by Loye, Trish
“That doesn’t sound fine,” Dylan said.
The fighters jogged down the street. The number of them had swelled up to nine. They sent a man to check each alley while they continued to jog along, creating a fast-moving search party.
She stood and raced to the back of the alley she was in. A stone wall stopped her. Ten feet high. No way she was getting over that without taking too long or making too much noise.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
There was nowhere to hide. She glanced back at the alley mouth. The men’s voices echoed down it. They were almost at her spot. She swallowed as her heart raced. There were no windows or doors on either building.
There was nothing for it but to try to climb and hope they missed their shots when they fired at her.
A small chunk of the stone left a gap only a few feet from the ground. She wedged the toe of her left sneaker into it and stretched to shove two fingers into a crack between bricks. Her right foot went to a minuscule edge.
“Omar, check that alley,” the harsh voice ordered.
No. No. She needed more time. Her panting sounded too loud in her ears.
She glanced back when she was only halfway up, a black silhouette against the sandy stone. There was a scuffle on the other side of the wall. A figure appeared at the top.
“Give me your hand,” Dylan said, his face grim.
Relief speared her almost painfully. She reached up as he reached down. She used her feet to help him haul her to the top. Without looking back, they pushed off and leapt the ten feet to the ground.
A shout and shots rang out from the other side. Trash filled the narrow alley they’d landed in. Sarah jumped over a broken crate and dodged a knocked-over trash bin. She didn’t pause at the end of the alley, but grabbed Dylan’s shirtsleeve and pulled him to the right. This street was smaller and they dashed across it into another alley.
She had a stitch in her side by the time they’d made it to the old district where the stone buildings hugged one another and leaned close over narrow alleys. She slowed and held up her hand. Dylan paused beside her; his hard gaze constantly scanning the area around them.
“Problem?” he asked.
She took a few deep breaths before she answered. “I’m out of shape,” she admitted. “It’s been awhile since I’ve run for my life. Or even run.”
He grinned before he went back to watching the road behind them. “You did fine.” He checked his watch. “We can ease up a little. The RV is north of here, but not far. We should be able to make the exfil, since we lost the assholes back there.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’m not leaving. You are.”
Dylan swung his head to look at her. “You’re staying? What for? What if one of those men can identify you?”
“I’m dressed in black and have my face covered. They won’t be able to identify me.” Besides, there was no way she would leave Jalila behind. “I’m staying,” she said firmly. “I have a mission.” She started to walk down the narrow street.
In this older area of town, the streets weaved drunkenly and could barely handle one car. She checked down each alley as she walked. Most would be a tight squeeze for the tea cart. The stone walls reached two or three stories at most, broken only by the occasional door. No windows decorated these old buildings. If they ran into trouble, the maze could quickly turn into a trap.
“You should come with me. What if you run into a patrol on your way back?” He followed her closely, his head moving as he watched the rooftops and behind them.
“We don’t have time to argue. I can’t leave,” she said.
His gaze snapped to her and he opened his mouth. She cut him off. Being in this warren made her skin itch. She wanted out. “We need to get to the rooftops. There’ll be less chance anyone can sneak up on us.”
“Agreed.” He jogged down an alley, following it first left and then right. The alleyway became so narrow they could touch the buildings on either side. “This’ll do,” he said. He slung his rifle over his back and interlaced his fingers. “I’ll give you a boost.”
She looked at the rooftop he’d nodded at. It was at least a dozen feet up, and the wall supporting it had no ledges or windows. “How will you get up?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
She wanted to demand he answer her, but they were E.D.G.E. operators, and if he said he could handle it, then she had to believe him, no matter how irritating he was.
She stepped on his laced hands and he lifted with his legs and his arms, almost flinging her at the rooftop. She gripped the ledge and hauled herself up and over.
The flat roof held a rusty satellite dish and a broken crib lay next to it. A five-foot cement wall separated this terrace from the next. More satellite dishes dotted the landscape, and the uneven levels of the terraces and low walls between each family’s section gave the impression of a chest-high maze with large metal flowers scattered throughout.
She looked back to see him put one foot and hand on either building, and then hop up to the roof level. The show of strength impressed her, though there was no way she would let him know that. She’d been the one to leave him. She had to keep her distance.
At roof level, he grabbed the ledge where she stood and pulled himself over. He wasn’t even breathing hard.
Bastard.
She led them toward the RV while keeping an eye out for any pursuit.
“You really shouldn’t be in the city alone,” Dylan said.
When she went to protest, he held up his hand. “Just hear me out. I know Rakin is outside the city delivering another package. That leaves you without backup.”
She stopped walking and whirled toward him. “I’m not—”
“You’re an E.D.G.E. operator in a hot zone without backup, Sarah. It’s against SOP. You need a partner.”
She clenched her hands as irritation bit at her insides, but she managed to keep her voice even. “I have a partner. He’ll be back in another day.” Thankfully, they were almost at the RV. Then she could dump Dylan and his over-protectiveness again.
“And what if he’s delayed?”
She scowled. “I’ll be fine. There’s nothing you can do anyway.” She waved a hand at him, taking in his height, his fair face and blond hair, hidden at the moment under the black tight-fitting helmet he wore. “You’re practically a poster boy for the Aryan race. You’d be useless.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed. “You need a partner.”
“Now who’s being stubborn?”
“I will back you up until your partner comes back. Then I’m out. It’s standard operating procedure, Ghost. Unless you have an issue with me?”
She sucked in a breath. No way was she saying out loud that her issue was with him. Though it was. He was too distracting, too brash, and just too damn big. What was she going to do cooped up in a house with Dylan for twenty-four hours? A vision of him naked brought warmth to her cheeks.
See? Distracting.
“It’s one day,” Dylan said. “Then I exfil.”
She shook her head. “How will you get out?”
He scowled. “The same way I got in. I’ll be one man at night. I’ll borrow one of your damn veils if I have to. I’ll be able to slip out of the city.”
Her stomach rolled at the thought of spending that much time with Dylan. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. “Really, there’s no need. I’m fine on my own,” she said.
Dylan leaned his rifle against his shoulder. “Listen, I know you don’t like me, and guess what? The feeling’s mutual, but this is SOP.” Dylan spoke into his radio. “College, this is Cowboy. Over.”
“This is College. Go ahead. Over,” Jake’s voice said over the comms.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she practically hissed.
Dylan stared right at her. “College, requesting meet at secondary exfil. Over.”
“Sit rep.”
“Ghost is staying. Tea-man hasn’t returned.”
“I have my own mission to complete,�
� she said into the mic.
“She has no backup.” Dylan raised an eyebrow at her as if daring her to deny it.
A pause filled the radio.
“Ghost, are you without backup?”
“Negative, College,” she said. “My partner is returning tomorrow.”
They both heard Jake’s sigh over the radio, as he meant for them to. It made her feel like a young kid at the home when the social worker sighed over the state of her hair or her ripped jeans. The echoes of the lectures about being presentable for potential foster parents made her scowl. She aimed her irritation at Dylan.
She keyed her mic. “No backup needed.”
“Sorry, Ghost,” Jake replied. “It’s SOP. RV at secondary exfil, Cowboy.”
“Copy that.”
“Copy,” she said curtly. “Ghost out.” She turned off her radio, no longer willing to listen to them talk.
She could lose this maverick cowboy in the warren of alleys that she now called home. He would have to meet the rest of his team at the exfil or risk being discovered when the sun rose.
She blew out a harsh breath. No matter how appealing the idea was, it would be childish and unprofessional. Not to mention dangerous. She wouldn’t put a team member in danger.
She glanced back at the silent man following her.
It would only be for one day. Two at the most. She sighed and jogged in the direction of her house. She could really use a drink.
6
Dylan could use a drink. He followed Sarah to the house she shared with the MI6 agent. The house was attached to similar boxlike homes, almost like town houses, but each with their own enclosed tiny patio. The street abutted the older maze-like section of the city they’d just left.
He was an idiot. Sarah clearly didn’t need him. Her partner was due back within a day and she was a competent operator. His lips twisted as he noticed yet another glare from her. Not only did she not need his help, she sure as hell didn’t want it either. But it was SOP and competent or not, she was a single operator on a two-man mission.
It had nothing to do with the fact his skin crawled at the thought of leaving her in this hellhole alone.
Like he’d said. He was an idiot.
He hadn’t spoken since he’d signed off the radio, and now he stood in the small alley that stank of some rotting animal—at least he hoped it was an animal. Sarah unlocked her back door, but didn’t open it.
“Problem?” Dylan checked over his shoulder. The piles of garbage and boxes made the skin between his shoulders itch. Insurgents always hid IEDs in seemingly innocuous piles of trash.
Sarah huffed out a breath and then faced him. Her arms crossed over her chest as her dark-brown eyes shot sparks at him.
“Don’t get any ideas that you’re in charge of me,” she said. “I’m an operator, not someone who needs protecting.”
“Look. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable. I do. But I wouldn’t let any of my team stay in this shithole on their own.” He shrugged. “I’m only here until you get backup.”
She studied him, as if judging his words. He wanted to hold up two fingers in a Boy Scout salute, but decided it would probably only irritate her further. He knew when not to poke the bear.
He’d seen her temper, and although she looked beautiful when full of fire, it would only make the next twenty-four hours more hellish. She’d shown him clear as day with her good-bye note that she no longer wanted anything to do with him. And he sure as fuck didn’t want anything to do with her. He didn’t need his insides twisted up again like last time. He just needed to lie low and make everything go by as peaceful as possible.
“Fine,” she said. “You’ll do what I say. Stay quiet and stay inside.”
He frowned. “How did you get to be the one in charge?”
“Because this is my mission,” she said. “And don’t frown at me.” She waved her hand at him. “You’re too big to go unnoticed. Your eyes are too blue and your hair is too blond. You look like…”
“A Viking?” He raised his eyebrows. He’d told himself not to tease her, to keep it professional, but he’d always had problems controlling his mouth.
She snorted. “No. More like an American tourist.” She pushed open the door and went in. The single-story home was a two-bedroom with a small kitchen in the back and a sitting room with a boxy TV in the front. The two bedrooms and a bathroom led off the sitting room. A set of stairs went down to a basement. On the two-person table in the kitchen sat a plate with half a cookie next to a half-glass of milk.
A creak sounded from one of the bedrooms. Dylan tensed. He pulled his Sig Sauer P226 and stalked into the bedroom.
“Wait,” Sarah said.
He lifted his hand to silence her and slowly pushed open the door, his weapon up and ready. Sarah stepped in front of him.
“What the fuck?” He pushed her aside, but she resisted and popped in front of him again.
“I said, wait.” She flicked on the light in the bedroom.
Sparse. A double bed hugged the far wall. A blanket of swirling reds, oranges, and pinks covered it. A single hairbrush sat on top of the chest of drawers. Books littered a small bookshelf and the bedside table. There was no closet. He’d bet money this was Sarah’s room.
When they’d had time off together on a weekend, they’d both enjoy a quiet morning together. He’d read the morning paper while she snuggled next to him on the couch with her nose in a book. She’d mentioned once that books had been some of her best friends growing up. It had sounded lonely to him and had made him want to dig deeper, but he hadn’t, knowing that she’d only throw her shields up if he tried.
“Who’s here?” he asked her.
She sighed and then turned and spoke in Arabic. “Ta-aal, Jalila.”
A small girl, her head scarf falling off her brown hair, crawled out from under Sarah’s bed. “Salaam, Sarah.”
“Fuck.” He holstered his sidearm. This was going to complicate things.
The girl nodded at him, her blue eyes wide. “f-uck,” she said.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Don’t swear,” she told him. “She wants to learn English and will repeat everything you say.”
“Shi—” He scowled. “Who is she?”
Jalila’s tentative smile dropped from her face. Sarah moved to her and put her arm around the girl’s too-thin shoulders. She used a soothing tone when she spoke to Dylan. “Do not scare this girl or I will fuck you up.”
His face smoothed of the scowl. “What about the swearing rule?”
Sarah glared at him. “What about it?”
“Nothing.” He held up his hands and while he didn’t smile, she saw the twinkle in his eyes. “So who’s the kid?”
Sarah spoke to Jalila in Arabic. “Jalila, this is Dylan. He’s hiding, like you.”
“As-salamu alaykum, Dylan.” She ducked her head as soon as she spoke.
Dylan smiled at the girl. “Wa-alaikum salaam, Jalila.” Then he stared hard at Sarah. She turned back to Jalila; she would give Dylan answers soon enough.
“Is he the man you rescued tonight?” Jalila asked her in Arabic.
“No, that was another man.”
“You rescue a lot of people.”
That made her smile.
“Will you get him out too?”
The sooner the better. But Sarah just nodded. “Now, what are you doing up?”
“I got scared.”
“You can sleep in my bed for the rest of the night.” Though there wasn’t much of the night left. It was almost five in the morning. Dawn would be here in just over an hour. She expected the first call to prayer to happen any moment. She waved Dylan out of the room. He took the hint and left. She tucked Jalila into bed and kissed her forehead, wishing her goodnight. “Tosbeheena ‘ala khair.”
She turned off the light and steeled herself to go speak with the man in her kitchen. A man she hadn’t seen since she’d snuck out of his bed five months ago. The feelings she’d been running from bac
k then all rushed back with a vengeance, making her almost lightheaded. A smile tugged at her lips. It was good to see him again.
“Sarah.” His low voice came from the kitchen. “Don’t avoid me.”
A chill rushed over her skin. She had to get a grip. This was no happy reunion. He was leaving tomorrow when Rakin got back. Besides that, he now loathed her because she’d dumped him.
She deserved his dislike and had always known it would come eventually, but she still hated the thought of it.
He leaned against the counter when she walked in, eating one of the kleicha cookies. He’d put his helmet on the table, revealing his wheat-colored hair. It was slicked back with sweat; dirt and camo paint smeared his face, making his vibrant blue eyes stand out. He’d shed his pack, but still had his rifle over his shoulder. His muscled body looked entirely too comfortable in her kitchen.
“She’s why you wouldn’t leave,” he said.
“She’s Yazidi and ISIS enslaved her for being an infidel.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s ten.”
“You rescued her,” he said quietly. “You could have told me. I would have understood.”
“There wasn’t time to explain.”
His cocked an eyebrow. “Right. I forgot you’re good at not explaining.”
Wariness prickled her skin. “What do you mean by that?”
Anger lit his eyes, making them blaze. “I told myself I was going to keep this professional, but I need an answer.”
“Answer to what?” she said slowly.
His nostrils flared and he bared his teeth. “Why you left, Sarah. Did you think your note was enough? After Syria, we spent the whole month together. I thought it was the start of something. And then one morning I wake up and you’re gone. With only a goddamn note to explain.”
He shook his head. “‘It’s been fun,’” he quoted. “‘I’m going on a long-term assignment. Don’t worry, you’re free and clear of me.’
Her mouth dropped open. “I thought I was doing you a favor.” And she had been. He wouldn’t have wanted to be with her much longer. It was better to have a clean break.
“A favor?” His gaze narrowed. “By not saying good-bye? Woman, you are so screwed up.”