by Susan Stoker
Her eyes widened at that. “You’re assuming I want to,” she said cheekily.
Brain smiled. “You’re right, I am. But the need to taste your lips again, to strip you naked and feel you under me, can’t be all one-sided.”
She licked her lips and said shyly, “It’s not.”
“Good. Now…go before I fuck up and kiss the hell out of you right here and now.”
“Kane?”
“Yeah?”
Aspen took a deep breath. “Thanks for sticking up for me today.”
“Always,” Brain told her.
She took a step away from him, and he dropped his hands. Then she turned and headed for her tent without looking back.
Knowing he needed to get his mind back in the game, and start thinking about the mission ahead of him, Brain stalked toward his own tent. He prayed they’d be able to find this Akhund guy and get the hell out of Afghanistan sooner rather than later.
Abdul Shahzada—known as Muhammad Qahhar to the officials on the American base—watched stoically from behind a tent as the cocky American soldier walked away.
Internally, he seethed.
He hated Americans. All of them. He was working on base as an interpreter, right under their very noses, to gain intel for the Taliban. And the fact that he’d just been lectured by one of the Americans didn’t sit well with him. How dare the man listen in on a private conversation? How dare he lecture him, Abdul Shahzada? He wasn’t a man anyone talked down to if they wanted to live—and yet that’s exactly what the American had done.
Forced him to apologize to a woman.
That wouldn’t go unpunished.
He’d learned more about base operations by just listening to other soldiers talking around him, assuming he wasn’t listening, than they’d ever believe. For instance, he knew the Delta Force team had arrived to hunt down Mullah Abbas Akhund. But like the others, they were idiots. They didn’t yet know for certain that Akhund wasn’t the man they should be concerned about.
He was the public face of their group, but Abdul was, in reality, the man in charge in this region.
Abdul also knew he should inform Akhund that he needed to lie low, but honestly, he was sick of being in hiding. He wanted to publicly take his place as the head of their local faction. He wanted to prove to their leaders that he could take control—and keep it.
Akhund was on his own. If he got killed, so be it. It would be the will of Allah.
Abdul also wanted to make every single American who worked at the base pay. Pay for their interference in his country. Pay for their wicked ways.
His mind went to the female soldier. What if he ordered her to be taken? She was a whore, consorting with many groups of men on the base. She wore a uniform that should be reserved for real soldiers, and she acted too friendly with the local men. She was attempting to lure them away from Allah—and that wasn’t acceptable. Taking her would also be a blow to the man who’d defended her. He’d probably go out of his mind, wondering where she was, what was happening to her.
It was a perfect scenario…except for a few things. Abdul had seen firsthand how crazy the American leaders got when one of their soldiers disappeared. They spared no expense or resource to find the person and bring them home. Not only that, but the whore was protected by not one, but two platoons of men. Three if he included the group that arrived today. She wouldn’t be easy to obtain, no matter how much he wanted her.
Hearing something nearby, Abdul turned and saw an American food worker exiting the chow tent. She had hair the color of the devil, and she was so short it was unnatural.
As she walked away, oblivious to his presence, an idea bloomed in Abdul’s gut.
What if it wasn’t a soldier who was taken?
What if it was a lowly contractor?
He followed the small American at a distance, taking note of the fact she didn’t interact with the soldiers she passed. It didn’t look like anyone really even noticed her. She would make a good mark. If she disappeared, not many would notice or care.
He could take out his displeasure with the Americans on her.
It was doubtful the US government would put up much of an outcry if a contracted worker went AWOL. The Americans were stupid enough to believe she’d just left…and he’d be able to take as much time as he wanted with her.
She’d most certainly cry and beg him for mercy. But he wouldn’t give it. Every drop of blood she spilled would make him stronger.
Taking revenge on the meddlesome, insufferable Americans was his main goal. Making the devil woman suffer, and teaching his followers how to interrogate and torture a real live person—much better than simply telling them how it was done—was a start. She would be a teaching opportunity for the movement.
Grinning to himself, Abdul continued to observe as she entered one of the tents on the outskirts of the base.
Perfect.
Knowing he wouldn’t have long to wait before he was publicly in charge of the region, Abdul slipped back into the shadows. He could be patient. One day soon, the small devil woman would become a useful tool in his arsenal, and no one would even realize.
It was one more way to thumb his nose at the infidel Americans who dared try to tell him and his people how to live and what to believe.
His time was coming—and it was going to be glorious.
Chapter Nine
The hair on the back of Aspen’s neck was sticking straight up and had been for the last fifteen minutes. Her platoon had been tasked with clearing three streets in a neighborhood on the west side of the city. Derek’s platoon was clearing the area a few streets over. And she had no idea where Kane and his team were at the moment. She supposed they were doing the same…going house by house searching for Akhund.
The locals weren’t exactly thrilled with their presence, which was nothing new, but today they seemed especially hostile. She wasn’t sure why. But the men she was with were on edge, obviously feeling the anger and hostility in the air just as she was.
Derek had been pushing both Ranger teams especially hard all afternoon. He’d pulled rank on Sergeant Vandine twice, ordering him to stand down when he’d questioned his orders. Even though they were both platoon sergeants, Derek had been in his position longer than Vandine and unofficially outranked him. Between the growing discord between the platoon sergeants and the less-than-receptive welcome by the citizens as they searched for Akhund, Aspen was on high alert.
Apparently the Army had gotten notice that the Taliban leader had many supporters in this area of the city, and it was likely one or more of them were helping to hide him from the American authorities.
Taking position in the entrance of a small alley between two three-story buildings, Aspen held her rifle at the ready as sergeants Holman and Buckland flanked the doorway of yet another dwelling. Sergeants Hamilton and Vandine pounded on the door and announced who they were in Farsi. They ordered the occupants to open up and, when they didn’t, warned that they would be entering.
Sweat dripped down the side of Aspen’s face. Between the body armor and the Kevlar helmet she was wearing, along with the backpack full of medical gear she always carried, she was sweltering in the heat of the late afternoon. Her hands gripped the rifle tightly and her gaze swept the immediate area, looking for trouble. There were three other men from the Ranger team nearby, all watching the backs of the team members who were about to enter the house to search for Akhund.
But before the four men could get inside, all hell broke loose.
Eight men wearing black pants and shirts ran around the corner at the end of the street, yelling at the tops of their lungs and firing automatic weapons at the team at the same time.
Without hesitation, making sure none of her team were in her crosshairs, Aspen fired back.
The sound of gunfire was loud in the otherwise quiet street. One of the men coming at them went down with a scream. Most of the platoon joined Aspen, the alley becoming a temporary haven for her team. Except for Vandine
and Holman. They were pinned in the doorway of the house they’d been about to enter, no longer able to run for safety. Their best bet was to hunker down in the shallow space of the doorway until their team could clear the road.
The next minute and a half was chaotic and Aspen operated on autopilot. This wasn’t training. The bullets flying through the air were real. The danger of dying was real.
Not letting herself think about that, Aspen lay on the ground, hugging the building as she peeked around the corner. The Taliban fighters shooting at them had taken up defensive positions and were trying to pick them off one by one as the platoon attempted to shoot from the alley.
Aspen didn’t feel much of anything when the man she’d carefully aimed at, waiting for him to peek from behind a wall he was using for shelter, fell into the street with one of her bullets between his eyes.
She heard Vandine cry out when he was shot, and then her team yelling that Holman had also been hit.
“We can’t wait anymore! Cover us!” Vandine yelled from his position in the doorway.
Without thought, Aspen helped lay down a barrage of gunfire to give their platoon sergeant time to get both himself and Holman to the alley, where the rest of the team was still hunkered down.
When they got within ten feet of the alley, Aspen whipped the rifle strap over her head, laid her weapon down, and rushed into the street to help the two men. When Vandine grabbed Holman, she’d assumed the younger man had the more serious injury, but the second she saw her platoon sergeant, she knew she’d been mistaken.
Vandine was white as a sheet and the entire front of his right pants leg was soaked with blood. Too much blood for the wound to be anything other than arterial. If she didn’t do something fast, the man was going to bleed to death right in front of her.
Aspen was wearing a headset like the rest of the Rangers, and she immediately reported to the team—as well as Derek’s team, who had to have heard the gunfire and were probably on their way to the location to assist. “We’ve got two down. We need backup to extract.”
“Negative,” came Derek’s voice over the radio. “It’s a distraction ploy. We’ve got Akhund pinned down over here. We need all able bodies to get to our location ASAP to make a perimeter. He’s not going to get away from us again!”
Aspen blinked in shock. Maybe Derek hadn’t heard her. She tried again. “I repeat, we’ve got two men down. Injuries are serious. We’re pinned down and can’t extract.”
“And I repeat,” Derek said nastily. “Our first priority is Akhund! Anyone who can walk needs to get their asses over to our position. Now. That’s an order!”
Aspen looked at the five uninjured men of her platoon. For a second, they all stared at each other in clear disbelief.
“Did you copy?” Derek barked over the radio. “We need more boots on the ground over here. The second you all join us, they’ll give up. Let the medic do her job and the rest of you get your asses over here. We’ll be back to get her and the others in minutes after we find Akhund!”
Aspen heard Vandine groan and turned her attention to him. He’d slumped into the dirt in the alley and was barely conscious. Holman wasn’t as bad off as their platoon sergeant, but it looked like his right hand had been shot off.
Between the time she’d looked down at the two injured men and back up, the remaining Rangers had disappeared.
She stared at where they’d been standing just moments before, in shock. She couldn’t believe they’d left. Fuck.
Moving quickly, Aspen dragged Vandine farther back into the alley. She glanced nervously at the other end, where anyone could come up behind them, and swallowed hard. Shouts rose from the street, and she quickly ran back where she’d left Holman. She wished she had time to treat his hand, but they’d all be dead if he couldn’t hold off the Taliban fighters.
She shoved her rifle at him. “Vandine’s bleeding out. I have to put a tourniquet on him. Can you hold them off?” she asked.
Holman looked at her from where he was sitting on the ground and something intense passed between them. They both knew their chances of living through this were slim, especially now that they’d been left on their own. But neither was giving up. Holman was a Ranger, the toughest of the tough. He reached out with his good hand, his left one, and nodded.
Aspen put her hand on his shoulder for a brief second, then ran back to Vandine.
She couldn’t believe Derek had abandoned his fellow soldiers. He hated her with a fervor that was completely irrational, but she knew he respected the others on the teams. Today, he’d put his desire to catch Akhund above everyone.
She threw herself on her knees next to Vandine and shrugged her medical bag off her back. Reaching into a pocket on her pants, Aspen pulled out the combat application tourniquet she always kept there. She grabbed the K-BAR knife out of the holster on her vest and sliced Vandine’s pants from thigh to where it was tucked into his boot.
The blood was pulsing from a hole in his inner thigh. With every beat of his heart, blood pumped out. He literally had minutes to live if she didn’t stop the bleeding.
Dropping the knife, Aspen wrapped the CAT around Vandine’s upper thigh, put the end through the clip and, with one hand, quickly and efficiently turned the windlass rod to tighten the tourniquet. Thankful for the one-handed ease of the device, she looked toward the other end of the alley…
And swore when she saw two men peek their heads around the corner.
Without thought, she reached for Vandine’s rifle. With one hand on the CAT, still tightening it, she awkwardly aimed toward the other end of the alley and fired two shots. Thankfully, the men she’d seen pulled back and didn’t return fire.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered. She might be able to get the tourniquet on Vandine’s leg and stop the bleeding, but they were sitting ducks in the alley. Eventually the Taliban fighters would come for them.
“Take the rifle and you and Holman get the hell out of here,” Vandine told her in a shaky voice.
“Fuck you,” Aspen told him.
“That’s an order,” her platoon sergeant said.
Aspen ignored him and concentrated on locking the windlass into place. The CAT would hold until she could get her patient to an operating room. She had no idea if he’d lose his leg or not, but at least he wouldn’t bleed to death in this fucking alley.
“Mesmer, did you hear me?” Vandine asked.
Aspen looked into her platoon sergeant’s eyes. They hadn’t always gotten along. She thought he wasn’t assertive enough, especially when it came to Derek. He let the other man talk him into making decisions that she didn’t think were especially good for the team. But she wasn’t going to leave him here to die. No fucking way.
“I heard you,” she told him, then turned to her medical bag, unzipping it and reaching for a vial of ketamine. The very powerful sedative and painkiller was more effective being administered by an IV, but they didn’t have the time for that. Vandine had to be in an inordinate amount of pain, and she needed to take the edge off so they could get moving. Somehow, the three of them had to get out of that alley and to safety before they became “guests” of the Taliban.
She picked up her K-BAR and slit through Vandine’s shirt, exposing his arm and vein.
“You should’ve gone with them,” Vandine told her in a weak voice.
Aspen took a deep breath and concentrated on drawing just the right amount of ketamine into a syringe. Then she turned back to her platoon sergeant. She stretched his arm out and, as she was inserting the needle into his vein, said, “I recited the Ranger creed just like you did, Sergeant. And part of that was, ‘I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy.’” She looked into his eyes as she pushed the sedative into his vein. “I might not be a real Ranger in your eyes, or the eyes of the rest of our team, but I take my oaths seriously.”
For a second, she thought he’d lost too much blood to really understand what she was saying. Then he nodded once. “Sit r
ep?” he asked, his voice way too weak.
“Holman is at that end of the alley,” she said, motioning behind her with her head. “Holding off the unfriendlies. We’re gonna have to go out the other side.”
Vandine tilted his head to look behind him at the other end of the alley. And as he did, Aspen saw the two men from earlier once again peer around the corner. She lifted the rifle and blasted off a few shots. Heading in the direction of those men wasn’t ideal, but facing off against two was better than trying to fend off the six or more men who’d been shooting at them from the other side.
Knowing they were in deep shit, she kept the weapon trained on the end of the alley. The ketamine needed three minutes to take effect, then they would have to move.
She’d done her job, stabilized her patient and made him as comfortable as the situation would allow. If the team was there, they could’ve easily helped her carry Vandine and get them all out of there, but at the moment they were on their own.
At the sound of shouts and more gunfire at the end of the alley where she’d left Holman, Vandine said, “Go. I might be hurt, but I can still get off some shots if those two assholes show their faces.”
Aspen nodded and hurried toward Holman.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Holman didn’t look good. He was still sitting on the ground, but his upper body was weaving back and forth. Shit.
“Don’t know. There were a bunch of guys who looked as if they were about to make their way down the street toward us, but then they turned around and ran back the way they came. Sergeant Spence might’ve been right, and they all followed the others when they left.”
More shouts sounded from what seemed like the next street over, and Aspen thought this might very well be their one shot to get the fuck out of there.
“Time to go,” she told Holman. “Wait here.”
She ran back to her pack and shoved in the few materials she’d taken out to help Vandine. Taking precious seconds to grab a roll of gauze, a second vial of ketamine, and a new syringe, and putting them aside, she slung the pack over her shoulders again. Then she went back to Holman. “Give me your arm.”