by Kori David
* * *
“I watched your family bury you,” Cam replied.
Pandora sat up and then got to her knees. Not able to stop herself, she reached out and touched the face of her dead husband. The man she loved more than her life, and the man she’d mourned for five long years. “How is this possible?”
“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss that later, but for now, we need to get out of here.” Cam got to his feet and pulled her up as well.
She couldn’t stop staring at him, but what he said stopped her cold. “I have to get back. Oh, Jesus, how long was I out?”
“Only about five minutes.”
Searching around the floor, Pandora found the scarf that she used to wrap her head and cover her face. Scooping it up, she began to swiftly re-cover herself. “I was supposed to deliver the message that Mohammed is being watched and cannot make the meeting at this time. His cousin is an evil bastard and the one who’s a terrorist. He’s been in our home for a week now, but I was able to slip away.”
“I can’t let you go back,” Cam said. His throat constricted at the words he wanted to say. He wanted to demand she leave with him and not return to danger—or another man.
“I have to, Cam.”
Ghost stepped into their intense eye battle. “Ma’am, if you’re being watched, how will you get back into your dwelling?”
Pandora looked into the handsome face of the soldier talking. Then she really looked at the large, imposing men surrounding her. They were all good looking, even the huge one in the corner with the scowl on his face. There was something about them all. Something she recognized about the way they were, from her time with Cam’s team. “Oh, geez, you’re all Delta, aren’t you? It’s like they have hot guy requirements.” She pointed at the big one that rolled his eyes. “Yeah, even you, Scowly. You got the scary sexy thing going on.”
“Why is she talking about our looks?” Ghost asked. He sounded amused.
“She’s stalling,” Cam said, still grim.
Damn, he still knew her. But she wasn’t surprised, because she remembered every detail of their time together. Of him. Cam was the toughest, hottest, most romantic soldier she’d ever met. “If you do this right, then you’ll be able to get us out and take Aziz. He’s the cousin.”
From the pocket sewed into her robes, Pandora pulled out a detailed map of the home she occupied with Mohammed. Laying it out on the small table in the room, the men gathered around. She talked them through the floor plan and gave them all the information on Aziz Kufi, plus a description.
“We don’t have his name in our database as a high ranking member of ISIS or as a sympathizer,” Ghost said.
Pandora shook her head, “You wouldn’t. He’s not after the glory or the media attention. He’s pure evil. He wants the death and destruction that goes along with terrorism.” He was the lowest of men in her opinion and it made her skin crawl being in the same room with him. His eyes were so deeply brown they reminded her of shark eyes: dead looking, but scary. And when he looked at her—she shivered.
“His family is as wealthy as Mohammed’s, so he’s able to fund those bases you want to find. And, working for the government, he’s able to hide his activities while keeping tabs on the American government.” Her voice filled with disgust as she continued. “He’s quite clever.”
“We’ll get him out, but you need to stay with us. Stay safe,” Cam said.
He didn’t understand and she was running out of time. “I’m not leaving my son, Cam. If something goes wrong and you can’t get us, he’d be alone, and they’ll kill him. I won’t do that.” She watched her words hit him like physical blows. The micro expressions on his face showed anger, regret, and then morphed into determination.
With nothing more to say, she turned away from him and headed for the door. “I have to be back before Isha,” she paused and looked around at all the men, “that’s evening prayer. Everyone will be asleep a couple of hours after that. Be safe.” Then she slipped out before she could do something stupid like throw herself into Cam’s arms and kiss him again.
It was the strangest feeling. To the world, she was long dead. Mourned and forgotten by old friends. Her parents would still think of her, and she’d thought about contacting them time and again, but her life was complicated now. More complicated than anyone knew, and having her resurface but not be able to come home would have caused more grief as well as emotional torture. Better to stay dead for the time being. The only thing that gave her joy in this life was her son. He was her world, and there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to protect him.
If that included giving up the man she loved, for the second time, then she was prepared to do that. She just prayed to God that it wouldn’t come to that. And the fact that she had two husbands would be sorted out—if they lived through this. As she scurried like a terrified mouse through the city, she couldn’t help but feel eyes on her again. She was being followed, probably by one of the guys or even Cam. She revised her prayer. Pandora knew God had a special place in his heart for heroes. So, as she slipped into the place she had called home for the last five years, she prayed for Delta. Because if anyone could get them out of this alive, it was them.
* * *
Aziz Kufi watched Pandora slip into the house. Now where had she gone all by herself? Mohammed allowed the woman too much freedom, even allowing her head to remain uncovered in the home. It was blasphemous and, Aziz reasoned, why he couldn’t stop from thinking of her.
He’d wanted her from the first time he’d been introduced by his cousin. Those eyes of hers were so different than what he was used to. And that hair—like flames dancing when she let it loose from the braid. Only a husband should ever see a woman like that. But he’d known his cousin was soft, unfit for the new world that was coming. Aziz had no qualms about killing him when the time was right, and then he’d have the woman. Over and over again, until he’d exorcised her out of his system.
The child would be given to one of the barren wives at one of the camps. She could raise him to be a proper soldier for the holy war, instead of the spoiled, meek child he was now. Aziz shook his head. He’d told Mohammed over and over that Pandora should be beaten for her unsolicited opinions and immoral ways. But his older cousin refused, seemingly delighted by anything the woman did.
It was good that he’d come to live for a short time with his cousin. When he took over Mohammed’s position, he’d have access to more sensitive information to pass along to his brothers in war. And that time was now. He was tired of waiting.
Heading down the second staircase, he saw the child run into the kitchen. “Come here, child. Come sit with me for a moment.”
3
Pandora went straight to the room she shared with Mohammed. He stood at the window looking out into the evening. Taking the cover off her head, she laid it carefully on the bed.
“Will he help us?” he asked, back still turned.
“Yes.”
He finally turned from the window, a small smile playing around his still handsome face. Mohammed was older than she was, by almost twenty years. His black hair grayed at the temples, but he was lean and fit from staying active. Fine lines had appeared around his eyes and mouth from the stress of current events, but he rarely showed her his worry.
A veteran of Iraqi politics, and a survivor of Saddam Hussein’s reign of terror, he was a gentle man who doted on their son and allowed her to be anything but a traditional woman while they were inside the home, without company. When in public or when he was forced to host functions, she played her part. That was the deal, and she’d been happy enough with it, especially while she recovered from the car bombing that almost took her life.
“And did you meet with the man from the CIA?”
She paused and gulped, trying not to think of Cam and failing. “Yes, he was there. And very unhappy with you for not keeping your appointment with him.”
Mohammed shrugged. “In all our dealings together, he struck me as a man burning with
the fire of vengeance. He would have taken me then and there, leaving you and Sammy alone with Aziz.”
“He almost wouldn’t let me come back,” she said. Turning toward the connecting room, Pandora was about to go and find her son when Mohammed’s words stopped her cold.
“Of course not, you are his wife.”
She froze. Maybe she hadn’t heard that right. Turning her head slightly, she asked, “What did you say?”
“The CIA think they are so secretive, but I have my own resources. I knew with whom I dealt. The man called Phantom is really Cameron Caffee, your dead husband.”
She turned fully to face the man she’d called husband for the last five years. “You knew he was alive?” Her heart started beating faster in her chest as she fully faced Mohammed. “How long have you known?”
“Would you have stayed with me if you’d known he was here, now, in Iraq?”
Pandora could feel her head spin. Finding out Cam was alive had been such a shock. She hadn’t really had time to process it yet, not really. But worse, finding out that Mohammed knew was even…
She couldn’t even go there.
“How could you not tell me? Make me understand, Mohammed. And why now? Why make me go to this meeting when you knew about him. About us?” She wrung her hands, looking over her shoulder at the room their son slept in. She’d forgotten about him for a moment.
“He’s in the kitchen helping prepare our meal,” Mohammed said in answer to the questioning look she’d given him. “Your other questions are harder to answer.”
Pandora wanted to yell, to throw something, anything to force out answers to her real questions. But she knew he would tell her in his own time.
He took a step toward the pair of chairs in the room, opposite the bed. He was tired and his limp was more pronounced.
Without thinking, she went to him and eased her shoulder up under his to take some of the weight off his shorter leg. He refused to use a crutch or a cane, not wanting to appear weak, but when he was tired or they were alone, he gave into the pain and his limp became noticeable. “You stood too long.”
“And you worry too much, Dora.”
He eased into the chair with a sigh, taking the weight off his leg. Pandora settled into the chair next to him and waited. Willing him to just tell her.
He looked at her, glancing up at her red hair. Hair that he loved to play with, teaching Sammy to braid while she laughed at them both. Then his eyes moved over her face, touching her cheeks, her lips, and finally coming to rest on her pleading eyes. “The short answer is that I love you. I didn’t want you to know about him. And I’ve only known for about six months, when I decided to meet with him.”
“You told me that the CIA approached you about asylum in America one year ago.”
He nodded. “But that was during an Embassy dinner and it wasn’t obvious to anyone but me. The gentleman who approached me only set up the meeting with the man they call ‘Phantom.’ It was during my research into this contact that I realized who he was—is—to you.”
“Why did you send me tonight when you could have gone? You said because he would have taken you, but what aren’t you telling me?” She was more confused than ever by the task he’d given her now. Pandora thought the trip too taxing on his leg, but he’d made the trip before, several times.
“I want you to be happy, Dora. And you aren’t happy here. You conform to my traditions to please me, but it doesn’t fill you with joy. I know that you cry at night, missing this man you loved, and your family in America. And I know you want Sammy far away from this land that I love. I want that too—for you. For our son.”
She sat, bewildered, not having realized that he’d known how unhappy she was. Pandora owed this man her life and she repaid that debt in the best, only way, she’d known how. By being what he needed of her. And now he was telling her what…exactly?
“What are you saying?”
Reaching out, he ran a finger down her face before cupping her chin gently. “I’m saying, I release you. I want you far away from Iraq and what’s coming. This most current reign of terror is far from over and only going to worsen before real changes are made. There will be more bombings, more death and destruction, and I want to know you are alive and taking care of Sammy.”
“They are coming for us, tonight,” she said. “All three of us.”
He nodded. “That’s good. Maybe you should pack a very small bag with things for Sammy.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Come, we must eat before our evening prayer. Everything must appear normal in front of Aziz.”
Pandora took his hand, as she did every night, and descended the staircase toward the eating area. He sounded fatalistic, his tone defeated. It was if he knew something she didn’t. It gave her the chills, and she still reeled from the knowledge that not only was Cam alive, but he was CIA, and Mohammed knew.
Already seated was the man that made her skin crawl. Aziz. She tried to control the shiver and Mohammed’s hand tightened in hers fractionally. And as he came fully into view, her heart stopped. In one hand he held a gun.
In the other, he held her son.
* * *
“I want her out of there tonight, whatever it takes,” Cam said. He bent over the rough map that Pandora had given him, memorizing the layout and which room was which. “How much demo did you bring with you?”
Blade answered, “Enough to take out a couple of buildings.”
Cam nodded, still looking at the map. “I want explosives on this wall and this one near the kitchen. Both areas should be empty when we hit.”
Ghost looked up from the same drawing, catching Cam’s eye. “If this goes sideways, it’s our asses in the sling.”
The hard tone of his voice didn’t faze Cam. He wasn’t saying no; he was merely reminding Phantom what happens to soldiers when all hell breaks loose. Cam was aware and would take the flak if this op took a shit. “This is on me. If you want out, walk away now.”
“Hell no,” someone said from behind him. “We protect what’s ours. And we sure as hell don’t leave our women in danger.”
“That’s the Delta I remember,” Cam said with a tight smile. “From what Pandora said about this Aziz, he’s enemy number one. We take him for info if we can, take him out if we can’t.”
“And Mohammed Al’Hadir?” Ghost asked.
Cam heard the caution and understood it. They were all possessive, primitive men deep down. It was an instinctual reaction, and while part of him just wanted to grab his woman and run off into the hills with her, he was just so damned happy she was alive, he’d sort out the other husband later.
“We bring him and the child. Pandora and the child take precedence.”
“Copy that.”
They moved off to confer with each other and come up with a plan. Cam was fine with that. They were a cohesive team and he didn’t want to interfere with that dynamic, and he was odd man out. They knew he was former Delta, but they didn’t know what he could still do or not. But at least they knew he wasn’t likely to shoot himself or anyone else by accident.
“Coach followed your girl back to her house,” Ghost said, coming back over to stand by the rough map. The others followed and gathered around. “The building is what is described here,” he said, putting a finger on the drawing.
“You keeping him there to watch?”
Ghost nodded. “Now, let’s see what else you have in mind and we’ll rough out a plan.”
Cam laid out his thoughts and when Ghost offered up theirs, they were remarkably similar. He nodded. “I’ll be there in thirty. I need some equipment.”
“We’ll be there.”
“I’ll have your channel when I get there.”
Ghost raised an eyebrow. “CIA has some perks.”
“You have no idea.”
With that, Cam left the guys to finish planning and headed to his base of operations. He had a call to make and needed to arm himself. Plus, get his communications online. He’d been dark for a w
hile now. Agents in deep cover, like himself, didn’t have regular check-ins, but he wanted intel on this Aziz Kufi. He’d been after different players, so either Aziz was new to the game or a smaller fish on the list.
And if he was as radical as Pandora suggested, then he might have to be put down.
Cam purposely thought only about the mission. If he gave in and thought about the fact that Pandora was involved and what her life had been like without him—hell, what his life had been like without her, he’d lose focus. He just couldn’t. Not yet. It would come and, when it did, he’d likely be a mess, and that was something he couldn’t afford right now. So she was on his mind, but like the mysterious box she was named after, those thoughts stayed closed.
For now.
4
“What is the meaning of this, Aziz?” Mohammed demanded.
Pandora could feel the tension running through both of them. The gun held so casually in the other man’s hand terrified her. Sammy stared at her with wide, frightened eyes, but he stayed perfectly still. She was proud of him for being brave.
“It has come to my attention that your woman has exited the home without proper escort this night. What has she been doing?” His tone was bored, but his sharp eyes missed little.
Pandora opened her mouth to respond, but Mohammed squeezed her hand. For once, she listened. Inside the home, she spoke her mind and had an opinion, whether or not the very traditional Aziz approved. But something about his smile, and the gun, signified something had changed.
“She’s not been sneaking anywhere. Dora has been shopping for a birthday present for our son, and we didn’t want him to know about it.”
“I think you are lying to me, cousin.”
Mohammed shrugged and continued down the steps until they were about twenty feet away. “Think what you like, but this is my home and that is my son you are threatening, and I will know why.”
“I tire of your demands and I tire of watching this woman ruin you.”