Digitalis

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Digitalis Page 28

by Ronie Kendig


  Scooting a bit to the right gave her a better view of the … curtain. No matter how she repositioned herself, she could not see Colton. Verify he was okay. Unhurt.

  One … two … three holes in the dingy fabric. It swayed under the forced movement.

  “Ammo! I need ammo,” Midas called as he motioned to a sack

  that lay a few feet from them.

  Baba patted her hands. “Stay. I’ll get it to him.”

  Oof!

  The sound came from Colton. Piper scurried the six feet to the curtain. Squinted through the dust-filled haze. Squatting, Colton made hand signals toward the far wall. “Go,” he bit out the word. “No, back. Back!”

  Colton dove toward the wall.

  What … what was he doing? She glanced to the others. The combined efforts of the seven men devoured the room in a deafening cacophony of bullets and shouts. But … Colton. It didn’t make sense. Who was he talking to?

  She scrambled toward him.

  Thwat!

  A trail of fire lit across her arm. An unseen force swung her around. She spiraled to the ground.

  “Emelie! Emelie, you okay?” Colton dragged her to the wall and propped her against the plaster. “Where are you hit?” His hands patted her down, but not … not aligned with her body, off-center by a fraction. “Emelie, talk to me.” Eyes narrowed, lips taut, he had jerky movements.

  Emelie? Why was he calling her that?

  He looked over her. At the wall above her head. She peered up. Nothing but the peeling plaster that covered the cinder blocks. Yet his gaze seemed to roam as if sighting targets.

  “Colton?”

  He glanced down. But instead of the clear, focused eyes, they were distant, as if not seeing her. Was this … was this what Max was talking about? Her courage leapt into her throat when he seemed to dodge something, swaying back and forth. She pulled herself up—until their eyes met. “Colton.” Tentatively, she reached out to touch him—

  Pain jolted down her arm. She didn’t care. She had to reach him, deep down, and pull him out of this. “Colton, are you okay?” Piper cupped his face.

  Colton blinked. Again. Several times. He shook his head, and his drawn brows loosened. He looked around. At her. “Piper.” The way he said her name, the huskiness, the emotion weighted with disbelief. Then, his expression fell.

  “A–are you okay?” She smoothed a hand along his jaw. “You …” What could she say? Already she saw the humiliation clouding his face. “You looked lost.”

  His gaze bounced around her—and finally fastened onto her arm. “You’re shot.”

  Huh? “I am?” She checked her arm, surprised at the blood trailing down it. “I—I don’t think so. Just grazed, maybe.” She shrugged, forcing a smile as she peered up at him. “Are you okay?”

  He scowled. “I’m fine.” He crouched in front of her. “Stay down.” With that, he returned to his position, aimed out the window, and fired.

  The repetitive whack of the weapons drowned her thundering heart. Colton was not fine. He’d been haunted by the past, his mind possessed by atrocities that laid claim to his faculties. She ached for him. Knew that if the others found out, Colton would be humiliated. But what… what if he got “lost” again… during a pivotal moment?

  “With one word, your girlfriend dies.”

  Azzan stilled. Raiyah. Would the team of men really kill an innocent girl? Did he really care? His thoughts roamed her features, her smile, her eyes large as dates ….

  “Just let me open the door.”

  “Why?”

  “We cannot stop al-Jafari without what’s in there. “Azzan shrugged. “And truly, what choice do you have? I won’t go back without what I’ve come for.”

  Frogman stared him down. Gave a curt nod.

  Though he wanted to smile, he feared it would be taken wrong. As a sneer. He accessed the security panel, entered his code, then pressed his thumb against it. The door whooshed back, sliding into the wall and disappearing from view.

  Azzan stepped across the twelve-inch threshold, noting the stale swirl of air that met him. He turned just as Frogman entered.

  Two men leapt from the sides and tackled Frogman.

  “You’ve done well.”

  Azzan shifted toward the voice. Smiled. “It was easier than I expected.”

  Shaking off the last flashback proved … difficult. Now, an annoying buzz lingered at the back of his head. His muscles still felt weak and his pride dented more than ever before, especially “coming to” and seeing Piper’s frightened expression. Fear. Pity.

  Colton blinked. A shadow moved between the houses. He took aim and fired, wishing the loud crack of the M4 could sever the greedy claws of the past just as it severed the threat to the team.

  “Clear,” Legend called.

  Scanning the road, the narrow stretch of road that sliced the small village in two, Colton searched for more unfriendlies. Inside the house, he heard the clear signal given by everyone else on the team. Finally satisfied there were no more living enemies out there, he lowered his weapon. Let out a ragged sigh.

  Almost instantly, Piper stood at his side, her hand on his arm.

  It was her. She was the reason he’d had the flashback. He’d heard her coming, saw her in his periphery as she hurried toward him. But it shouldn’t matter what triggered it. And it didn’t. He’d never make it through this alive if he couldn’t keep his mind in one piece. He had to keep it together. And keeping it together meant keeping her away.

  “Cowboy!”

  Colton jerked around.

  Near the curtained divider, Legend stood a half-dozen feet off. “You clear?”

  “Yeah.”

  Legend thumbed toward the door. “We need to move out.” He looked at the others. “Which way did the assassin go with Frogman?”

  “East. Not sure where,” Squirt said. “I managed to keep them in my sights for the first klick, but then lost them.”

  “Then we move east. Can’t stay here and get pumped full of lead. We’ll skirt the village, stay in the shadows.”

  Could he do it—could he carry out this mission without succumbing again to the demons that had once controlled his life? Why now? Why had this returned with such unrelenting force?

  “Bitterness is a defeat you cannot afford. “

  A soft touch on his arm, however, drew his gaze to Piper. His gaze flicked to Rosenblum, who stood watching him. Colton looked down. How … how had he gotten so far off track that he couldn’t keep himself together? He’d had enough of this long ago. Living with flashbacks was no kind of life. He didn’t want it. Wouldn’t live like this again.

  I just want to walk out into the night and keep going.

  Again, he looked at Piper. He wished things could’ve been so different. That he could go back and change a few things.

  “Hey!” A slap on his chest snapped him around. Legend grabbed his lapels. “You with me?”

  Surprise lit through Colton, along with a lump of humiliation. He stumbled back, then gave Legend a shove. “Back off.”

  “You with us, Cowboy?”

  “We weren’t sure you’d come.”

  Azzan clasped the arm of his handler and nodded. “I wasn’t sure either.” He turned and nodded to the guards pinning Frogman on the floor. “Get him up.”

  The two hauled their prisoner to his feet, tugging his hands behind the back so that Frogman’s chest arched forward.

  “You must understand, in my profession, no one can be trusted.” Azzan stood eye-to-eye with him.

  “Likewise,” Frogman bit out through a bloodied lip.

  “Release him.” Azzan sighed.

  When released, Frogman shuffled forward and regained his balance, looking every bit the vicious soldier he was. Ready to fight. Ready to kill. Ready to do whatever it took to get out of here and back to his team.

  Nesher stepped closer. “Your team has been attacked.”

  Frogman’s eyes blazed.

  Though Azzan glared at
the handler—Nesher really must learn to allow Azzan to handle things—he folded his arms over his chest. “This is my handler.” Again, he glowered at Nesher.

  “What?” Nesher shrugged as he bobbed his head toward Frogman. “He needs to know.”

  “What he needs to know is that a team of mercenaries helped protect his pinned-down team.” He held out his hands, hoping to calm Frogman, whose gaze flitted between fury and uncertainty. “They are fine. En route toward us even as we speak. That is a good thing.”

  A deep chuckle. “You have grown soft, Azzan.”

  He flashed a look at Nesher. “We have a larger purpose the eve of this dark day in history.”

  “What is that?” Frogman wiped his lips.

  Tapping the keys on a control panel, he entered a code. “It is true that I am Palestinian. Also that I am an assassin.” He glanced at the man. “But what you are not aware of is that I am a Mossad agent.”

  Frogman stood, waited.

  “I double for Israel.” With one final keystroke, he accessed the secure room. The wall before them vanished, revealing a bustling control center. “What you see at work here is the best intelligence within the Israeli borders.” He started walking, motioning Frogman with him. “You are a soldier—”

  “Sailor.”

  “A subtle difference.” Azzan moved to another station and logged in. Within seconds, images filled the screen, but he instead watched as the American’s face registered shock. “Ah, as it should be. Realize that nothing happens that we are not able to ascertain the truth about.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “In truth, your name is Max Jacobs. A Navy SEAL with eight years’ experience. You have a wife, a s—”

  “What do you want?” Max’s hands balled into fists.

  “Forgive me. It was not my intent to anger you.”

  “What was your intent?”

  Azzan folded his arms. “For you to understand that when I say we have a larger purpose, when I said we must go to Be’er Sheva as my uncle indicated, it is not a light thing I am saying.” He spun toward the keyboard and drew up six images. “It is a known fact that seven messengers have been dispatched to attack Israel from within tomorrow.”

  Nesher joined them. “Israelis have grown soft, believing the separation fence will keep them safe.” He pointed to pictures in the lower left. “The first two are Iranian. Part of the Republican Guard. There you will see both of them seated at a dinner with Bashar al-Jafari.” He clicked and zoomed. “Last night, these two checked into a hotel in Be’er Sheva.” He pointed to the screen again. “Under Israeli names.”

  Frogman didn’t understand. Azzan could see it by the lack of intensity in the man’s eyes. Perhaps because Israel was not the man’s country, he could not be expected to care.

  Nesher leaned against the desk, gripping the edge. “Do you understand the significance of Purim, Mr. Jacobs?”

  Max’s glare lengthened.

  Nesher continued. “Purim is a holiday when children dress in costumes, sort of like your Halloween, except that here in Israel, there are no little witches or wizards or pumpkins. Cowboys, and of course little Queen Esther’s.” He smiled, but Azzan had seen that smile before. It hid the man’s animosity. “Many of us feel that Purim has become a kind of European Carnival.”

  Azzan wanted to make sure Max understood so the team would understand. “Tomorrow, children—hundreds of children—will gather in the streets with their families to celebrate this holiday.” He straightened. “Thousands of Israelis in one place.”

  “It won’t be the only place they hit.”

  Azzan drew back, surprised by the intelligent comment from the American. “You are correct. The seven messengers are being dispatched throughout Be’er Sheva and the surrounding lands. We have managed with the help of my uncle to identify all but one of the messengers. They are there before you now. The elusive one, we must trust our instincts to help us locate.”

  “Can’t imagine anyone slaughtering children like that.” Frogman’s gaze tracked over the wall-to-floor images, clearly processing the images and information. “Where else are you expecting trouble?”

  Azzan shared a look with his handler.

  Frogman shrugged. “That’s why you brought me here, right?”

  “The one place we are not allowed to place guards,” Nesher said.

  “And that is?”

  Azzan held Max’s gaze evenly. “The nuclear plant at Dimona.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Take cover!”

  The hissed order came from the front, where Legend knelt beside a small home. Behind him crouched the Kid. With a fluid move, Colton guided Piper, her father, and Raiyah into the shadows of a building.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Not sure.” Colton pressed his shoulder against the wall and peered toward his team.

  Piper wrapped an arm around her father. “Are you well?”

  “Yes, yes. All will be well, nachon?”

  Wide, dark eyes considered Piper as they stood under the moonlit night. “Are we safe?”

  Raiyah was a very beautiful woman, and for a moment, Piper couldn’t help but wonder if there was more than his job as an assassin that kept her cousin from killing the beauty. Even now, the woman’s expression seemed saturated in wide-eyed innocence. “What of Azzan?”

  Surprise drew Piper back. Didn’t this girl understand assassins were ruthless? And if he served Palestine—which his nationality dictated, did it not?—what about his loyalty to Israel? Yet the woman seemed scared to be without him. “He’ll come back,” Piper whispered. But she could only hope. Assassins were not exactly the kindest of men, and it made her curious what type of man her cousin had become. Confusion cluttered Piper’s thoughts. If this girl was the daughter of al-Jafari, why had Azzan kept her alive? Wasn’t the girl afraid he’d kill her?

  “He promised to bring me to Israel.” She gave a soft shrug and winced. “I wasn’t sure if he had left me because he’d fulfilled his promise.”

  “I—”

  A loud roar barreled onto the street. Seconds later, a wave of nauseating diesel fumes washed over her. She glanced around Colton. Though she expected to see headlights, the darkness prevailed. Leaning closer, she still couldn’t see.

  Only as she strained to look around the corner did she notice Colton easing into a position and taking aim down the street. The sight pushed her back.

  A strange whistle carried through the night.

  “Let’s go!” Colton grabbed her hand and pulled her into the open.

  She scrambled to catch her father’s hand, drawing him behind. As Piper stumbled up the slight incline in the road, she glanced behind them to make sure her father and the girl had followed.

  “Move it!”

  Max’s voice jerked Piper’s attention back to the road. There, in the middle of the intersection, sat a rumbling black van. It looked large, and the windows were covered with steel plates. Colton dragged her to the back, where Max stood with Azzan. And a half-dozen men dressed in black. Her breath lodged in her throat. Mossad. Cruel, ruthless men, loyal not to their own morals and ethics. Their loyalty was in one place only—Israel.

  “What are you doing with them?” Piper bit out at her cousin.

  Azzan’s expression darkened. “Get in.” The whispered command held more punch than a fist. He’d brook no argument. Then almost as quickly, his scowl vanished as he looked at Raiyah. “Hurry.”

  “Come on, people. Time’s our enemy,” Max growled.

  Colton nudged Piper inside, then took a seat across from her. As she helped her father, she glanced back to the doors. The rest of the team filed in behind. Only as the doors shut did she see another vehicle. No doubt for the black-attired and black-hearted men Azzan had brought. Did he not realize the dangers?

  He’s an assassin. Of course he knew the dangers.

  The vehicle bounced over the pothole-laden road, jostling them against each other. Her father’s shirt rubbed the graze on her arm,
making it burn. She tensed and pulled it away from him, shielding the spot.

  “Midas,” Colton said and pointed to Piper. “Check her arm.”

  Her father lifted his arm and glanced down at hers. His eyes widened. “Oh, my child, why did you not tell us?” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

  “Got it,” a voice said from the side. Midas shifted around the others with his pack. He drew out a bundle and unwound his medical kit. As he swiped a wet, antiseptic cloth over it, she bit down on the hiss that nearly escaped. Midas grinned as he applied a bandage. “You’re one tough lady.”

  “A scrape makes you say this about me?”

  Midas stuffed the pack between his feet and kept his spot next to her. He folded his arm over his chest and settled in for the ride. She glanced down at the rest of the men who had already filled the hole he’d left.

  Her gaze collided with Colton’s … and held. The scowl darkened his sky blue eyes, and the scruffiness of a face normally clean-shaven added to the severity in his expression. Slowly, he pulled his attention away.

  Her heart hung heavy. Without thinking, Piper slid across the aisle and squeezed into the space between him and Legend. Colton darted a glance, his scowl deep but the uncertainty much deeper.

  She placed a hand on his forearm and leaned close so she would not have to shout. “Will you not talk to me?”

  At first, he glanced down and to the side. Then his eyes met hers, tormented, yet … he seemed to reach for the olive branch she offered. Finally, he turned his head, and his lips parted.

  “Listen up!” Max wedged himself between packs and the tangle of legs, kneeling. “We’re heading to Be’er Sheva.”

  Colton cleared his throat and shoved his attention to his leader, deflating Piper’s hope that they could heal the rift between them.

  Silence dropped on the team.

  “Didn’t we have a plan to go straight back to the base and head home?” the Kid asked.

  Max held up a hand. “If anyone wants to bail, there’s the door.”

  Piper’s gaze skidded to Colton, and she held her breath. Would he step out of the mission? Would he walk out on her now? He’d tried to before they left Virginia.

 

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