by Johnson, Cat
Maybe goat meat had the same effect on the body as turkey and they’d fallen asleep. Who the hell knew, but the waiting was a bit nerve wracking.
Standing by the door now after having switched off the watch with Jordan, Ryan turned to his guys. “Please tell me the five of us didn’t get taken by only these two men who are more interested in eating than checking on their prisoners.”
“Hell, no. It wasn’t just two.” Bender shook his head, and then touched it with his fingers as if he was in pain. Ryan knew exactly how the man felt. “We heard a thud and you grunted and then suddenly, the four of us were covered in a net with two Soviet-era AK47s pointed in our faces.”
“So, one man took me out and two held you four with nothing but a net and two old guns?” Ryan rolled his eyes in disbelief. How embarrassing.
“They had you, Sergeant. You were unconscious, so I took command. I figured we had a good chance they’d take us to where they had the three Brits and the supply truck if we went peacefully,” Moraches explained, looking pale and queasy beneath his usually dark complexion. Definite concussion there.
Bender nodded in agreement with Moraches. “Yeah, and if we’d opened fire, we probably could have taken the two out, but the third was holding your body in front of him. We couldn’t risk killing you.”
Ryan sighed. His men were loyal to a fault at times.
“I guess that leaves the question, where is the third guy if you all only saw two go into the house this morning?” Black asked the room in general.
Walker, a former semi-pro linebacker and built like one, shook his dark head, his black eyes looking determined. “Who gives a fuck? It’s eight to three and this time, we’ll surprise them instead of the other way around.”
Wales strolled over to Ryan and glanced out the crack in the door for himself. “Your determination is all well and good, mates, but I want to know why they are holding us. And why have they left us alone for so long?”
Ryan had a bad theory about that. “What if the third guy was sent off to the head baddie to tell him they got eight soldiers and ask him what to do with us?”
“Then I say we get the hell out of here now. I’m not waiting around to have my beheading be the next video clip on the evening news back home.” Bender touched his own neck and grimaced.
“Here is a dumb question, but did anyone try opening that door?” Specialist Black, always the logical one. He always had been a good thinker. Ryan tried to not feel stupid he hadn’t tried the door for himself. He was standing right there. He’d blame it on the concussion.
Jordan shook his head. “It’s padlocked from the outside.”
They must have been stashed in some sort of storage shed. One small slit of a window high in the wall and looking like it was meant more for ventilation and light than to see out of was the only break in any of the exterior walls. That, and the one really sturdy door which luckily didn’t fit quite well enough so it left a nice crack along the doorframe, perfect for viewing their hosts’ abode.
“Can we take the door off by the hinges?” Walker looked ready to tear it from the damn hinges single-handedly if he had to sit around and do nothing for another minute.
“Not without drawing attention and getting us all killed! That hut’s window faces this building. I’m sure they’re watching us right this very moment.” Of course Rumsfield would be against an escape attempt. What was he waiting around for? The baddies to bring him a cup of tea?
A motion from the hut caught Ryan’s eye. “Wait a second. Someone’s coming. Shit, it’s a young girl.”
The entire group froze. Moraches whispered, “What do we do, Sergeant?”
Although Wales outranked him, apparently Ryan was the leader here, at least in his team’s eyes.
He hated to say it, but there was only one clear path to take. “If she comes in here, we grab her. We can’t risk she’ll run and tell the guards we’re all untied.”
She was close now and fidgeting with the lock.
Ryan pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to shove in the girl’s mouth. She may be small, but he knew what adrenaline could do. A kicking, screaming, biting slip of a girl could be hard to hold, especially since he didn’t want to hurt her if he didn’t have to.
He lowered his voice to a hiss and mouthed to Wales, the closest one to him near the door. “You help me hold her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t scream.”
Wales nodded, bracing for the moment the door opened, but it didn’t swing open. In fact, they heard the padlock drop to the dirt with a thud and then saw the girl run back for the hut as fast as she could.
“Fuck! Did she hear us?” Moraches asked.
“She couldn’t have.” Ryan had barely spoken loud enough for Wales to hear on this side of the door and thick mud walls.
“Well, what do we do? Did she go to get them?” Bender had moved to the slit and was tall enough, standing on tiptoe, to look out.
Jordan shook his head. “I think she just let us go. She’s setting us free.”
“No fucking way!” Bender turned from the slit in the wall, his eyes opened wide. “Why?”
“I’m not waiting around to find that out, either.” Walker pushed closer to Ryan, ready to bolt out the door the moment Ryan ordered him to, if not before. “I say we high-tail it out of here.”
Ryan had the same impulse himself.
Black nodded. “I agree. If she can sneak over here and open that lock without being seen by the guards, then we can sure as hell sneak out.”
Ryan agreed, too. He would have rather waited for cover of darkness but he didn’t want Vicki seeing his beheading on FoxNews, either. “Let’s go. I’m on point.” He hesitated a moment to look at the Brits. “You three with us?”
Jordan let out a snort. “Are you daft? Of course we are.”
“I think we should reconsider…”
“Shut it, Rumsfield.” Wales silenced the worrywart quickly. “You lead, Pettit. We’ll follow.”
Ryan nodded. If only their good luck held.
It could be really unnerving waiting for the bomb to drop. There was nothing more disturbing than having everything go your way. But as the group filed out of the hut and took off toward the cover of the orchard, Ryan thought that was exactly what had happened, until they heard the shout from the house.
“Shit. We’ve been spotted!” Walker yelled, taking off at a full-out run for the shelter of the orchard.
Ryan, in front, reached the dense cover first, but not before he heard gunfire from the house.
Which way to go? Think!
The answer to Ryan’s unspoken question came from an unexpected source. Wales. “This way! The truck is here.”
They could use a truck about now. The two guards, on foot but well armed, were hot on their tail.
They didn’t even stop to take off the netting. Jordan jumped in the driver’s seat and luckily found the keys in the ignition. Ryan and Wales ended up crushed in the seat next to him. The other men leapt into the back, wedging themselves behind the boxes of supplies.
Gunfire peppered the body of the truck but the engine started, the tires stayed inflated, and as far as he could tell from inside, no one had gotten shot. That was more than Ryan could have asked for as Jordan barreled out of the foliage, fishtailed and finally got them onto the road. Once on the hard surface, they took off as fast as the truck would take them, looking back the whole way.
It was soon apparent that the third man, wherever he had gone, had taken the other truck. The two guards had lost their prey and had nothing to follow them with except perhaps a goat or two.
Jubilant, they made their way due west in as straight a path as Ryan could estimate would lead them back to base. Nothing further happened. No bad guys. No ambush. Nothing. Until Moraches banged on the back window and pointed up.
“Chopper!” Moraches yelled. The man had eyes like an eagle. Ryan couldn’t see it from inside the truck and had to stop trying and hold on for his life as Jordan swerved the truc
k off the road and crashed through the foliage before stopping dead and cutting the engine.
“I hear it now.” Ryan looked up. “Can’t see shit from in here. You think it’s one of ours?”
Wales, in the middle seat, shook his head. “It has to be. Since when do we get attacked by air?”
Ryan held up one hand. “Shhh. They’re setting down. Stay here. I’ll try and get closer.”
With a nod from the two others in the cab of the truck, Ryan opened the passenger side door and made his way as silently as possible toward where the chopper had set down. Wales was right, the chances were slim they were the bad guys. Call him stupid, but Ryan was a little suspicious being unarmed and in the middle of escaping from captors which had given him one hell of a headache.
He was thinking how near he was to Vicki and how soon he could get there if only this helicopter hadn’t interfered with their plans when two hands grabbed his arms and another covered his mouth.
Ryan dropped to his knees, hands clasped behind his head, resigned that he’d been stupid enough to be taken yet again and had not a single weapon to defend himself.
“I hope you’re not fixin’ to scream, soldier, cause we’re the good guys and I’d hate the baddies to hear us.” No insurgent spoke with a deep southern drawl like that. Ryan’s body sagged with relief against the body behind him.
They uncovered Ryan’s mouth and he sunk all the way to the ground. Without even looking up, he said, “I’m really glad you’re the good guys.”
“Yup, we are. But it doesn’t look like you need our help. It looks like you were doing pretty good on your own.”
Ryan turned to finally see who his rescuers were and got the second shock in the last few minutes. Of course he recognized them. How could he not? Not only had his squad practiced with them back in Germany, but they’d all gotten drunk and played pool together afterwards. After a few seconds, their names came back to him.
“Dalton? Gordon? They called you guys in to find us?”
He would have thought Special Ops had more important things to do then go out searching for missing supply trucks and eight infantrymen. Things like, oh, he didn’t know, saving the world perhaps?
Suddenly, Wales was beside him. “Not exactly, mate. I guess I have some explaining to do.”
“I’ll tell you what. How about we do the talkin’ back at base, shall we? Hawkins is likely to tan my hide if I don’t get y’all back to him soon and you,” Gordon eyed Wales, “have a few people waitin’ on you, too.”
Going back to base was fine with Ryan. There was someone waiting for him back there he couldn’t wait to see.
Convincing the medics he was okay was task number one upon arriving back at the firebase. Debriefing came next as he was asked about a hundred and one questions, including ones Ryan knew were geared to determine if he’d been brainwashed into siding with the baddies during his captivity. Stockholm syndrome they called it—sympathizing with your captors. No chance of that happening, not when his mind had been far too occupied the entire time with getting free, and getting to Vicki.
There was the very interesting meeting with the Brits, where Ryan learned some pretty eye opening things, not to mention mind-boggling details about Wales before the man, after a handshake and a thanks for Ryan, was whisked off of the base. Once his real identity had been revealed, they had him under such heavy guard you’d think he was carrying the damn Crown Jewels. Though being an heir to the throne, in a way, Wales’ “family jewels” were the Crown Jewels. Ryan smiled to himself at his own little joke.
Now that he was finally free of all the red tape caused by his being a POW, even for a short time, he was also free to find Vicki. As the adrenaline subsided, he realized he was bone deep tired and sore. He needed to sink into his bed and Vicki’s soft body and sleep for about twelve hours, but he’d settle for twenty minutes or so.
Then Ryan glanced down at himself. The medic had wiped the dried caked blood and dirt off his facial wound, but the rest of him was still pretty rank. Besides the smell, which was so bad Ryan was starting to offend even himself, the site of his blood would frighten her. There was not much he could do about the bloody body armor at the moment, besides wipe it off good with a wet towel and hope she didn’t notice, but he could at least shower away the stench before seeing the woman who had occupied his thoughts so often throughout his living hell.
Steps from the shower trailer was proof that Ryan’s incredible streak of good luck was still holding. First, a young Afghani girl had released them from their mud prison, and now, Wally was here before him, exiting the shower trailer with both soap and towel.
“Oh, man, Wally. It is good to see you.”
Wally grabbed Ryan in a one-armed hug. “Damn, Pettit. Not as good as it is seeing you, even though you do look like hell.”
Yeah, Ryan’s forehead had bruised, turning all the lovely shades of a rainbow and the stitches the medic had forced on him to hold the laceration shut made him look like Frankenstein’s monster. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ll pay you anything you want to borrow your soap and towel so I can shower before I go back to the hut to…uh…rest.”
Shit, he’d almost said to see Vicki.
Wally grinned. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want that little filly seeing me like this, either. And I reckon I’ll be spending some time grabbing chow, maybe playing some cards in the War Room, before I come back to our quarters much, much later.”
Somehow, Wally knew about Vicki. In a way, that was a relief. Ryan smiled and grabbed the towel and soap handed to him. “Thanks, Wally.”
“No problem. But next female shows up here is mine. Got it?”
Laughing, Ryan nodded. He didn’t want any woman besides Vicki. “No problem.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ryan had been back on base for hours now, but Vicki couldn’t get to him, and certainly not for lack of trying. The security around him and the other rescued prisoners was so tight, you’d think a member of the British royalty was here or something. Oh, wait, there was, Vicki thought bitterly.
But Ryan was home and safe and if she could manage to not lose her mind until they finally allowed her to see him, she’d be good.
Until then, she had to do something to kill the time. Vicki attempted, one more time, to see if they’d turned the internet back on now that the missing guys were found and BINGO! her internet explorer home page showing her the day’s headlines and AP reports popped up on her laptop screen.
She froze in the chair as she read the headline. “Prince Among Men…Harry Exposed!”
Behind Vicki, the door to the hut opened and she spun around to face Hawk, the one man she really feared seeing right now.
“Hawk. I didn’t write one word. I swear to you. I did not leak this story.”
He walked up behind her and glanced at her screen. “Relax. I know. The Brits decided it would look better to blame the press for outing him than tell the truth, that they nearly lost their prince to a couple of Taliban-sympathizing goat farmers.”
“That’s all they were? It wasn’t an al-Qaida plot to kidnap Harry?”
Hawk shook his head. “Nope. And you know what else? The higher-ups knew he was here and decided not to tell the boots on the ground. Doesn’t that just figure! Anyway, after our guys were safe—wait, this is all still strictly confidential, you know.”
Vicki huffed in frustration as Hawk treated her to his patented threatening stare. “I know! Go on.”
“Gordon’s team went back in and got hold of the two locals who were holding our guys. After some persuasion, they admitted they were just looking to cause trouble taking the truck and A-team. It was just dumb luck they got Wales, too. They never had a clue who they had.”
Vicki breathed a sigh of amazement. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Lucky for him.”
That was an understatement. Vicki was about to ask Hawk when Ryan would be released from whatever they had him doing holed up in the Operations Center when the
door swung open again and the man in question, looking a bit worse for wear but still the best thing she’d seen all day, walked in.
“Ryan!”
She leapt at him and he caught her up in a big hug, holding her almost tight enough to make her forget the sheer terror she’d felt while he was missing.
“Vicki.” She felt him let out a shaky breath as he whispered her name against her hair. Then she heard the door latch shut softly and looked up to find the hut empty except for the two of them. Hawk had left them alone. Was he secretly a romantic at heart? Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all.
“I was so worried.”
“I know you were. It was all I could think about, that and how I could get back to you.”
Tears filled her eyes as words escaped her. Vicki took Ryan’s bruised and battered face in her hands and kissed it. Gentle, feathery kisses so she wouldn’t hurt him. His eyes drifted closed. When they opened again, she saw the fire in them.
Lifting her a few inches off the ground, he took a step forward, and then another, claiming her mouth roughly and kissing her the entire way to his bed.
She felt the back of her legs connect with the bunk before he tumbled them both onto the mattress. The bed frame creaked under them as Ryan’s weight pinned her down. Vicki didn’t complain. Feeling his body above hers again was what she had hoped and prayed for the whole time he had been missing.
Ryan kissed away her tears, which only made her cry harder with relief and all the worry she had pent up over the last day. “Shhh. I’m here. I’m safe. And god, I want you so much.”
His hands moved in a frenzy as he freed himself and her from enough of their clothing so he could get his hands on her. Vicki let out a shaky sigh as his big, rough hands caressed her skin, loving the feeling as much as she loved hearing him groan as his fingers invaded her. The contact seemed to destroy what little control he still had.