by Karen Anders
They had given her a bed to rest in, but she made them promise if it was needed she would be notified so she could vacate. She laid down and closed her eyes. She should have fallen asleep, but Dex’s scent lingered on her and it smelled so good.
She closed her eyes against the unfamiliar surge of attraction. Here she thought she had been ruined, utterly ruined, by her deep love for Bradley Jones, the man of her dreams. He had swept her off her feet in college. The next steps of getting engaged and married so easy. Her father and mother had been ecstatic. Like royalty, they had merged their high-powered political families.
She bit her lip and opened her eyes. Reaching for her purse, she pulled out her wallet. There were times like right now when she couldn’t remember his face and that caused her to feel a surge of panic. When she pulled out his picture, she breathed a sigh of relief. Ah, he had been so handsome.
But Dexter Kaczewski was lethally, dangerously handsome. And he was so alive. Virile in that wounded warrior’s body, all those muscles. Brad had been lanky and nerdy, not like the lieutenant. She bit her lip, gazing at Brad’s picture, the agony of losing him like a pile of rocks in her gut. This was the first time she’d ever thought about Brad in relation to another man, and the panic was just a result of feeling disloyal. He was gone, but did her attraction to Dex signal that she might be ready to move on? Especially ready for someone like Dex. She had never thought she’d be one of those women who would ever go for the muscled warrior type. She’d always loved the brainy men, but the lieutenant had that cutting wit and charisma to spare.
She’d touched his warm skin, felt the gauze where his bandage had been taped to the side of his body, reminding her that this man had a very dangerous job. A navy SEAL. Yeah, not the type of guy she wanted to even think about getting involved with. Not that it was possible. There was no time frame to moving on. The memory of loving him wouldn’t fade. Was there room in her heart to love again? Her attraction to Dex was just that—a spark. She was heading home, so her meanderings were moot. He was stationed on the west coast in Coronado and she was in DC. It was unlikely—unless he made good on his promise for a family dinner—that they would meet again.
Oh, God. The thought of him sent a flurry of weakness through her whole body, a body she thought had been numb and unresponsive to any man’s presence. Her brothers had worried that she was acting in a very unhealthy way, not letting go of Brad’s memory, but it was so difficult. Now, her head was filled with the scent and sight of Dexter. She had to adjust to this involuntary reaction to him.
It had been eighteen months since she’d lost Brad. She had only three months of his term left and she’d fulfilled every one of his promises except passing the bill Senator Mullins wanted to block.
Never mind. He couldn’t intimidate her, impede her or stop her. She wasn’t interested in continuing in politics. It would be a daily reminder that her husband was no longer on this earth doing the job he loved. That was hard enough as it was.
It was political suicide to go up against a man like Mullins. He was connected, rich as all get-out and powerful. It was rumored he had aspirations for the Oval Office and that he would be a shoo-in if he ever decided to run.
Her mouth tightened. She had no doubt he intended to run. And run over her. Well, he was going to be handed his...defeat.
This bill was going to the floor. She bet that stuck in his powerful craw.
She drifted after that thought. Dexter’s gorgeous blue eyes and striking features kept invading her thoughts as she fell into sleep.
It seemed like only moments later when she jerked awake. She lay still in the darkened room. Something was...different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she heard nothing.
That was it. The hospital was eerily quiet. There was no sound, no voices, no...nothing. And in a busy hospital like Bagram, that was strange.
She rose and immediately slipped on her shoes and grabbed her purse, putting the shoulder strap over her head.
She moved toward the door, not understanding why everything in her screamed at her to remain quiet. She peeked out and her heart jumped into her throat.
Her detail was...gone. Both men were not at their posts. This was unprecedented, unless they had decided there was a threat to her welfare. It was their job to keep her safe. Take a bullet for her.
She slipped out of the room to the nurses’ station, but there was no one there. She took a breath and a popping sound cracked just outside. She jumped and turned toward the door that led to the entrance and the airfield. She heard more popping noises.
Trying to rationalize that the sound must be backfiring vehicles, that it couldn’t be...gunfire—could it?—trying to contain the quavering feeling in the pit of her stomach, she almost came out of her skin at the sound of an explosion so loud it shook the hospital.
Her gaze shot to the front door, her stomach now doing loop-de-loops before dropping to her feet.
The front door banged open and men in desert garb toting automatic weapons came through. They were not the Afghani forces she was used to seeing. She bolted behind the nurses’ station before they could see her and tucked herself underneath the desk, going very, very still.
She could hear them fanning out and she peeked around the desk, seeing that they were looking into rooms, but the SEALs had been medevaced out. That only left—oh, God—Dexter.
Chapter 3
Dexter woke to the sound of gunfire, not sure it was a residual dream or reality. He lay very still, his hearing jacked up. Still groggy from sleep, he tried to clear his head. The base wasn’t controlled by the US military anymore. It was a convenient way station, but not as secure as it had once been.
Then he heard it again and his thoughts went directly to Ty and Piper. That gunfire was close and another burst confirmed it. It was coming from inside the hospital.
He gritted his teeth and rolled out of the bed, crouching. Reaching down and ripping off a strip of tape and gauze from his side wound, he took a breath and pulled out the IV, setting the material against the puncture and taping it securely down. The drugs in his system were still numbing his side enough that he could function. It wouldn’t have mattered. He’d learned and hadn’t forgotten his SEAL training. If he had breath, he could fight. Pain was nothing but a state of mind. He’d worked through the pain and never, ever given up. It made him unbreakable.
Every bed in here was empty, except his. He listened and waited while he assessed the situation. He had nothing; his clothes and his weapons were shot and bombed to hell, all his ID sitting at home. He was completely unarmed and the first course of action was to get his hands on a weapon. Then he had to find Piper and Ty.
Hopefully they had already shipped out of here.
The sound of footsteps approaching had him readying himself. He heard them whisper in Pashto, “There’s no one here.”
“We better search, anyway.”
He watched the progress of the two men, checking each bed, starting at the beginning of the room. His was about halfway down the row. Sliding under the bed, he waited until they made it past him.
Without even a whisper of sound, he ghosted out and came up behind them as they were checking the last bed. As the insurgent turned his head, Dex’s quick jab caught him in the throat and he went down gurgling. The second guy reacted too late. Dex’s arm went around his neck and he applied pressure until the man stopped struggling. It was hell with his wound, but he endured the pain. Without missing a beat, he reached down and grabbed one of the weapons, pulling the sidearm out of the man’s holster. He checked the magazine and slammed it home. Full. Twelve rounds. Russian-made.
He stripped down, ignoring the feeling returning to his side and dressing himself in the pungent desert garb, including the head covering, which obscured his features. What the hell was going on?
The only easy day was yester
day. One of the SEAL mottos and very fitting right about now.
He strapped the assault rifle across his back, leaving it dangling against his left hip and uninjured side. He was proficient in shooting with both hands.
He kept the pistol down as he made short work of silently moving along the empty corridors. When he reached the nurses’ station, he was relieved there were no bodies. He could only hope that the captain’s wife and the other medical personnel had made it to safety. Dressed as he was with command of their language, he took care of any threats with lethal force as he moved to this position. But one quick look into Tyler’s room showed it empty. No bodies. Again, a sigh of relief. He passed the room, made it to the corner. An insurgent came out of a side door and Dex’s gun came up, but the man saw him and ducked behind the desk. He heard a scream as he dragged Piper, kicking and fighting the man who held her, with him. His face was obscured by his head scarf, but the black automatic in his hand was in clear view.
He put the gun to her head. Dex watched as if in slow motion—the man’s arms around her waist, her hair flying wildly and blocking her face as she struggled, kicking, throwing her head back into the man’s chin and making his steps falter.
Dex stepped away from the wall, unable to get a shot off because Piper was still struggling and his aim was iffy with those drugs still in his system.
He tucked the weapon in the waistband of his pants and surged across the short space that separated them, slamming into the man at a dead run. Head down, Dex planted a shoulder in the man’s chest, the rifle flipping from his grasp, hitting the floor and sliding a few feet away. The two of them landed on the floor, grappling as Piper, propelled by Dex’s weight, spun away and hit the wall with a thud, groaning softly.
His total focus was on the guy who was swinging at him. Dex blocked, but it cost him a pulling, stinging agony in his side. The guy brought his other hand into play, but Dex blocked that, as well; he was in a fight for his life. This insurgent had some martial arts training and it flashed across his brain, lightning quick, that this guy was really dangerous.
The man fumbled at his waist for a pistol, but Dex got his hand on it. It bucked once, the explosion reduced to a soft thump by the silencer. The slug punched into the wall above Piper’s head. Dex grabbed hold of the insurgent’s arm and slammed it hard against the floor. But before he could shake the pistol loose, a white-hot pain sliced into his injury, momentarily shorting out all thought and all strength.
Howling in pain and rage, he punched the man in the face, the feel of liquid sliding over his hip. As Dex clutched his side, the man swung the gun up and slammed it into his temple.
Dex struggled to stay on top as his consciousness dimmed, but the world dipped and tilted beneath him. Then suddenly they were rolling, pain throbbing, muscles burning, hearts pumping.
He managed to get a hand on the man’s throat and started to squeeze, but the insurgent was on top of him and pulling back, pulling away. Bringing the gun up, his attacker pulled the trigger and the sharp thunk of a bullet splintered the floor millimeters from Dex’s head. Dex let go of the man’s windpipe and knocked the gun hand to the side.
Dex surged up, twisting to reverse their positions. Pain sliced through his side, pounded in his head. He blocked it out and fought on adrenaline, groping, pushing, turning. The insurgent’s back slammed into the nurses’ counter and the gun came out of his hand and skidded across the floor, toward the wall.
He punched Dex in the ribs and the pain doubled him over; the insurgent shoved him away. Dex stumbled backward and fell to his back. The man set his foot into his side and grinded down on his wound, reaching for the assault rifle. Blinded by excruciating pain, Dex was barely aware when the man straightened and pointed the muzzle at his head.
His dazed brain sent a frantic message to his muscles to move! But before he could sluggishly do so, there was a muffled pop and the man stiffened. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell to the floor, blood spread out in an ever-expanding pool beneath him.
Piper stood there, her chest heaving, her eyes wild, blood on her lip, rolling off her chin. Her hands wrapped around the pistol’s barrel in a white-knuckled grip.
She ran over to him and said, “Can you get up?”
“Yes,” he said as she helped him to stand. He clutched his side, feeling the wetness of his blood. He took the gun out of her grip and put two into the guy’s head. Then he went to turn away, but turned back, his eyes snapping to the hem of the guy’s robe and the telltale view of the black trouser pant leg that was peeking out. His blood froze and he slowly bent down, supporting his side, and removed the head scarf referred to as a keffiyeh to expose his face. He reared back and Piper gasped as she looked over his shoulder. There was a reason the guy knew exactly where his wound was and how to hurt him.
“Omigod! That’s Agent Hatch!”
He turned to look at her, her face stiff in horrible shock as if her world was crashing down around her. “One of the agents from your detail just tried to kill you? How is that possible? Aren’t these guys vetted?”
She backed up, her eyes going to him, her breath hitching, rushing in and out. Oh, damn, she was hyperventilating. He rose and grabbed her by the back of the neck, pushing her head down. “Breathe, Piper. Breathe. Match me.” He took deep breaths and then she was mimicking him.
As soon as she was calm, she raised her head. “I shot him. He was going to...kill you.”
“I know. You did the right thing. You did good.”
“Ty taught me to shoot. He said I should know how.”
“Hoo-rah, Ty. You had no choice, Piper. It was him or us.”
“I don’t know why he was trying to kill me. I haven’t a clue. He’s supposed to protect me. It’s his job.”
“Diplomatic Security?”
“Yes. He was just assigned to me. I was told he was former military and would be more qualified to protect me on this trip to Afghanistan. I don’t know him.”
“Where is the other one...?”
“Markam. I don’t know. When I woke up, they were both gone.”
He went back and searched the body. He came up with the agent’s badge, passport and wallet. Tucking everything away in his own pockets, he pushed up from the floor.
“We’ve got to get out of here. It’s clear they were targeting you.” He went to a small closet and pulled open the door.
He snagged a blue burka, a full body garment worn by many Muslim women, off a hook. There were spare ones for nurses who needed to go off base.
“Put this on and make sure to cover up your hair completely.”
She pulled the robe over her head, donning the one-piece covering.
She reached out, her voice filled with concern. “Dexter, you’re bleeding.”
“Can’t be helped. We need to move, double time. I’m getting my combat itch.”
He took her arm and handed her Agent Hatch’s gun. “Since you seem to know what you’re doing with this, you take it. I want you to stay behind me at all times.”
“Yes, sir,” she said shakily. “Do I have to salute you, too?”
He chuckled and said, “No, ma’am. That’s just for us military types.”
“Oh, good. I’m not really good at taking orders, but I’ll defer to you in this.”
“Everything good with Ty?”
She looked at him blankly. “Yes, he was flown out over an hour ago. Do you think he’s in danger, too?”
“I can’t be certain about it. Do you have a cell phone on you?” he said, the wheels going in his head. The American merc, the ambush. He wasn’t taking any chances.
She looked around and ran to the desk and snagged her purse. She reached inside. “Here. It’s secure.”
“Your brother’s name...the DS agent?”
“Edward Keighley.”
“Right.” He dialed and the phone rang and rang, then went to voicemail. “Dammit...” He waited for the beep. Grabbing her arm and dragging her down the hall, he said, “Rock, it’s Dex. I need you to get word anonymously to Edward Keighley that his brother, Ty, might be in danger. His sister Piper has been attacked, but she’s safe with me.” He moved down the hall until they got to the kitchen. “I’m okay. Don’t tell anyone else I called. I’ll be in touch.” He found a backpack and went to the fridge and loaded up on water, taking whatever was portable and edible, as well. Too bad he didn’t have his pack with his MREs, or ready-to-eat meals,
He dropped the phone and stamped on it with his boot heel. She looked up at him like he’d gone crazy. “I told you it was secure.”
“It still has GPS. I’m not taking any chances.” Ransacking the medical supplies, he grabbed some painkillers and downed a couple tablets. He shrugged into the backpack and frowned at her feet in the very nice heels. They made her legs look long and sexy. Slipping into a makeshift locker room, he spied a pair of sneakers near a locker. They looked a bit too big, but it was better than those heels. In those shoes, she’d for sure break an ankle. “Take those off and put these on.”
They were going to have to hoof it and the terrain would not be easy to traverse.
She eyed the sneakers and said, “You can’t be suggesting that we make a break for it?”
“I’m all that stands between you and death, ma’am. Now move your shapely ass before I forget I’m an officer and a gentleman.”
She jumped, gave him a shaky but cheeky glance as she put on the sneakers and headed for the door into the hall. It was dark outside, which was to their advantage. In the distance, he could still hear automatic weapons’ fire. Their best bet was to get off base and find a place to recon.
He reached back and took her hand. This was a very bad situation, and flying her out of Bagram wasn’t an option at this point. He wasn’t sure that going back to DC was a good idea, but it was a damn sight safer than staying here. But with the insurgents overrunning the base, their best bet was to get out and find another way to get her back. “This is going to get dicey. There is only one way to get off this base. The gates. They aren’t just going to let us leave. But we can’t stay here. For one, I have no idea what is going on with your detail, and we don’t know if the Afghan forces can keep or maintain security on the base. It really wasn’t a good idea for you to come here at all.”