it doesn’t seem to me like you’re feeling horny. This is something else.”
What could she possibly say to him?
“Ha!” Play it off. “I’m stressing out about the event. Obviously.”
“What’s really going on?” He repositioned so he could see her face, but she burrowed into his shoulder. She wanted to hide away from her destiny, and this felt so good.
No, I can’t tell you, Ty—well, I could tell you, but I won’t. I can’t imagine that you’d go to bed with me if you thought I “belonged” to another man.
“Oh, a bunch of things coming to a head all at once.” She swiped at her damp face. “These tears have nothing to do with you.” She laced her fingers and squeezed her hands. “I really enjoy your company. Honestly, I’ve wanted to be with you since you saved Beatrice at the ice cream shop. The kiss last night on the boardwalk. And watching you outside, I thought that I’d really enjoy being with you.” She realized she looked like she was praying or a supplicant. That was the wrong image to offer. She released her hands to her sides.
“Same. But why are you crying?”
She reached up to brush another tear away. “I’m just overwhelmed that everything for me will be changing. I’ll be moving to Qatar soon.” There she’d said it. It had been the truth for these last ten years, but until this moment, she hadn’t acknowledged that this was her future, and she’d have to adjust.
“That’s quite a sea change.” He tipped his head to the side, his brows bunched with concern. “When will that happen?”
Kira cleared her throat. “I’ll see my uncle in Tanzania. I’m sure he’ll tell me then what my family wishes for me to do.” Her mouth pulled hard into a frown; she couldn’t fight the corners of her lips into a neutral position. “And I’m terrified to go by myself—to Tanzania, that is.”
“I thought you were meeting London there.” He reached out and wrapped his hands around her shoulders, peering into her eyes. “What’s going on, Kira. Tell me the truth. How can I help?”
“You can’t,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I appreciate your listening to me. I just feel vulnerable, is all. I’m heading out to this remote place alone. My friend Lula has been sending me articles about unrest and attacks on Western women. She’s worried. And then, what you shared this morning… It should be okay. I won’t be out in the public sphere. Once I’m at the Range, I’ll hear my family’s wishes, as I said, about when they want me to move.” She looked around the room. “I bought my little house with my inheritance and have lived here for ten years while I was working toward my degrees. I’ve loved my house.” She raised an open palm. “It’s a lot to give up.” Then she laid her head over Ty’s heart.
“Do you have to?” Ty stroked his hand over her hair; it soothed her. “Could you not just go on extended visits?”
Kira was very still. No, she couldn’t travel back and forth. She would be married to a stranger of her uncle’s choosing, and she would be under this stranger’s guardianship, which meant, for the most part, that compared to her freedoms in the United States, she would be in a child-like position, again.
“Kira?”
“I am constrained by duty.” She looked up. “You have a duty to the Army and the United States. You go places you’d rather not go and do things you’d rather not be doing for the greater good. Mine is not such an obvious sacrifice, but it’s the same. I’ll move for my family’s sake.”
“Okay, I get that.” He put a finger under her chin and gently tipped her head back so he could look her in the face. He dropped a light kiss onto her lips. “Nothing I can do about your Qatari move. But perhaps there’s something I can do about Tanzania.”
Her brows pulled together.
“You said that you’d fly in, set up, host the dinner when London gets there, then you
and London are flying back?”
“Yes, then home to the United States. No matter what my uncle asks of me, I still have my affairs to wrap up.” She blushed hard at her word choice. “I have to sell my house and most of my things. Paperwork. Finances. I need to conclude my life in the U.S.” Again with the tears? She reproved herself. Though, she couldn’t make them stop.
Ty laid his hands on either side of her face and swiped the moisture from her cheeks with his thumbs. He held her gaze steadily. “I can come with you.”
“What?” Did she hear that right?
“To Tanzania. I have time. It’s just another passenger on the plane. You could call me security or translator. Can you get the paperwork changed to include my name? I could apply for a visa.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. Kira was afraid if she were too loud she’d realize this conversation was a fantasy. “A visa wouldn’t be necessary. It’s on the paperwork, me and my staff, food, flowers, and companionate dogs.”
“So Rory could go.”
“I don’t see why not.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Are you really offering to join me?”
“Yeah, sure. Why not? It’s an adventure.” He sent her a grin, but Kira knew that was for show. He was worried. And there was something more…
Her hands came over her mouth, she pulled her body in tightly. “Seriously?” she whispered.
Ty’s laughter was full of warmth. He seemed…bemused and charmed by her response. “Yeah, sure. Rory and I are up for an adventure.”
Kira wrapped herself tightly around his neck. Clingy, an inner voice warned her. But this would be her last relationship, her last opportunity to feel free and happy. Kira would cling to every moment possible. Drink every last drop of this heady brew. She would store every moment as a precious memory to carry her forward.
Ty lifted her hair back and smoothed it away from her face. “No more tears?”
“No more tears. Thank you. I would feel safer if you were there as my security. But once we’re in Tanzania, you have to understand that we can’t have a physical relationship. A Muslim area of the country and being unwed—”