Dark Escape (DARC Ops Book 10)

by Jamie Garrett

  When she crawled back to look around, she saw the wreckage exactly as she’d heard it. Bodies lying in red smears along the sand. Several of them still moving, rolling over, flopping over red, and crying out. Men from her side began walking over to them, slowly, guns drawn and ready to finish the job if that was how the wounded men wanted it. It seemed entirely up to them.

  Sophia was looking forward to not making any decisions for a while.

  Declan had stayed back, pulling her away from the view and sitting next to her. An arm went around her shoulders. His smile was subdued but there. Hers was there, too, somewhere, likely hidden for the next few months after this fiasco. But looking at him, how his smile broadened despite the insanity, she knew her own wouldn’t take long to reemerge. She knew, likely tonight, with him, how their smiles might come together in a kiss. Sophia almost wanted to kiss him now, but he had his men all around him. Bodies all around them, too. None from their side, but still, it didn’t feel right.

  A few minutes later, after they’d secured the area, they brought her and Declan fresh bottles of water and rations packs. She stared at the food but couldn’t eat it. She’d been starved, frail and sick with hunger, but eating seemed impossible. Declan, on the other hand, ate readily, scratching the plastic with his little spoon, scraping it clean and then looking hungrily at hers.

  A wild trembling took over her body despite her attempts to stop it. He watched her and nodded.

  “Adrenaline. It’ll go away . . . eat,” he said. “Just try.”

  She looked at her meal that actually didn’t look or smell half bad. More spaghetti and meatballs, the same option they’d joked about in the mine shaft. Now it wasn’t as funny, her hand shaking slightly with the utensil.

  “Come on,” he said, “try, or they’ll stick a needle in you for an IV.”

  She took a few swigs of water, her hand shaking with that, too. Then she took a few gulps, feeling full with just the water. It was thirst that had been really getting her. The thirst had been everything, after rationing the water like she had, like Declan instructed. Now she wasn’t even that thirsty.

  She brought the new, full water bottle away from her mouth, letting it drop to her side as she leaned her head back against the metal. She breathed deeply and fought against tears.

  It was too late to be crying, she knew. They had gone too far and done so much. They had survived. No more tears.

  No more tears ever again.

  She looked at him with that concept in mind, with that promise. She could do that. Her eyes felt dry and sharp, focusing on the light of his face. His easy good looks. The idea suddenly occurred to her that she had never seen him anywhere else, in any other situation. Any other, friendlier surroundings.

  He would be hers, in their own country, in a familiar setting, wearing civilians’ clothes and doing civilian things, in their home. Doing what lovers do in her bed. She closed her eyes at his touch, and the desert melted away into nothingness as her mind finally let go. She was safe.

  24

  Declan

  Declan leaned his head back against the metal support wall of the helicopter, its vibrations boring into him and down his spine. After all they’d been through, it was a welcomed sensation. Rest . . . he could finally rest. The chopper carried him . . . carried them away from the valley floor. Finally. They had made it. The sound of the blades brought with them a sense of calm. It was certainly more calming than the automatic weapons of their last assault.

  But at the time, those sounds were the most welcoming he’d ever remembered. Funny how quickly things like that changed.

  He felt changed, different, sitting in this helicopter with Sophia, being whisked away, finally. He looked at her. She was beautiful, tired, weary, and dirty. She stared back at him lazily, her eyelids fluttering low and almost closed into sleep.

  The unit commander had called for a helicopter extraction to take them out of their most recent war zone. At least it had been a war zone up until a few moments ago. After Jackson had surprised the shit out of him when he’d appeared out of the middle of the mass of insurgents. His boss had been a Navy SEAL, a master of special reconnaissance and working behind enemy lines. Until that moment though, Declan hadn’t realized just how damn good he was. Thank fuck. One hidden DARC Ops sniper, and then a firefight later, and they were finally on their way home.

  Their extraction point was now nothing but a smoldering mess that Declan could still see half a mile up into the hair, black streaks along the sand. If he squinted and tried hard enough, he thought he could maybe see the bodies and the blood. But all it was just blackened mess.

  He was glad to be away from it.

  And so glad to be with Sophia.

  He looked at her now, his girl, fully passed out from exhaustion. Sleeping. Head rolling to the side as the helicopter banked a turn, her cute little mush of mouth against her shoulder. He figured he’d best leave her as she lay. The fact that she was sleeping now, so soon after the action, meant it was a type of serious and badly needed sleep.

  On the other hand, Declan felt far too awake. Maybe still charged up with adrenaline from the fight. From everything. Now that it was over, was all over, he’d let his nerves give in to the energy.

  He could only stay controlled for so long.

  Looking at Sophia, her body loose with sleep, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control it for much more after this helicopter ride and debriefing and whatever else stood in the way of him and her in the same king-sized bed. A different type of adrenaline.

  He watched her through the flight, not feeling an ounce of fatigue. Maybe it was just the thought of them alone together that was keeping him so charged and awake. Whatever it was, he enjoyed the view for the rest of the way to the base, all the way until the helicopter steadied and lowered, Sophia’s eyes opening with the change. He was glad to have caught that instant her eyes flicked open. Glad that he was the first thing she saw. He hoped that it would happen again, many more mornings just like that.

  Declan helped her out when they landed, Sophia not saying a word. Even if she had, he had none for her back. The feeling of touchdown, of feeling earth again under his feet—a safer earth—had now drained and exhausted him completely. And then inside the base, as he guided her through the maze of tight military corridors, his mind raced forward to wonder where that bed was. Just any old bed at this point. One he might even actually sleep in.

  But his first priority was getting Sophia to her bed. A hospital bed.

  The injuries she’d sustained through the mission had turned his stomach. Thinking about them now as they walked made him want to rush her faster to see the medic. But her injuries were her legs. Should he carry her the rest of the way?

  He didn’t ask, just did it instead, or at least attempted to. But she shot him down, blocking his arm away with a solid grunt.

  The grunt surprised him, animalistic and forceful. And he liked it.

  He tried asking her about—

  “I’m good,” she said. “I can do it. I made it this far, and I can do it at least the rest of the way.”

  The rest of the way was just several hundred feet. She could do it. And he let her do it, walking under own power to the end of two halls and then slumping down across a cot with a big sigh of relief.

  He felt the relief too, for her. For himself.

  And for the region, a country that had just gotten a little safer today.

  Declan pulled up a chair and sat next to Sophia’s metal-framed hospital bed, chatting with her until her voice weakened and her face went loose and sleepy again. Eyelids fighting it. Before she lost the battle to sleep, Declan stood from his chair, stepped over to her, and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  Then he walked out of the room without turning back.

  She was safe.

  Jackson met him with a handshake and an equally strong smile. “Good man,” he said, slapping the top of their handshake with his other hand. “Good man. You survived.”


  “I did?” Declan said with a chuckle. “I feel like I died three times already.”

  “And then you came back.”

  “So I did.” Declan looked once more at the surroundings of the camp. He’d only been there a handful of times during his campaign years. Never did he think he’d see it again, especially not during this “training” exercise with the DARC team.

  “Actually,” Declan said, “I’ll be surer that I’ve survived after the plane ride home. And not to the other base; I mean home. Home home.”

  “Me, too,” Jackson said with a smirk.

  Declan wondered how much extra action Jackson had seen over here, him and his men. He’d been out of touch with the rest of the team, though he assumed they’d had their fair share of adventures between the last time he’d laid eyes on his boss and now, likely up at all hours of the night, staying alert and awake and active almost as much as Declan had. Searching all over the desert for their missing brother. Declan could see that story written all over the worry lines still deeply embedded on Jackson’s wind-dried face.

  Then Jackson’s expression changed, easing back into the usual steady seriousness of the DARC Ops leader. He said, “How much rest do you need?”

  “What?”

  “How much? When?”

  Declan blinked hard. “What do you mean?” He wasn’t interested in any more extra fun.

  “The general,” he said. “Before we put this whole thing to rest, we’ve got to have a little chat with the general.”

  “Ironside?”

  Jackson nodded. “The one who sent Sophia on this little goose chase.”

  A smart man Jackson was, including Sophia in it, including the man who’d fucked her over. An observant smart man, who could tell that Declan had already fallen madly in love with her. He’d likely seen it happen to most of his men. He’d gone through it himself, with the great Mira everyone talked so much about.

  “You should be careful,” Declan told him, “sending me on a mission like that.”

  “It’s not a mission.”

  “Good, because I’m done with missions for a while.”

  Jackson smiled and continued, not giving that last thought any airtime. “It’s just . . . a conversation. A talk with Ironside.”

  “You should still be careful,” Declan said. “A conversation with him could easily escalate. After what he put Sophia through, I’d be the one to escalate it the quickest.”

  “I want you there because I know you won’t be intimidated, not after everything you’ve experienced. The other guys don’t know what’s really going on. Yet.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Cold and detached?”

  “You know Ironside,” Jackson said. “You know he carries a lot of sway. It’s not hard not to like the guy.”

  “I don’t like him,” Declan said

  “Good. So, let’s go and get this over with.”

  They moved together down the hall, Declan feeling more energized with each stride. More and more eager to get to the general, regardless of how far he’d go with his payback.

  Maybe the best payback would be something legal and aboveboard. Something that might at least begin the process of returning some legitimacy and honor to this specific corner of the military. A court martial with a harsh sentence.

  But of course, they’d have to somehow convince him to go to the trial, somehow legally without binding and dragging him. But Declan was up for it if need be. He was up for anything.

  He turned to Jackson and said, “Are we arresting him right now?”

  “We?”

  “What are we doing? You sure it’s just talking?”

  “A casual interrogation,” Jackson said without skipping a beat, his pace maintaining steady and quick down the hall. “A talk that might end up in an arrest if he gives the right answers.”

  “Or the wrong ones,” Declan said. “But who’s doing the arrest? You? I don’t get it.”

  Jackson stopped without a word at a closed door. A wooden door with a square, frosted-glass window. Declan saw no shapes or movement through the glass. While he looked, Jackson had reached over and knocked, and stood back, waiting without an explanation.

  A man in a dark military uniform answered the door, a black-and-white arm band around his bicep with the letters MP. He didn’t say a word.

  Neither did Jackson, nothing exchanged except for a nod.

  A moment later, with three military police officers in tow, Declan and Jackson climbed aboard a waiting helicopter and lifted off into the air.

  He didn’t mind that it was his second trip of the day. He didn’t mind having to do one last mission. It was something that he needed to do, if he was to get any sleep tonight. Any closure.

  Sophia needed it, too.

  It would be a nice gift to her, Sophia waking up in her hospital bed to Declan’s smile. His good news about Ironside. Their good news together.

  25

  Declan

  The chopper touched down at the Kandahar base half an hour later. Too short for a nap—if that would have even been possible—and not long enough to properly discuss the details with Jackson. He’d been warned about using the onboard radio for sensitive information.

  But there really wasn’t much mystery to it. Declan and Sophia had come to their conclusions about the general over a day ago. If the radio was working, he could have talked to Jackson about it, fill him in, who would likely corroborate everything. Declan was amazed that he had the resources in DARC to handle the legal case of Ironside, all while humping around in the desert looking for him and Sophia. There was that “multifaceted approach” that Jackson was always going on about.

  “You ready?” Jackson asked him.

  They entered the briefing room without their police. Jackson had told them to wait outside the door. The general, in contrast, had several other lesser-ranked members of his circle with him. They sat on either side of him, their strong, stoic faces almost intimidating Declan for a moment. He’d been taught all his life to respect authority figures, and these men were the epitome of authority. And he did trust and respect them—well, all but one. One, the bad apple. At least he and Jackson hoped that it was that isolated.

  “You’re here now?” Ironside said, annoyance streaked across his face. The men beside him were murmuring. “I thought you said you’d talk to Joan and book a time through her. That’s why we pay her, to take and make appointments. What are you doing?”

  Declan said, “We’re sitting down,” as he and Jackson took two chairs across the table.

  “I knew it was bad news,” the general said, frowning. The medals on his uniform gleamed in the light. “Anything involved with this guy,” he said, pointing to Jackson. “Anything with him, when he comes walking unannounced into your meeting, you know you’ve got a problem.”

  “Do you have a problem?” Jackson said.

  “I’m looking at one.” The general gave a brief glance to Declan, then said, “I’m looking at two, to be accurate.”

  The man next to the general coughed into a balled-up fist, cleared his throat, and let that fist drop hard on the table. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Archer . . .”

  “Yes?” Jackson said.

  “I don’t want to be caught up in your traveling circus. You got me? And neither does the general here, or the rest of these fine men. We understand you’ve done some great things, and we understand your father was a great man. But we also understand how you’ve made things ridiculous for a lot of people.”

  “Who?” Jackson said. “The people we’ve caught doing ridiculous things?” Jackson stared at General Ironside. “It’s not our problem that people do ridiculous things to themselves. It’s their problem. And in this case, it might be your problem.”

  “My problem is you marching in here like some cowboy,” the general said.“Both of you, like some Brokeback Mountain type fags. The only problem is how you’re conducting yourself and how much more tarnish you can smear over your father’s good name.” />
  Declan was surprised that Jackson didn’t immediately launch out of his chair, step across the table, and deliver a swift kick to the general’s face. Reality, like Jackson, stayed much more subdued, the DARC leader sitting calmly in his seat, hands loose and open in his lap. It was like he hadn’t even heard a word.

  The general seemed a little surprised, too. He took a breath. “So is that what you plan to do here today? Tarnish a great many people?”

  “It’s up to you,” Jackson said. “But I’m curious. Why are you assuming that I’m here for anything more than a regional status report?”

  “Because that’s none of your fucking business.”

  “It’s someone else’s business,” Jackson said. “That’s why I’m here, to collect intelligence and give a report.”

  “That’s why you’re interrupting my own intelligence report? Look at these men here. What do you think we’re doing? Playing checkers?”

  Declan looked at the rest of the room again. Stony faces stared back at him.

  The general was strumming his fingers on the table. He stopped suddenly and said, “So? What will it be?” And then, in a low voice: “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and get the hell out of here before this gets ugly, whatever it is.”

  “Sure,” Jackson said, shrugging. “I just have one question.”

  “Pardon me?”

  Declan couldn’t stay quiet a moment longer. “Do you by any chance know of a Sophia Sweeney?”

  “No,” he said, answering way too quickly. An odd look then came over his face, something tense and foul that made his upper lip curl. He turned to his men and said, “I’m sorry for this, gentlemen. I really am.”

  The man next to him said to Jackson, “Let me help you. Let’s go out in the hall and take a walk, and I’ll talk you out of making an even bigger ass of yourself.”

  “No,” the general said. “No, I want him alone. In here.”