by Karen Anders
“I know it wasn’t, but it was supposed to be quick. My brother is important to me and I wanted to...see him in case...” She trailed off.
“I get that, but this country is a powder keg and they don’t need provocation to kill anyone.” He took in her pale face, but her eyes were steady. He shook his head, sighing. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you alive and get you back to DC. We’re going to be moving fast. Don’t stop until I tell you to and, Piper, there will be shooting, so stay behind me and use your weapon without hesitation. Just, ah, don’t shoot me. All right?”
“Is that supposed to be funny?” she said shakily.
“Ah, yeah.”
“Ha, ha.” Piper took a fortifying breath. When he looked back at her, several explosions lit up the night.
“They’re blowing up aircraft,” he said under his breath.
His mind worked furiously, but he could see no way out of this. They had to get off the base. A loose and desperate plan formed in his mind. He dragged her down the hall and went out one of the side exits that gave them some cover from the open area where the road was. He stepped outside and paused. It was pitch-black except for the ambient light from the yellow and orange glow of the fires. What he wouldn’t give for his night-vision goggles.
He ducked to the side, bringing her with him, looking right and left for any threat. He moved again, threading through the maze of buildings and heading for one of the gates, avoiding the main one.
Much of Afghanistan consisted of mountains cut by deep and narrow valleys, few and poor roads and thousands and thousands of small villages. Where the land flattened, the summer heat was even more intolerable. He knew it from experience. Even though it was the middle of the night, Dex was already sweating from the ninety-degree temperature.
As he stopped and took a few quick looks around the side of the building, they ran into trouble. Up a long alley of concrete barriers, the gate was blocked by at least eight insurgents. He could see the bodies of the dead guards lying in the road.
There was no way to sneak past them. They would have to try another gate. Just then someone started yelling, and most of the men there took off in that direction, which only left two. That was more manageable.
“Give me the pistol.” He traded the assault rifle for her weapon. “Stay here,” he whispered, close to her ear, trying not to breathe in any more of her scent than he had to; the woman was distracting and he had to keep himself grounded in pure warrior mode to get her out of this danger zone.
Crouching, he ran to the side of the building where one of the men was standing. An eight-mile perimeter road circled the base, and just beyond the road were wire fences separating the base from the treeless fields of the local villages. Rectangles of metal, printed with skulls and crossbones, dangled from the fences, dancing in the wind against the wire, providing a metallic warning of minefields. Both men had their backs to Dex, but they were a little too far apart for a quick, unarmed double takedown. Good thing the gun had a silencer. He hated to waste even two bullets, but it couldn’t be helped. If they were caught, it was over. He aimed, bracing the barrel of the gun on his forearm as he lined up his shot. He took three deep breaths and then pulled the trigger. The closest guy dropped, and he moved just a few inches and neutralized the second one without a sound.
He quickly motioned her forward and they ran full out toward the gate, kicking up dust and displacing gravel, and didn’t stop running until they were clear of the outside walls and heading into vegetation on the side of the road.
He immediately hit the deck and a fiery blaze of pain flashed across his side, burning like a freaking hot poker from one edge of the wound to the other—and it didn’t stop. The pain just sat on him and burned. Gritting his teeth, he pulled her down with him. Poking his head up, he watched and waited to make sure they weren’t followed. The locust trees were in bloom with their stubby trunks of thick interlocking ropes of blackened bark and their white blossoms that filled the air with a sweet aroma that mixed with jet fuel, diesel and the always-constant, unrelenting rising dust. The combination of pollen, fuel and dust produced a light paste that covered everything on base. An odd perfume of summer, accented by the smells of war.
Any minute movement set that agony off now that the drugs were wearing off. Right now it would be easier to just pass out, seek dark oblivion.
The only easy day was yesterday. That was quite fitting here.
Right. He was about to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
As soon as he was sure they hadn’t been followed, one hand cupping his side, he took her hand and started following the road, alert for any kind of danger. Now that they were away from the base, the constant aching of his side throbbed harder with every beat of his heart.
Damn, that hurt. Every single part of him hurt like a son of a bitch. He swiped his sleeve across his brow and tried not to feel so freaking awful—he was in trouble. He didn’t have to look down at his wound. He knew what he felt.
He was still bleeding, but he wasn’t going to tell her and he wasn’t going to stop. They had no choice but to move. He would patch himself up once they got clear of the baddies he was certain were after them. As soon as they reached a mile away from the base, he led her to a small outcropping of rock and hunkered down. The sweat was pouring off him now, and he was worried that he was going to lose whatever food was still in his stomach.
A wave of dizziness washed across the back of his skull—not the first of the night, and sure as hell not the last. He carefully lowered his head, fighting it, focusing on his breathing, making it deep, making it count, and he held on. Losing blood and hyperventilating were a bad combo. Passing out meant they would be toast.
“Dexter?”
He took one more fortifying breath. His hand was wet against his side. That bastard had done a number on his wound. It took Dex a moment to find his breath, another couple of moments to work through the pain and find his voice, but when he did, he laid it out for her. “We’re going to head to Charikar, which is about twelve klicks from here.”
“Klicks?”
“That’s military speak for kilometers. So, that’s a little less than twelve miles.”
“You think you can make it that far?”
“Once there, we can hire a cab to take us to Kabul and the airport. I speak the language, so let me do all the talking.”
When his eyes met hers through the mesh of the burka, he could see her concern, her fear.
“You really need medical attention.”
She was as perceptive as she was beautiful. “Not...going to...happen. We can’t stop and we can’t go back. There’s only moving forward. Are you with me?”
“What about you checking in with your superiors? Won’t you be considered AWOL?”
“That’s the least of my worries right now. There is an unknown threat against you and I’m not leaving you until I know that it’s neutralized. I’m still uncertain if Markam, your other agent, is involved or dead. In fact, I don’t trust anyone at all, except you and my family.”
“What? There must be some mistake. Why would anyone want to kill me?”
“I don’t know? This could be someone with pull and could lead right back to Washington. You must have pissed someone off.”
She ripped off the top of her burka, her face moist, her blond hair in damp clumps against her sweaty neck. “I’m a lame-duck senator. I’m almost at the end of my term—my husband...late husband’s term. I will admit that I’ve been pretty fearless because there’s little fear of consequences.”
* * *
“You’re not staying in politics?”
“No. I’m...it’s not for me. I did this for Brad.” Piper closed her eyes, the reality of what he had said sweeping through her with a decimating force, shaking so badly she almost felt faint, definitely sick. She drew up
her legs and locked her arms around them as she pressed her face into her knees. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “I almost got you killed. And the people at the base.”
The awfulness of what had happened, what she might have unwittingly caused, unfolded in her mind—grim, wrenching. On top of that, Ty might be in more danger. She didn’t know how or why, but she trusted Dex. Dex, this amazing, wounded warrior, was now risking his life for her.
She was cold, even as the sweat ran down her back in the stifling heat, dreading donning the burka again, a garment she was beginning to actively hate with a passion—a reactive kind of rage and, worst of all, a devastating sense of betrayal filling her.
If Ty died... If Dex gave up his life for hers... She didn’t think she could bear it. The fresh grief overwhelmed her when she thought about the work she had been doing for Brad. How much she missed him. How big of a hole his death had left in her life. It all got mixed up with her emotions for her brother and these new, as-yet-uncategorized, strange, warm feelings for Lieutenant Dexter Kaczewski.
A ragged sob tore loose, the pain from all the collective eighteen months and the last few hours colliding into a wrenching, devastating, all-consuming agony. The numbness she’d built over the months, painstakingly every day, broke beneath the pressure, and grief, sharp and rending, overwhelmed her.
“Oh, damn, Piper...don’t. For Christ’s sake.” There was the sound of movement, then the warmth of Dex’s hand around her wrist, and Piper locked her jaw, an awful pressure expanding in her chest.
He tugged at her hand and she dropped them from her face. “No, this isn’t on you! This is on whoever is trying to kill you. I’m not leaving your side until I know you’re safe and the person responsible is either captured or, preferably, killed.”
She met his gaze and he stared at her, then closed his eyes and gathered her up in a tight, enveloping embrace, cradling her head against his shoulder. “It’s going to be all right,” he murmured. She sagged helplessly as he gathered her closer with his good arm and stroked her back, his hand cupped around the back of her neck.
His warmth finally broke through, and Piper huddled against him, pressing her face along his jaw, feeling as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her breath catching on a sob, she wound her arms around his neck, despair slicing through her as she finally let go of the shock that had paralyzed her. “Dex...”
She hung on to him, the port in the perfect storm of her emotions. He tightened his hold and rocked her as desolate sobs shuddered through her body, one desperate emotion after another ripping at her. Bottled up for long months, it all came pouring out—how Brad and she had been driving home from a fund-raiser. She had been seven months pregnant and he would joke that he had only two more months to go before he could hold the child that was doing cartwheels in her tummy. How they’d been forced off the road and had tumbled down an embankment on the GW Parkway. How she had lost him while she was trapped and saw the light go out of his eyes and the rush of amniotic fluid. The loss of her baby cramping deep inside her.
He stroked her hair back and framed her face with his big hands. “Ty said you’ve lost a lot recently. I’m sorry for that. I truly am,” he whispered roughly, an agony of feeling in his softly spoken words. “But I need you to pull yourself together now because we have to get out of this so that whoever caused this can pay. Live for that. Can you do that, Piper? I need you to find the unbreakable in you.” Damn him for being so understanding and for asking her for courage and strength when she was running on empty right now.
The sound of his voice and his long, soothing caresses brought her back from the depths of desperation, and she was finally able to ease her hold on him.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Piper shifted in his hold. He didn’t say anything, just continued to rub her back.
She sniffed and brushed at her tears. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly, his own thumb swiping at her tears, and she got this rush of emotion, so strong for this man, for his compassion and his caring. “Are you with me?”
“Thank you,” she said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his jaw. She didn’t mean to linger, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
He let out a controlled breath when she finally moved away. “What now?”
“That’s the stuff,” he said with a brief smile. He pointed off into the distance. “Change of plans. There’s a family I know in a village not far from here. We stop there and rest, fix my wound, wait until nightfall. It’s almost dawn.” He rubbed at his temple and she met his eyes. They looked a bit unfocused. He was hurting. It was clear in the pinched quality of his handsome face. He looked worse for wear.
She got immediately alarmed. “Dex, maybe...”
“I’m fine. It’s just so damn hot.”
She nodded. Reaching down, she donned the hated burka and settled it in place. He rose slowly, painfully clutching his side. Then he doubled over and lost whatever little he had in his stomach. She immediately pulled the pack off his shoulder and pulled out a bottle of water. He leaned heavily against the rock, breathing hard. When he straightened, he took the bottle, rinsed his mouth and drank heavily, draining the bottle. He went to take the pack back, but she pushed his hand away.
He gave her a look that made her tremble, it was so complimentary.
They started walking, but after about an hour Dex stumbled, then righted himself quickly. But a few more steps and he stumbled again, then he went to his knees. She’d been trudging along behind him, thoroughly drenched beneath the burka, but quickly covered the few feet separating him from her. She reached him barely in time as he started to collapse. His eyes completely glazed over as she caught him against her, his weight bearing her to the ground.
“Dex?” she said, and he didn’t respond. “Dex!” she said, her voice strident.
Then she saw his bloody shirt and bit her lip, panic slicing her insides. But before she spiraled out of control, she thought of his calm voice. Are you with me?
She was in one of the most dangerous countries in the world; she didn’t speak the language and had no idea where to go.
His eyes fluttered open. “Get Afsana...” he mumbled, his head lolling to the side. She reached for his face to bring it back to her and gasped. He was burning up. Oh, God, he was feverish, delirious and losing blood.
Chapter 4
“Dex!”
He opened his eyes and the sky seemed too blurred and gray. The face above his was a woman’s face. A stunningly beautiful face. He frowned. He knew her from somewhere. He reached for the elusive thought, but it tumbled around in his fuzzy brain.
Her delicate features were concerned, her whiskey eyes wide and...frantic, her skin glistening. He tensed, automatically bracing for danger he couldn’t see. In the back of his mind, he realized he was always ready for danger.
Something told him she was the dangerous one.
He was so hot. So thirsty.
Where the hell was he?
He tried to sit up and his side sent white-hot agony through his body. He winced, falling back, moaning and clutching his side. It was wet with blood and everything rushed back at him. Piper. The insurgents. Saving her life. Her DS agent tried to kill her! The desert. Afsana and help.
“Help me up,” he said, and she leaned into him, her body soft and strong at the same time. She smelled good, musky and female. He hadn’t been with one or close to one in a long time, and she pushed his buttons. Every single one—even those that hadn’t been pushed in a very long time.
Cupping his back and using her forearm, she helped him to sit. He was breathing hard, and waves of dizziness and disorientation crashed through his brain.
But his brain was his best and truest weapon, even fuzzy. He didn’t think he could move. He was delirious, probably had an infection and ripped stitches, but his
wound was manageable and their lives depended on getting out of the sun and to the safety of that village three miles away.
Would he make it because he was a cocky son of a bitch? Hell, yeah. But would he make it because he intended to survive and he intended for Piper to survive? Hell, yeah, times two! His edicts were simple. Protect the weak. Defend the innocent. Stand up to tyranny and unjust behavior.
It didn’t hurt that he was attracted to her on a huge freaking scale. The only drawback, and it was a big one, she was Tyler’s big sister.
That sucked big-time.
She helped him to stand and he liked that she kept her hands on him, mostly out of concern that he would fall on his ass again.
“Can you make it, Dex? It’s so far away.”
“I can and will make it. We’re in this together and there is no failing.” His brain, even feverish, latched on to three things: shade, water, shelter. That’s what it took to survive in the desert.
“I’m glad you’re so sure about this.”
“I am, sweetheart.” He reached for the head scarf that was currently around his neck and with slow, painful movements wrapped it expertly around his head, making sure the back was flopping over his neck. “It will take some work, but everything worthwhile does. Staying alive is the goal.”
She looked up at him and what he saw bolstered him. He smiled. “Those are warrior eyes, Senator. Are you thinking about rushing that hill?”
“You’re not in any shape exactly for rushing, but a good, solid shuffle sounds great to me.” This was delivered with a wry tone and a wicked sidelong glance. “I’m thinking about getting you where we need to go.”