by Kori David
“My wife is none of your affair.”
Pandora had never heard this particular tone before. The man she’d called husband for the last five years was normally soft spoken and gentle. But the way he spoke now was from a different time in his life, one he would rarely speak of. When he’d been a soldier and not a politician.
“Let Dora and Samir go upstairs and we can figure out what is wrong, cousin.”
Aziz shook his head, smiling lightly. “We are going to take a ride together. All of us.”
“And what if I say no?” Mohammed said.
Aziz shrugged and pointed the gun at his cousin, center mass. “Then I shoot you here and take the woman and child anyway.”
“What do you want?” Pandora couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Why are you doing this?”
Grabbing a handful of Sammy’s hair, Aziz yanked hard, causing her son to cry out. Pandora choked back a cry and Mohammed physically restrained her. “If you speak to me again, woman, I will kill the boy. You will learn your place.” That sick smile returned. “I’ll be happy to teach you.”
His eyes ran over her body, not that he could see much through the burka, but she’d seen that look before. And what it promised was not something she was going to like. Or even survive. She focused on Sammy and the fat tears rolling down his face. He was so little, so fragile in the hands of an evil creature. Why hadn’t she just taken him to the Embassy? Why had she waited?
But she knew the why didn’t matter any longer, and all the “what ifs” in the world weren’t going to change it now.
Her only hope now was Cameron and the Delta team. She started praying they’d come soon. Cam would get them all out safely, he had to. There wasn’t another alternative. She knew what Aziz was, and who he was affiliated with, even if she couldn’t prove anything. And if they went anywhere with him, Mohammed would die. And so would she, probably after being raped over and over again. God only knew what would happen to her son then.
She needed to stall. But since she couldn’t speak, she wasn’t sure how. So she did what she thought would make him happy; Pandora dropped to her knees and began to crawl slowly forward. The smug little smile on his face let her know that debasing herself for his pleasure worked. She didn’t care, as long as it brought her closer to her son.
“Dora,” Mohammed said. His voice was pained.
“Be quiet, cousin. She is finally acting as a whore should.”
Whipping her head back, she pleaded silently with Mohammed not to say anything. Any filth that came from Aziz was nothing compared to what he could do if he pulled the trigger. The muscle in his cheek jumped as he bit down on the words he’d been about to hurl. Turning back, she found Aziz's dead shark eyes on her, enjoying her willingness to be mute and compliant to his whims.
Stopping just short of the table, Pandora sat up on her knees and folded her arms, keeping her eyes downcast. “Come closer to your son, woman.”
Inch by inch, she moved forward on her knees.
“Go to your mother,” Aziz said, thrusting the boy away from him and into her arms.
His bony little arms wrapped around her neck as she hugged him hard, shielding him as best she could. A single hiccupping sob escaped him, but it was quiet. He was so quiet, unlike his normal rambunctious self. Maybe he was in shock.
“What now?” Mohammed asked.
“Now we wait. I have a car coming for us.” Aziz pointed the gun toward the chair. “Sit. It won’t be long now.”
“And what do you hope to gain?” her husband asked. “I know you want my job, but I was appointed. It’s not mine to give.”
“Oh, I want more than your job, cousin. Much more.”
The smile on his face chilled Pandora. He was crazy, pure and simple. Filled with blood lust and the need for power. He was prepared to do only God knew what to them. She hugged Sammy closer. Come on, Cam. Bring those badass Delta guys, she begged silently.
I need you.
* * *
Cam listened as the report came in. Ghost and his team weren’t aware that he had their channel and could listen yet. He was glad he’d kept silent as he made his way to the new rendezvous point.
“We have a problem.”
“Intel?” Ghost responded. Cam recognized his voice because he did most of the talking during the planning stage. The others were quiet, watching the perimeter—only occasionally chiming in. Ghost was the leader and it was his team. Cam respected that, but only to a point. He had his own rules and the way he played in the sandbox.
“One tango. Holding a gun on the packages. Another adult male, unarmed, sitting nearby. The gun swings between them.”
Another voice chimed in. “Headlights in the distance. Coming fast.”
Shit. There was one long driveway between where the city ended and Mohammed Al’Hadir’s house began, but these were coming from the desert. Looking around the corner, Cam had a view of the bouncing headlights approaching. Coach was the overwatch, if Cam remembered their call signs correctly. He must be the voice spotting the headlights.
“How many?” Ghost asked.
“At least three vehicles.”
Cam pressed the mic at his throat. “Then we go now.”
A muffled snort came through. “Figured you were listening.”
“Damn straight. Arriving at rendezvous point now.”
“I have you,” Coach’s voice whispered through the earpiece.
It was radio silence as they all waited for Ghost to decide. In or out. Either way, Cam was going in after Pandora. And he’d do it alone if he had to. They all knew it. He’d seen the look in Ghost’s eyes—he knew what Cam was going through. He must have a special woman of his own, to be able to give that particular look.
“How long?”
“Three minutes.”
“Go,” Ghost gave the order.
Cam sucked in a big breath; he was happy to have the back-up. Stepping forward, he placed a small charge on the door, then moved to the side about three feet. The charge would blow out, taking the lock with it.
“Three, two, one.” Charges went off simultaneously. One at the front, one at the side door that led into a garden area, and the one Cam set on the door closest to the kitchen. Closest to Pandora. And the man who would be eating the barrel of his own gun very soon.
No one threatened his wife.
Cam moved like his namesake, slipping into the smoke and through the door that stood wide open. There was yelling and the high pitched cry of the child, through the ringing of his ears. Then gunfire. A pop, pop, pop as the man holding the gun dashed toward Pandora, who was on her knees holding a small child.
Cam had a single moment as he met her wide eyes, and the bright eyes of the child as they stared at him. Then the target’s gun was coming up, and he was too close to bring his own assault rifle up in time to stop the man from shooting, so he threw himself forward, diving over Pandora as she pulled her child sideways and out of the line of fire.
He heard the report of the handgun and felt the vibration like a sledge hammer into his chest, but he’d thrown himself so hard that he hit the man in the upper body and it propelled them both up and over the small table there.
“One minute,” the voice in his ear said, and Cam knew he had to move.
He’d worn a vest, so the bullet didn’t penetrate, but it felt like a battering ram had tried to rip into his body. Forcing movement, he lifted his body off of the combatant, twisted, and slammed his elbow into the man’s face. Blood gushed instantly from his nose and ran into his eyes, which fluttered briefly before closing. The body under Cam went limp.
“We got injured,” another voice said through the earpiece.
“Pandora?” he yelled.
“Here,” she said. “We’re okay. Mohammed?” she called. But there was no answer. “Mohammed?” she yelled it this time. Still no answer.
“Ma’am,” Ghost said. “We have to go. Now.”
Cam got to his feet, wobbled, and felt steadying
hands. “You good, Phantom?” It was the big guy, Truck.
He nodded. “Let’s bug out.”
Cam grabbed Pandora, who had her son in her arms and wrapped his arm around them both, leading them out the door he’d blown. Glancing back, he saw one of the guys had Mohammed in a fireman’s carry. Damn it. Keeping Pan close and not looking backward, he led the way as they moved away from the house.
“Truck stashed a vehicle about two clicks away. Keep heading south.”
Cam didn’t bother answering Ghost, since they could all hear the yelling. The cars had finally arrived at the house. Gunfire sounded in the distance as they ran, keeping in the shadows as much as they could.
“Does someone have Aziz?”
“Had to leave him behind, bro.”
Cam nodded to himself. Better to leave the bastard behind than compromise themselves. And getting Pan and the kid out was his first priority anyway. Mohammed was a bonus, since he had information about the bases. But they’d have to wait to see how bad he was hurt.
An explosion sounded as they fled. Followed by two more.
“I lost a couple of grenades,” Coach said. His deadpan voice pulled a couple of chuckles out of two of the guys.
“You’re gonna catch hell from the supply clerk.”
“You notice he loses a lot of equipment lately?”
“Can it,” Ghost snapped. “You can slap-ass all you want once we’re back at Camp Condor.”
It was quiet as they made their way into the city again. Those grenades must have taken out the vehicles because no one seemed to be following them. It was eerily quiet, but that was probably due to the sounds of the explosions. The people who lived with bombings on a daily basis were hiding in their homes, hoping they weren’t next. It made slipping by, unmolested, a helluva lot easier.
Truck took the lead at that point and ducked in between two buildings. Everyone followed. A big diesel engine roared to life, kicking up dust and filling their noses with the high octane smell of fuel. The rear doors to the Rhino opened and a soldier waited to help anyone who needed it into the back of the large cargo area.
Cam boosted Pandora up and she reached one-handed for the outstretched arm. Then she was in. Whoever had Mohammed stepped up next, and Truck helped the unconscious man up into the open space, then climbed up next to him. He was already pulling out a knife and cutting open Mohammed’s shirt, looking at the wound there. Once Cam was sure everyone was secured, he and Ghost were the last two inside. Securing the doors, they were off, a second soldier already at the wheel. They weren’t Delta, so they must have been on loan from Condor.
He squeezed in next to Pandora, who had wide eyes glued to the gaping hole in Mohammed’s chest. Her eyes met his for a brief moment before she thrust her son into his arms and crawled forward to the injured man.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
“Need the kit,” Truck said to the soldier in the back.
A bag was passed over and Truck dug inside, pulling out gauze, scissors, and an assortment of other items. “Hold the light,” he said to Pandora as he handed her a pen light. He pointed to the wound, “Here.”
Tiny arms tightened around Cam’s neck and the kid whispered, “Baba.” Cam could feel the tears and heard the sniffle. He didn’t really know what to do, so he hugged the kid tighter. Baba was the word for father.
“You’re safe now,” Cam said. “What’s your name?”
There was a hiccup and a big sniff, but finally he said, “Everyone calls me Sammy.” In perfect English.
“Well, Sammy. We’re taking your Baba to a doctor and he’s going to do everything he can to make him better, okay?”
He could feel the kid nod. The only light in the heavily armored Rhino was the one Pandora held as Truck worked over the man bleeding all over the floorboard. Part of him wanted the other man to die. It was the primitive side of him that wanted no other claim on the woman of his heart. The one he’d only just gotten back. But the civilized part of him realized that he didn’t really have Pandora back. Not yet.
And the kid in his arms didn’t deserve to lose his father.
So he closed his eyes and dragged the clean smell of Sammy’s freshly washed hair into his lungs. It was better than the gunpowder smell that clung to his own clothing, or the coppery smell of the blood leaking out of Mohammed. Cam was tired. Suddenly, he was so bone weary that he could have easily pulled a Rip Van Winkle.
The rocking motion of the Rhino made it easy to sway with the kid. Keeping him quiet as they all watched Truck putting the bandages in place. He’d managed to staunch some of the bleeding, but Mohammed was going to need surgery and a transfusion if he was going to make it.
He wished Pan would come up and crawl into his arms like she used to when she was upset. Cam missed everything about her. In the dark, during the ride, he allowed all those memories that he’d buried to rush over him.
The way she snored before she sank down into sleep. The way she smelled right out of the shower. The way she used to cry over the sad puppies they showed on the TV to try to get you to adopt one.
The way she loved him.
Cam missed that most of all. That human connection. He wanted it, like a drug. Going without in his cold, dark world had been hell. Now he needed to figure out a way to get all that back. Because he was never letting go of her again.
Ever.
5
Camp Condor was about a two-hundred yard walk from the U.S. Embassy along the Tigris river. It was almost in the center of Bagdad and where the Army housed its troops and the contractors that patrolled the Embassy grounds with bomb dogs.
Thirty minutes had passed since the rescue and Mohammed was so pale from blood loss that Pandora was afraid he was going to die right in front of her and Sammy. After the gates opened, the Rhino stopped in front of a tent and a team of medics arrived with a stretcher. Mohammed was moved into the hospital tent, but no one else was admitted.
“I need to go with him,” Pandora said, as she was surrounded by the team.
“Not now,” Cam told her. “He’s going right into surgery and you’ll be a distraction he can’t afford.”
A couple of the M.P.s arrived. The one with the higher rank said, “Civilians will have to go to the Embassy.”
Every member of the Delta team closed ranks, shutting off her view of the military police officers. “She stays with us,” Cam said. His tone was soft and deadly polite.
“She’s our baggage,” Ghost confirmed. “The kid too.”
The men reluctantly nodded and backed off. “You’ll be needed in the CO’s office.” There was no challenge, just a statement.
“I’ll take initial,” Ghost said, “but they’ll want your report next, Phantom.”
“Copy that,” Cam said.
And suddenly, Pandora had nothing left. She was covered in Mohammed’s blood from helping Truck and holding bandages. Sammy was attached—barnacle like—to her leg. Reaching down, she ran her hand through his hair. Tears streaked a path down his face as he stared with wide eyes toward the opening where his Baba had been taken.
“Come with me. You both could use a quick shower and rest,” Cam said. “I’ll make sure someone comes and gets you when he’s out of surgery.”
She reached up and cupped Cam’s face. His beard scratched her palm, and those eyes that she could drown in gazed down at her in sympathy, and so much more that she couldn’t even begin to deal with at the moment.
“Mama?”
Pandora looked down at her son, who looked back and forth between the two of them. They were alone now, standing in the middle of the camp. Soldiers, American and Iraqi, moved around them, but never penetrated their bubble. “Yes, honey?”
“Is Baba going to die?”
Pandora squatted down to be at eye level with her son. “I hope not, but he’s hurt really bad.”
Cam got down on one knee as well. “See that tent right there?” When the boy nodded, he continued, “Some of the best do
ctors in this country are right there. And they’re doing everything they can to save your daddy.”
“He’s my Baba, not my daddy.”
Pandora’s breath caught. Sammy was young, but he was so smart that when he started asking questions, she’d been very truthful with him. She’d never had him tested, but she had an inkling that her son was probably at a genius level IQ. She could see the confusion on Cam’s face, but Sammy continued.
“My daddy died. He was a soldier.”
Cam’s brow knitted as he moved out of the light to really study the boy. His focus had been to get them out safe. Using the finger of one hand, he lifted the sad child’s face up to his. Pandora knew what he saw.
His own eyes staring right back at him.
It had been her greatest pain, and greatest joy, seeing her husband’s eyes in her son every day, missing him the way she did. The shock that slid over Cam’s face twisted her heart. Guilt that she knew wasn’t hers to bear slid through her. She’d been told he was dead. Intellectually, she knew that. But knowing and feeling were two different things.
“And,” his voice caught, “what’s your daddy’s name?”
“Cameron Caffee.”
Shocked eyes found hers. Nodding at her son, she said, “Tell him what your full name is, honey.”
“Cameron Samir Caffee.”
Cam shuddered as the boy said his name proudly, puffing out his chest. “Mama says she named me after my daddy and my Baba, because they are great men and I should grow up to be just like them.”
Pandora could feel the moisture gather in her eyes. Tears that she hadn’t had time to shed welled up and threatened to spill over as she watched Cam come to grips with the fact that he had a son.
Cam stood and she stood with him, holding Sammy close. “You and I have some talking to do,” he said.
“I know. But right now, I just can’t.”
He nodded and took her arm, guiding her and Sammy toward an area that sat a little further away from the buzz of the camp. Stopping in front of a large tent, he said, “This is Delta’s, and no one is going to mess with you here.” Pointing toward a smaller trailer that looked like it was made from shipping containers, he said, “The shower is there. You’ll have to put these clothes back on until I can find you something else.”