by Mandy Harbin
“Taking fire!” he shouted, and she rolled her head to the side to look at him. He had his hand to his ear, and she realized he wasn’t talking to her. He spoke to his men on the communication device. “Coming from the west… Copy.” He rolled off and tugged her arm. “Stay low, follow me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. Another explosion rocked the center of the village right as they rounded a corner of a building.
This was bad. This was very freaking bad! She shook like a leaf, her heart pounding, but she ignored her body’s physical reaction to the terror as best she could. “Are we headed to the helicopter?” How close were they to it? She had no sense of direction.
“Negative. It’s been hit.”
She gasped, her head craning instinctively, searching for proof of what happened, as if she needed to confirm they had no way out. Owen grabbed her hijab and a handful of hair, forcing her back down. She winced and reached for his hand, but ducked back down.
“Sorry. Stay the fuck down.” He pushed the comm, and said, “I see seven tangos to the east. Need to get inside the building. Cover us. Radio in for another helo.” He manacled her wrist and pulled her with him as they ran hunched over to the back. Shots fired in their direction but ricocheted behind them. They found a door, and Owen busted in, taking her with him, his rifle on the ready.
Caitlin froze. “Oh no,” she breathed, staring down at a dozen or so pair of eyes.
“We’re in. Schoolhouse isn’t empty.” He stepped toward the children and motioned with his hand, instructing them to stay down under their tables. Then he glanced around the room, finding a stairwell. “Follow me.”
“But the kids,” Caitlin said, though she never hesitated as she following Owen.
“Best way to save them is to push back the attack. I need to get into position. Take out any threat to the kids and us.”
They ran up the stairs, not stopping until he found his way onto the roof of the building. It was one of the tallest in the village, but still short enough they could jump from the top. They might break some bones, but they’d survive.
From up here, she could see the devastation. Smoke billowed from four different areas as gunfire continued in a barrage. The sound reminded her of firecrackers on the Fourth of July, those pesky fireworks that did nothing but pop and crack. It was surreal that sounds of war in a repressed country reminded her of the traditional sounds of celebration on Independence Day. Her brain had a hard time reconciling it with the images of devastation below.
“Baby, get down,” Owen said, pushing on her shoulders until they were on all fours. The term of endearment caused her already pounding heart to nearly beat out of her chest. She watched him as he crawled to the side, lay on his belly and propped up his gun, thinking he was too focused on this task of keeping them alive to realize he’d called her anything other than her name.
She followed him, crawling as low to the ground as she could, scraping her elbows and knees through her clothes along the rough and bumpy surface. “What are you going to do from up here? Shouldn’t we find the other guys and fight in a group?” She really had no idea how this worked, but there was better luck in numbers, right?
He looked to the side, his eyes cold, fierce. “Too dangerous to run. New transport should be on the way. Air support might have to come if we can’t take them out or make ’em retreat. Up here I can keep people from storming the school and using the kids.”
“Use the kids? What the hell does that mean?”
His eyes looked troubled for a split second, but whatever emotion that was quickly disappeared before he turned his focus back to the streets. “Our best chance is to stay right here. The team knows where we are. They’ll help protect us,” he said as he flicked something on his rife. “Cover your ears,” he murmured, the command gentle, which felt all the more foreign. How could he be calm at a time like this?
She quickly slapped her hands over her ears, and Owen pulled the trigger once, the sound blasting through her meekly protected eardrums. Her hands clamped down harder and she ducked her head just as Owen fired another shot. A few seconds later, she looked up at him as he activated his communication device. “Two down. I have four tangos on the move. One running your way, Dozer.” He glanced at Caitlin. “Ears.”
She covered her ears and flinched when he took another shot, immediately followed by another. About five seconds later, he took two more shots and dropped his rifle. “Tangos eliminated… Excellent… Kids are safe. We’re heading down,” he said to his team and looked at her. “We gotta bug out, babe.”
Three shots suddenly fired in rapid succession right by her, but they hadn’t come from Owen.
They. Hadn’t. Come. From. Owen.
He roared, and she gasped, turning in the direction of the bullets. But the end of rifle flew passed her face and slammed into Owen’s head.
Oh, God. This can’t be happening. She followed the gun as it made impact with the skull. Blood. There was blood everywhere. His head. It oozed from several places on his leg. The sight of him limp and injured made her wail as tears immediately began to fall. Everything happened so fast within the haze of slow motion, but it registered that Owen had been shot and knocked out. God, please let him just be knocked out.
Someone grabbed her hair and tried to yank her up, but when she saw the person standing above her, she gasped. “Lorenzo? What the hell?” she screamed, and he let go to aim his gun at her.
“You have no fucking clue what you got yourself into. Sorry, bella. Get up.”
“What’s the matter with you? You shot him!” Screaming at a man with a gun was a stupid idea, but the retort was out before she thought better of it. She scrambled back, trying to put some distance between them and edge closer to Owen. It took everything she had not to look at the man she loved. If she did and he was dead, she’d fall apart, like seriously lose it.
“Asad is like a brother to me!” he roared. “No way has he been discharged. No one’s heard from him. Those fuckers have him detained somewhere.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense? They don’t just detain people for no reason.”
“He’s Aarif Yasin’s cousin”
“What?” How had he gotten clearance to work with the military? She inched closer to Owen until she was sitting against him. When her bottom bumped into this side, he didn’t stir, and she bit back a sob.
“You heard me. Why do you think I’ve been directing you to certain people to interview? Asad had inside info, not that he could come out and share it.”
Her mind reeled. “You brought him in to get a story?”
“Don’t act so high and mighty. When the news breaks about the arms deal, you’ll be a household name.” His words made her sick, her own words earlier about it potentially being the story of her career left her feeling cold. The weird gleam in his eyes only exasperated that negativity. She had journalistic integrity, but in this moment, she felt dirty because of Lorenzo.
The man had lost his marbles.
How was she going to get away from him? She wasn’t strong enough to move Owen, but she wasn’t leaving him. She had to figure something out and quickly.
Lorenzo checked his watch. A revoltingly sick feeling slid over her. “You knew about this attack today.” It wasn’t a question because she already knew the answer. The truth as a sly smile formed.
“Live footage of insurgents is news gold.”
“You’re sick,” she breathed, not sure if he heard her since the battle raged on in the tiny town, but farther away, thanks to Owen taking out the closer Jihadists.
“I’m practical. Then the military up and tossed Asad in some jail. He was my source for years, and now I need leverage to get him out.” He waved the gun as if ordering her to get up.
“You won’t get away with this.”
He laughed, the sound so sickening she had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. “I have for years. You think lover boy over there’s the first time there’s been collateral damage?”
No, though she didn’t have to say it out loud. Her hand brushed along Owen’s leg. The cool metal of his sidearm tucked between them made her pulse thunder in her veins. He’d shown her how to use it under life or death circumstances. This totally qualified. If she could just pull it out without Lorenzo seeing…
“Time to go. Move your ass,” he said, glancing behind himself.
She had to stall just a little more. “They won’t negotiate.” She didn’t tack on with terrorists because she didn’t want to offend him with the term.
His face fell a little. “You are a beauty. It’ll be a shame when they decapitate you after Asad is freed.” He raised his left hand and shut that eye as he regarded her clinically. “I’ll make sure the lighting is perfect, and I’ll record it from your good side. It’ll be so tragically beautiful.”
Oh God. No marbles. Not even rolling around at his feet.
He reached for her, and she didn’t hesitate. Owen’s instructions came back to her in a rush on how to fire the gun. On adrenaline fueled instinct, she grabbed the gun, pulled it around, and fired several shots. The first and forth ones went wide, but the middle two shots hit him right in the chest. He didn’t have a chance to react, just crumpled to the ground.
She’d killed him. Holy shit, she just killed a man. She couldn’t think about that. She whirled and patted along Owen’s back, trying not to gag at the blood pooling at his leg. She felt his wrist and almost collapsed over him in relief at the feel of his pulse. She didn’t know anything about vital signs or medical care, but she hoped it was strong.
As guns continued to fire below them, she yanked off her hijab and scarf and quickly worked, tying them around his leg wounds. “Owen, can you hear me?” she asked as she heaved him onto his back. She patted his face and looked along his body for other wounds, feeling a little relief when she didn’t find anymore.
He groaned.
“Owen! Owen, wake up. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.” She looked at his ear and the contraption around his neck, wondering how the communication thingy worked. “Please, please, wake up.” She cried. How was she going to get them out of here? She could try to pull his rifle off and shoot people who rushed the building to keep the kids safe like he’d been doing when he’d gotten shot. But she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to move him enough to get his rifle. Too bad. You don’t have a choice!
She reached for that big scary gun, but a door slammed behind her. Caitlin twisted where she sat beside Owen, the handgun shaking in her hand, ready to kill whoever threatened her and the man she loved bleeding beside her.
“Easy,” Alec said.
“AA?” she asked, not taking any chances.
“That’s Double Alpha to you,” he said as he rushed to her side, not waiting for her to put the gun down. “You did good.” He inspected the makeshift bandage. He pushed his comm and said, “Big O down. Need med evac.” He looked at Caitlin. “Haverty is on his way up to help me carry Owen. Don’t shoot him.” He winked at her, but she seriously couldn’t process his words. Had he spoken English? Was he even talking to her?
The gun in her had dropped. Why was she shaking so bad?
“Shit,” AA said. “You’re okay. Just a little shock. Stay with me, sweet pea. Owen needs us. And if you pass out, I’ll have to leave him up here bleeding out to carry you down first. He needs medical attention. I can’t leave him, but he’d have my ass if I got him out first.”
She nodded, but her head felt very wobbly. She raised her hand to her head to try to salute him.
He chuckled. “You’re bad at that.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said, seeing some stars and squeezing her eyes shut briefly before looking at Owen again.
“I’m going to need more help up here,” Alec said to someone.
Owen needed her to be strong. She couldn’t pass out. She wouldn’t.
She repeated those words as more troops rushed to the roof, but she couldn’t watch them even if she wanted. She was too busy focusing on the black trying to close in around her vision, doing her best to overcome the urge to pass out.
It was a battle not meant to be won.
Chapter Ten
Today
Owen Burrell. She knew there was no avoiding him today. Hell, he was the reason she was even here. Her starving gaze wouldn’t be denied either, breaking her mental command not to stare at the man who’d stolen her heart in the desert. God, he still looked perfect, even though he walked with a cane now. His arms rippled as he leaned slightly into it as he moved. She remembered just how strong he was when he lifted her in the heat of passion just a few months ago, and she’d bet her life his battle injury wouldn’t slow him down for a second. She had firsthand knowledge just how determined that man could be when he set his sights on something he wanted.
Several people in the crowd near him came over, shook his hand, and clapped him on the back, probably thanking him for his service to our country. She forced herself to look away, to look back down at her notepad. Where’s my pen? Oh, the irony. She glanced around the floor beside her to check if it had fallen once she’d seated. It wasn’t there, and she huffed as she grabbed her bag to dig for a new one. She’d bought a new box of them when she’d gotten back to the States and had made a point to shove several in all of her cases and in her car. Determined to never need to borrow another pen ever again. Instinctively, she looked up, knowing her hand would land on one without much effort.
As if he was her beacon, she looked to Owen. And froze.
He stared right at her.
Caitlin swallowed, locked in his hot gaze, instantly taken back to their time in the desert. She couldn’t look away now even if she wanted to, and she didn’t. She’d missed him so much since the last day she’d seen him…the day everything went to shit, and they’d been ripped apart by circumstance.
He took a step, then another, slowly making his way to the stage without breaking eye contact just yet. She wanted to run to him and help him walk, but she knew beyond any doubt he’d hate her even more if she offered him any assistance. He was a strong man.
He was a proud man.
And now, he was a disabled man. All because of her. She should look away, make this easier on him, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Because she knew once this ceremony was over, she would never see Owen Burrell again.
More than anything else, that killed her. She loved him. Even not seeing him these last few months, her feelings hadn’t changed. If anything, they grew stronger.
When he reached the stage, she stood and watched as he held onto the handrail, making his way toward the center. She wanted to run to him, but she couldn’t. Not with the whole town crammed into this room watching.
The governor made his way to the podium, and Caitlin took her seat. It was time for the ceremony to start anyway. The governor went through the Pomp and Circumstance of his speech, and all she could think about was that last day with Owen. At the beginning of the day, she’d been hurt and angry and embarrassed all rolled up into one powerful emotion that made her want to avoid him. By the end of the day, she’d been frantically trying to see him in the medical ward. Alec—AA—had told her he’d call her as soon as Owen’s condition stabilized. She’d been shoved onto the first plane out of the country, and by the time she landed in Dubai, she’d had a voicemail telling her Owen had made it out of surgery. AA had called her a couple more times over the next week with updates. Then he’d gone onto another assignment and Owen was sent home to recover from his injuries. She had no idea if he’d been medically discharged or was on leave. Thanks to HIPAA and the impenetrable wall of the military, she’d been unable to find out specifically. She had theories based on research. It wasn’t as if she could reach out to Owen and ask. Even if she knew his number, he’d made it clear before he’d gotten hurt that he didn’t want anything to do with her.
And then he’d gotten injured.
All because of her.
If she hadn’t gone, he wouldn’t h
ave been put on a special assignment to protect her. Nor would he have been forced to work in the same proximity as the madman colleague of hers. Owen was a hardened special ops. She could only imagine the battles he fought for the greater good, and he’d taken several bullets because someone thought dramatizing the war made for good news clips. She was surprised Owen even looked at her earlier.
“…So it’s my esteemed pleasure to introduce Owen Burrell.” The governor turned to Owen and clapped as the audience gave him a standing ovation. Caitlin swallowed, her heart pounding as she watched him make his way to the podium.
He shook the governor’s hand, thanked the audience, and graciously asked them to take their seats. After several moments, they finally complied. “It’s great to be back in my home state.” Another round of applause with some whooping from the audience. He laughed, seemingly lighthearted, and it was music to Caitlin’s ears. He hadn’t shown her an easygoing side of himself, but then again, they’d been in the middle of a war zone.
Since she could stare at him unabashedly, she drank him in. He looked good in his dress uniform. Damn good. He still looked tough with an air of authority. Even hobbling slightly, he still pulled it off. But the uniform, that was such a contradiction to all images she had of him. He’d always worn military fatigues. Except when he had nothing on at all.
She shoved that thought away as fast as it formed.
Owen continued with his speech, discussing his time in the military, his service to this country, and the horrors of war. She listened, his words beautiful even when the topic held such devastating consequences. Then he looked at her.
The air in her lungs locked.
“When I got asked to speak, I was truly humbled. Caitlin Cooper is one of the bravest people I know, and that includes some of the toughest men and women I’ve served alongside. Without her, I wouldn’t be standing here before you. I’m so incredibly honored to be a part of her big day and will forever treasure witnessing her receiving the Bronze Star Medal.”