by Pamela Clare
One raised a rifle, aimed in Connor’s general direction.
BAM!
The soldier fell to the ground, a round in his head.
Connor kept low and ran twenty meters to his right, dropped to a knee in a dense stand of bamboo, sighted on the man nearest Shanti.
BAM!
He ran again, this time taking cover behind an outcropping of rock.
Three down, three to go.
One of the soldiers ran for cover.
BAM!
Connor ran to his next position, raised his rifle—and saw that one of the two remaining soldiers had Shanti now. He hid behind her, using her as a shield, his pistol pointed at her temple. He wasn’t much taller than Shanti, making the shot tougher.
The soldier shouted something, his gaze searching the hillside for Connor.
Connor wished he had time to circle behind these two, but he didn’t. He was sure they’d gotten off a call to their commander and that enemy QRF were now inbound. He could handle six guys, but he couldn’t take on an entire army.
The two soldiers had apparently decided to get the hell away from here, one opening the door to jump behind the wheel, the other backing toward the driver’s side passenger door and dragging Shanti with him.
Connor aimed at the one climbing into the driver’s seat.
BAM!
The soldier toppled to the ground. The remaining soldier stopped where he was, pistol still aimed at Shanti’s head. But fear was making him reckless.
He shouted at Connor, panic on his face, the front of his pants wet. Had he pissed himself? “I kill her! Come down!”
Connor moved farther to his right, trying to get a clear shot.
Damn it.
Seeing no alternative, Connor stood, arms raised. “I’m coming out.”
The soldier’s head jerked around, and he pointed his pistol at Connor, releasing Shanti and taking a step in Connor’s direction. He seemed to realize that this was a tactical mistake. He fired at Connor, a single panicked shot, but missed.
Connor flipped the rifle over his shoulder, kept moving, aimed—and fired.
BAM!
Shanti collapsed onto the ground with a cry.
Connor ran to her. “I’m here, princess.”
“I knew … you would come for me.” Her left cheek was badly bruised, and she seemed dazed.
“What did they do to you?”
“Hit me… I struck my head… on a rock, I think.”
He checked her, found a bloody goose egg on the back of her head. There was nothing he could do about that now.
You shouldn’t have left her there. You should have picked her up and run.
He ignored that voice, focused on the moment. “We’re taking the vehicle.
Villagers were watching from the cover of trees, the males moving closer. Connor needed to get her out of here—now.
He scooped Shanti into his arms, carried her around to the front passenger seat, and buckled her in, grateful to see that the keys were still in the ignition. Then he ran around the front of the vehicle, stepped over dead bodies, threw his rifle and backpack at Shanti’s feet—and climbed behind the wheel.
From the distance, he heard the thrum of helicopters.
Shit.
He started the engine, gunned it. “Talk to me, Shanti. Hey, what’s your name?”
“You know … my name. You just said it.”
“Good enough.”
With one hand on the wheel, he pulled out the sat phone. “Shanti is injured—broken leg and a probable concussion. We’ve got a vehicle, and I’m driving as fast as I can. Where the hell am I going? The entire fucking army is bearing down on us.”
Shields gave him directions, using old satellite images superimposed on their location, the helicopters drawing closer. “Left just ahead and then straight on. You’ll have to cut across a couple of fields, but that will take you to the river. Team One is inbound in a blue fishing boat. DEVGRU is cooking up a distraction, trying to get those helicopters off your ass.”
That would be nice. If the helicopter opened up with a machine gun, they could take out the engine—or kill them both.
Connor took the left, saw the river up ahead. “Hey, Shanti, are you with me?”
Her head came up, and she looked around, clearly confused and in pain.
“See that? There’s the river. Just ahead.”
Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. They had maybe three hundred meters of fields and sand between them and the riverbank. But that’s why God had invented four-wheel drive.
“We’re going home?”
“Hell, yes, we are. Stay awake, because you’re going to have to swim.”
“I can swim.”
God, he loved her.
“That’s what you told me. Hang on. It’s time for a little off-roading.”
Shanti fought to stay conscious, her face throbbing where the soldier had struck her, pain splitting her head in two. “Is there a boat?”
What was happening? It was hard to pay attention.
“Yes, there’s a blue fishing vessel. Swim straight for it. I’ll be right there. When we get to the boat, we’re safe. You’re almost there.”
Blue vessel. Swim. Almost there.
Darkness dragged at her, tried to suck her down.
Another helicopter buzzed overhead, so close she could see soldiers with weapons staring down at them. It flew straight ahead of them, and for a moment, she thought it would set down in their path.
Then it abruptly gained elevation and veered to the south.
Connor chuckled.
“What’s funny? Where’s it going?”
“Remember the DEVGRU guys? They’re making trouble somewhere nearby.”
DEVGRU. SEAL Team Six.
Shanti must have drifted for a moment because the next thing she knew, Connor had stopped their vehicle.
“Unbuckle, princess. I’ll come help you out. The river’s right here.” He hurried over, slipped a strong arm around her, and lifted her onto her good leg, bending down to grab his backpack and rifle.
She hopped alongside him, one strong arm steadying her.
“We’re attracting some attention. Border Patrol. We need to go faster.”
But Shanti struggled to keep up with him, black spots dancing in front of her eyes.
Connor hurled his rifle into the river, shouldered his pack, and then scooped her into his arms—and ran.
A splash of water. Cold enfolding her, jarring her awake.
“Okay, Shanti, show me how you can swim. The fishing boat is headed straight for us. So is Border Patrol. We need to get to the fishing boat before Border Patrol reaches us, or it’s all over.”
Shanti kicked and cried out, pain shooting through her right leg, the resistance of the water pushing her foot back. She gritted her teeth, used only her good leg and her arms, and moved into the river, swimming as hard as she could.
“You’re doing great.” Connor encouraged her, kept pace with her.
The grinding sound of boat engines drew nearer.
She focused on the blue fishing vessel, the one headed straight for them, the one with the big, redhaired Scot standing at the prow with a rifle in his hands.
“Swim harder, Shanti!”
But the black spots were back, the world going gray, boats and guns and river fading into a dream.
“Shanti, you’ve got to swim now.”
Shanti looked into the eyes of a man she’d only seen in photos. “Uncle Abani?”
“Yes, I’m your uncle. I’m glad we get to speak at last. You’ve made us all very proud, Shanti, but you can’t give up—not now. This fight is not over.”
“I’m so tired.”
“Yes, but you have important work to do. Swim, Shanti. Swim.”
Shanti raised her head above the surface, coughed up water. She looked around, expecting to see Uncle Abani. But Connor was there.
“Shanti!” He took hold of her, turned onto his back, and swam
with her in one arm as if she had been drowning.
Had she?
And then the boat pulled alongside them, strong hands lifting her out of the water, laying her gently back on a stretcher.
“They’re on board,” Dylan shouted. “Go! Go! Go!”
“She’s got a broken right tibia.” That was Connor. “I think she’s got a concussion. She’s lost consciousness several times, and she’s in a fair amount of pain.”
“Shanti, I’m Doc Sullivan. I’m going to give you some morphine. Let’s get an IV going in case she’s got internal bleeding.”
“Two Border Patrol vessels coming up hard to stern.” That was Malik.
And they were moving.
“I’m cold,” she managed to say.
A blanket.
Connor took her hand. “You did it, princess. We’re about to cross the border. You’re going home.”
Connor held Shanti’s hand, watched the pain leave her face as the morphine autoinjector did its work, adrenaline still thrumming through his veins.
Leaving her had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. It had gone against every instinct he had—to protect, to defend, to keep her safe.
But she’d been right. Between villagers and those soldiers, he’d been outnumbered at least a hundred to one. He would have fought and died, taking civilians with him, and Naing would have her now. She’d bought time for him to reclaim the tactical advantage.
He still didn’t know exactly what had happened after he’d gone. There’d been ten unbearable minutes when she’d been out of his sight. When he’d next seen her, she’d been battered and unconscious.
The image of the soldiers groping her and striking her filled his mind, rage rekindling in his gut. But then he’d known they would hurt her. She’d known it too, and she’d been willing to endure whatever pain and suffering Naing and his men could dole out rather than watch Connor die.
I couldn’t live with myself if they killed you. I love you, Connor.
Good God.
She’d told him she loved him. He’d seen in her eyes that she’d meant it. He’d been so stunned by her words, and the situation had been so dire, that he hadn’t told her he loved her, too.
Does it matter what you feel?
The two of them didn’t stand a chance. She would be going back to The Hague, and he was headed to Denver, where he would probably lose his job and find himself working security at a mall. She deserved better than that. Besides, they’d just been through one hell of an experience together, and she’d been dependent on him. Her feelings might change after she’d been home for a while.
“I thought you’d lost the lass to the river,” McManus said.
“Yeah, I did, too.”
One minute, Shanti had been right beside him. The next, she had disappeared below the water. He’d dived for her, but hadn’t found her until her head popped up a good ten feet downriver where the strong current had taken her.
It had scared the living fuck out of him.
Two Navy SEAL RHIBs drew up on either side of them, and two corpsmen boarded with a litter.
“We’ve got her.”
But Connor didn’t want to let her go. “I’m staying with her.”
Everyone except for McManus, Segal, and Isaksen climbed onto one of the two RHIBs, which were heading toward a US Navy amphibious assault ship that was hanging out in Bangladeshi waters in the Bay of Bengal. From there, they would fly in a Chinook to Dhaka. The other three would take the little boat back to Cox’s Bazar and catch a separate helicopter to Dhaka with Shields and the geek team. They would all fly with Shanti to the Netherlands—provided the ship’s surgeon thought she was stable and strong enough for the flight.
“Hey, cabrón, go catch us some fish,” Cruz teased McManus.
“Go catch the clap,” McManus fired back.
Isaksen and the SEALs were ribbing each other.
“Vikings make the best seamen,” Isaksen said.
The SEALS laughed—and flipped him off.
Connor sat beside Shanti, holding her hand while the Doc and the corpsmen checked her vitals and did their best to keep her comfortable as the RHIB bounced its way over the waves.
Twice she opened her eyes and asked for him, looking terrified and confused. “Connor?”
“I’m right here. You’re safe now, Shanti. You’re going home.”
The boat ride to the ship took about an hour. The ship’s surgeon and Tower were waiting for them.
“Let’s get her below,” the surgeon said.
Tower clapped Connor on the shoulder. “You go, too. I’d like them to look at that graze wound on your temple.”
Connor didn’t object because that meant he could stay close to Shanti. While corpsmen did X-rays of her leg, gave her IV fluids, and checked her for a possible head injury, another corpsman examined both of his graze wounds.
“Those are good stitches. How long have they been in?”
Connor had to think. “Five days.”
“And you lost consciousness?”
“For about an hour.”
“No CT scan?”
“Not in the jungle.”
“You might want to get that checked out when you get home. The shoulder wound is healing well. It looks like you got lucky twice.”
From the other side of the curtain, Connor heard Shanti’s voice.
“Connor?”
That’s all it took.
“Thanks.” Connor stepped down from the exam table and pushed his way through the curtain. “I’m right here.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re on a navy vessel. As soon as you’re cleared, we’ll be taking a Chinook to Dhaka and then flying back to The Hague.”
“Another helicopter?”
He couldn’t blame her for being sick of them. “This one won’t crash.”
“I can’t believe we’re going home. I was so afraid the soldiers would kill you.”
“I’m a hard man to kill. What happened after I left you?”
She told him how she’d tricked the villagers at first into believing that she was just a tourist and how they had helped her—until the soldier had walked up with her photo on his cell phone. “He struck me. I think I hit my head on a rock. After that, it’s just bits and pieces.”
“You are the bravest, most beautiful woman I know.”
“I saw my Uncle Abani—the one who was killed in the genocide.”
“Your uncle?”
“One minute I was swimming, and the next he was there, beside me underwater, telling me to keep going.” Tears filled her eyes. “He said my family was proud of me but that I had to fight because I still had work to do. Then I was under the water, and he was gone. I kicked for the surface—and then you were there.”
“I thought I’d lost you. God, Shanti, I thought you’d drowned. One minute you were there, and the next…” Shit. “I’ve never been more afraid in my life.”
“Do you think my uncle was really there?”
“What matters is that you thought he was there, and it woke you up.”
“What happens now?”
He brought her up to speed. “You’ll be back in The Hague late tonight.”
“Do you remember what you promised me?”
A night of unlimited kisses.
He stroked her cheek. “I haven’t forgotten, but I might not be able to keep that promise. We’ll probably be leaving The Hague for Denver after you deplane.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah. I’ll have a lot of questions to answer when I get back.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“We’ll see. I broke some big rules.’”
“You don’t have to tell them what happened between us, do you? I won’t.”
“I won’t volunteer information, but I won’t lie.”
Sadness filled her eyes, her cheek bruised and swollen. “I’m not ready to say goodbye, Connor. I love you.”
He had to say it. He felt a moral obligat
ion to tell her. “You’ve been through a real ordeal. Adrenaline has a way of messing with people’s emotions. When you get home and life goes back to normal, you might not feel what you feel today. You deserve a guy who can share your life, not a soldier who’s gone all the time and can’t function in the real world. A month from now—”
“Don’t tell me what I deserve or what I feel. I want you. A month or six months won’t make a difference. Besides, there is no normal after this. This changed me. You changed me.”
Her words touched him, resonated with him. She had changed him, too. But he didn’t say that. “Give it time, princess.”
But she wasn’t finished. “You were right, Connor. You are a warrior. We need people like you who can stand up to dictators and warlords if we’re going to build a better world. I’d be dead if not for you—or locked in a prison cell in Yangon. Now I can prosecute Naing. I know you don’t do relationships, but I thought we at least mattered to each other. We do, don’t we?”
“Of course, but…”
Tell her. Tell her how you feel.
The moment passed, Connor’s inability to put what he was feeling into words leaving hurt and the agony of uncertainty on her face.
“Will I see you again?”
He didn’t want to let her down. “I don’t know.”
22
Drowsy from pain pills and exhausted, Shanti slept much of the way to The Hague, lying back in one of the reclining chairs on Cobra’s fancy jet, Doc Sullivan checking on her from time to time. The navy surgeon had set her leg, put it in a boot, and had given her crutches, the anesthetic he’d injected into the break long since worn off.
Connor sat beside her, brought her water and fresh ice packs for her cheek, and helped her get to the restroom on her crutches, keeping a professional distance, treating her like a client once again.
God, it hurt.
She didn’t want to get him fired, so she played along, doing her best to hide her feelings for him—and her heartache at having to say goodbye.
When you get home and life gets back to normal, you might not feel the way you feel today.
His words had stung, and yet she could see in his eyes that he cared about her, that this hurt him, too. No, he hadn’t told her that he loved her, but she couldn’t believe a man could be so caring and so damned good in bed if he didn’t feel something for her.