Lee (In the Company of Snipers Book 12)

by Irish Winters

  That day? She jerked her fingers away from his mouth, this newly revealed pain tearing her heart out all over again. “You were there?”

  “Why do you think I visit the orphanage all the time? I’ve been running interference since you set foot in Kabul and decided to confront Nizari. He wanted more than your blood after you defied him in public. He’d gone to the Imam. It was all I could do to persuade him to let you live.”

  Her throat clamped shut. She had openly defied Nizari when she’d discovered he’d raped one of the teenage girls at the orphanage. It was a totally American response to an abhorrent crime that could not go unpunished. She’d gone to the police and pressed charges, but the criminal system in Afghanistan did not work like the one in the United States. Nizari owned certain policemen. Certain judges. If they questioned him at all, she wasn’t aware of it. The only way she’d known her charges were dismissed as frivolous was the day he’d shown up at the orphanage with his brutal lackeys to exact his revenge.

  The memory of that beating on Nizari’s order still lingered in heart-pounding nightmares. Sister Alison had wept while the local doctor tried to help after that beating. It was no small thing. Her jaw had been broken. Finally, only rest and Clint’s sporadic care worked.

  Tess no longer knew why she’d ever thought coming to Mohammed would help find her brother. Hell, she had no idea why she’d ever thought Clint needed help in the first place, or why she hadn’t thought to call him before she’d stolen Nizari’s car. Her brain was half numb from exhaustion, and she’d simply gone off half-cocked. Clearly, that dream she’d had was a product of the drugs she’d been given. But there she was, making an utter fool of herself once again. No wonder Mohammed thought he had to cover her back.

  What was I thinking? Tess leaned forward to get to her feet. “I need to leave. I never should’ve come.”

  “No,” he said kindly, pressing her easily into the cushion. “You came for knowledge, and you shall have it. Don’t be a twit. Just because it isn’t what you want to hear, doesn’t make it any less true.”

  Another lost soul came to mind. “Omar?”

  “Don’t ask more about Omar.” The ferocity of his answer startled Tess. He clutched her fingers tighter. “Too many of us have been misled by Nizari, the Imam included.”

  “Do you know where my brother is?” Tess asked, surprised at the sudden emotion in her voice. “He told you, didn’t he? That’s how you knew I’d be at the palace that night. Clint sold me out. He told you where I’d be so you could—”

  “No,” Mohammed said quietly with a definite shake of his head. “Clint loves you. He’d never betray you. It was Nizari who set the trap. He knew if he moved the reliquary, he could bait the daring cat burglar of Kabul, he just didn’t know that cat burglar was you. Imagine his surprise when he discovered he hadn’t beaten the courage out of you. You’ve built quite a legend for yourself, but it would’ve been smarter if you’d stolen something besides just the artifacts he’d removed from the National Museum. You’re brave, Tess, but you’re not as clever as you think you are.”

  “But how did you know I’d be at the palace? You said you had an order to shoot me.”

  “I said I had a standing order to kill you as soon as I could locate you,” he corrected. “Trust me. I was as surprised as Nizari to see you dancing on the edge of that wall. How could I kill you, woman? That was when I decided to injure you only. You more than anyone in this city needed to live.”

  Tess couldn’t miss the anguish in his tone. She swallowed hard. An order meant he still needed to kill her. “I shouldn’t have come, but I had no other way to find Clint, and I...” How could she tell Mohammed she’d run to him just because she’d had a dream? It seemed bizarre after all he’d told her, but she sighed and told him anyway. “I had a dream. He’s in trouble, Mohammed. I need your help finding him.” I think.

  He growled low in his throat, running a hand through his hair. “You and your dreams. They get you into more trouble. I’ll tell you what I know, my friend, but don’t be angry. Your brother isn’t you think he is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My brothers and I might not have the resources of your American friends, Tess, but we are not without means. For instance, I know you belong to Worldwide Archeological Rescue, and for that, I’m thankful. You’re one of the few who truly care for my country, its treasures, and its children. I respect that.”

  “Then why did you think I was selling the artifacts I’ve stolen?”

  “Because that is what many archeologists have done.”

  “Then they must be the few unscrupulous ones in the field, because all the men and women I’ve known have been trying to safe Afghanistan from people like you!”

  Mohammed raked a quick hand through his hair, glancing toward the kitchen where his wife worked, clearly aggravated. “Will you keep your voice down?”

  The paradox of a cold-blooded assassin afraid of his sweet little American wife would’ve made Tess chuckle on any other day. She crossed her arms, defiantly studying the puzzling man beside her. The memory of all they’d meant to each other still burned in her heart. Their problem had always been the same. They were idealists and dreamers, warriors off to save the world in their own ways. She’d met Jacque by the time she’d left England. She couldn’t understand how Mohammed could join a group of fundamentalists who’d destroyed irreplaceable archeological wonders like the giant Buddhas at Bamiyan.

  “Your brother also works for WAR.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” she said quickly and adamantly. That was one thing she knew for certain. Clint wasn’t smart enough to work for WAR.

  “Ah, my lovely Tess.” Mohammed blew out a deep sigh, his arm behind her on the back of the couch. “You’ve always had your eyes so full of stars that you failed to see what was right in front of your nose. Why do you choose not to believe me? Why would I lie?”

  The sparring match caught up with Tess. She leaned her head against the strong bicep behind her. It took too much energy to fight and, like it or not, Mohammed had many of the same qualities she admired in Lee. Strength. Devotion. Masculine confidence. Pride. A sense of honor.

  “You believe with so much of your heart in the legend of your brave Alexander, but you do so at the risk of the real man standing in front of you. There was a day I would’ve given up everything I owned to follow you, but you couldn’t see me, could you, Tess?”

  She held her breath, trying to understand.

  “And now you’re so wrapped up in your fairytale legend that you cannot see Clint for the brave hero or the man he is.” He kissed her knuckle again, his lips lingering and warm, his gaze on her.

  Tears stung her eyes. “I didn’t leave you to save the world. You left me. You were intent on returning to your country, a place I could never belong.”

  “And yet”—he offered a small shrug—“here you are.”

  The irony of his words didn’t escape her. “But I’m only here because of the children and WAR and—”

  He placed his index finger on her lips to shush her. “Precisely. You’re here because you believe with all of your wild, crazy heart in something, Tess. It just isn’t me. Admit it. When you believe in your dreams, you throw your heart and soul into it at the expense of everything and everyone else. There’s no stopping you. This WAR you speak of has become an obsession you seem willing to die for.” He traced the pad of this thumb to her chin. “What I wouldn’t once have given to be that obsession. I saw the look on your friend’s face last night when he thought you’d died. I can’t help but feel sorry for Agent Hart.”

  “Why?” she breathed.

  “Because he’s me, my dear impetuous dreamer. Totally obsessed with you, and yet,”—Mohammed offered a sad smile—“here you are with me instead of where you belong with him. Why do you think that is?”

  “Because I...” Had she really been so focused on her dreams that she’d walked away from Mohammed? Worse, was she making the same mistake agai
n with Lee? Was she that blind?

  “I shall tell you plainly what you have so miserably failed to deduce with your own two beautiful blue eyes.” A gentle smile graced his lips as he cupped the back of her head and pulled her close. He leaned into her forehead, his breath soft on her cheek. “Clint is working deep undercover for WAR. He’s used you, silly Tess, but only because it served both of your agendas, and I suspect, once you think about it, you’ll see that I’m right. My sources have placed him high in the Hindu Kush of late, where he’s in league with one of the few men in the country who can challenge us.”

  “What? Clint is challenging the Taliban?”

  “Not exactly,” Mohammed purred, “but he seems to be working closely with those who are. The next time you see him, tell him to be more careful. His helicopter flights have not gone unnoticed. The wrong people are watching.”

  “Are you sure he’s working for WAR?” She couldn’t wrap her head around that notion. Not Clint. Not her bumbling, pot-smoking, baby brother. No way.

  But Mohammed didn’t argue, and that made it—believable. It also explained why Clint had so easily turned her over to Lee that night. He hadn’t betrayed her. Somehow, he’d already known she’d be safe with Lee. Agent Hart had some explaining to do.

  Alex’s words came back to her. You’ll be returned to America… You’ll be placed in protective custody... Only then am I authorized to reveal who signed this contract for your safety. Could Clint be that mysterious client? She’d been so angry with Alex and Lee, and things had happened so fast since that night at the palace that she hadn’t taken the time to think clearly, but she was now. It was an unexpected brotherly intervention, but who the hell did Clint think he was?

  Mohammed’s eyes glistened with love for his foolish friend. “My beautiful Lady Tess, how many men like Agent Hart do you think will come along in your life? How many real warriors will you spurn on your quest for your legendary Alexander? Open your eyes. He’s a thing of ancient history, Tess. Let him go. Clint isn’t your son to raise. Let him go, too. And me?” He pressed his nose to the side of her head, drawing in a deep breath before he pressed a kiss in her hair. “You’ve already lost me. You must let me go as well.”

  His words pierced her soul. She would always love Mohammed, but not the way she loved Lee. Even under Nizari’s lash, she’d only thought of Lee, and Lee needed to know that. She needed to make sure he knew. She swallowed hard. Mohammed was right. Lee wasn’t her Alexander. He was better than that ancient legend. Lee was real.

  “I have to go,” she said quietly, pulling her fingers out of Mohammed’s warm grasp.

  “Not until Alessa says you may leave,” he teased, casting a loving glance toward his kitchen. “My wife is on a mission, just like you. You’ll be well fed and well rested before you’re allowed to leave. It is our way of honoring strangers and celebrating friends.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve put you in great danger,” she whispered. “If the Imam finds out I’m here…” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  He leaned in to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. “A true believer is never in danger, Tess. The rest of the world is.”

  It had to be Seth.

  “Wake up, man.” He bumped Lee’s leg a second time.

  “You’d better have a damned good reason for bugging me,” Lee grumbled, his bleary eyes barely cracked open enough to see Seth’s grim face. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Tess. She’s gone.”

  “What?” Lee jumped to his feet.

  “I went to check on the boss. On my way back, I stopped at her room.”

  “She can’t be gone,” Lee insisted as he barreled down the hall. Seth had to be wrong. Tess was too banged up to go anywhere. She was hurt. He flung her door open, but damn it. Her empty bed stared back at him. Lee turned on his buddy, his mind pinging to come up with any reason Tess would’ve left—or been taken. He instantly dismissed the notion of a kidnapping. “Maybe she’s hungry. Where’s the galley?”

  “No, man.” Seth placed his hand to Lee’s forearm. “Jordan and me looked all over for her. She ain’t here, but there’s more.”

  “What?” Lee snarled. How could today possibly get any worse?

  “Nizari’s car’s gone.”

  “Shit!” He raked one hand over his stupid damned head for sleeping too long and for thinking he could trust her. This was so like Tess. One minute she sounded believable, but the next...

  He turned on his heel, determined to find her, but angry as hell she’d pull a stunt like this. Did she ever in her stubborn, pig-headed life think about anyone else? Hell, they were all beat-up and wounded. Was it too much to expect her to stay down like the rest of the guys and give him just one day of peace and quiet? No. Not Tess. She believed in legends and impossible things like dreams. Stupid damned woman!

  “Where are you going?” Seth asked.

  “Where do you think?” Lee snapped back at him.

  Jordan had joined the posse. “Let’s go get her. Weapons are still in the rig.”

  Lee didn’t slow down. Knowing Tess, there could only be two places she would’ve gone—back to the orphanage or straight into the heart of Taliban country to confront Turik. Jesus H. Christ! How many times will I have to save her sorry ass?

  Jordan beat him to the rig. It was in as rough a shape as they were, the front left wheel and axle crumpled and blackened from a grenade blast. Thank heavens for armor plating. Things could’ve gone a lot worse.

  “You guys got some spare clothes?” he asked once he’d cleared the door. “I can’t wear scrubs to battle.”

  “Yeah, man.” Seth pointed to the rear of the rig. “Check the closet next to the last rack.”

  Lee tossed the scrubs he’d been wearing aside and helped himself to desert cammies, tops and pants. He grabbed a pair of clean socks and sand-colored boots. Today he was back in the Corps—might as well dress like it. Seth tossed him a tactical vest. Good thinking. He strapped it over his chest before he donned the rest of his uniform and buckled up.

  Lee grabbed a double holster with matching pistols, a couple of extra magazines, and a gear bag full of the usual—grenades, flash-bangs, a sawed-off, and shotgun shells to go with it. He strapped on an ankle holster, the pistol that went with it, and stuck a knife in his boot. A man never knew what he’d run into.

  “You ready?” Seth asked at the door. By the looks of these guys, they both thought they were going with him. He didn’t argue. It might take both of them to keep him from wringing Tess’s neck.

  “Let’s do this,” Lee muttered, glancing to the empty stall where he’d left Nizari’s BMW. “Shit, I should’ve taken the keys. I should’ve known she’d try something like this.”

  Scrambled to Alex’s olive drab Humvee, Seth took shotgun and Jordan grabbed the backseat leaving Lee to drive. He wasted no time backing the vehicle away from the rig and exiting off the base.

  “Where to?” Seth asked, gripping the suicide strap overhead.

  “Saint Raphael’s.” It didn’t take long to drive a half block and pull into the schoolyard of the orphanage. “Stay here. No sense all of us going in.”

  “We’ll keep the doors open.” Jordan already had one boot on the ground, his pistol drawn and ready. He tossed an earpiece at Lee. “Put this on before you go in.”

  “Seriously?” Lee snapped. “You think I need a comm link in this place?”

  Jordan stared him down. “I think we’re on an unauthorized op that could get us fired or dead. Put it on.”

  It was good someone was using his brain. Lee sure wasn’t. He tucked the earpiece down deep where it wouldn’t be seen.

  “Comm check,” Jordan growled.

  Lee gave him the thumbs up and bailed out of the rig. His boots had no sooner hit the dirt than a tall, willowy woman holding a little boy with no legs in her arms headed his way. Several other children flocked at her knees, all of them brown-eyed, brown-skinned, and smiling. “I’m Sister Mary Joseph. I run this orphanage. May
I help you?”

  Lee offered a welcoming handshake and a sincere smile to remind himself that, despite his military gear and over-abundant weaponry, he was more than just a badassed soldier. “Morning, Sister. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Tess Culver today, have you?”

  “Tess?” Sister Mary Joseph’s eyes brightened with concern, her grip gentle. “She was here over an hour ago. Why? Is she okay?”

  “As far as I know she is,” he answered, scanning the simple concrete building that looked more like an abandoned warehouse than a safe home for children. Two older girls approached with a smaller girl between them. A big smile split her face, but her eyes were blank and unseeing. Lee’s heart faltered. If that was Tess’s Mina, then the little guy in Sister Mary Joseph’s arms was...

  “Hey Jamaal,” he said, taking a closer look at the poor little guy. One leg was taken off at the hip, the other at the knee, but damned if Jamaal didn’t offer a toothy grin before he ducked his face into the kindly nun’s shoulder.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Sister Mary Joseph asked, even as she offloaded the little tyke to Lee’s arms.

  “No, I, umm...” Lee balked, but really had no choice. Marines had a reputation for being bigger, badder, and tougher than life, but right then? Jamaal was the only tough guy on scene. “How you doing?” he asked the boy.

  Jamaal burrowed his backside into Lee’s forearm, too shy to answer, or maybe he didn’t understand English. Lee didn’t care. The kid needed to feel safe so Lee obliged.

  “You’re a good man,” Sister Mary Joseph said, her chin lifted appraisingly and her hands on her hips. “I can see it in your eyes, but tell me. Why is the Army looking for Tess?”

  “We’re not Army, ma’am.” Lee glanced back at his rig. It sure looked Army. He gulped at his major indiscretion of the day. Alex would have his ass for this one. “We’re just friends. I need to talk with her. That’s all.” He nodded at the girls. “Is that Mina?”