Navy SEAL Rescue

by Susan Cliff

  A strange sound caught her attention, snapping her back to the present. It was the crunch of shifting snow. Several meters in front of her, the path fell away.

  Crevasse!

  It had been hidden under a layer of fresh powder. Hudson grabbed Yelda by the arm, saving her from falling into the space. Layah froze in her tracks as Hanna dropped down into nowhere. She was there one second, gone the next.

  Hudson sprawled on his belly and sank his ax deep into the ice to anchor the safety line. Layah got swept off her feet and dragged forward, as if a rug had been yanked from underneath her. She attempted to self-arrest with the metal stake. It skimmed over the surface and found no purchase. She went hurtling into the abyss.

  She anticipated a hard slam into some wicked ice, but didn’t hit anything. She sailed past Hanna in a blur of motion. Black space rushed up to greet her. The safety rope caught and held with a hard snap, cutting off her scream of terror. She dangled in space, disoriented. Blood rushed to her head.

  She was upside down. She tried to flip over, but the weight of her pack held her captive. With shaking hands, she released the buckle across her chest. Her pack tumbled away and she careened upright.

  Allahu Akbar.

  She took a deep breath, trying to focus. Hanna was suspended above her, crying for her grandmother. Hudson had secured the line, but how long could he hold them? Layah removed her goggles and squinted into the dark interior of the cavern. The bottom of the crevasse was about two meters below her. The distance to the top appeared to be more than ten meters. It was too far to climb.

  There was a promising ledge to her right. She stuck out her foot and hooked her crampons on the edge, maneuvering toward it. When both boots found purchase on the ice shelf, she rested there, weak-kneed with relief.

  Yelda appeared at the mouth of the crevasse, far above them. She spoke Kurdish too fast for Layah to understand. Layah was afraid the old woman would fall in with them.

  “Listen to me,” Layah said. “I will detach from the rope. You pull her up.”

  “What if I drop her?”

  “She will not fall. Hudson has control.”

  The woman looked to him for confirmation. He might not approve of Layah removing the safety line, but she felt secure, and the grandmother couldn’t pull them both up. They had to be rescued one at a time. Layah unclipped the carabiner, nodding at Yelda. The woman dragged her granddaughter to safety, probably with Hudson’s help.

  Layah clung to the wall of the cavern, gulping cool air. She was okay. The girl was okay. Hudson would throw her the rope in a minute. She wanted to be ready, so she looked around for her pack. It was at the bottom of the chasm, in plain sight. She couldn’t leave her pack behind. Her entire life was inside it.

  She crawled down from the ledge carefully. She took a tentative step forward. Then another. On the third step, ice cracked beneath her boots and water rushed over them. She went still, realizing her mistake.

  A second later, she plunged into the glacier’s bowels with a horrified shriek.

  Chapter 7

  Hud knew they were in trouble the instant he heard the ground move.

  The hairs at the nape of his neck lifted and he glanced over his shoulder in time to see the Yazidi girl drop into the hidden crevasse. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but he hadn’t expected it. The other crevasses they’d encountered had been exposed, with little or no snow cover. This one was disguised under a snow bridge, a hard shelf formed over years of accumulation. He’d walked right over it, oblivious.

  Cursing, he sprawled on his belly and sank his ax deep into the ice. The safety rope held. Two hard tugs on his harness told him that Layah had fallen with the girl.

  Damn it.

  The rope might have prevented them from plummeting to their deaths, but they could both be seriously injured, tangled together and bleeding. He looked back again. The other teams were a minute or two behind them. They appeared to be moving quickly, but they couldn’t run on ice. He moved his gaze to the Yazidi grandmother, his jaw clenched. She was in danger of falling over the edge with them.

  Jesus.

  He didn’t want to scare her by shouting orders, and she wouldn’t understand him anyway. She exchanged words with someone in the crevasse, which was a good sign. Then he felt the unmistakable ease of tension in the line.

  Not a good sign.

  Yelda started tugging on the rope with all her might. Hud rolled over to assist her. Together, they brought the girl up easily. The grandmother hugged her, sobbing with relief.

  Okay. Now what about Layah?

  He yanked his ax out of the ice and scrambled to his feet. Yusef’s team had almost reached the other side of the crevasse. Hud tore off his goggles as he approached the edge. Then he dropped to his stomach and shouted for Layah.

  “Here!” she screamed.

  She was in a glacier hole at the bottom of the crevasse.

  His chest constricted at the sight. Falling into glacier water was no joke. It was like a river beneath a mountain of ice. The cold shock alone could be deadly. If she got swept under, he couldn’t go after her.

  Luckily, she seemed alert. She wasn’t fully submerged. He could save her.

  He shrugged out of his pack and bit off his gloves, trying not to panic. He needed a fixed line, immediately. He grabbed an anchor from his belt, then took several seconds to hammer it into the ice with his ax. He threaded his rope through the anchor with shaking hands and lowered himself into the chasm.

  Heart racing, he rappelled to the bottom and braced his boots on either side of her. It was an awkward position, but the ice around her was thin and the walls felt solid. The glacier hole appeared shallow. When she reached up to him, he got a grip on her arm and yanked her out of the slushy water.

  Her skin was cold, too cold. She managed to find a foothold, with his help. She climbed his body like a tree. He wrapped his arms around her, afraid to let go. She shivered violently, her face pale and her lips dark.

  One of her cousins threw down another rope. Hud clipped it to her harness and shouted for them to pull. She clung to the line as it moved upward. As soon as she was safe, he retrieved her pack and climbed the fixed rope on the other side. The Yazidi girl and her grandmother watched him with tearful expressions.

  Most of the snow bridge was still intact, so he used it to cross the gap and join the others. Everyone was huddled around Layah. She was on the ice with Ashur, her eyes closed and her head cradled in his lap.

  “She is dying,” Ashur said.

  “She’s not dying,” Hud assured him. “She’ll be fine as soon as she gets out of those wet clothes and warms up.”

  “I need the tent,” she murmured.

  Hud swore under his breath. She wouldn’t undress out in the open. He set up the small tent for her and she crawled inside. Her sluggish movements concerned him. He yanked off his jacket, preparing to climb in with her.

  “Not you,” Yusef said in broken English.

  “She needs help,” Hud said. “And body heat.”

  “Not you,” Yusef repeated.

  One of the women took over, nudging Hud aside. It was Yusef’s wife. She joined Layah in the tent. Another woman gathered wool blankets and sheepskins for them. A third unpacked the camp stove and boiled water for tea.

  The men stood around, faces tense. Hud couldn’t tell if they were glad he’d rescued Layah or angry that she’d fallen on his watch. He felt responsible for the accident. Frozen terrain wasn’t his forte. He never should have agreed to travel over the glacier. He’d done it only because she’d looked so goddamned beautiful, her eyes bright with excitement.

  Hell.

  She had a touch of the same ailment he suffered from—an overly adventurous spirit. Hud hoped she recovered, because they couldn’t take her to a hospital. They couldn’t stay here on the glacier, either. He’d
have a hard time carrying her even a short distance. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, his strength was fading.

  After about ten minutes, Ashur unzipped the flap to check on them. Yusef and Aram crowded closer. Hud waited for an update, his pulse pounding with trepidation.

  Was she unconscious? Awake? Sipping tea, warm and naked?

  Ashur gave a short order in Arabic. One of the women brought a bundle of clothes from Layah’s pack and dropped it inside. Then he zipped up the flap again.

  “Is she okay?” Hud asked.

  “Yes, she is okay.”

  Aram glared at Hud.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Ashur paused, as if searching for the right words. “My cousins think you dishonor Layah with your familiar ways.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You should not touch her or share a tent with her. You should not look at her with desire.”

  Hud rubbed a hand over his mouth, stung by the criticism. No beating around the bush in their world. “How was I supposed to rescue her without touching her? Should I have left her to die in the crevasse, just to be polite?”

  Ashur translated this sentiment to his cousins and listened to their response. “They thank you for the rescue.”

  He inclined his head.

  “But you will stay away from her. She is not yours.”

  Hud crossed his arms over his chest, shrugging. He wasn’t in the mood to concede anything. He’d gotten roped into this journey against his will. They were lucky he hadn’t abandoned them. Somewhere between the first camp and here, he’d decided to go along with Layah’s plan. Now it was too late to turn back. They couldn’t move forward without him. If he walked away, they’d be stranded.

  These men should be treating him with respect, not warning him off. He’d vowed to keep his distance from Layah for his own reasons, but she was a grown woman. If she wanted him to touch her, that was her business.

  Layah emerged from the tent a few minutes later, fully dressed. She appeared steady on her feet and capable of walking a short distance. He didn’t question her, because they needed to get going. It was almost sunset.

  They packed up and headed to the edge of the glacier, where ice met land again. A sheer cliff rose up in the distance. Ascending it would be tomorrow’s challenge.

  Hud spotted a good place to camp nearby. He was exhausted. He’d done too much today. His shoulder felt like raw hamburger. As soon as they reached flat land, he shrugged out of his pack and sat down.

  The women started cooking, while the men set up the tents. They had to melt snow for soup and drinking water. The meal wasn’t as filling as last night’s couscous, but it contained dehydrated meat, which Hud’s body desperately needed. He ate three servings, earning a disapproving glance from Yusef. That guy was a real buzzkill.

  Hud set up his own tent and crawled inside, disregarding their earlier conversation. He wasn’t going to change his sleeping arrangements to suit Layah’s cousins. He was too damned tired to dishonor anyone.

  Layah crawled through the opening and settled in next to him. It was colder than the previous night. He could see her breath in the chill air. She didn’t protest when he rolled onto his side and put his arm around her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For everything you did.”

  He grunted an acknowledgment. “What happened to the safety line?”

  “I removed it so the girl could be rescued.”

  “You should have waited.”

  “I did not realize the danger.”

  “Never do that again,” he said. “When in doubt, stay put and wait for help. I could’ve set the anchor where I self-arrested, and rescued both of you.”

  She sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position.

  “You make me feel like my mother,” he muttered.

  “Oh?”

  “She was always telling me to be careful, to have patience, to stay safe.”

  “Did you listen?”

  “No.”

  Layah laughed softly. “I say the same things to Ashur, for different reasons. I worry that he will join the fighting.”

  Hud had seen boys younger than Ashur in every local militia. “Has he threatened to?”

  “Many times.”

  “Where are his parents?”

  “Dead.”

  Hud remembered his promise to give Ashur a gun safety lesson. He hoped the instruction wouldn’t encourage the boy to take up arms. “He’s protective of you.”

  “Yes.”

  “He told me to stay away from you.”

  “He did?”

  “He was translating for your cousins, but I think they all agree.”

  “They are overstepping. I am not a schoolgirl.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Do you have children?”

  His gut clenched as if she’d punched him. “No.”

  “I wanted a child with Khalil. I wish we hadn’t waited.”

  “You still have time.”

  “But no husband.”

  Hud didn’t say anything. He certainly wasn’t going to offer his stud services.

  “Tell me about your wife.”

  He winced, rubbing his jaw.

  “What passed between you?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Did you love her?” Layah asked, undeterred.

  “Yes.”

  “You could not mend your differences?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “She slept with someone else. It was kind of a deal breaker.”

  Layah twisted to face him, her eyes wide with shock. “How did you know?”

  He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling of the tent. “She got pregnant while I was on deployment. I thought the baby was mine for the first couple of months. Then I went with her to an appointment, and the dates didn’t add up. I finally figured it out.”

  “Did she confess?”

  “Yeah, she did. She begged me to forgive her.”

  “Do you wish you had?”

  “No,” he said, after a pause. “I’m away a lot, and I couldn’t trust her.”

  “That is very sad,” Layah murmured, settling down again. “She must have so much sorrow and regret.”

  “I don’t know. She looks pretty happy on Facebook.”

  “Really?”

  “She’s with the baby’s father.”

  “Perhaps that is for the best.”

  “Yeah, it worked out great.”

  “You are angry.” He couldn’t deny it, though the feeling had faded from a raging wildfire to a mild burn. In time, he might feel nothing. “It’s not easy to talk about.”

  “Do you love her still?”

  He didn’t, so he shook his head. He might have fallen out of love with her before she cheated. They’d been drifting apart for years. Instead of confronting the problem, he’d ignored it and paid the price. “We were wrong for each other. She wanted someone to come home every night.”

  “And you are not that man.”

  “No.”

  Layah snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest. He put his arm around her again. The discussion wasn’t as painful as he’d expected. He’d neglected Michelle, and she’d betrayed him. There were worse things to get over.

  He’d lived through torture, after all.

  He closed his eyes and breathed deep, clearing his mind. Layah’s scent filled his nostrils. She smelled like warm woman and silky hair and snowflakes. Like a cozy wool blanket at the end of a perfect winter day.

  Something melted inside him, and he slept.

  Chapter 8

  Layah didn’t wake in Hud
son’s arms the next morning.

  He wasn’t cuddling her spoon-style with his male parts snuggled against her bottom. She wasn’t all over him, fingers tangled in his hair. He wasn’t breathing in her ear or nuzzling the nape of her neck.

  He wasn’t even there.

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes, frowning at the empty space beside her. She hadn’t heard him leave the tent. In her dreams, the night had passed in a sexy tangle of shifting positions. His hands on her curves. Her mouth under his.

  She squeezed her legs together, swallowing hard. Her skin tingled with arousal. It was an unfamiliar feeling these days, but comforting. Life-affirming. The war hadn’t taken everything from her. She was still a woman. She still had a heart pumping inside her chest and blood flowing to her limbs, making her flush with desire.

  She was normal, healthy, human.

  She emerged from the tent, stretching her arms over her head. Her entire body was sore from hiking. All the men were gathered at the base of the cliff, watching Hudson begin his ascent. He had a harness strapped with ropes and gear. Although he looked confident, and he was obviously an experienced climber, her stomach clenched with unease. The rock face loomed as high as the skyscrapers in Baghdad.

  In the middle of camp, Yelda was making tea with her granddaughter. Layah accepted a cup and sipped it nervously. The Yazidis didn’t speak Arabic, the universal language of the region.

  “How are you?” she asked them in Kurdish.

  Hanna said she was well. Yelda smiled and repeated the sentiment. After they exchanged pleasantries, Yelda held Layah’s hand and said a prayer of gratitude. She asked the spirits to watch over Layah’s husband.

  Layah shook her head. “No husband.”

  “No?”

  “He died.”

  She patted Layah’s hand in sympathy.

  “My grandfather died,” Hanna said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Wife?” Yelda asked, pointing at Hudson. “No wife?”

  Layah pretended not to follow.

  “You will marry him,” Yelda said. “At the end of this journey.”