Wait a minute. “We don’t know that,” he said. “She didn’t fight like she was innocent.”
“You think she would sign up for something like that?”
Oliver’s mouth dried out really quickly. They’d both heard Max’s screams as their captors had carved up his face. No one would sign up for that. But if they’d tricked her into compliance. Sprung the eye thing on her later…. “Let’s just say you can be confident I won’t hurt her, okay?” He wouldn’t have to. Certain acts against the United States government—like kidnapping men involved in top-secret war efforts such as Operation: Middle of the Garden and then holding those men against their wills and torturing them across the world for nearly a decade—were punishable by death. All he needed to do to get his revenge was hand her over to the proper authorities. After she healed him, of course.
Luke stared hard at Oliver before nodding. “Then let’s go get your girl, huh?”
Luke was the best reader of expression and body language that Oliver had ever encountered. His espionage skills were unparalleled. Without a doubt, he’d read everything Oliver hadn’t said out loud in each tick of Oliver’s features. The fact that he wasn’t smiling worried Oliver, but he’d agreed to help Oliver get her. That was the most important step. He’d deal with the fact that his Impulse Mate had just gained an ally as loyal as a bulldog later.
The last of the sun disappeared over the horizon, and the marketplace sank into darkness. It was far past time for Oliver to get his life back. He exchanged a look with Luke, and then they both turned toward the direction he’d last seen his fate run.
3
Day Two of the Cycle
“Where is she?” Oliver barely resisted the urge to punch something.
They’d been searching for hours, and the confidence he’d had at sundown had disappeared. More than that, though, he was worried about her.
It hadn’t taken long after dark had fallen for the seedier residents of the city to emerge. Oliver and Luke had come across several individuals who made his skin crawl. He didn’t want to imagine his petite mate encountering even one of them.
They turned into yet another alley that concluded in a dead end. Oliver shoved a hand through his hair, grabbed hold, and yanked. He was going to lose his mind.
“We’ll find her.” Luke patted Oliver on the back. “I promise.”
Luke could promise no such thing, and Oliver resented the attempt to make things better. His enemy woman was alone in the dark with myriad predators. He needed to find her, and more and more it was looking as though that wasn’t going to happen.
With a grunt, Oliver turned, ready to head back out into the marketplace proper to find another alley, and plowed directly into a mountain of a man.
Oliver blinked to clear his vision and caught the familiar sights of his other best friend’s scar hidden by long, black hair. Max Wright was in Afghanistan.
“Max!” Luke exclaimed. He rushed forward and embraced their friend and former co-prisoner.
Against his will, Oliver felt his lips turn up, and he forced them back into a straight line. He loved Max like a brother, but his sudden presence in the middle of Afghanistan did not bode well. “What are you doing here, Max?”
“My lady brought me.”
Right on cue, the angel Anahita rounded the corner. The feathers of her wings ruffled, and her gaze swept Luke and Oliver. Her eyes flicked to gold and then quickly back to the extraordinary blue they were whenever they weren’t evaluating current dangers to her Ward and lover, Max. “Luke, Oliver,” she smiled. “It is good to see you again. Max has missed you so.”
Max cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Easy there, pretty baby.”
“Aw, we missed you, too.” Oliver blew Max a kiss.
“Look at that.” Max flipped Oliver the bird. “I just got over it.”
Anahita stepped forward. “The situation with the Rebellion has reached a delicate moment. We need you back in the States.”
Was she serious? “I’m definitely in the middle of something.”
Anahita frowned and tilted her head. Suddenly, her expression cleared. “Oh, I am sorry. You misunderstand. We need you back in the States, so I have found your Impulse Mate for you.”
Freaking angels.
Luke laughed and tried to cover it with a cough. “We call that burying the lede.”
Anahita’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Thank you,” she said with sincerity, ever ready to learn more about the humans she longed to protect.
Unbelievable. “Where the hell is she?” Oliver’s desperation made him snap the words.
A palm was suddenly pressed into his chest. Oliver followed it up to Max’s thunderous face. He raised an eyebrow and pinned Oliver with a glare. “Watch your mouth.”
Oliver’s fists clenched, and he could barely focus on Max through his frustration. “You don’t want to go there with me right now.”
Anahita’s eyes shifted to gold, and she reached for the sword she kept sheathed beneath her wings. Max sighed. “Look what you did.”
Oliver narrowed his eyes. They knew where his mate was, and they weren’t telling him. He was more than ready for someone to fuck with him.
Luke stepped into the center of the standoff. He elbowed Oliver in the stomach and held his other hand out toward the angel who had switched into Guardian angel mode, ready to protect her Max with everything within her. “He’s not going to hurt Max, Anahita.”
Oliver bit the inside of his cheek. Silence descended upon the alleyway, thickening amidst their awkward stalemate. Luke elbowed Oliver again; this time the man’s sharp elbow wedged between a couple of ribs. Ow. Fine! “I’m not going to hurt Max, Anahita,” Oliver parroted.
Anahita blinked once. Twice. Her baby blues were back, and she slowly re-sheathed her sword, piercing Oliver with a chastising glare. “You men are worse than children.”
“Anahita—” Oliver’s voice cracked. “My mate.” He was not above groveling at this point. “Please.”
Anahita’s brows drew together, her face clearing. “Of course. This way.” She turned, and Oliver sprang forward, more than ready to clap eyes on his enemy and make sure she was okay.
“Wait.” Max stepped into Oliver’s path.
Knowing a threat of violence would only slow them down again, Oliver had no choice but to stumble to a stop, but a well of emotion rose in his throat so quickly that Oliver worried for a moment that it would burst out of him in something weird, like a sob. “Max—” Oliver closed his eyes.
“I saw her,” Max said quickly. “She’s good, Oliver.” Max’s eye, which Max constantly referred to as “ruined,” told him whether someone was good or evil on sight, a side effect their captors had not anticipated before slicing Max up.
Oliver opened his eyes reluctantly. “Good?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear this.
Anahita turned back to them. “That is unreliable.”
“Ana,” Max said in a let’s-be-reasonable tone.
“She lit up in the brightest of golds.”
Ha! Anahita viewed threats to Max in hues of gold. The brighter the gold, the more credible the threat to Max’s safety. “Thank you, Anahita,” Oliver said pointedly.
“You aren’t helping,” Max mumbled beneath his breath.
Anahita’s brows drew together. “I am not?”
Oliver’s hands began to shake. “Not to break up this little tiff, but if one of you doesn’t take me to my woman in the next ten seconds, I will never speak to either of you again. And I don’t need to tell you what a tragedy that would be, because I’m fucking delightful.”
Max grabbed Oliver’s arm and began to pull him toward the marketplace. “You’re right. We’re sorry.” They were walking fast, and Oliver was nearly bowled over with relief. Finally. He didn’t bother to look behind him, knowing Luke and Anahita would be right on their heels. “Don’t hurt her until we know for sure she was working with the guys Taylor hired to imprison u
s,” he said so low that only Oliver would hear.
Oliver shook his head. “I am not going to hurt her!” It was really starting to wound him, how his closest friends could suspect such an unforgivable thing from him.
“I know.” Max shrugged. “I’m just going to have your back.”
Oliver heard the implied I’ll be watching you and groaned.
“We’re close,” Max said.
Oliver’s pulse kicked into triple time.
They turned into an aisle between two buildings, and a new sound reached Oliver’s ears: the sound of a scuffle. Max stutter-stepped. They exchanged a look. From behind them, Luke asked, “Does that sound like a fight to you?”
“Fuck.” Oliver wrenched his arm from Max’s grip and took off toward the sound at a dead run.
The sounds got louder until Oliver could pick out several distinctly male voices. Please let it just be anything other than what I’m thinking.
No sooner did he have the thought than he heard a very distinct female gasp. Of pain. With a roar, Oliver launched around the corner, not even slowing down when the sight of his mate engaged in battle with nearly ten men threatened to emotionally gut him.
“Oh, bad,” Max yelled from right behind him, heading off toward the left and a cluster of the attackers. “They’re all definitely bad.”
Oliver leapt, his arms extended, and took down the three men who had been backing his woman into a corner. He bared his teeth as he dug his knee into one of their spines while grabbing the middle one by the hair and bashing his face against the ground twice until he stopped struggling. He continued to press down with his knee as he reached for the other man he’d taken down. He snatched the guy by his shirt and yanked him over his unconscious comrade. At the same time, there was a satisfying snap beneath his knee, and Oliver pushed away from the no-longer-moving, would-be rapist and hauled his last target up, throwing him into the nearby wall. The man bellowed as he sailed through the air, and the sound cut off abruptly when his head cracked against the wall. He crumpled to the ground.
Oliver spun around with a snarl, needing to get his fingers around more throats. Max was standing over three unconscious men; Anahita and Luke had each dispatched two of the others. Oliver’s shoulders fell. He’d wanted to do it himself.
Fingers brushed his shoulder and clenched the fabric of his shirt. Less than a heartbeat later, Oliver received a vicious blow to the back of his head.
Oliver grunted through clenched teeth and fought the stars winking through his vision as they threatened to overtake him. He jerked out of the hold and turned on his attacker.
It was his mate. Her hijab had fallen from her head and rested around her shoulders. The most gorgeous ebony hair he’d ever seen wound around her neck and down her chest in a heavy braid, and she panted so hard that a few strands that had escaped the braid danced erratically in the exhalations. Her eyes were panicked and still puffy from sleep.
They’d attacked her as she slept.
Oliver suddenly wanted to kick the bodies that lay strewn around him. Unconsciousness and paralysis was too good for them.
With a screech, his mate launched herself at Oliver, her fingers curled into claws. Oliver’s hands snapped out, grabbing hold of her wrists. He absorbed the brunt of her forward motion with his chest, reacting to the impact with only a small step backward.
Her panting took on a sob-like quality, and she twisted in his grip, trying desperately to escape and attack him.
“Whoa, whoa. You’re safe,” Oliver murmured, more tempted to pull her into his body and wrap his arms around her than he wanted to admit. A bad idea given the situation he’d just found her in. Her struggles only increased. “It’s me!” Oliver blurted.
Idiot. She didn’t even know who me was, and she wouldn’t stop trying to kick his ass even if she did. He could still feel the outline of her boot on his sternum from the beating she’d given him hours ago.
Which was why Oliver could have been knocked over with a flower when her struggling ceased.
4
The scents of cardamom and pistachio penetrated her senses.
He came back.
Farrah did not want to stop and examine the foolish relief that flooded her by hearing the simple ‘It’s me’ muttered by yesterday’s attacker.
Better the devil that you know? As good a reason as any for now. Her imprudent heart seemed to trust him as it finally began to slow. “Are…they gone?” she managed to ask between billowing breaths.
His answer took some time to arrive. “They’re not a problem anymore.”
She paused. “What did you do?”
Her hands moved up and down in his grip: a shrug. “A little of this. Little of that.”
For some horrid reason, Farrah felt her lips tip up at the corners. “Thank you.” She felt her smile broaden. “I suppose.”
The mystery man who held her sucked in a breath. Farrah’s smile disappeared.
What did he want in return?
Farrah twisted her wrists, pressing them toward the man’s thumbs to get out of his grip, but his fingers tightened. She froze. “Release me. Now.”
It was the only warning he’d get. She was already narrowing in on his vulnerabilities for when he refused her request—she’d go for his groin this time—when he dropped her. Quickly. As though he didn’t want his hands on her any more than she did.
And a twinge of something like pain lit up in her belly.
Just like her mother.
Never. “Thank you for your assistance.” She squared her shoulders. “Goodbye.” Forever. If she ever smelled cardamom or heard a similar deep, bass rumble, she’d simply run in the opposite direction. From now until the end of time. She turned to her left, more than willing to run into things if it meant getting away from this man. She stepped forward and immediately stumbled over something large and warm that lay in her path.
“Wait!” His hand was on her again, this time wrapped around her arm. It kept her from pitching forward and sprawling over the ground. “Watch out.” He paused. “And just…wait.”
“I will not,” she said quickly, desperately.
“We have a home for you,” he said, talking loudly as though he had to block out all her protests. “A safe place. You don’t have to live on the streets.”
Farrah laughed, the sound bitter and old. A safe place? There was no such thing for a woman like her. “I reject your offer. Now, I find myself having to ask you to release me. Again.”
“Why would you…reject safety?” He seemed genuinely confused.
“Why would you and your we offer me prostitution and label it safety?” She was getting angry now. “Let. Go.”
“Prosti—” He made a noise akin to a growl. “Woman, you’re driving me crazy.” She felt him turn on the spot in the way he pulled on her arm. “Anahita, tell her I didn’t offer her prostitution.”
“I do not know, Oliver,” a husky female voice said. “Are you offering her more than prostitution?”
They have a woman with them?
The man holding her—Oliver, apparently—groaned. “God save me from women.”
“Oppose me, and no one, God or otherwise, could save you from me.” Farrah lifted her chin. “Release me. Immediately.”
He finally dropped her arm. Her skin tingled in the absence of his touch, and Farrah wanted to kick herself for missing his fingers as soon as they were gone.
“Oh, I do like her, Oliver,” the same female voice said.
“Fantastic,” Oliver said. “Just…fantastic. All our problems are solved.”
“Snark is very unattractive,” Anahita said. “You do not have much time, all things considered. Perhaps some wisdom—”
Oliver cut her off. “Anahita, I love you. You know I do. But if you don’t stop talking, about time and everything else, we’ll never get back to the States.”
The States? This miraculous “safe” life, which Farrah had honestly been considering since hearing the voice of a woman in a
pparent power, was only available in a different country? Well, Farrah was doubly out, then.
For the first time in twenty years, Farrah had a clue as to where her mother was: here, in this terrible city infested with bad memories. Nothing else in the entire world but news of her mother’s whereabouts could have forced Farrah back to this location, and she was not going to leave until she found her contact. She’d been searching for Ibrahim to receive his message for two days with no luck. There were not many more places to look. If she did not find him by the end of the day tomorrow, she would dare to contact him via telephone….
“Little human,” Anahita said, pulling Farrah from her thoughts, “we will take you to the United States now. You will be safe. You will not be a prostitute. You will be well-fed and have a home.”
There was no mistaking Anahita’s tone. Her wording was polite enough, but there was no room for Farrah to agree or disagree. She was being informed of an upcoming change to her life. Farrah drew in a slow breath and loosened her knees. She did not want to fight her way out of here, especially against an unknown amount of foes and right on the heels of a very near defeat. “I do thank you for your offer, Anahita.” Farrah edged to the side where she could feel a draft from the mouth of the alleyway. “I cannot, however, accept at this time. I have some business to attend to, but as soon as I am done, I will get into contact with you. How can I connect with you again?”
There was a sad sigh. “I am sorry for upsetting your existence like this,” Anahita said. “You may get slightly dizzy—” The scent of lilies poured over her, and next Farrah knew, the woman was wrapping her arms around her.
The ground beneath her feet disappeared. Farrah rarely panicked, and she never lost control completely, but this was outside of her understanding. Her mouth flew open, and a scream so filled with terror launched from her mouth that Farrah herself broke out into goosebumps. Suddenly, her feet touched earth again.
“We are here. We are here,” Anahita said in quick succession. “It is all right.”
Questions crowded Farrah’s mind. Where is here? What in the name of God just happened? Neither of those questions breached the surface of Farrah’s scream.
Of Blind Fate (Operation: Middle of the Garden Book 5) Page 3