by Grey, Helen
Gunfire erupted from the trees, and from more than one gun. Had Jax brought his friends? I didn’t know what would happen, but chances were I was going to get hit by a bullet.
I held my breath, then, in a panic, tried to escape Ajmal’s grasp. I stomped my right foot down on his, struggling mightily in his arms. I tried to maneuver my hand toward his groin. If I could, I would grab hold of his balls and squeeze; squeeze so hard that he’d be forced to let me go. Unfortunately, he seemed to sense what I was attempting and turned slightly, his left hip now shoved into my buttocks. His grasp around my body tightened. In the next instant, I felt the cold blade of a knife against my throat.
Eyes wide with panic, I nevertheless tried to struggle, tried to get away. In front of me, the blond man took a bullet in the shoulder and spun around. He fell to the ground, bleeding profusely. I stared in shock as another bullet cut down Ajmal’s other partner. Khalil continued to stand, his legs spread, shouting unintelligible words while he sprayed the automatic gunfire through the trees in a continuous arc. Surely he would run out of bullets soon.
I felt a trickle of warmth running down my neck before the pinch of pain kicked in. The blade of Ajmal’s knife cut sharply into my skin. I knew that it would only take one swift slice to cut through my jugular and carotid arteries. If Ajmal succeeded in doing that, I would be dead within seconds.
I heard an awful cracking sound beside my head and screamed into the gag. The arm around my chest jerked, then loosened. I was about to surge forward, to twist out of Ajmal’s grasp when I froze. I saw Khalil go down, his head exploding in a gush of red. Tears blurred my vision, and then I felt Ajmal’s arm dropping away.
My knees nearly gave way and panic threatened to overwhelm me. I felt like I was going to vomit. I trembled violently, not knowing what to do or where to go. Run? I could barely stand on my own two feet. Fall to the ground? I might be hit by a stray bullet. Then, arms wrapped around me again. Ajmal! I grunted with fury, thrashing, kicking, and twisting my body back and forth, trying to escape my captor’s grasp.
“Angie! Angie, it’s me!”
My ears rang with the echoing sound of gunfire. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled my nostrils. My eyes wide with panic, I twisted my head around and nearly sagged in relief when I saw Jax standing behind me, holding me by the waist. I uttered a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a scream, and in the next instant, I was in his arms and he was racing toward the cover of the trees.
I glanced over his shoulder and saw Ajmal lying where he had fallen, his head twisted at a funny angle. The blond was down on one knee, still firing shots randomly. The other two lay still and I knew they were dead. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see any more. I couldn’t believe I had gotten out of that alive.
Jax took shelter in the trees and slowly lowered me to the ground. Shaking overtook my body to the point I felt like I was having a seizure. He grabbed the sides of my face, stared deep into my eyes. I saw the worry and anxiety there. He wasted no time, but pulled a knife from a sheath tied to his thigh and cut the bindings holding my hands together behind my back, and then removing the gag.
“Angie,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “Angie, are you all right?”
I couldn’t say a word. His hand stroked my hair, gently caressing the wound near my temple. My throat hurt, everything hurt, and all I could do was throw my numb arms around him, pulling him close to me. Then the sobs came; great, heaving sobs of relief, fear, and adrenaline. He gently pushed me away.
“Can you stand?”
I tried to get my emotions under control and nodded. “I… I think so.” My voice was barely more than a rasp.
The next instant, I saw two shadows approaching and cringed back in fear, a scream issuing from the depths of my throat. Then, I realized that the figures were Michael and Jakob. They too hunched down beside Jax, and although their gazes weren’t quite as filled with worry and anxiety as Jax’s had been, I could tell that they were relieved that I was alive. Michael glanced apologetically at me.
“Angie, sorry, no time for reunions. We’ve got to get out of here. Now.”
Without a word, Jax nodded and lifted me into his arms. We quickly made our way through the trees. I held onto him as if my life depended on it—which it did—until we emerged near the shoreline of a lake, I wasn’t sure which one. There, Jax once again settled me on the ground. Quickly, he gave his handgun to Michael, and Jakob also relinquished his automatic rifle.
“I’ll dispose of these.”
Jax nodded. “We’ll meet back at the safe house in one hour.” He glanced at Michael. “Make sure the others aren’t following.”
The others? I wondered. There were more terrorists?
Michael and Jakob both nodded. Then, without another word, they separated and disappeared through the trees, taking different paths. Jax watched them go before turning to look at me. For a second, I thought he was to say something, but instead, he merely wrapped his arms around me, held me tight for a moment, and then once again lifted me into his arms.
“No time for niceties right now, Angie. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
I didn’t care. I didn’t care where we were going or how we were going to get there. All that mattered to me was that I was alive. I was in Jax’s arms, and for the first time in days I felt safe, secure, and protected. I wanted to thank him for saving me, and thank the others as well, but in my book, words would not even begin to touch the surface of my gratitude. I was alive.
Unfortunately, this… whatever it was, wasn’t over yet.
Chapter 4
The thought of being carried in Jax’s arms as he rescued me like a damsel in distress at any other time would probably have been like a dream come true. Unfortunately, this was reality. He had said something about others following. Was he implying that the four lying dead back there in the clearing were not the only members of the terrorist cell? In fact, were they all dead?
I clung desperately to Jax’s neck as he quickly wound his way through the trees. Michael and Jakob had disappeared in opposite directions. Safe house? What the hell was going on? All I wanted to do at this moment was to disappear. I didn’t want people after me. I didn’t want to have to go through something like that ever again.
Jax held me tightly to his body as he wove his way through the trees as if I weighed nothing at all. I wish I could say I enjoyed the ride, but my heart was still thundering in panic. All the shooting, my ears still buzzing and ringing, my nostrils filled with the scent of gunpowder. The blood!
I was also worried about Jax—he shouldn’t be carrying me, but I knew this was the best option. In my weakened state, I would only slow him down. My arms felt so weak, I was afraid that at any moment I would lose my grip on his neck. He seemed to sense a shift.
“Hang on, Angie,” he urged. “We’ll be to the car in just a few minutes. Hang on!”
I said nothing, my throat dry and scratchy. Just the thought of speaking made me want to gag. As it was, I was fighting the urge to vomit. At this point I wasn’t sure if Jax and the others were trying to evade the police or terrorists, perhaps both. The marsh area was fairly secluded. People didn’t come out here that much anymore because it backed up to the rear of the sanctuary. Other than birdwatchers, the locals avoided the area most of the time due to the mosquitoes and bugs.
I heard Jax panting for breath and I, once again, remembered his back injury. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. “Put me down!” I croaked.
He said nothing, but kept on going. “Jax! Put me down,” I repeated. “Your back!”
“It’s fine,” he muttered.
I glanced at his face and saw the tension, the fury, and perhaps even pain, but he refused to relinquish his grip on me. Tears warmed my eyes and I began to shake my head, muttering against his shoulder. I don’t even recall what it was I said, but I think I was praying again. Praying for both of us. Praying that he didn’t re-injure his back carrying me like this. Prayi
ng that he would get us to safety. Praying that we wouldn’t die today.
“Almost there,” he said moments later.
I turned to look in front of us, and there, nestled between a stand of trees was a dark Jeep Cherokee, or some similar model. I couldn’t tell and I didn’t care.
As we reached the front fender, he carefully lowered me to the ground, bending at the knees. I slid to the ground and nearly collapsed in a heap. No, I told myself. I had to stand. I couldn’t let Jax injure his back for my sake. He might have already.
“Jax, let me see your back,” I urged.
He shook his head and pointed to the passenger side door. “No time,” he said. “Get in. Hurry.”
I heard the squawk of birds off in the distance, cranes or something, and the chattering of squirrels in the trees surrounding the car. So incongruous considering the circumstances. I had to fight every urge within me to just collapse onto the ground and cry my eyes out, scream out the horror that I had just experienced, but that had to wait.
First things first. Safety.
I quickly made my way to the passenger door, my feet stumbling over the twigs and pine cones on the ground. I opened the passenger side of the Jeep, managed to scramble inside, and then collapsed weakly into the seat. I didn’t even have the energy to tell Jax that he shouldn’t be driving. Kind of late for that.
He turned the engine and with barely a glance at me, put the Jeep in reverse. He looked in the rearview mirror, and then once more at me.
“Buckle up,” he said.
I didn’t argue, but reached for the shoulder strap, barely having enough energy to tug it from its receptacle and then fasten the seatbelt. Then, I stared dumbly forward, my hands lying limp in my lap, my arms trembling. My wrists felt like they were on fire, and as I glanced down at them, I saw how badly I had scraped the skin off, almost like burns.
What felt worse, however, was the ache deep inside my wrists. I had no doubt that I had stress fractures, but there wasn’t anything to do about it now. I would have to wait until later to get them wrapped.
Jax followed a faint trail through the woods and around the side of the lake. We bounced and twisted and turned along the faintest of trails, and then it disappeared. No track to follow. He was breaking fresh ground.
I frowned. “Are we going back to the house?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not safe there anymore. We’re going to a safe house.”
“Where?” I asked. He gave me a look and his next words chilled me to the core. “It’s better that you not know, Angie, just…”
“Just in case?”
He nodded and my heart started pumping again. “Jax, what the hell is going on?”
“You’re safe now,” he said. “I’ll try to explain later, but for right now, I need to concentrate, okay?”
He didn’t look at me when I nodded, so I muttered a yes. I glanced down at the console between the seats and saw a half empty container of bottled water. I reached for it and managed to clasp it, but my hands shook so bad that the water inside sloshed against the sides. I ignored the trembling, knew that it was a combination of adrenaline, fatigue, and injury. Slowly untwisting the lid, I took a huge gulp, sighing with relief.
I couldn’t believe that I was away from Khalil and Ajmal. I had a feeling that had I been under their control much longer, things would not have gone well for me, and would have ended even worse. My head resting against the seat, I turned to watch Jax. His eyes were focused on the road ahead, both hands gripping the wheel.
Every once in a while, his gaze darted around, glanced in the rearview and passenger-side mirrors, and then forward again. His jaw was set. He looked angry… no, he looked furious.
“Thank you, Jax,” I said.
He made a snorting noise. “For what, putting you in danger?” He refused to look at me.
“Jax, it was my choice to stay—”
“I should’ve told you to leave, told you to get the hell out of my house.”
For a moment, I was startled by the vehemence in his voice. “Did you really want me to go?”
He said nothing for several moments and then gave a slight shake of his head. “No.”
Neither of us said anything for several minutes. Finally, he broke through the woods and I realized we were now on a deserted rural route. I had no idea where we were going until I saw a small roadside sign announcing upcoming Moncks Corner. He took a frontage road to bypass the downtown area and then veered north. Then, I saw the sign announcing the upcoming Francis Marion National Forest.
Was a safe house in there?
It was probably as good a place to hide as any, encompassing several hundred square miles, named after the Revolutionary War hero Francis Marion, otherwise known as the Swamp Fox. I knew the forest was home to dozens of campgrounds and probably hundreds of isolated cabins.
Back in the late 1980s, the swamp forest had nearly been decimated by hurricane Hugo, but today, much of the forest had regrown, studded with young loblolly and longleaf pines, Palmetto, swampy marshy areas and more creeks than anyone could count.
Jax’s phone rang. He quickly pulled it out of the side pocket of his cargo pants, the first time I really noticed what he was wearing. He glanced at the screen and then answered it. “Where are you?” Pause. “We’ll be there soon.” He quickly disconnected.
“Jax, I know you don’t want to tell me much, but I—”
“I know that you followed me earlier this morning.”
I should’ve known. What could I say? “I was curious,” I said. He glanced at me, stared for a moment, and then his eyes swung forward again.
“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”
“A bad habit of mine, this insatiable urge to snoop,” I admitted. “I’ve done it since I was a kid. I don’t mean to be intrusive—”
“From now on, Angie, if you want to know something, just ask, okay?”
I made a face and decided to test him. “Okay, then where are we going?”
He gave me a look, a scowl actually, and then he finally answered. “Hell Hole Bay Wilderness.”
“How apt,” I muttered. Hell Hole Bay Wilderness my ass. It was a swamp with a history that dated back to the Revolutionary War. “How many others are there? Will they be coming after us?”
“Yes, there are more, but I’m not sure how many. Will they be coming after us? It’s likely.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why did they kidnap me? I don’t have anything to do with this.”
He paused again. “Guilty by association.”
“Jax, I’m sorry. I really am. I want to thank you for saving my life back there. If you hadn’t come—”
“It’s my fault you’re in this mess in the first place,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe, Angie. After we get to the safe house, Michael can take you—”
“Jax, at the very least, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” I stared out the window at the passing scenery, not really noticing any of it. “No, never mind. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have been snooping. I know I shouldn’t have followed you but—”
“You saw the Arab woman, didn’t you?”
I nodded, glancing down at my hands. The trembling had eased slightly, but I was still a nervous wreck. I had a feeling that it wouldn’t take much to send me over the edge and turn me into a blathering, sobbing idiot. Either that or I’d start screaming.
“Her name is Aleema. She’s the widow of the man who used to be our unit interpreter in Afghanistan.”
I turned my head toward Jax and waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “Used to be?”
After several minutes of silence, Jax finally continued. “He came from a rather influential family from Kandahar province in Afghanistan. I don’t know how much you know about the culture, but they’re tribal in nature, and some of the tribes go back thousands of years. His family was one of those.”
I closed my eyes. I could just imagine it. A proud family with a rich heritage in the
region. Would they have been ashamed to have their son working with the Americans, or would they have been proud? The steady thrum of the Jeep’s engine lulled me into a sense of calm. I was so exhausted, mentally and physically, that I felt sleep pulling at the edges of my consciousness. I couldn’t let myself sleep. I needed to know. I needed to know why I had almost been killed, and why I was in the situation I found myself in right this very moment.
“So how did it go for him? Was his family pleased or not that he decided to work with the Americans?”
“Displeased. Very displeased. In fact, they disowned him.”
I said nothing for several moments. “You were close to him, weren’t you?”
“When you’re over there, you learn pretty fast who you can trust and who you can’t. His name was Daud. We called him David. His family was rich, very rich, and their influence reached far, way beyond the borders of Kandahar, and in some cases, into Europe and Northern Africa.” He paused. “He was about twenty-five years old and had just gotten married a few months before he died.”
“To Aleema?”
He nodded. “Things went okay for a while. He was a good guy. He wanted to do what he felt was the right thing, in spite of what it cost him. He was shunned by many of his own people, disowned by his family, cut off from his financial inheritance.”
He glanced over at me and I saw the sadness in his face.
“But you know what? He didn’t care. After someone threw a grenade into his home, the Army let him move into one of the base camps set up in the southern region of the province.”
“A grenade? How awful! Were they hurt?”
He shook his head. “Luckily, Aleema was at a local souk, or store, and David was visiting with a neighbor. At any rate, when he realized that neither he nor his bride was safe, they received permission to move onto the base camp. They also gained the protection of the Army, especially since he was acting as an official interpreter.”
“Were you stationed at the same camp?”
He shook his head. “We were on the move too much,” he explained. “But David joined us on several of our forays, especially ones into the more remote tribal areas up in the mountains, to try and gain support for the Americans. I guess you could say we were on a peace mission of sorts, trying to form agreements, pacts, and treaties with some of these tribal leaders, many of whom didn’t want to have anything to do with the war whatsoever.”