Hard Target (Cobra Elite Book 1)

by Pamela Clare

  “How about ‘menstruation’?”

  “Not a chance.” A grin tugged at his lips.

  “Labor pains.”

  He winced. “I guess that’s just part of it, right?”

  “Right. Vagina?”

  His lips curved into a smile that seemed to draw the oxygen from Jenna’s lungs. “Oh, I like that word.”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. She’d meant this to be clinical, not sexual.

  She tried again. “Episiotomy?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “That’s when a midwife or doctor cuts a woman’s perineum—”

  “Okay, okay!” He held up a hand, palm facing toward her. “That’s enough.”

  Jenna laughed.

  He recovered, seeming to study her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, laughter having smoothed the roughest edges off her mood. “It’s hard to see things like this happen and not be able to change them.”

  He seemed to look past her, his gaze focused on nothing, his smile gone. “I get that. I first came here sixteen years ago to get rid of the bad guys. A lot of good people gave their lives for that cause. They’re gone, but the bad guys are still here.”

  James had died here, far to the south in Kandahar Province.

  Jenna shivered.

  “You must be freezing.”

  “I should let you get back to work. Aren’t you supposed to be guarding this place or something?”

  “I’m supposed to be guarding you. If the shit hits the fan, you are my sole priority.” He drew something out of his pocket. “I’ve been meaning to give you this.”

  It looked like a Blackberry with an antenna. There was also a charger cable.

  “A cell phone?”

  “It’s a secure satellite phone with built-in GPS tracking. We can send each other secure text messages and talk to each other. As long as this is on you, I’ll be able to find you no matter where you are.”

  “Why do I need this? You’re right here. So am I.”

  “I can’t come inside the hospital, and I need a way to reach you, a way to communicate that can’t be hacked or monitored.”

  “I might not always be able to answer.”

  “If this thing buzzes, answer it. I won’t call if it’s not important. I’ve programmed my number into the phone. Just press the number one.”

  “Okay.”

  Derek glanced at his watch. “I’m meeting with Farzad over lunch to talk over his security plan. I want to see if he’s got a strategy. Does the hospital have a safe room?”

  “Yes. The entrance is behind the refrigerator.” Jenna had looked into the cold, dark space with its wooden stairs when she’d gotten her orientation.

  “Good to know. Have you ever run drills?”

  “Drills? You mean, like, fire drills?”

  “No, I mean ‘shelter-in-place, bullets-are-flying’ kind of drills.”

  Was he trying to frighten her? “Not while I’ve been here.”

  “That needs to change.”

  “Farzad has been good to me—to all the midwives here. Please don’t run roughshod over the poor man.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be diplomatic.”

  “Good.”

  “I haven’t told him about my military background, by the way, so don’t slip.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Jenna turned to go. “Talk to you later.”

  He caught her fingers, gave them a squeeze. “Hang in there, Jenna. You saved a life last night.”

  For a moment, Jenna stood there, snared by the sympathy in his gaze. “Thanks.”

  He released her. “God, your fingers are freezing. Get back inside.”

  She turned and keyed in her passcode. She stopped on the other side of the door, leaned back against it, the fingers he’d held seeming to tingle.

  Oh, knock it off.

  She walked down the hallway and went back to work.

  Derek listened while Farzad explained the hospital’s security protocols, which basically amounted to Farzad and his men standing guard around the compound and checking everyone who arrived seeking medical help for weapons. The bulletproof steel gate remained open during the day but was closed at sunset and remained under guard through the night. Given the situation and the available technology, that was about all Derek could expect of these men.

  Derek knew it wasn’t his place to take ownership of the security operation from Farzad. Nor could he word any of his observations like criticism. He was an outsider here, welcome only because they thought he was Jenna’s brother.

  Still, he had a job to do.

  He chose his words carefully. “Would it help if I set up security cameras? I could set them up down the road in all directions and here on the building. We could put monitors in the barracks that enable you to see what’s happening at any time of the day or night. You would be warned if the militia or the Taliban should come this way.”

  “You brought such things with you?”

  “No, but I know where I can buy them.” In truth, he’d left gear and supplies, including security cameras and monitors, in Mazar-e-Sharif. He just needed to get them.

  Farzad considered his offer. “Security cameras would give us an advantage.”

  “Your men would be prepared.” Derek moved onto the next thing. “Jenna told me the hospital has a safe room for the women. Have you ever asked them to practice evacuating?”

  Farzad’s expression told Derek he thought this was a bad idea. “No, no. It would frighten them. Besides, the hospital is rarely empty. The women know what to do. If they hear gunfire, they are to hide.”

  So, wait for bullets to fly, and then duck and run.

  That didn’t feel like much of a plan to Derek, but he didn’t say so.

  “If you approve, I will drive into the city to get the security cameras.”

  Farzad sipped his tea. “I will send one of my men with you to help.”

  Derek didn’t like that idea, but he couldn’t refuse the offer. “How about Hamzad? He seems strong and capable.”

  Farzad lowered his voice. “Not Hamzad. He is the eyes and ears of The Lion.”

  Interesting.

  “I will send Dawar with you. He is a good boy, and he loves Americans.”

  “I thank you for your hospitality and your help—and for keeping my sister safe.”

  Ten minutes later, Derek headed off, driving on snowy, rutted roads toward Mazar-e-Sharif with Dawar in the passenger seat. The kid was thrilled and had lots of questions about the vehicle. He was also an open book, telling Derek all about his life.

  He was the only son of a widowed mother and took care of her and his four sisters. His father had been killed by a car bomb set by the Taliban. Dawar was grateful for this job, as it kept him close to home and paid enough for him to keep everyone fed and clothed. He hoped to find a husband for his older sister soon because she was sixteen and old enough now to marry. That would give him one less mouth to feed.

  “How many sisters do you have?” Dawar asked.

  “Just Jenna.”

  “Why is she not married?”

  Derek could only guess. “It takes many years of training to become a midwife. She is happy working.”

  “She would rather work than have a husband and children of her own?”

  Derek saw the confusion on Dawar’s face. “In our country, women choose their husbands. She hasn’t yet met a man she wants to marry.”

  “Does she still live in her father’s house?”

  “No.”

  “But who takes care of her?”

  “She has her own home and takes care of herself.” Derek glanced over at Dawar again. “Is there a reason you ask so many questions about my sister?”

  Dawar’s face flushed red.

  Yeah, that’s what Derek thought. Dawar had surely never spoken with her, and he’d never seen her without her headscarf. And yet the kid had a crush on her.

  She was a beautiful woman, so t
hat didn’t surprise Derek.

  What surprised him was the inexplicable urge he felt to tell Dawar to stay the hell away from her.

  4

  Jenna swaddled the newborn—a little girl—and laid her in the clear plastic bassinet next to her exhausted mother, who pressed her clenched fists against her lower belly, lines of pain on her face. It was Najida’s fifth child, so the cramps would be strong. “I’ll bring you some medicine for pain.”

  As she walked back to the pharmacy, she saw Nahal, Lailoma, and Parwana peeking through the kitchen curtains at something that was going on outside, headscarves drawn over their faces.

  “What is he doing?”

  Jenna filled out the paperwork for two oxycodone and carried them, together with a glass of water and a stool softener, back to the mother’s bedside. “Swallow these. They will take some of that pain away.”

  “Thank you.” The woman took the pills and drank.

  “You have a beautiful baby daughter. Do you have a name for her?”

  Najida glanced over at her new baby. “No. I have three daughters already. My husband wanted this one to be another son. He will be angry.”

  The baby gazed around at her new world, sucking on one hand, blissfully unaware that she was a disappointment to her parents simply because she’d been born female.

  The thought put an ache in Jenna’s chest.

  She wanted to explain to the mother that it had been her husband’s sperm and not her egg that had determined the sex of their children but stopped herself. “Rest.”

  Jenna walked back toward the kitchen hoping for some tea and found the three student midwives still staring out the window. “What is it?”

  “Your brother is up on the wall.”

  Jenna walked over, saw Derek standing atop the compound’s outer wall, looking to the south, tools in his hand. He pointed, said something she couldn’t hear.

  “What is he doing?” Nahal asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is he married?” Parwana asked.

  Jenna was about to say she had no idea but caught herself. She was pretending to be his sister, after all. She guessed. “No, he’s not.”

  With Farzad, Dawar, and a few others looking on, he straddled the wall and adjusted something. Jenna couldn’t see what it was from here.

  She went to her room, slipped into her parka, and walked out back.

  Under normal circumstances, she would never have gone outside in the presence of a group of men, but she had a chaperone now. Derek was her brother, after all.

  “What are you doing up there, brother?” she asked in Dari.

  He saw her, grinned. “Hey, sister. I’m installing security cameras. Farzad thought it would be a good idea.”

  Jenna turned to Farzad. “Thank you.”

  Derek acted like it had been Farzad’s idea, but she knew better. Somehow, Derek had talked Farzad into this.

  Derek jumped to the snowy ground and walked over to her. “Do you have time to talk? We can sit in the Land Cruiser.”

  There were three women in labor, but Marie was looking after them. None were close to delivering yet.

  “I have a few minutes.”

  She followed Derek to the Land Cruiser and climbed into the rear passenger seat.

  Derek turned on the engine—and the heat. “You could sit up front, you know.”

  “I suppose I could.” Respecting the culture here was her full-time job—if she wanted to help Afghan women. “You bought security cameras?”

  He looked back at her, nodded. “I picked them up yesterday afternoon. I installed cameras at the intersections of the roads to the east and west to give Farzad and his men warning if any militia troops or Talibs head this way. There are also cameras on the wall looking to the north and south, on the front gate, and in the waiting area. I still have to set up the monitors and teach Farzad and his crew how to use the system, but I should be done by this evening.”

  Jenna had to admit, at least to herself, that this made her feel safer. “Thank you.”

  He turned in his seat so they could speak face to face. “Are you having a better day?”

  “Four babies so far, all healthy. Thanks.” The concern in his blue eyes made her pulse quicken.

  God, you are pathetic!

  She’d known being here would mean two years of celibacy, so why did she explode into hormones every time she was around him? First his scent. Then the sight of his butt. Then his touch. Now his eyes.

  “I need you to do me a favor. Can you organize emergency drills for the women? Farzad is afraid that running drills will scare everyone, but I think you’re all tougher than that. He’s willing to wait till bullets fly and trust that you’ll manage. I’d rather see you get organized and practice, even in small groups. Keep it low-key, but drill.”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t sure how the others would feel about this.

  “You’ll want to make sure you’ve got food, water, blankets, whatever medical supplies you might need, and some kind of toilet. The siege at the midwifery school in Ghazni lasted most of a day.”

  A midwife had been shot in the head during that raid.

  “I don’t think we have blankets to spare.”

  “I’ll get some. I can get water pouches and halal MREs, too, if that helps.”

  “The army makes halal MREs?”

  Halal was the Islamic equivalent of the Jewish concept of kosher.

  Derek grinned, making Jenna’s heart skip a beat. “Hey, Uncle Sam thinks of everything.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Good. I’ll set the MREs and the water outside the back door and text you to let you know it’s there.”

  Then Jenna remembered. “Are you married?”

  Derek’s expression shifted to amusement. “Why do you ask?”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. “It’s not personal. One of the students asked me, and I wanted to make sure we’re not telling different stories.”

  “Smart. No, I’m not married.”

  Why this should please Jenna, she couldn’t say. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not really good at the relationship thing. I’m gone all the time, and I can’t talk about my work. That doesn’t fly with most women.”

  Not wanting to pry, Jenna changed the subject. “James told me some things—how grenades work, how helicopters stay in the air, how to load a magazine. He told me stories about the things you two did.”

  “Did he?” Derek didn’t sound altogether pleased.

  “Does that mean you have to kill me now?” The moment she said it, she regretted it. He almost certainly had killed people, and joking about it was insensitive at best.

  His brow furrowed. “God, no.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  It was his turn to change the subject. “How about you? Why aren’t you married?”

  “I guess I haven’t met the right guy. I had a serious boyfriend, but we broke up when he couldn’t change my mind about coming here.”

  Derek’s gaze held hers. “He must have been a loser.”

  You’re staring at him like a teenage fangirl.

  “Trenton was a brain surgeon, actually, but, yes, a loser. He loved his job more than he loved me, but when I focused on my career, he felt threatened. I’d been ready to end it for a while anyway. I didn’t even cry when we said goodbye.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  “Not one bit.” Jenna missed sex, but she didn’t miss Trenton. She glanced at her watch. “I need to go.”

  Derek caught one of her hands, held it between his two bigger ones. “Take those drills seriously, Jenna. I won’t be here much longer. You need to be ready.”

  “I understand. I’ll do my best.”

  Derek watched her go, then climbed out of the vehicle and got back to work. It was late in the day by the time he finished attaching the monitor and booted up the system.

  Farzad watched as images of the road, the mountain
s to the north and south, and the waiting room sprang up on the view screen. “What do you think?”

  Farzad grinned. “This is like James Bond.”

  Derek showed him how to toggle from camera to camera, how to shift to a full-screen view from an individual camera, and how to zoom in. “You can take photographs of license plates on vehicles or get a closer look at faces this way.”

  “What about nighttime?”

  “The cameras are infrared, so you will be able to see what’s happening in the dark, too. If the Taliban or a rogue militia group tries to sneak up on you, you will see their vehicles passing by and have time to prepare.”

  “This is good.” Farzad pointed toward the image from the waiting room with a jerk of his chin. “Why did you put a camera there?”

  “If someone manages to sneak weapons past the gate or comes here wearing explosives, you might spot it and have a moment to act before they do.”

  Farzad looked doubtful. “We would have to run from the barracks to the door, and by the time we got there, it might be too late.”

  That’s what Derek had hoped he’d say.

  Derek wanted an armed officer in that waiting area at all times. “What if your men took turns sitting in the waiting area as if they, too, awaited the birth of a child? If someone takes out a weapon or is wearing a vest, they will already be there—and they will have weapons hidden inside their clothing.”

  “Do you think such vigilance is necessary?”

  “After the attack on Ghazni, yes.”

  Farzad rubbed his beard, his gaze back on the screen. “Such a thing could not happen here. Inshallah.”

  “Inshallah.” Derek repeated the phrase, but, given the shit he’d seen, he put more faith in a loaded M4 than the will or mercy of anyone’s god.

  He finished teaching Farzad how to operate the surveillance system—how to check each camera to make sure it was live, how to reboot if the system went down, how to capture and save images from the view screen.

  Farzad was smart and learned quickly. “It is a great gift you have given us.”

  “You have given me the gift of your hospitality—and you have protected my beloved sister these many months. I am grateful.”

  When he had finished, it was time for evening prayer.