Boots crunched outside the final door. Someone called out. The hinges creaked as several men entered. All the enemy could see in the dark cell might be the light from the house on Ross’s bloody back, maybe his upraised hand as he faked another slap. Lee grunted, feigning he’d been struck and hoping to hell all four of the guards were curious enough to fall for this act.
Ross ratcheted the nasty rhetoric up, ranting, his voice shrill and drawing the soldiers in closer. This farce would only work if all four Taliban believed. If all four of them were stupid enough to enter a darkened cell, and if they hadn’t yet discovered their murdered cohorts. Lee’s heart pounded at the incredible risk. The flare in his hand felt ready, but the knife in his other hand felt better. This dangerous ploy had to work.
At last, one of the guards called to Ross, not angry, more inquisitive, probably asking if he could join in the fun of beating an American to death. Nizari only collected the most depraved in his ranks.
Show time.
Lee jabbed the flare to the hard ground, igniting the pyrotechnic and blinding the hostiles with bright, orange light. Damn. Only three guards had foolishly entered the cell. They stopped dead in their tracks, blinded by the unexpected light, their hands splayed in front of their faces. The fight was on.
Ross barreled into the nearest guy and stabbed him in the chest. He opened the next guy’s throat, while the last turned and ran. He didn’t get far, probably because he couldn’t see and ran into the wall by the door. With a startling burst of speed, Ross jumped on him and strangled him with his bare hands, twisting the guy’s head to the left with a sharp crack. When the soldier collapsed, Ross grabbed a knife and stabbed him, and Lee let him. Stab the son-of-a-bitch all you want. I’ve got to find Tess.
Lee stood silent at the door for a moment, checking the way forward. Where the hell was that fourth guard? Bright lights still glowed from the house, but Lee knew he’d counted correctly. There was another guy out there. He cocked his head to listen, but couldn’t hear with Ross grunting like a pig behind him. The man was panting. He’d gone all Chuck Norris on his victims, pumped full of adrenaline and revenge.
Lee didn’t blame him. He hadn’t had the opportunity to use even his knife, just let Ross do his thing, because he’d done it so quickly. So effectively. But this next infiltration had to be handled with care and precision. If this last guard was as good as Lee suspected, Chuck Norris needed to leave.
“Ross. Break cover. Hook up with Jack and Ky and retreat to safety, will you? They’re both injured. They need someone to get them back to Eggers.” Lee poured it on. “Can you do that?”
“Hell yeah.” Ross huffed, his chest heaving. “Which way did they go?”
“Behind this row of prison cells. Keep your head up, and you’ll see them,” Lee ordered as he nodded the way Jack had gone, shoving the two rifles he carried at Ross. “They can’t have gotten far. Here. Take all the rifles. You’ll need them, I don’t. Give one to Winchester. He’s in rough condition, but he’ll feel better once he’s armed. Take all the ammo, too. Don’t let me down, soldier. Get him back to Eggers alive.”
“I’m not taking all the rifles.” Ross pushed an AK back at Lee. “I can’t leave you here unarmed. I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but you’ll need at least one.”
“No, Ross. I don’t.” Lee fingered the grip on his knife. He didn’t need the extra weight of rifle and ammo for work that needed to be done silently, as up close and as personal as he could make it. He was willing to bet Nizari was alone with Tess in that house, and if he was, the bastard didn’t have long to live.
Ross balked. “You can’t be serious.” The light finally came on in his bloodshot eyes. “Shit. You’re black ops, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here. Now I get it. I’m out of here.”
Lee turned away, not caring what Ross mistakenly thought. Lee wasn’t black ops. He was just one pissed man going after the woman he loved, and he needed Ross out of his way. Ross was out of control and in worse shape and Lee just plain didn’t need someone else to worry about. “Go now,” he murmured, “while it’s quiet.”
Ross gathered two AKs, lifted the bandoliers over his neck, and situated the other rifle on his right arm. “Do me a favor and stay alive,” he muttered as he headed out the door and around the prison cells. “I’d like to shake your hand some day, sir, and I’d like you to be alive when I do it.”
Lee nodded, his eyes on Nizari’s house while Ross faded into the night. It was now or never. Hefting the blade, he crept stealthily into the shadows along the house, his senses on high alert for any sound, sight, or scent of that other soldier, the one he knew damned well was still out there with him. The house seemed too quiet, but Lee couldn’t waste time locating the missing guard. Unless Nizari had taken Tess somewhere else, the house was the only place left where she could be.
He sneaked up the steps on the south side. The lights were on, the room empty. Testing the latch, he found it unlocked. He went inside quickly, closing the door behind him. A sharp crack from the next room caught his attention. The next sound more so. Tess screamed.
Lee’s rage exploded. He kicked the door off its hinges. The wretched sight of the whip raised over Nizari’s head, and the bloody stripe twitching across Tess’s bare back, blew through Lee like the shock wave of a nuclear bomb. He became all he was meant to be.
Muscle training took over. The knife in his hand flew from his fingers without thought or aim. Nizari’s whip leapt out at him like sizzling black lightning, but Lee’s blade pierced the slithering coils and hit true, shuddering upon impact, impaled deeply in Nizari’s left chest. The bastard fell to one knee, not dead, only injured, but the hit was good. Solid. Lungs tended to fill with blood and suffocate a person before they died. Lee wanted that for Nizari.
“You hurt me!” Nizari shrieked, the whip dropping to his feet.
Lee would have finished the job, but Tess moaned. She needed him. Nizari would have to wait his turn.
Lee ran to Tess, but she was anchored to a post in the floor, sagging, her poor arms stretched tight and her head bowed. A nearby display of polished silver scimitars caught his eye. Shattering the glass display with his elbow, Lee grabbed a blade to cut the rope that held Tess and gently lifted her into his arms. With one eye on the whimpering Nizari, he dropped to the nearest couch to assess the damage done to the lady in his arms, the scimitar still at his side. Vicious welts curled over her soft sweet shoulders, her creamy skin torn deep and dripping blood. The clock was ticking. He needed her ready to travel before he finished Nizari off. Before that fourth guard returned.
“We’ve got to go, Tess,” he explained. “I’m going to carry you, so hold on tight. It will hurt. I’m so sorry.”
Too weak to hold her head up, Tess leaned heavily into his chest with the saddest whimper. “But I was coming to... rescue you,” she whispered raggedly.
Lee groaned. How very like Tess to think she needed to rescue him. He cast his wrath at Nizari, wishing he had another knife to throw at the pig. There just wasn’t time. Lee hefted the scimitar with one hand while he pressed Tess under his chin with the other and pushed to his feet. “Hang on to me. Don’t let go.”
Her slender arms circled his neck, but she was breathing hard and moaning.
“I always get what I want,” Nizari taunted from across the room where he’d fallen, his voice hoarse, “and next time, you won’t be around to stop me!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Lee spat back at him, one arm at Tess’s injured back, the other under her knees. For two cents, he’d march back to Nizari and cut his throat, but he had to make a choice. There was no option and little time. He chose to save Tess, to get her the hell out of there before he lost the advantage. “There won’t be a next time, asshole, because you’ll be dead.”
Nizari seemed smaller than Lee remembered. More petite. Almost feminine. Certainly less frightening, kneeling like he was, whining and bleeding on his lovely carpet. Lee would’ve enjoyed it more if he
hadn’t felt the end of a gun barrel at the back of his head.
“Drop the weapon,” a very British voice ordered, “and do take your seat, Agent Lee Hart.”
Tess lifted her gaze over Lee’s shoulder. The corners of her lips twitched with the barest smile. “Hello, Mohammed.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mohammed seemed to have come out of nowhere. He looked as handsome as ever. And as deadly. He lifted the scimitar out of Lee’s hand and set it out of reach. Still, Tess couldn’t deny Mohammed was good-looking with those dark curls peeking out from under his checkered keffiyeh. That immaculately trimmed beard. Chocolate-drop eyes that sparkled, still fringed with decadently long lashes no man had a right to. He’d always been her weakness, masculine eye candy she hadn’t been able to resist once upon a fairytale.
So gentlemanly. So much the lady’s man, but so much a mindless minion of the fundamentalist purge sweeping through his country. Her heart ached to love him, at least as a brother again, but she despised all he stood for.
Reluctantly, Lee took a seat with a growl.
“Miss Culver,” Mohammed said politely, almost as politely as when they’d dated during college. All he needed to do was tip his head, and she could’ve believed he was still the kindly, cavalier gentleman who’d courted her with wine, roses, and lies. The dapper hat he’d worn then had been replaced by the keffiyeh, a sign he really was an Afghan. Not British. Never American. His good heart had been replaced by terrorist ideals. What a waste of a good man.
Lee’s gentle hand at her throat reminded her those silly, romantic days were over. Mohammed was just another Taliban soldier, come home from receiving a western education to terrorize the humble people of his native land, and rob them blind while he did it. That he’d once been a student of gentility and refinement appalled her. How could a man so well educated believe in the barbaric ways of the Taliban after knowing civility? He made no sense.
“You’re... here,” she accused, her voice weak.
“Kill them,” Nizari ordered, still struggling to get to his feet, one knee raised to stand. “Kill them now!”
“I’ve been hunting you for days, Miss Culver,” Mohammed said in the most proper King’s English, ignoring Nizari. “You never cease to amaze me. At every turn, you’ve proven yourself my most worthy, although dangerous, adversary, quite possible even my better. I applaud you. Of course, now I shall have to kill you and your American friend, but I applaud your impeccable skill at thievery nonetheless. You’ve truly outdone yourself.”
She offered her best evil brow for a woman whose back had just been laid open with a cruel whipping. The pain radiated long streaks of fire from her shoulders to her buttocks. Even Lee’s gentle hands on her back hurt, but then, so did breathing. A tremble seized her. Soon, she wouldn’t have to worry about the pain. She didn’t think she could last much longer.
“You’re looking... well, for a murderer,” she offered weakly, grimacing at the effort her petty scorn cost.
His eyes skated over her barely covered body beneath the veils. “I’m afraid your host has been quite rude with you.”
No shit. “He’s not my… host,” she wheezed.
Mohammed didn’t reply, just strode to the nearest wall where an elegant gold tapestry hung. He ripped it down, and returned, draped it over her, his rifle still in his hand. The covering didn’t stop the pain. It was nothing but the smallest token of his esteem for her, but—it was something.
“You fool!” Nizari hissed. “I’ll have your head. Do you know what that is? It’s priceless!”
Mohammed cut him short. “I don’t care what it is. This woman is beyond priceless,” he said evenly, eyeing Lee’s arm. “I say, old man, tie that bloody thing up. Here. Make this work.” He pulled the keffiyeh from his head, uncovering dark brown curls that added to the mystique he had going for him. An L-shaped scar nicked his cheekbone at the corner of one eye, but the man had always been Hollywood material. No wonder she’d gravitated toward him. What woman wouldn’t?
Stiffly, Lee obeyed, but he pressed his mouth to her ear, his words only for her. “Hang in there, Tess. I will get you out of here.”
She licked her dry lips. “I know you... will.” He might as well believe that, but she didn’t. Mohammed had killed everyone close to her, and she was the reason he was there now. Why would he let her walk away?
“Kill them, you fool,” Nizari ordered. “Don’t just stand there talking to them like you care. My men have gone after the reliquary. It will be back in my possession soon. I don’t need either of them. Get it over with! Do it!”
“Silence. I’ve wanted to speak with Miss Culver for several days now,” Mohammed answered patiently. “It seems only proper I do so before I take her life. Besides, I’ve just watched this single American soldier free all of your prisoners behind your back. You’ve nothing left to bargain with, Hasim. And your men, as you so eloquently term the pack of jackals you’ve chosen to surround yourself with, never left this abomination you call a home to do your bidding. Miss Culver might hold the secret to the treasure you covet so greedily, but she is not the one you should be afraid of here tonight.”
Tess heard the blatant threat in her friend’s steady voice, soothing but dark. Insinuating. Mohammed had changed. He was more powerful, instead of studious and playful. More intense. Stone cold serious.
Lee gazed down at her, his green eyes full of pain for her and questions she had no time left to answer. He curled her fingers to his lips, kissing them and pouring all of his love into that simple touch. Comfort flowed from him to her, offering his strength to endure. He blinked again through the sweat and blood glistening on his face; his gorgeous hair was sodden with it. “I love you, Tess.”
She offered a weak smile, her eyes heavy with the utter exhaustion of pain. I can die now. He loves me.
“You’ve led me on quite a chase, Miss Culver,” Mohammed interrupted the truest feelings of her heart. “That was an impressive backward dive off the palace the other night. Well done.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice growing more faint, her heartbeat slower. Quieter.
“I must know,” he persisted, like the arrogant cad that he was. “Did you find what you were looking for? Do you still believe you can pump the spirit of hope into this land, my dear Tess? Do you think someone out there can ever be as great as you’ve made Alexander in that foolish legend of yours?”
“Look...” she whispered, her voice fading and her strength along with it. Mohammed never understood her need to prove the legend of Alexander and Roxana. Could this foolish man not see that she was dying? Could he not see the stolen wealth displayed in this golden room of wicked deceit against his God, his country, and his countrymen? Could he not shut up for once in his arrogant life and listen? She stared up into Lee’s sad face. Oh yes, I found my Alexander. And more...
“What?” Mohammed leaned forward, his head cocked and his handsome brows knitted in that endearing way of his, humoring her to the end. “I do say, speak up, Tess. You might’ve been beaten, but you’re not dead yet. I’ve never known you to be so quiet or such a quitter. You’re really not very good at it.”
Lee’s head jerked up to glare at Mohammed, and she knew he wanted to kill the man, but her time was running out. Before she died, Mohammed needed to understand. Only he could save Lee. She drew another labored breath. Speaking had become unbearably difficult. “Look... damn you. Look.”
“I told you to kill them!” Nizari shrieked. “You work for me, not her. Do it now!”
“And I told you I will speak with Miss Culver first.” Mohammed turned his back on Lee and Tess to face Nizari, his voice clipped and sharp and sounding more British than ever. “It will be quite difficult to speak with her once she’s dead, don’t you agree? And you are wrong. I am not one of your assassins to order around, nor have I ever worked for you. I work for the holy Imam. You would do well to remember that, brother.” The word brother sizzled on his tongue.
; That small distinction was good to know. At least it proved Mohammed wasn’t in league with a despicable man like Nizari, for what that was worth. He had, after all, meant to kill her. He was still the best Taliban assassin, and apparently the ruling Imam wanted her dead.
Nizari glared. By now he’d sunk to his butt, Lee’s knife on the floor beside him. The fool had pulled it out of his body, unleashing a trickle of bright red blood.
Tess dragged her eyes back to Lee. “I... love you,” she said breathily, her voice infused with all the sincerity she could muster.
He nodded, those tender greens brimmed to overflowing. “I know,” he rasped, kissing her knuckles with all the gentleness of his great heart. “And I love you. Don’t—”
“He really does love you, you know,” Mohammed interrupted again. “I wasn’t lying. The bloody fool’s just freed every prisoner in this compound, not to mention that he escaped his cell entirely on his own merit and killed every last one of Hasim’s inept guards. This foolish American must love you deeply to have scoffed in the face of death the way he’s done tonight.”
She closed her eyes, content to die where she lay. Lee loves me. He’s all I’ve ever needed. All I’ve ever wanted.
“Tess,” Mohammed scolded. “You were quite scandalously dressed when I got here.”
She would’ve chuckled if she’d had more strength. If she’d cared.
“What was it you wanted me to do?”
She rallied. “Look. Shut up, Mohammed, and... see.”
“Look? See?” He grunted, amused. “What is this, a primary reading class for babies? What shall I do? See John run? Look at Judy? See Spot—” The breath whooshed out of him. “Oh. Now I see.”
Even with her eyes closed, Tess sensed he had at last done what she’d requested. She let the world fade away.
“No!” Lee ground out as Tess went limp. She’d grown weaker with every word of this useless conversation, and now she’d relaxed entirely, lifeless. He cupped her head to his heart, like he could make her stay if he held her tight enough. “Please don’t go, baby. Don’t leave.”
Lee (In the Company of Snipers Book 12) Page 26