Breaking Point

by Lindsey McKenna

  “A Taliban girl,” he said, surprised. And then his face changed and became hard. He walked around Bay and reached out to grab at the jacket Bay had put on Asifa.

  “Stop!” Bay growled, grabbing his wrist. She glared up at Granger. “She’s badly injured. Don’t touch her. We’ve got a medevac coming in to take her to Camp Bravo.” The man’s face went icy.

  “You have no authority here, doll face,” he said, jerking his wrist out of her fingers. “She’s ours now.”

  “Like hell she is,” Bay said, holding his glare. “I’m the medic. I’m in charge here, not you.”

  The second CIA guy, blond hair and hazel eyes, shorter than Granger, came around and stared at his boss and then at Bay. “Hey, let’s take her and get the hell out of her. It’s ass-freezing cold up here on this ridge,” he grumbled.

  “You’re not taking this girl anywhere,” Bay told him. She felt Asifa stiffen in her arms, her eyes growing huge as the two large men hunkered threateningly over them.

  Granger snarled, “She’s ours, doll. Now remove your arms and stand aside. We’re taking her for interrogation. She’s the only one left alive in this group, and we need to know what she knows.”

  Bay stood, moving in front of Asifa, her hand closing over the butt of the SIG. “That’s not going to happen. She’s my patient. And until I release her to a doctor at Camp Bravo, you’re not going to do anything. She’s got life-threatening injuries.” Bay saw Granger get angry, his hands ball into fists.

  Gabe came around to shield Asifa. “Okay, Granger, stand down. A medevac’s on its way and you can wait until the doc at Bravo approves of you interrogating her.”

  Granger gave him a hard look. “Griffin? Right?”

  Gabe smiled a little. “Want me to spell it for you?” He knew what Granger was implying. He’d remember his last name and the next time he was on a patrol and needed a drone, it would somehow, inconveniently, be slowed down in coming on station to help them. That’s how people like Granger got even when someone pushed into their little fiefdom.

  Bay felt the tension grow. She heard Asifa sniffing, fear in her eyes. Her disgust over Granger’s behavior made Bay angry. Gabe was calm and collected, standing near her shoulder, relaxed.

  “She’s Taliban, dammit!” Granger suddenly shouted. He made a move to pass between them to grab the girl.

  In one swift movement, Gabe lifted his M-4 and poked the barrel into Granger’s chest. The CIA agent made a grunting sound, knocked backward, nearly losing his balance. He instantly grabbed at his sternum beneath the Kevlar vest he wore.

  “She’s Doc’s patient,” Gabe said quietly. “Now respect it.”

  Cursing, the CIA agent snarled, “You’re in trouble, Griffin. Big-time.”

  Shrugging, Gabe glanced over his shoulder. He could hear the medevac coming in. He looked over at Bay.

  “Is she ambulatory?”

  “Yes,” she breathed softly, moving behind him to gently bring Asifa to her feet.

  Gabe watched the CIA agents back off. Granger’s face was crimson and it made his freckles stand out even more. Gabe turned without a word, placed his arm around the girl’s waist opposite Bay and helped her slowly up the rocky slope to the path.

  The medevac landed below the ridge, and as Bay helped the girl climb into the helo, she felt Gabe’s hand on her shoulder. The blades were whirling nearly at takeoff speed, the wind buffeting them. She turned, looking into his eyes.

  “Go with her. Make sure she gets put into the dispensary system, and stay with her. Don’t let her out of your sight, because Granger will try and grab her. Chief Hampton is calling it all in right now. When we get done here, I’ll come over to get you and see how she’s doing.”

  Giving him a tight smile of thanks, Bay nodded. The air crew chief held out his hand to her and hauled her into the medevac. The door closed. Bay focused on Asifa, who was lain down on the litter, the other medic covering her with a number of blankets to keep her warm. Bay hooked into the inter cabin system and gave the other two medics Asifa’s medical condition.

  The gravity pushed them downward as the medevac quickly lifted straight up and then banked, moving rapidly down across the slope, quickly gaining altitude. The shaking and shuddering felt calming to Bay as she placed an IV in Asifa’s left arm after cleaning it off.

  She could tell how scared the girl was. She’d never ridden in a helo before. The other two men were strangers and in Asifa’s culture, men did not touch her; it was forbidden. Bay took over any tasks that were needed because she was a woman and Asifa would be more trusting of her and less frightened.

  Within ten minutes, they were landing at the dispensary in the center of Camp Bravo. Two orderlies and a gurney were brought up and Asifa, under many blankets, was gently transferred to it. Bay hopped out, her medical ruck slung over her right shoulder, the M-4 across her chest. She kept a hand on Asifa’s blanketed arm, the blades whipping gusts of wind around them. She was glad she had the knit cap on her hair or it would have flown all over her face.

  Moving through the doors and into the dispensary, Bay saw a woman doctor approach, a U.S. Navy lieutenant commander. As they wheeled Asifa into one of the curtain cubicles, Bay gave her all the information.

  “Commander Johnson? This woman is to be treated as a prisoner,” Bay told her. “The CIA wants to talk to her.”

  Johnson, who wore a white lab coat, in her forties, smiled kindly over at Asifa, who was looking around, frightened. “This girl was found out there from last night’s attack?” she demanded.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bay said, remaining at Asifa’s side. “I have orders from my chief to stay with this woman. I speak Pashto, and I can help translate.”

  “Good to know,” Dr. Johnson murmured. “I speak enough to get into trouble. So Granger is out there snooping around? Causing trouble as usual?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The woman’s face grew grim. She moved the flashlight beam across Asifa’s eyes. A nurse placed an oxygen mask across the girl’s face and Bay explained to her that it would help her breathe easier.

  “Well, Doc,” Dr. Johnson muttered in a warning, “you will remain with this prisoner at all times. Those spooks think they can do anything they want around here and get away with it.” Her mouth thinned as she placed the flashlight in the pocket of her lab coat. “But not in my dispensary.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BAY REMAINED WITH Asifa throughout the examination process. The young girl was emotionally spent, dehydrated, starved and distraught by the loss of her brother. Bay felt very sorry for the Pakistani girl. Dr. Johnson looked at the X-rays and said, “Can’t tell if she’s got a punctured a lung or not. My guess is she does, but we need an MRI to prove it and we don’t have that kind of equipment here. We’ll tape them and keep her on an IV of nutrients, Ringer’s lactate, oxygen and let her get some sleep. She’s exhausted.”

  Bay nodded. “And where will she be taken, ma’am?”

  “We have a room over there.” Dr. Johnson pointed out beyond the closed blue curtains. “I’ve had the nurse inform the Marine detachment here. They’ll be guarding her twenty-four hours a day.”

  “And then what?” Bay was worried that Granger would take things into his own hands. She was horrified at the thought of Asifa being waterboarded. She was no terrorist. Not Taliban, either. All she was doing was trying to make money to buy food for her starving family.

  “She’s under my orders and command,” Dr. Johnson said, looping the stethoscope around her neck. She smiled a little. “Get your chief or LT to give you permission to keep yourself here with her at all times. I’m going to do some finagling and call a surgeon at the Bagram Hospital. I want her transferred there immediately. An X-ray won’t always show a punctured lung, but her breathing and her oxygen levels are down, indicating a lung rupture.”
>
  Relief moved through Bay. “But she’ll still be treated like a prisoner of war?”

  Nodding, Johnson pulled the curtain aside. “Yes, but we have a professional interrogation unit at Bagram who, shall we say, plays gentle with someone like this girl. She’s no terrorist. She’s just caught up in something she didn’t fully understand. More than likely, they’ll let her go once she recovers.”

  Unlike Granger’s heavy-handed methods, Bay thought. “You’re her guardian angel, ma’am.”

  Dr. Johnson chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “No, Doc, you were. I heard the radio transmissions out there on that ridge after your chief called for a medevac.” Her lips twitched. “You’re just what this girl needs—a big, bad 18 Delta guard dog combat corpsman. Nice job protecting your patient out there. Stay close to her, okay, Doc?”

  Managing a grin, Bay nodded, relief flowing through her. She stepped out of the way as two orderlies got ready to release the brakes on the gurney and take Asifa to the private room across the way.

  Bay told Asifa what was going to happen. The girl was dazed and in shock. She licked her lips and nodded, her eyes closing. The nurses had done a good job of cleaning Asifa up, but her hair was filthy. Bay asked for the equipment to wash her hair for her once they got her to the security room. It was the least she could do for the grieving young girl. Asifa had no idea how much trouble she was in. Bay made the call to her Chief Hampton and received permission to remain with the Pakistani girl.

  * * *

  GABE ARRIVED AT the dispensary near dusk. He’d been told Bay was with the young girl they’d found on the mountain this morning. He saw two Marine guards at the door. After Gabe gave his name and unit, the guards stepped aside. Opening the door, he walked in. The young girl slept on the bed, an IV in each arm. Bay sat nearby in one of two chairs.

  She looked up, happiness brightening her face as she saw him quietly enter the room and shut the door. Gabe smiled a little hello, moving to her side. Taking the M-4 out of the sling, he set it nearby and pulled up the other chair. He made sure the chair wasn’t too close to Bay. She looked tired.

  “How’s Asifa doing?” he asked quietly, gazing over at the girl.

  “Okay. Dr. Johnson, who took care of her, has been pulling all kinds of strings to get Asifa taken to Bagram for care.”

  Nodding, Gabe rubbed his eyes, weariness stalking him. “Good, because I’ve been hearing those two CIA guys are raising hell back in Washington about that little incident out there on the mountain slope this morning.” He wiped his dirty hands across his cammies. Giving her a concerned look, Gabe added, “They’re pissed.”

  “Is this going to blow back on you and me?” she asked. Bay stared at his mouth, which sparked her own desire. Gabe was emotionally scrambling, unsure of how to stop his feelings from reacting to her.

  He shrugged. “Oh, this isn’t the first rodeo we’ve had with these two spooks.” His mouth curved ruefully and he held her worried gaze. “This is a game to them. Chief Hampton knows this girl isn’t Taliban. I told him what she’d said to you out there on the slope. She’s just a kid caught up in something way over her head. Her reasons were okay, but the group she picked to carry them out with wasn’t.”

  “That’s true. I talked to her earlier here in the room. She’s so naive. She didn’t know her brother was carrying fertilizer or that it was used to make bombs.”

  Nodding, Gabe leaned his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped between them. Just being with Bay was filling him with a joyful, light feeling, erasing his exhaustion. She’d done nothing to make him want more. “Did you ask if she was carrying one of those bundles of fertilizer?”

  “Yes, I did. She wasn’t. She tried to carry a bag, but it was too heavy for her, so she came along to keep her brother company. He’s the one who carried the bag.”

  Nodding, Gabe said, “That’s what I thought. Damn, she’s skinny.”

  “Starved,” Bay said softly. “They’re starving to death in those U.N. camps.”

  “War’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Gabe twisted a look toward her. Bay’s eyes were dark with concern and he could hear the emotions in her voice. His gaze fell to her lips. She had a beautiful mouth, and sadness moved through him. He’d never get to kiss her, to taste her mouth beneath his.

  “I’ve gotten so I hate war,” Bay said, strained. “War never decides who’s right or wrong. It only decides who is left to remember the atrocity of it.”

  Rubbing his bearded chin, Gabe nodded. “But we stop the bad guys. And that’s what counts.”

  Bay suddenly heard men’s raised, angry voices outside the room. She instantly tensed and sat up. So did Gabe.

  He rose. “Stay here.” He held out his hand toward her to indicate she remain seated. He walked over and picked up his M-4 and opened the door.

  Bay saw Granger and his buddy trying to threaten the two Marine guards standing in front of the door. The rage was evident on Granger’s face. He wasn’t hiding it from anyone.

  “Now, you let me in there, goddammit,” he breathed in fury at the Marine sergeant in front of him.

  “No, sir, I cannot,” he growled back, glaring at the spook, his rifle up and across his chest.

  Gabe came and stood between the two Marines. “What’s your problem, Granger?”

  Eyes turning black with fury, Granger snarled, “Go to hell. I’ve got authorization from Langley to interrogate that Taliban girl. Now let us through!”

  Gabe moved his M-4 from his right hand, unsafed it and put a bullet in the chamber and held it across his chest in an unspoken “no.”

  Granger huffed and puffed. He was a good six feet three inches tall, heavily muscled and knew how to intimidate. The only problem here was he knew he was intimidating the wrong person.

  The Marines held their ground, unimpressed. Gabe smiled a little. “As I understand it, Granger, you have no authority in a hospital matter. Dr. Johnson is the person you ought to talk to, not us. Asifa is her patient. Why don’t you take her on?”

  Granger’s nostrils quivered as he glared at the guards and then at him. “This isn’t over, Griffin. Not by a long shot and you know it! You and these jarheads are assholes.”

  Gabe calmly watched the two CIA dudes spin around on their heels and go hunt up Dr. Johnson. He was surprised their heads didn’t start rotating three hundred and sixty degrees, too. He grinned a little at the Marines, who grinned back. Gabe walked back into the room. Asifa had slept through the whole thing. He wasn’t surprised; the girl had almost died out there on that mountain last night and was still in deep shock over the horrific experience.

  “Wow, that dude is out of control,” Bay murmured after he quietly closed the door. “What’s going on between the two of you? It looks like you have some history with each other?”

  Sitting down, he cleared and safed his M-4 and said, “Granger and I go a long way back. It’s nothing personal. He thinks because he’s the head spook out here at this FOB, he should be treated as the head god of Bravo in general. LT Brafford routinely puts him in his place and Chief Hampton has tangled with him a couple of times, too. Granger isn’t well liked by anyone stationed here. He’s arrogant, pushes his weight around and tries to intimidate everyone that gets in his way. He’s a tiger without teeth.”

  Grinning, Bay chuckled over the picture Gabe drew of the CIA agent. “A toothless tiger. Could have fooled me. Out there this morning, I was sure he was going to push me out of the way to get to Asifa.”

  “Yeah,” Gabe said, watching Asifa sleep, “he was going to do that and that’s why I stepped in.” He gave her a sideward glance, his mouth hitching upward into a feral smile. “Granger doesn’t respect women.”

  “No kidding. I was facing him. I saw it.” She rubbed her brow. “I wasn’t sure what to do, Gabe. He’s a bully.”

  “If there’s ever a next time
, just pick up your M-4 and punch the bastard in the chest like I did. Hit him in the sternum because there’s a mass of nerve endings there, and when you get punched there, it can take you down to your knees, screaming, in a heartbeat. That’s why you need to learn CQD. He got my message. If nothing else, Granger does respect power.”

  “Great, we have a war going on between them and us. Isn’t one war enough for everyone?”

  Chuckling darkly, Gabe said, “The CIA thinks they own everything. They can’t help it. You have to pity the poor assholes. Granger is a field agent, which is bad news for everyone. CIA field agents are pretty damn squared away and we work well with them most of the time. Granger is an exception.”

  Bay tried to keep her laughter quiet. When she dropped her hand, she said, “I’m starving to death. Is there any chance you can stay here while I run over to the chow hall? Maybe bring you some food back, too? Plus, those Marines out there haven’t eaten, either.”

  Warmth moved through his chest. Bay always thought about others. He held her soft blue gaze and felt his heart pound to underscore just how badly he wanted her in every way. “Yeah, grab me half a pizza? I’ve got water on me. That’s all I need.” I need you. The words damn near flew out of his mouth. Stunned, Gabe compressed his lips, in shock. How easily Bay reached out and touched him.

  Rising, she pulled on her knit cap and hoisted the M-4 over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back....”

  * * *

  THEY HAD JUST finished eating dinner when Dr. Johnson entered the room. She didn’t look happy. The doctor shut the door and grimaced.

  “Doc Thorn, I need a big favor from you.” And then Johnson shifted her gaze to Gabe. “You, too, Griffin.”

  “Yes, ma’am?” Bay said, standing up. Gabe remained sitting but alert toward the doctor.

  “Griffin, call your LT and ask if I can have the two of you fly this girl to Bagram right now. I got those two spook jerks trying to run my show, and it isn’t going to happen. They get more joy out of screwing over their own people than sending up those drones to kill our mutual enemy.”