Hard Target (Cobra Elite Book 1)

by Pamela Clare

  A toothless smile on her face, she carried the baby out to the waiting area so his father could see him—and whisper the name of God in his ear, a sweet tradition known as the azan kawal.

  Jenna’s sat phone buzzed again. She peeled off her gloves, drew the phone from her pocket, and read his first message.

  Do not come outside! A mullah is here to speak with Farzad about you.

  Shit.

  Pulse racing, she scrolled to the second.

  Be ready to shelter in the safe room.

  “What is it, Miss Jenna?” Guli asked.

  “My brother tells me a mullah has come to speak with Farzad about me.” The students stared at Jenna in stunned silence that was broken by the whoops and shouts of celebration that came from the waiting area. “He says I should be ready to shelter in the safe room.”

  At those words, the students flew into action, apart from Lailoma, who was still tending to the woman and her newborn. The girls took Jenna’s hands, guiding her out of the hospital wing and toward the kitchen as if she didn’t know the way.

  It was like being carried away on a tide.

  “Get her to the safe room.”

  “Come now. Hurry!”

  “We will hide you there.”

  But this wasn’t necessary, was it?

  “He didn’t say I had to hide now. He just said to be ready.”

  “If you’re already down there, that is the best kind of ready,” Chehrah said. “Then we can go about our work and not worry.”

  Jenna couldn’t argue with that.

  She was touched by their concern for her. This situation was her fault. If anything happened to them or Derek or Farzad or any of the men…

  Then she remembered. “Someone needs to warn Marie and Delara.”

  Marie and Delara were in the OR with Zari and Parwana in the middle of another C-section—a woman with twins who had arrived with precariously high blood pressure.

  “I’ll go.” Guli turned and hurried back to the hospital wing.

  Even before she reached the kitchen, Jenna could hear the squeaking of the refrigerator’s wheels as Mina and Mahnaz admonished each other to move it quickly and quietly.

  In a blink, Jenna found herself staring at the safe room doorway. She had everything down there that she might need—light, food, water, blankets—but the idea of sitting down there for hours alone was unnerving.

  This is your fault. Deal with it.

  She pushed on the panel, and the door popped open. She reached in and flicked on the light then turned back to the students. “Don’t risk anything for me. If anyone is to suffer for this, it should be me.”

  She stepped inside and turned on the light, then locked the door behind her and walked down the stairs as the refrigerator was pushed back into place. She grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around her, and sat on a concrete bench.

  There was nothing she could do but wait.

  7

  Derek was relieved when he got Jenna’s message that she was in the safe room. He kept to the background, let Farzad do the talking. As an Afghan and a Muslim, Farzad could do far more to help Jenna at this moment than he. That’s why one of the first jobs of a Green Beret—or a Cobra operative—was to cultivate local assets, allies who would knowingly or unknowingly aid the mission.

  Farzad made the Mullah welcome in the barracks, the two making polite small talk over tea, dates, bread, and almonds before turning to the thorny subject of Jenna.

  “I am told by a man from my village that a midwife here, a Westerner, violated the rules of modesty to speak in the hearing of unrelated men. I came to hear the truth of this. We cannot allow outsiders or Western women to corrupt our culture.”

  Farzad’s men, who had not yet heard this news, reacted with outrage, the mood in the room turning ugly.

  “Is this true?”

  “She must be sent away!”

  “No virtuous woman would do such a thing.”

  “She is an infidel,” Hamzad said. “Why should any of you be surprised?”

  “Quiet!” Farzad silenced his men. “Let our honored guest speak.”

  The Mullah went on for some time about how women should behave, quoting the Quran and various teachings on the subject, while Derek quietly sent a text message to the team in Mazar-e-Sharif to be on standby. His mind raced through different rescue scenarios, but none of them held a high probability of success. He was outnumbered more than twenty to one. He would need additional assets—a chopper, ground support.

  What a mess that would make. Once bullets started flying, there was no way to make sure that only bad guys got shot. Innocent civilians would die, too—and all because of Jenna’s damned idealism.

  He got it. He really did. She hadn’t been able to let that girl and her baby die needlessly, so she’d done something about it. But actions came with consequences.

  The Mullah then told about several Afghan women who had spoken to men who were not relatives and who had been beaten or flogged for their immodesty. Not long ago, a woman had been shot by the Taliban in the neighboring Kunduz Province after someone had seen her talking to a man in front of her home.

  Over my dead body.

  Farzad listened to all the Mullah had to say, pondering his words, a pensive expression on his face. “I will tell you the truth of what happened here.”

  He told the Mullah the story—how a young wife had been in labor with a child that was too large for her to bear and how the Western midwife had told the girl’s mother-in-law to say to the husband that his wife needed an operation or she and the baby would die. “The mother-in-law didn’t repeat her message to the husband but instead chose her own words. The husband refused the surgery.”

  Then Farzad described how this midwife—he never said Jenna’s name—had opened the door just a crack and spoken to the mother-in-law. “She spoke respectfully, calling her ‘Grandmother,’ but there were men in the room, and they heard her. They grew angry and confused by this. But the husband, hearing the truth from her, changed his mind and allowed the surgery. His son was born through that surgery, and both the baby boy and his mother survived.”

  Derek waited, along with every man in the barracks, for the Mullah’s reaction.

  The old man stroked his gray beard. “She did not let the men see her?”

  “No, no. She opened the door just a crack so the mother-in-law could hear her. She said nothing in a flirtatious tone of voice, for her only concern was ensuring that the mother-in-law told her son the full truth so that she could save the life of the wife and baby. She does not understand our culture, but her brother, who is here with us and has lived in our country as a guest for a long time, has disciplined her.”

  Heads turned Derek’s way, but he waited for an invitation to speak.

  “Do you understand our words?” the Mullah asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “What can you tell me about your sister?”

  “She is a virtuous woman who cares for the lives of women and children. I was in the waiting room when my sister spoke through the crack in the door. If she had said anything flirtatious or disrespectful, I would have silenced her myself. She did something she shouldn’t have done, but she did it to try to save the young mother and her baby because the grandmother hadn’t been truthful.”

  The Mullah seemed to consider this. “If the mother-in-law’s words had not been corrected, the husband would have lost his son and his wife. Surely, that is a reason for gratitude. And, yet, we cannot have Western women who come as aid workers casting aside our ways because their culture tells them they are free to do so.”

  Everyone seemed to agree on this point.

  “We will not sacrifice our culture or religion for them,” Hamzad blurted to the approval of the other men.

  The Mullah went on. “The prohibition against women’s speech in the Quran is against complacent speech—words spoken without a thought for consequences, speech intended to incite lust or bring about flirtation. It does not s
eem to me that this midwife was complacent in her speech. Rather, she behaved recklessly out of a desire to ensure that the husband knew the truth of his wife’s situation. I cannot see a need to punish her more than her brother already has. If the mother-in-law had been more careful in passing on the message, this would likely not have happened at all.”

  “It is good to hear your wisdom in this matter.” Farzad was clever with his words, flattering the Mullah. Derek would give him a brand new M4 for this. “I will consider it settled then.”

  “God is most merciful.” Derek tried not to let his relief show. “I thank you for your understanding and wisdom. I will speak with my sister again to make certain she knows that you have been good to her today.”

  He didn’t miss the look of disappointment on Hamzad’s face.

  The men finished their tea and went back to their posts. Derek stepped outside, too, waiting until the Mullah and his men had climbed into their vehicle and driven away before texting Jenna to tell her that the danger had passed—for now.

  Jenna stepped outside, holding her headscarf in place as she hurried through the cold wind to Derek’s Land Cruiser, which he had parked inside the compound near the back door. Derek had said he’d waited until everyone was busy with evening prayers to talk because he wasn’t sure how Farzad’s men would react to seeing her.

  What had he meant by that?

  He pushed the front passenger door open for her, and she climbed inside. The engine and heater were on, so the vehicle was deliciously warm.

  One look told her he was still angry. “I have just a few minutes. What happened?”

  “I spent almost an hour today trying to figure out how I was going to get us both out of here alive without killing a whole lot of people.” There was a hard edge to his voice. “Thanks to Farzad, it all ended well.”

  Derek told her how someone had reported what she’d done to a mullah and how the mullah had come with a small entourage to find out if what he’d heard was true.

  “The mood in that room was pretty hostile. For a while, I thought it would end with them trying to drag you outside to flog you. I put our team in Mazar-e-Sharif on standby just in case. It worked out in the end, but only because Farzad knew exactly what to say—and because this mullah wasn’t an extremist.”

  Jenna’s stomach rolled. “What did Farzad say?”

  “He explained what had happened in detail. The Mullah agreed that you’d done something wrong but for good reasons. He decided you didn’t need to be punished.”

  Jenna wanted to roll her eyes. “Wasn’t that merciful of him?”

  “Actually, yes, it was—both merciful and wise.”

  Derek’s rebuke left Jenna feeling like a selfish, stupid child. Thanks to her, he’d truly believed he might have to go into combat mode to keep her safe. “Please thank Farzad for me.”

  “I already did.”

  “I’m sorry to put you through this.” She hadn’t meant for this to happen. “What should I have done—let the girl and her baby die? What would you have done?”

  “Hell, Jenna, I don’t know. This isn’t your country or your culture. Sometimes, it’s better just to let things take their course.”

  “Oh, that’s rich coming from you, the guy who fought in a war here. By that standard, you should just have let them flog me. There would be no fighting, no killing, no dying. This isn’t your country or your culture, after all. Don’t interfere. Just let things take their course.”

  His gaze bored into hers. “If you think I’d stand there and watch men beat you with rods until you were a bloody mess, you don’t know me very well.”

  His description sent chills down Jenna’s spine, but she held her ground. “If you can’t stand by and do nothing, don’t expect me to. My job is to save lives.”

  “My job is to end them if necessary—to protect you.” He cupped her cheek with a callused palm, his gaze going soft, his face inches from hers. “I admire and respect you, Jenna, but things here are precarious. I will back you up to my last breath no matter what for as long as I’m here. But please don’t do anything to push the boundaries, or I might not have any choice but to fight.”

  Jenna’s pulse skipped, her gaze dropping to his lips. “I-I didn’t ask you to come to Afghanistan.”

  “I know.” He leaned closer, brushed his lips over hers, once, twice.

  Jenna sucked in a breath, the contact sending jolts of pleasure through her. Then his mouth closed over hers, and he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, but it scorched her to her core, his lips exploring hers with deliberate tenderness.

  God, yes.

  He stiffened, drew back. “We can’t do this—not here.”

  Jenna knew what he said was true. If they were caught…

  Afghans kissed their close relatives, but not like that.

  He put both hands on the steering wheel and held on, his knuckles white. “You should get back inside.”

  She cleared her throat, clenched her trembling hands in her lap, her pulse thrumming, her lips still tingling. “You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” He glanced over his shoulder as if to see whether anyone was watching. “Your father threatened to make trouble for us in the Senate Armed Services Committee if I don’t bring you back. He wanted me to bring you home by force if you didn’t come voluntarily.”

  “What?” Jenna gaped at Derek, stunned. “That’s abduction. What did you say?”

  “I told him that it was illegal and I wouldn’t do it.”

  This was low, even for her father, and it hurt.

  “I’m so sorry, Derek. My father is such an asshole. Please don’t let him hold you or your company hostage over this.”

  Derek reached over, took her left hand. “It was the thought of you being Jimmy’s sister that got me on the plane, not your father’s threats. If I’d had a sister, I know Jimmy would have done anything for her. I don’t want to leave here without you, Jenna, not because of any threat your father made against Cobra, but because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to Jimmy’s little sister.”

  Jenna’s heart melted. “My father made you feel guilty about James, didn’t he?”

  She could see the answer in Derek’s eyes.

  Oh, the bastard!

  “My father is a manipulative jerk. It’s not your fault James died, and it won’t be your fault if anything happens to me.”

  Derek nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I can just walk away.”

  Still reeling from their kiss and from what Derek had told her, Jenna found herself at a loss for words. “I should go back inside. We’ve got two laboring moms and our two recovering C-sections. I just wish…”

  “What?”

  “I wish there was somewhere we could talk that was more private, where I could take off this headscarf and just be myself.”

  Liar.

  What she really wanted was to kiss him again—without risking their lives. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Hey, you don’t like my big, armored Land Cruiser?” Derek grinned, gave her hand a squeeze, released it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  During his years in combat, Derek had learned to fall asleep fast. He could sleep anywhere—in a foxhole, in a barracks surrounded by sweaty, snoring soldiers, lying on bare ground. But it was well past midnight, and he hadn’t slept at all, his body alive with unspent sexual energy.

  Jenna.

  He’d been a damned idiot to kiss her—not that it had been much of a kiss. He’d gotten only a taste of her before his self-control had kicked in. But now he couldn’t get her off his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, she filled his head—the auburn silk of her hair, her green eyes, the soft curve of her cheek, the minty taste of her lips, her sweet, floral scent.

  He wanted to kiss her—hard. He wanted to peel off those layers one by one and taste everything beneath them. He wanted to get her on her back and—

  She’s Jimmy’s little sister. She’s
your job. She is out of bounds.

  Yeah, well, someone needed to remind his dick.

  He’d broken a fistful of rules today, and now he was paying for it with lost sleep and frustration. Normally, he’d jack off and be done with it. But he couldn’t do that here with a dozen other men in the room. He couldn’t wank in the shower either, given that someone was always around. And his Land Cruiser? The damned thing had windows, and, thanks to him, there were cameras everywhere.

  Live with it, dumbass. It’s your own fault.

  And what about the shit he’d said?

  He’d seen in her eyes that his words had had an emotional impact on her, and he’d tried to tell himself that he’d only been doing his job, trying to get under her skin and bend her will so that it aligned with his mission. But the strange thing was that he’d meant everything he’d said. He hadn’t been trying to manipulate her. It was as if his mouth had opened up, and what he truly felt had come out.

  I will back you up to my last breath no matter what for as long as I’m here.

  Yeah, he’d meant that. He wasn’t afraid to die. Hell, he owed Jimmy his life.

  It was the thought of you being Jimmy’s sister that got me on the plane, not your father’s threats.

  He’d meant that, too. Nothing Senator Hamilton could have said would have made him budge if Jenna hadn’t been Jimmy’s sister.

  I don’t want to leave here without you, Jenna, not because of any threat your father made against Cobra, but because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to Jimmy’s little sister.

  He’d meant every word of that. When he’d arrived, he’d told her he would stay for a week. The week was up, but he couldn’t leave her—not yet. There was still a chance that what she’d done would blow up in her face. Also, the package he’d asked Corbray to ship to Mazar-e-Sharif hadn’t yet arrived.

  Yeah, whatever. It was all a bunch of excuses. The truth was that he wanted to be close to her. What the hell was the matter with him?

  Sure, he was attracted to her. He found a lot of women sexually attractive. But he’d never done this kind of shit on the job before.