TICK TOCK (EOD (Explosive Ordnance Disposal) Book 1)

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

Amira smiled as tears glittered on her eyelashes.

  “Maybe more than a little. But,” and she looked down, “he tried to save me. He tried … he could have saved himself—he could have left me, but he didn’t.” She looked up at Smith. “So I will never forget him, and I will pray for him always.”

  Smith gave a curt nod, then slid his hand from under hers and stepped away.

  The coffin was ceremoniously lowered into the ground as Amira’s hair blew across her face, the breeze drying the tears that slowly tracked down her cheeks. When she reached out to hold my hand, I never wanted to let go.

  I was glad that we could be here. No soldier should be buried alone. I knew that Smith said Larson’s family was the Marines, but it should be someone who knew him, people who cared.

  “Thanks for everything, Larson,” I said quietly.

  As they played ‘The Last Post’ and the haunting sound echoed across the vast cemetery, I raised my hand in a stiff salute.

  Larson deserved that, and I wanted to honour the man.

  I watched as one of the Marines from the Honour guard folded the flag that had been draped over his coffin, then hesitated, clearly wondering who he should give it to.

  I turned to Smith, but he’d already gone, striding into the distance, his head down.

  Amira accept the folded flag and hugged it to her chest as the tree branches swayed above us.

  When she climbed back into the car, the flag held tightly in her hands, she met my gaze.

  “I don’t ever want to go to your funeral, James.”

  I reached out to hold her hand because I had no words.

  James

  WHERE DO I go from here?

  The question had been running through my head for days—and now it was my last few hours with Amira.

  We were at JFK, two among thousands in the vast, white terminal.

  Amira and her family were flying back to San Diego within the hour, and I had a late flight to Heathrow.

  Nothing had been resolved between us, and every time I’d tried to start the what next question, she’d shut me down.

  A wiser man would have taken the hint, but life could be short, ending suddenly, brutally—and I knew what I wanted. I knew who I wanted.

  And now I was down to my last thirty minutes to make use of my limited charms to persuade her to agree with me.

  I’d told Clay about my plans, and he’d commented that my charm offensive should be more charming than offensive. Sarcastic bastard.

  Her parents were clearly uncomfortable with my presence—I definitely hadn’t charmed them. They were grateful, but they didn’t want me around their daughter. They definitely wouldn’t want me for a son-in-law. But I had a plan…

  I’d managed to persuade Amira to go for a coffee with me, leaving her family at their flight gate, and we were sitting in a Starbucks concession. Amira was drinking some frothy iced coffee crap, and I had something that was supposed to be English tea (but wasn’t).

  As I reached out for my cup, wondering how to start, she caught my hand, exploring the web of scar tissue that crisscrossed my palm and wrist, interrupting the normal lines.

  “So, I guess this is goodbye,” she said quietly, laying my hand back on the table.

  “Only for now.”

  She shook her head sadly.

  “I don’t think so, and neither do you. Not really. You said it yourself—you live 6,000 miles away. This has to be goodbye.”

  I studied my scarred hand, hoping I’d find the words to convince her that we had a chance.

  “Well, I read the other day that they’ve got this crazy new invention called air travel. And email—it’s like writing a letter but without having to buy a stamp—wow, magic! You should try it. And I heard telephones work across the Atlantic, as well, but that could just be a rumour.”

  She didn’t crack a smile and she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “James, you and I don’t exist in the real world—we can’t. It’s a lovely dream, but it’s still just a dream.” She shook her head. “I was so naïve—Operation Hansel and Gretel—it seemed like being in a movie at first, or a fairy tale. I’m so stupid.”

  Her words threw ice water over my hopes, but I wasn’t going to accept that as her last word. The game starts after you score. I’d had those words tattooed on my back for a reason—and it meant that I needed to up my game.

  I wasn’t what you’d call a spiritual person, but I didn’t believe that we’d been through all this shit for nothing. I was sure of that.

  “It doesn’t have to be a dream, Amira. We can make this work: you and me—us.”

  She glanced up, startled, and shifted on the hard chair.

  “I don’t think of you like that, James. There’s too much against us.”

  “Like what?” I demanded belligerently.

  A long sigh and she turned her eyes toward me.

  “Where we live, who we are,” she paused. “Our religion. We can be friends, but…”

  “I don’t have a religion that I practise. I have to put Church of England on my dog tags, but so what? And where we live can change. As for who we are, you already know that, and I already know that. We fit, Amira. We’re good together.”

  She looked down.

  “No, this is goodbye, James. It has to be.”

  I cupped her face in my hand so that she’d be forced to look at me.

  “Why?”

  She blinked in surprise.

  “Why? Because it just is.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I pleaded. Her lips tightened as she frowned and pulled away from me. “We can be together,” I insisted. “We just both have to want it and we can make it happen. If you want to be with me the way I want to be with you?”

  I took a deep breath and held it.

  When she finally spoke, it wasn’t what I was expecting. At all.

  “I’m going to go to Syria.”

  I was completely thrown by her words.

  “What?”

  She looked frustrated, her hands gripping her plastic cup and squeezing it too tightly.

  “I want to go to Syria and complete Karam’s mission. I want to work in the hospitals there and … and do good.” She looked away. “I need to.”

  “But that’s crazy!”

  She glared at me, clearly frustrated.

  “I thought you’d say that, but I need this, James,” she said forcefully. “I got it all wrong before, thinking that I could be someone I’m not—an undercover agent,” and she laughed dully. “But I’m a nurse, and helping, healing—that’s what I do, that’s who I am. Karam would never have wanted me to do what I did, getting involved with Smith, to risk myself like that. I was so full of anger and hate that I couldn’t see what was important.”

  “And now you can?”

  I hated that I sounded so sarcastic and dismissive, but she was tearing chunks out of my heart a piece at a time. Soon, there’d be nothing left.

  “James, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t hate me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “But you will.”

  “Amira…”

  “No, listen! I need to do this. Do you understand? I have to do this to be able to move on from everything that’s happened. The feeling grows stronger every day. I want to go back to work. In Syria.”

  I stood up and started to pace, drawing the glances of people around us. I tried to get a grip and slammed down heavily into the chair.

  “Jesus! Nearly dying once wasn’t enough for you?” I growled at her. “You’d go to Syria, doing the very thing that got your brother killed?”

  She grimaced and looked away.

  “It wouldn’t be like that…”

  “It would be exactly like that! Not that much has changed in the last year. You’ve got Russia on one side with Putin being a mad bastard and there’s no saying what he’ll do. Then there’s President Assad who’s just as crazy and completely capable of gassing his own
people again. And that’s if Daesh really is beaten in Syria, which is doubtful as well, because they’ve just gone to ground—they’re still there, everywhere, all around.”

  She sighed, patience and compassion in her gaze, and I knew that I was losing her.

  “I know this, James. Don’t talk to me like I don’t know what I’m doing, like I haven’t thought about this. There’s so much need, so much suffering, and I can help. I know exactly what I’d be getting myself into.”

  “No. You think you know but you don’t.”

  I was pretty damn certain that she had no clue, but I’d been in war zones, and I’d seen exactly how the Taliban and ISIS supporters had behaved there.

  “I’ll tell you what it’s like,” I snapped, my voice low and harsh. “Raqqa will be littered with ordnance, IEDs everywhere. The place is half rubble, which means it covers devices that haven’t yet functioned but could at any moment. And as Daesh leave the city, they’ll be rigging the houses that are still intact, setting timers in the kitchens, under the beds, rigging the bloody light switches. But they don’t just set them to explode as soon as someone comes into the house, they set them to go three days later—when the whole family has gone back there—maximum carnage.”

  Her face went very still, but I continued, my voice rising.

  “And the hospital itself? The one where your brother died? The building has been shelled to ruins, so you’ll be working in tents and you’ll be lucky if there’s electricity or running water. Maybe you’ll have a generator that works, but you won’t be able to get diesel to run it. Not legitimately, so your team will have to buy fuel on the black market—probably from the bastards who were fighting for Daesh in the first place.”

  I leaned forwards letting my voice go cold.

  “And if you think the last few months have been hard, you’ll see far worse; you’ll see things that will keep you awake at night—and you’ll be seeing them for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?”

  She swallowed and leaned across the table to pull my hands into her own.

  “I know. And that’s why I’m needed.”

  “Amira, you don’t know!”

  Her expression chilled.

  “I am very aware how cruel people can be. I’ve lived it. I am living it. But I have to do this. I can’t go forward … I can’t go forward with you or with anyone else until…”

  “Until what?”

  “I’ve paid penance.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked angrily.

  She sighed and leaned back.

  “I hardly know myself, but I feel it. There’s something inside that’s telling me to finish Karam’s work. I owe it to him. I owe it to the people out there who have nothing—the people my family came from. I can help. I know I can make a difference. That’s why I became a nurse in the first place.”

  “Then make a difference here,” I almost shouted, remembering at the last second and dropping my voice to a hoarse whisper. “Do it somewhere you’ll be safe.”

  We stared at each other, the divide between us wider than ever.

  “James, I care about you, we’re friends, good friends … but I’ll hate myself if I don’t do this.”

  I turned away, my body stiff, unable to take the shattering pain inside. But I still had one card left to play.

  “Then I’ll come, too.”

  Silence.

  I turned to face her, but she stared at me like I was the crazy one.

  “You can’t. That’s impossible.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “You can’t follow me there!” she said, her voice rising.

  “The hell I can’t!”

  She gave a furious laugh.

  “Be serious! You think the British Army would let you do that?”

  “They wouldn’t have any choice … if I was a civilian—then I can do what the hell I like.”

  She squinted at me as if she hadn’t heard right.

  “You can’t leave the Army. You can’t do that.”

  Her voice was flat.

  “Yes, I can.”

  “But…”

  “I have to give 12 months’ notice, but then I’m free to go where I like, do what I want.”

  Her eyebrows drew together in confusion.

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll follow you to Syria.”

  “But … you can’t.”

  “Says who?”

  “James, it’s just … no! This is my journey, not yours.”

  “Yeah, well, you seem to think it’s a good idea. If that’s where you’re going, Amira, that’s where I want to be.”

  Shock spread over her face.

  “You mean it!”

  “Every word.”

  “But … what about your career?”

  “You think I give a shit about that?”

  Her eyes widened.

  “You’d leave the Army, give up everything?”

  “I wouldn’t be giving up everything—I’d be gaining everything.”

  For a moment, light shone in her eyes, but then it was gone again.

  “I can’t ask you to do that. I won’t.”

  “You’re not asking me—I’m telling you that’s what I want.”

  She dropped her gaze to the table, and I could see the idea sinking in, but there was still a barrier in her mind, something she wasn’t telling me.

  “James, the last few months have been … terrifying … but I’ve learned a lot about myself. I thought the religion of my family meant nothing to me, but it does. Through all this madness, through all the hatred and violence, I’ve found my faith. I know that sounds as corny and crazy as anything else, but that’s how I feel. Like God has given me a second chance. I want to explore what that means—and I want to do it through Islam.”

  I thumped my head down on the table, then stared up at her.

  “Well, okay. If that’s what you want. I don’t really get it, but if it’s important to you.”

  She shook her head furiously.

  “No, not important—it’s fundamental. To who I am, to what I want to be, to everything.”

  I scratched my ear.

  “Yeah, okay. Great. Good for you—go for it.”

  She grimaced in frustration.

  “What I’m trying to say—and making a real mess of it—is that I couldn’t be with you in the way that you’d want. Ugh, don’t make me say it!” She covered her face with her hands. “I couldn’t be with you—sexually—because my faith wouldn’t permit it.”

  Now, I was getting it. It burned like hell, but I got it. And I saw the obvious solution. Or at least I thought I did.

  “What if we get married?”

  She nearly choked.

  “Married?!”

  I grinned at her astonished reaction.

  “Yeah, people do that. You know, when they want to spend the rest of their lives together.”

  She flicked my arm.

  “Don’t joke!”

  “I’m not. Marry me, Amira. Today, tomorrow, as soon as you like. Marry me.”

  Her eyebrows shot up.

  “You really mean it?”

  “Yeah, I do. So, what’s your answer?”

  Her face closed down, and she took the shreds of my hope with her.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? You’re single, I’m single, and we want to be together. At least, that’s what I want. So why not?”

  “I … James, I want … I need … if I ever marry anyone—which is kind of a stretch for me right now—I’d want to marry a man of my own faith.”

  “Oh.”

  “You get it now?”

  “Sure.”

  I picked up her hand again, feeling the smooth, soft skin.

  “So, what do I have to do to become a Muslim?”

  Her mouth dropped open and then she frowned, snatching her hand back.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing. I’ll convert. I’ll be what you want
.” I sighed. “Don’t you get it, Amira? You’re talking about Fate, or things happening for a reason, and with all the shit that’s happened, don’t you think the one good thing has been us? If you have to give meaning to it all, isn’t that it? Isn’t that the miracle—that a man brought up with the Church of England fell in love with a Muslim woman who hated him and everything he stood for?”

  “I … I never hated you!”

  “Yeah, you did. I saw it in your eyes.”

  “No … no, I just hated … well, everyone. My life.”

  “But not now.”

  “No. Not now.” She paused. “You said you’d fallen in love with me…”

  “You caught that, huh?”

  “Yes, and I’m more flattered, more awed than I could ever say, but … it won’t work.”

  “It can!”

  “James!” she yelped, her voice rising unhappily. “I can’t find another way to tell you without hurting you, so I’m just going to have to say it. I’m overwhelmed that you’d consider changing your faith, marrying me, but I can’t let you do that. I love you as a friend, a good friend, a special friend, but that’s all.”

  She took a deep breath as my world fell apart.

  “I can’t marry you. My answer is no.”

  Amira

  MY HEART BROKE for James.

  I loved him. Of course I loved him. But that wasn’t enough. It would have been so easy to say ‘yes’, to agree to everything, because then I wouldn’t have to face the future alone—I’d have my best friend at my side. But that wouldn’t be fair to him, to either of us.

  “We can still be friends,” I said weakly. “I’m being selfish, but I don’t want to lose you, James. In a few years, we’ll laugh about this, and you’ll know you had a lucky escape.”

  He didn’t look at me as he spoke.

  “I’ll never think that, Amira. I’ll always love you.”

  I didn’t know what to say, what to do to make it better, because of course I couldn’t. There was no kind way to trample on someone’s dreams.

  I leaned toward him, taking his damaged hand in mine, wondering how I could be saying goodbye to this beautiful, kind, caring man.

  Suddenly, I spotted Zada hurrying through the concourse, a frown on her face.

  “Amira! They’ve called our flight! We have to go now.”