Navy SEAL Rescue

by Susan Cliff

  “Iran is a militant nation. They have a large, well-organized police force, and they are diligent about border security.”

  “Do we have a choice?”

  “There is another problem with going through Azerbaijan.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Abdul Al-Bayat.”

  She knew Hud recognized the name, because he went quiet.

  “Ashur told me he was in Telskuf before we came. Ibrahim mentioned it.”

  “So?”

  “Was he one of your captors?”

  Hud rubbed a hand over his mouth, not answering.

  “Perhaps you are familiar with his yearly ritual to celebrate spring.” It involved the beheading of a high-profile enemy, live-streamed for maximum exposure and to rally their bloodthirsty followers.

  “You think he planned a public execution?”

  “You are a Navy SEAL. He would revel in your death. Also, Rahim might have sent him after you. The Da’esh cannot allow an escaped captive to live. It damages their image.”

  He digested that without arguing. “Al-Bayat and his men can get into Azerbaijan.”

  “Yes.”

  He studied the map again. She saw what he saw: a vast expanse of unfriendly territory with no clear path to freedom.

  “We can stay here in Iran,” she said.

  “You can stay here,” he countered.

  “I go where you go.”

  He put the map away and came back to bed. Discussing his beheading wasn’t the most romantic way to spend their time together. The future was uncertain, but her love for him was not. He cradled her close and held her until she drifted to sleep.

  Chapter 17

  Hud eased away from Layah in the wee hours of the morning.

  He rose to his feet and got dressed in the dark. Then he stood by her side of the bed and watched her sleep. Her hair spilled across the pillow in tousled black waves. He memorized every detail of her lovely face. The sweep of her eyelashes. Her exquisite body, all soft curves and smooth skin. He was desperately in love with her.

  Too bad he’d never see her again.

  He forced himself to take a step back. Then another. Swallowing hard, he picked up his boots and carried them to the door. He hated to leave without saying goodbye, or even writing a note, but he couldn’t risk waking her up. She’d insist on coming with him. He had to go now, before dawn.

  He padded down the hall, then paused to put on his boots. The lobby was dark and quiet as he ventured outside. He continued down the road, not looking back. He tried not to think about how Layah would feel when she realized he was gone. She’d given him the best night of his life, and he’d ditched her. But he had no other choice. He couldn’t stay with her. If he was going to die, he was going to die alone.

  According to the map, he was about twenty miles from the border with Azerbaijan. It was another ten to Armenia. He’d have to cut across a mountainous area and face challenging terrain. He also needed to stay out of sight as much as possible.

  He ignored his clenched gut and kept moving. He was hungry, but food wouldn’t fill him. The emptiness inside him was all about Layah.

  It was killing him to walk away from her. He didn’t know how he’d live without her. When he’d started this journey, he’d been eager to abandon her and her family. He’d searched for opportunities to escape. Now he was finally free of her, and it felt like hell.

  He knew she’d be safer on her own than with him. She was an extremely capable woman. She’d get to Armenia without any trouble. She could speak five languages. She had her looks, her connections, her wits. Her daring. He thought about the way she’d jumped to his defense at the border. She was a fighter.

  He didn’t have to worry about her suffering in Armenia. She had a medical degree, or close to it. She had her family. She wouldn’t be destitute. He wished he didn’t have to leave her, but he didn’t see a path for them. He had to go home, and she couldn’t come with him. For all he knew, she’d get sent back to Iraq. He didn’t know what he’d say about her actions, or his own. He’d crossed the line with her so many times.

  He pushed away those thoughts. Right now, he had to focus on survival.

  By dawn, he’d traveled past the outskirts of town and cut across a series of green fields. He climbed a path that zigzagged along a rocky hill. As he came over the top, he startled a sheep farmer with his herd. The man seemed to think Hud was lost. When Hud shook his head and continued walking, the farmer followed him.

  Hud increased his pace in an attempt to lose the farmer. Two squad cars appeared on the road at the base of the hill he’d just climbed. Hud’s stomach dropped as he recognized them. These were the police cars from the border. They weren’t doing a casual sweep of the area. They were moving at top speed toward Hadishahr.

  Hud dived to the ground in the middle of the herd, his pulse racing. Sheep bayed and trotted around his head. He was sure the farmer would alert the authorities, but he didn’t. The man stood by with a gnarled staff, his face brown and weathered.

  After the cars passed, it dawned on Hud that they were going to the hotel. It was the only one in this area, and a likely place to look. Maybe the guards had called around and discovered two guests matched their descriptions.

  His heart plummeted. They were going to find Layah.

  Hud leaped to his feet and tore across the hillside, leaving the farmer in the dust. The hotel was several miles away. He couldn’t catch a moving vehicle, but he ran as hard as he could. He had to get there before they left with Layah.

  If these Iranian cops were clean, which Hud doubted, they’d take her in for questioning. If they were dirty, they’d deliver her to whoever was paying them. The second possibility chilled his blood.

  Hud was intimately familiar with Al-Bayat’s treatment of prisoners. The Da’esh executioner had been in Telskuf during the first week of Hud’s capture. He’d supervised the torture proceedings and participated with relish. Al-Bayat had no qualms about hurting women, though he might not televise it like one of his celebratory beheadings. He wouldn’t hesitate to use Layah as bait to lure Hud back into captivity.

  Hud couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let those bastards touch her. He sprinted down the middle of the road, his arms and legs pumping. The streets were still quiet at this early hour. The hotel loomed in the distance. Before he reached it, both squad cars pulled out of the parking lot and continued down the road.

  He was too late.

  He kept running until he reached the front of the hotel. Then he stopped, bracing his hands on his thighs. The police hadn’t seen him. They weren’t coming back. They’d taken Layah, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  He entered the hotel lobby, ignoring the curious clerk, and barged into their room. There was no sign of her, of course. The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, stunned.

  He’d failed her.

  He’d abandoned her, and she’d been captured. They’d found her sleeping naked, because he hadn’t warned her. He’d left her alone and unprotected, after using her luscious body. He’d taken what he wanted and then some. He could still smell her on the pillows. He sank his fist into his thigh, his teeth gritted in anguish.

  A moment later, he heard the telltale creak of an intruder in the hallway. He leaped to his feet and crossed the room in swift silence. Standing next to the door, he drew the gun he’d taken from the guard yesterday.

  His heart pumped with adrenaline as he waited to attack.

  * * *

  Layah dreamed of Khalil.

  It was the same dream she’d had before. She was following him through the busy streets of Damascus. He kept moving farther away, getting lost in the crowd. She finally gave up and sat down to cry. Then he was right there in front of her. She stood to embrace him. He hugged her and stroked her hai
r.

  “Why did you leave me?” she asked in Arabic.

  “I didn’t want to.”

  “You promised you’d come back.”

  “I tried, habibi. I tried.”

  She pressed her face to his chest and wept. “You never said goodbye.”

  “Don’t be sad anymore.”

  “Hold me for a little longer.”

  “I must go,” he said, shaking her shoulders gently. “Wake up now. Wake up.”

  Layah opened her eyes and sat upright. Khalil wasn’t there, of course—but neither was Hudson. It was near sunrise, judging by the light in the window. The open bathroom door revealed empty space. She wasn’t just alone in the bed, she was alone in the room.

  She clutched the sheets to her chest, frowning. Something was wrong. The dream had been so vivid, as if Khalil had actually visited her. She could still feel him in her arms. The most disturbing part wasn’t that he’d come to her, or that he’d said goodbye. It was his urgent suggestion to wake up. She slipped out of bed and dressed quickly. While she was lacing up her boots, she heard a commotion in the lobby.

  Several intruders had entered the hotel. They were coming up the stairs.

  She checked the door to make sure it was locked. Then she circled the room in a panic. There was nowhere to hide. She rushed toward the window and looked out. It was too far to jump, but there was a ledge to stand on. She glanced over her shoulder, pulse racing. A fist pounded on the door.

  “Come out now! This is the police!”

  She swung her leg over the window jamb. The distance to the ground appeared daunting, and the ledge narrow. The doorknob started turning. She smothered a sound of distress and climbed all the way out.

  Trembling with anxiety, she stood on the ledge with her stomach pressed against the building. She tried not to look down. It was only about twenty feet, but she’d be risking a serious injury if she jumped. Men burst into the room, their voices raised. They stomped around, smashing things.

  Layah assumed they’d look out the window any second. She inched along the ledge, terrified.

  Where was Hudson? Had they taken him?

  She reached a drainpipe that prevented her from continuing along the ledge. She could climb down the pipe, but it looked weakly supported and unsafe. While she hesitated, a man stuck his head out the window. It was the tall border guard from Nordooz. The one she’d kicked, and Hudson had stabbed.

  She stared at him. He stared at her.

  “Here,” he shouted in Farsi, loud enough to wake the dead.

  She had no choice but to climb. She gripped the pipe and prayed for strength. The men didn’t shoot at her, which was good. The pipe didn’t hold her weight, which was bad. She got halfway down the building when it broke loose. She went careening sideways and landed in a pile of garbage bags.

  It wasn’t a soft cushion, but she bounced off the pile and scrambled to her feet. She started running as fast as she could. She didn’t know where she was going. Alleyways, buildings, homes, gardens. Everything passed in a blur.

  Hudson had left her. He’d left her.

  She kept running and found herself tangled in a laundry line. Damp linen covered her face, obscuring her vision. She fell down hard and stayed down. Crawling behind a brick wall, she huddled in the corner of a small backyard.

  She waited there, breathless, to be discovered.

  She waited sixty seconds, and counted sixty more.

  Then she was found—by a child. A boy of no more than three or four years. She touched her finger to her lips in hopes that he’d be quiet.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “I am Layah.”

  “What you doing?”

  “Hiding.”

  He picked up the damp linen and waved it around like a flag. “A strange lady is hiding in the garden. Come and see!”

  Layah clapped a hand over her eyes. When he continued to shout about his discovery, perhaps to get the attention of his family members, she scrambled to her feet and fled the yard. As soon as she stepped into the street, she saw them.

  Two officers in uniform.

  She turned to run the opposite direction and met with a broad chest. It was the border guard Hud had grappled with yesterday. His arms locked around her like a vise. She screamed and kicked, but there was no one to help. No one but a noisy little boy, gaping at her distress.

  The guard picked her up and carried her down the street. She was handcuffed with a plastic tie and tossed into the back seat of a squad car. The doors locked automatically. A metal grate separated the front from the back. There was no escape.

  One of the officers got behind the wheel and drove forward. They were followed by the second squad car. The border guard stayed on the street, watching their departure.

  “Where are we going?” Layah asked.

  “Quiet,” the man replied.

  “Please,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I am a doctor. I have money. My family has money.”

  The officer ignored her.

  “Please, let me go!”

  He told her to be quiet and said something that sounded like a threat. She didn’t speak Farsi well enough to catch every word. She repeated her plea, sobbing. When that didn’t work, she rolled onto her side and started kicking the door. She kicked the window, the seat, the door handle. The officer drove on, unconcerned.

  She stopped kicking, because it was exhausting. She’d hurt herself, not the vehicle. Tears of fear and frustration leaked from her eyes.

  “Where is the American?” the officer asked.

  “What?”

  “The man you were with. Where is he?”

  She straightened, realizing they hadn’t captured him. “I don’t know.”

  “He was in the hotel?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Speak, you dirty rag! If you do not, I will make you.”

  “He went to the police station to report your corruption,” she said in Arabic. “Now everyone knows you are a traitor for the Da’esh.”

  The officer must have understood her, because he stopped asking questions and turned on the radio. Layah felt no satisfaction in his silence. She was too distraught about Hudson. They hadn’t caught him. He’d left of his own volition. He’d sneaked out like a thief in the night—after saying goodbye to her in bed, instead of with words.

  Just like Khalil.

  The similarities were gut-wrenching. Her dream had been a warning and a memory combined. She was ready to let go of Khalil. She was in love with Hudson. What they’d shared together had been incredible. His passion for life was infused in his touch. He’d taken her to dizzying heights of pleasure. Then he’d walked out on her before the sheets were cool!

  Now she was heartbroken and abandoned, in enemy hands.

  She couldn’t bring herself to regret their encounter, even under these circumstances. She didn’t regret falling in love with him. Maybe she shouldn’t have kidnapped him or forced him to be her guide. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought him to Iran. Maybe she shouldn’t have given herself to him, body and soul.

  She blinked the tears from her eyes, taking a deep breath. She would not cry over the choices she’d made. She’d relished every moment in Hudson’s arms. One night wasn’t enough, but she would cherish it always.

  She set aside her hurt feelings and focused on the present. She was in serious trouble. These men wanted to track down Hudson. They’d use her to recapture him. They’d harm her to make him suffer, and vice versa.

  She had to escape before they got the chance.

  Chapter 18

  Hud jumped into action as soon as he caught sight of the gun barrel.

  He swung down hard in a chopping motion, hitting the intruder’s forearms. The gun discharged with a loud blast and skittered across the floor. Hud struck agai
n, pounding his left fist into the intruder’s rib cage. The man bent forward, stunned from the blow. Hud finished the job by slamming the butt of his pistol into the back of his head.

  He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

  Hud pointed the gun at him and checked the hallway for more assailants. They were alone. The man on the floor was the tall border guard Hud had tangled with yesterday. He was wearing his green uniform. Hud set aside his gun and stripped the man quickly. They were about the same size. Hud removed his own clothes, tossed them at the guard and donned the uniform. The boots didn’t work, but everything else fit well enough. Hud tugged on his green cap while the guard groaned and rolled over.

  Hud trained the gun on him again. “Where’s Layah?”

  He held up his palms in supplication.

  “Where is she? Where is the woman?”

  “No English,” he said.

  Hud kicked him in the thigh he’d stabbed yesterday. The man screamed in pain and clutched his leg. “Answer my questions or I’ll shoot you,” he said with careful enunciation. “Where is Layah? Where is Al-Bayat? Where did they take her?”

  “Jolfa,” he said. “Jolfa, Azerbaijan.”

  Hud recognized the name of the border town. It was the location of the land crossing from Iran into Azerbaijan.

  “Get up,” Hud said. “Get dressed.”

  The guard muttered something in his native language and tugged on the clothes. He moved slowly, his jaw clenched. Hud grabbed a pillowcase from the bed while he was waiting. He also found a zip tie in the uniform pocket, which he used to secure the man’s hands behind his back. Hud dragged him to his feet and shoved him out the door. He covered his weapon with the pillowcase before they continued down the hall.

  They passed the hotel clerk on their way out. Hud nodded politely. There was a Jeep with a government insignia parked on the street about a block away. Hud found a set of keys in his pocket. He moved toward the Jeep, his gun pressed against the guard’s ribs.

  “Get in,” he said.

  The guard climbed in the passenger side. Hud took a seat behind the wheel. He didn’t know how he’d save Layah, but he’d worry about that later. He traveled down the main drag and past the outskirts of town. Then he headed north, to the border.