by Gennita Low
She nodded. “Come on.” She slipped under his armpit. “You’re swaying, so don’t say you’re okay. Lean on me. Walk!”
“I’m not leaning on you,” he said firmly, unhooking his arm from around her shoulders. “I can walk to that bush. No problem.”
Frustrated, she let him do it. She had had plenty of experience with macho males who refused to admit they needed help. When her father broke his leg, he’d acted exactly the same way. She watched as he carefully made his way to the nearby shrub, his gait stiff and measured.
“Yeah, sure you can, Frankenstein,” she muttered.
She made a face at the puddle of puke on the ground before following Lucas to the small area behind the shrub. With the heat coming on, it was good to be in the shade. She was worried at how much Lucas was perspiring. At this rate, he was going to be dehydrated in no time.
“I want you to drink more water,” she told him, crisply, as she rummaged in her backpack. “Here’s some mouthwash too, if you want to gargle.”
“I don’t need—”
He stopped in mid-sentence when she spun around and glared at him. Eyes narrowing, he took the mouthwash, obediently gargled and spat to one side. When she continued to stare him down, he took the small bottle of water and took a swallow from it.
“You aren’t well. I don’t want to hear your protests. Your face tells it all, mister,” she said, keeping her voice as matter-of-fact as possible. “So, we have to come up with a plan.”
He growled something back under his breath. His face told her it was probably something with some curses and he just didn’t want her to hear the words.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Me scared of Big Baby. We’ll rest five. You tell me what you’re feeling or I won’t budge for ten minutes.”
“I’d rather talk about that boy and that truck. They’re running from someone and we need to prepare for those people coming behind them.”
She nodded. She understood what he was implying but nothing was going to matter if he couldn’t walk straight, much less defend them from any coming danger. “That too. But first things first. Come on, time’s a-wasting.”
He gave a grunt of frustration. “I must have eaten something bad this morning,” he said and gave a shrug. “When you travel as much as I do, the tummy often doesn’t agree with the food.”
Kit frowned. “If you have food poisoning, then you’re going to be weak and dehydrated. You’re also perspiring a lot.”
Lucas impatiently wiped his forehead and studied the wet patch on his sleeve. “Yeah,” he said, sounding surprised. “I’ll keep drinking liquids, okay? But right now, if those people are really being chased by Taliban insurgents, we have trouble ahead. They’re going to see our van and if they stop to investigate and see any signs that we weren’t captured, they might decide to backtrack to look for us.”
“I took everything of value I could think of,” she told him. “Passports, licenses, the tablets, cash, weapons—”
Lucas shook his head. “Weapons! Why are they in the damned bag? We need them where we can easily access them.”
“Relax, babe, they’re in my backpack side pocket. See?” She showed him. “They aren’t powerful toys like yours but they’ll have to do.”
She handed the 9mm to him. He checked it and then gave it back to her. “I’m assuming you know how to use it,” he said.
She nodded. “Pretty good, but only target shooting.”
“Okay, but in a firefight, there is no controlled environment. They’re shooting back at you, so you won’t be thinking calmly about which part of your target to aim. Got that?”
She nodded again. It seemed so strange to be calmly having a conversation about shooting someone. “Are we...really...going to be in a firefight?”
He touched her lower lip with his forefinger and smiled. “In spite of your Wonder Woman status, I’m hoping to avoid that. I have my .45,” he said, “but ammo is low. If there is a firefight, we’re toast. All we can do is be prepared. The first thing is not to walk down the road until they pass us. Damn it, I wish we had some way to get hold of my team.”
“What do you think they’re doing now?” She asked.
“Hawk would take the team down to the camp once he knows there had been an altercation. There are several scenarios. If the fire was serious, Jazz, Mink and Dirk would be helping to put it out until the firefighters show up. They might leave then and come looking for us, which would be good. But there are several forks through the mountain borders. Unless he gets some help from people who saw us, he won’t have a chance guessing and will try to get Hawk to get some air support to see if they can find our vehicle or that other truck.”
“My team will come looking for me too,” Kit said. Sean would be worried about everything in the vehicle and want to retrieve them. “Surely they’ll search one route while your team goes the other.”
“Yeah. And they both might be searching the wrong routes while we’re here trapped with the Pakistani Taliban. It’s crazy in these mountains, babe. Everyone is fighting everyone. Who knows why they’re after that kid and his people, but what that kid was yelling to us was all military slang, like he had a message.”
“Lucas, he’s only a kid. Maybe he picked up the terms at camp and was just running through them because he saw a soldier in uniform.” She’d to admit the kid was scary intense with the delivery, though. “Just a thought.”
“But there was no doubt they were deathly afraid of their pursuers. Who are coming this way.” Lucas slumped against the tree, holding his stomach. “Fucking hell.”
Kit moved towards him, only to be pushed away by a big hand. He turned and disappeared into the thicker side of the bush. She shuddered at the horrible sounds of vomiting, followed by sharp, deep breaths, like a man trying to get air.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah. I’ll be out there in a sec.”
She lifted her head, listening. “I hear rumbling.”
His breathing was quieter. “I hear it too. Stay...where you...are.”
“Are you okay?” Stupid question. He obviously wasn’t and of course he was going to say he was fine.
As predicted, he said, “I’m fine.” He sounded hoarse, as if he was having difficulty moving and talking at the same time. “Stay where...you are. I can see...the road from where I am. We’ll know soon...whether it’s just another vehicle or...something else.”
Kit didn’t like way Lucas was talking so haltingly. She tried to look through the branches but the shrub was very thick. The partial gap she found gave a bird’s eye view of the road in front. The vehicle coming whooshed into view and was gone before she actually saw anything other than the fact that it was one of those huge SUV-like vehicles and there were two men hunched over the top with weapons. As soon as it went by, she made her way carefully into the darkened area Lucas had slipped into. It smelled acrid and she had to pinch her nose to stop from gagging. Then she saw him, slumped against a tree in a weird position. She suddenly realized he was unconscious and hurriedly stumbled towards him.
His face felt fiery. “Lucas!” She lightly swatted him on the cheek. “Lucas!”
No response. He was much too big for her to even attempt to move. She had to get him up and about. Uncapping the bottle of water she had in her hand, she poured it over his face and bent down.
She needed to do something. She couldn’t let her fear for Lucas win over logic. There had to be a way. Closing her eyes, she channeled her father, the drill sergeant, and shouted, “Cucumber! Get on your feet, you lazy bag of bones! Why are you lying on your back? Get up! Get up before I put my boot so far up in your ass we’ll both end up in the hospital! Cucumber! Up on your feet and attention! What fucking kind of SEAL are you, anyway?”
She almost fell on her back when Lucas flipped over and jumped to his feet. He saluted and yelled back, “Standing and ready, Sir! We are standing and ready SEALs, sir!”
She didn’t know what SEAL team he was on, so she
just made it up, substituting her father’s Airborne unit, “Hey SEALs from left to right, Hey SEALs, we’re out of sight, we’re trained to fight, we’re trained to kill, if you can’t do it, we damned sure will! Motivation, dedication, graduation, teamwork! Left! Right! Left, left, right!”
To her relief, her on-the-spot cadence worked. Lucas started—she wouldn’t call it marching—putting one leg forward and then, the other. But he was following her lead back out into the open air, where she could at least check on his status.
“Come on, soldier, left, left, left, right, left! I don’t know but I’ve been told! Green grasshopper has a red asshole! One, two,” she sang, still channeling her father, “sound off, three, four, sound off, one-two, three-four!
“Who the hell taught you that?” Lucas asked.
She glanced back at him. His face was pale and his eyes were intently on her feet, as if he needed to follow her footsteps.
“No, don’t answer me,” he continued, “And don’t break out into any fucking Airborne Ranger cadences. I’ll vomit again. Violently.”
“Hey, army brat, you know. My dad’s a drill sergeant and boy, did he know how to get my brothers and me out of bed. Well, not with the bad language, of course. That came from hanging around army folks too much.” She stopped at a spot that was still shady but was a bit higher than the previous one. “You’re going to sit here and drink more liquids while I climb this tree.”
He frowned. “Why? Are you planning to hide us there if those guys decide to backtrack? Because we’re going to need a hiding place. I counted eight of them in that ATV, maybe nine. At least four were carrying machine guns.”
She swallowed and tried not to show her fear. “You saw all that and fainted from fright?” she quipped.
He grinned. Her heart did a slow somersault. He managed to look sexy-hot even though he still seemed ready to fall over any second.
“Smart-ass,” he said. “I was so unfazed by those guys, I decided to take a nap, that’s all. But some loud howling about a boot up my ass woke me up. That kind of threat usually gets a man’s attention, you know.”
Kit felt her face heating up. She did yell out some horrible threats, all courtesy of watching and listening to her brothers beating each other up.
“Did its job,” she said. “I’m climbing up the tree to see where we are. I have a tourist map in my backpack—”
“We aren’t going on a scenic tour, Cupcake,” Lucas cut in. “We need to get out of here.”
She shook her head. “Will you let me finish? I have a map that someone local has marked for me all the places to avoid. I remember he mentioned caves that have been abandoned by the Taliban that were near the camps. If I can see one of the tourist landmarks from up high, I can figure out how close we are to them.”
He stared at her for a moment. “There’s nothing to see up there but more trees and the main road,” he told her.
“I know, but I’ve also done research on the web. Aerial research because I enjoyed the view of the Swat Valley rivers. I bet, if I can figure out where the river is, I’ll recognize a few things I’ve looked at from those aerial views. Then I can locate them on the tourist map and we can...oh, will you just let me do this? It’s going to take them half an hour to reach our van and if they stop to search...we have just enough time. Okay?”
He sighed. “Go ahead. I’ll just lean against this tree and hold it up.”
She grinned at him. Freaking macho man wouldn’t admit it, but she wasn’t going to let him know she suspected he was having a hard time standing on his feet right now. “Don’t...take a nap while I’m up there. That’s an order, sailor,” she said.
She pulled off her skirt. His dark eyes narrowed at sight of the pair of tight boxers underneath.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “Those legs have my full attention.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
SNAFU. Situation all fucked up. Lucas looked at the pair of luscious legs climbing above him. Long, silky legs. Toned and tanned. Attached to a pair of pink boxer thingies that clung to hips and other female parts. SNAFU turning rapidly into FUBAR.
He banged his head against the tree. What the hell was he thinking, letting her climb up a tree, her ass all but naked, in the middle of the freaking Afghan-Pakistan disputed war zone? He must be out of his fucking mind.
He looked up again and caught a glimpse of Kit’s ass as she wriggled through a tight spot. He closed his eyes for a second. He was letting that woman get away with every hare-brained idea without even putting up a fight.
And his food poisoning excuse was only half the problem. He knew full well something was fucking up his system and bad food wasn’t the cause. He rubbed the area where he’d been stabbed the night before. It was radiating heat while the rest of his body felt icy cold.
His whole head hurt as if something was eating his brains out. He tapped his forehead against the tree trunk again. He could not afford to lose focus. He couldn’t believe he fainted. Fucking hell. He was leaning against the damn tree for support. He straightened up stiffly, using one hand to steady himself.
Kit was right. They needed to get to some sort of shelter before he lost all ability to protect her. Then what? He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.
If those fuckers stopped to check the van—and they would because of the grenade—it wouldn’t take them long to make some educated guesses about who had been in the vehicle. He’d glanced around while helping Kit pack. There were tons of clues they’d left behind. English-language newspapers. Music CDs. Articles of clothing. Kit said she’d gathered most of the important stuff in her bag, but still, in their hurry, they could have left something.
He nudged the small pink suitcase with the toe of his boot. He frowned, trying to remember whether Kit climbed the tree with her backpack on her. She did, didn’t she? Why didn’t she leave it down here with him? Granted, it wasn’t a huge sack, but it would certainly impede her movement. And if she slipped.... He looked around for it. Nowhere in sight. Damn it.
Cucumber, you’ve got to start thinking ahead or you’re going to get both your sorry ass and hers killed.
He was the experienced one here. She was counting on him to get them back to that camp. He had to stay vigilant, have eyes on the back of his head. Kit had never been in this country, where everything could blow up at any second, where there were so many factions fighting one could end up making the fatal mistake of helping the wrong side. Like that truck being chased. Who was that kid and why did he yell out those odd messages that most American troopers would understand? Was he just crazy from this sickness or did he hear some kind of warning in that boy’s voice? And why the hell was the Taliban chasing after them if the kid was just mouthing nonsense?
He needed to try to decipher the words and see if they made sense. This fucking pounding in his head wasn’t helping. He slammed the side of his fist against the tree trunk in frustration. Think hard, you jackass. Anticipate ten steps ahead. Act towards goal.
One thing was for sure. Kit and he couldn’t walk down the main road. He was sure his team was out looking for them already so it was just a matter of staying safe until they saw Jazz’s truck. Or maybe they’d radioed in for choppers, especially if they’d taken the wrong route and couldn’t find them. Of course, they wouldn’t know the two of them were now on foot. Their first assumption would be that he and Kit were still going up into the mountains.
He frowned. No, surely his team would also know, sooner or later those assholes would shoot at the van to stop them from following. Maybe they’d expected him to turn around and so they were waiting down there. Except they knew Kit was the one who had been driving.
His gut tightened from nausea. Unless he stopped feeling like this, it was best to get them out of the main road and just sit and wait. He would just be a liability to Kit.
Kit. His little Drill Sergeant Cupcake, leading a pussy asswipe who couldn’t stop puking his guts out because of some damn infection.
Now she wanted to head to the caves. He knew about them, the abandoned ones by enemy insurgents after a crushing defeat by Pakistani and US forces. They were put under surveillance by the local government for a while but that was two years ago. He knew the local government troops weren’t that vigilant, so that area wouldn’t be one hundred percent secure. But there could be some kind of way of communication there, if they were nearby. That was the problem—he had no idea how far away they were. It wasn’t a bad idea, except Kit thought she could find them. By climbing up a tree. In her boxer panties.
He groaned out loud.
This was so, so fucked up.
* * *
Shahrukh studied the cloudless sky. The mountain view was spectacular today and from this privately-hewn ledge, he could see for miles. Some of Zerya’s Kurd guards had recognized him and given him a lot of freedom to roam here. To them, he was still one of the chosen sons of the famous elder who had won all those glorious battles for them. His father was descended from royal blood and had expected Shahrukh to carry on, even though, as a youth, he’d never even known what life outside the United States was when he came to live with his people.
Shahrukh nodded at the guard and waved him away. The other man disappeared into the background without a word. He gave a small reluctant smile at how quickly his wishes were obeyed among relative strangers. Just because they saw him as something akin to their leader. Just because his father’s legendary exploits gave them the impression his lost son would have the same qualities and the same inclinations. Even though he’d been gone for a few years, the oral tradition of passing down history and bloodlines made it impossible to be invisible among his own tribe. They knew of him and would treat him accordingly.
He took out his small satellite phone, turning the switch from cell to satellite signal. In these mountainous regions, where quick communication was impossible, it was probably one of his most valuable assets. His was issued by his agency, specially built to look inconspicuous, with an ability to scramble signals as well as other special capabilities. Here, in the hidden caves near the beautiful Swat Valley, using the device to talk about secret operations, special weapons and government agents made him feel like he was Batman. Amusement bloomed and the corner of his lips reluctantly lifted. Prince Batman. He’d have to request that as his code name when he returned to Center. So much more cool-sounding than boring Number Four.