by Ronie Kendig
A sob punched from his chest, but he choked it back. He stumbled. As the branches slapped his shoulders, he heard voices—adult voices. Closer. Nikol broke into a run. A branch lashed his face, stinging. As he ran, he felt warmth sliding down his cheek. He cursed.
Only as his foot hit the curb of the street where the bus would retrieve him, did Nikol slow. In the devouring chaos of thousands fighting their way through life and crowding the streets, Nikol allowed himself to look back. Clear. No flushed faces or panting men.
At a corner shop he bought water and guzzled it. He had been careless. And for that, he might never be able to make the trip again. Disgusted and discouraged, he made his way to the metro line. Running his hand through his hair, he groaned. Rubbed his face—and cringed. He spun and used the window to eye the cut on his face. Red, swollen around the edges. The colonel would demand to know what had happened.
Nikol needed an excuse. The bus ride back would give him nearly three hours to sort it out, contemplate the fact he might never see Kalyna again. An ache squeezed his chest—the same one that marked her height. His mind flipped back to the yard. To seeing the girl. Cropped just below her chin, white-blond hair wreathed her angelic face like a glowing halo. She had the voice and blue eyes of an angel, too. A voice so soft and sweet…
What was it his father had said of his mother? That she had bewitched him with her voice and looks. That loving her had made him weak. Undisciplined.
Eight
In Flight to Djibouti, Africa
Nothing but pale blue atmosphere embraced the plane as it climbed to cruising altitude. Clouds, rare and miniscule in the vast landscape of the horizon, peeked through the portal-shaped windows. Sunlight glinted against the plane’s wingtip. Cradled in the seat, Aspen stared out at the sky that held beauty and wonder. It was so incredible. So amazing. The way the universe had been constructed. The way if the planets had been aligned one degree to either side, they would not have the view of the galaxies they had now. Amazing.
And somewhere beneath it all was Austin.
She couldn’t let go of the hope that he was still alive. And it fueled her faith that Dane seemed to believe it as well. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have agreed to this venture.
Hmm, maybe she shouldn’t confuse his willingness to seek out the truth with her optimistic beliefs. She wasn’t sure why he’d walked out. If she dwelt on his vanishing act, all sorts of doubts would plague her. The point was he came. And clearly, that decision upset him. He wasn’t the same person she’d met at the ranch that day. Something was different about him. Something…closed off. But finding him in St. Mary’s…
The man had a core strength of steel. Even his eyes mirrored it. But the cathedral, peaceful and reverent with the comforting sconce lights and candles, had revealed a vulnerability. It’d been one of the most surreal experiences she’d had, like seeing a reflection of a person in flickering candlelight.
“How did you find me?” His words had been husky. Charmed with the accent of the shadow of stubble and…
Something. She wasn’t sure what, but it ensnared her mind since that night a week ago. The way he stood there, tension—but also surprise—radiating from his well-muscled shoulders and neck.
Who was he? Dane seemed like so much more than a grunt who’d worked the war zone with Austin. Why would General Burnett know the most likely place to find Dane? Where did he go when he left the ranch? Did he stay in Austin? Or was there a reason—or a someone—that drew him away?
Aspen tilted her head back, stuffed her fingers through the tangled rat’s nest of curls, and groaned. Why do you care?
Because standing there beside him, wrapped in the serenity of that austere structure, she’d had this insane idea that there was a divine connection teaming them up. Okay, yes—definitely a crazy thought. Probably borne out of her finding him in a church. What was that about? Did he believe in God? Did he hold fast to his faith the way she did? At least, the way she tried to hold on to it.
Aspen glanced down at her hands and rubbed them together. Faith. Intangible in a lot of ways, but it felt so soluble, like water, in her hands when she grappled with it in relation to Austin.
A soft whoosh drew her attention to her right.
Timbrel slipped into the seat and groaned. “I hate flying.” She adjusted her ball cap, then her jeans, then the boots, wiggled her shoulders as if burrowing into the seat like a dog turning circles in a field to flatten the vegetation. “If I could fly on a Lear with leather seats, champagne, and—” She held up a hand in a stop gesture. “Just give me a bottle of sleeping pills.” She paused again. “No, just dope me up and knock me out.”
Aspen couldn’t help but laugh. “You were Navy. Didn’t you have to jump out of planes in basic?”
“Jumps are one thing. Crammed in a mostly empty and entirely boring passenger jet, is another.” She shifted in the seat to face Aspen. “So, spill.”
Aspen raised her eyebrows. “About what?”
“About him, Mr. SexyKillerBlueEyes.” A greedy gleam darted through her brown eyes.
Aspen sucked in a quick breath. “Quiet.” She peeked between their seats to make sure Dane hadn’t heard. Relief swept through her at the way he sat in the seat, head back, eyes closed, and mouth open a little. Sleeping like a baby. “You know as much as I do.”
“So not true.” Timbrel leaned in. “What dirt did you dig up to force him to come?”
“Dirt?” Aspen shook off the confusion. “I didn’t dig up any dirt. We found him at the cathedral like Burnett said and…” Why would Timmy think they’d dug up dirt on Dane? “He came.”
“And what?”
“And nothing.” She shrugged. “He asked how I found him, and I told him. The next thing I know, we’re”—she motioned around the cabin—“on our way.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Timbrel stared at her. Disbelief as distinct as her beauty. Whipping off the hat, Timbrel scowled and pushed herself straighter in the seat. “Please tell me there was more.”
Aspen darted another look to Dane then back to Timbrel. “What do you mean? What else am I supposed to know or tell?”
Unease slithered through Aspen’s stomach. What had she missed? How many times had Austin told her she was too naive? Though she’d vehemently argued it wasn’t naivete but willingness to believe the best of people.
“He walks out, goes silent for ten days, then you find him in a church”—Timbrel rolled her eyes—“and suddenly he’s back in the game? I don’t think so.”
Aspen eased back into her seat. “Just because you don’t grace the doors of a church with your presence, doesn’t mean it’s not a legitimate way to seek guidance.”
“It’s not that.” Timbrel wagged the hat as she spoke. “It’s the whole thing—who is this guy? Seriously? He was with your brother? Then why wasn’t he in the report? Why did he wait two years to give us the goods? To step up to the plate?”
“Timmy, I don’t know. But he knows too much not to have been there. And now, he’s here. He’s willing to do something. He got us access to the military base—the same one that all but threatened to take legal action against me for”—she hooked her fingers for air quotes—“harassment. A team is waiting for us.” Her anger over the insinuations strangled her excitement. “Nobody has been able or willing to help me get this far. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“I wouldn’t look into that man’s mouth—or eyes—for anything.” Timbrel dropped back against the seat with a grunt. “And I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“Don’t.” Aspen squared off, her heart thumping a little harder than it should. “Don’t do this, Timmy.”
“Do what? Look out for you when you won’t do it for yourself?”
“No, don’t rain on my parade. Again.” Aspen drew in a steadying breath. “This is my one chance to get answers about my brother. He vanished. Nobody else died that day, nobody else got mangled or ended up with missing limbs. Yet my brother
’s entire body is blown to pieces—and so many, they can’t even verify with DNA?”
Timmy averted her gaze.
Cuing Aspen into the awareness of having lost her temper. She slumped against the seat. Pushed her hair from her face and held it on the crown of her head. She let out a breath. Calmed, she let the tension out of her limbs and released her hair. “Please. Let me have this one chance. I’m not being naive. I’m not being gullible. I’m being reactive to a suspicion. Give me room to be an adult. To cement this once and for all.”
“What if this guy isn’t on the up-and-up?”
“If he wasn’t, I don’t think Burnett would’ve sent us after him.” Aspen’s pulse settled into a regular rhythm, but the anger hadn’t quite settled. “Just give me this chance. I need it. Or I’ll never forgive myself or anyone who tries to stop me from following through on this lead.”
The petite brunette didn’t say anything. She stuffed her booted feet against the back of the seat in front of her. “Look, I gotta protect what’s mine, right?”
“Yours?” Aspen nearly choked. “What’s yours?” Was she implying Austin—?
“Family.” Timbrel’s chocolate gaze bounced to hers then away ten times faster. “I’ve never had family. Not real family. My mom—” Red splotched her face, and she dropped her feet. “Well, anyway. I think of you like a sister. And”—she shrugged—“I’m just saying…be…careful.” She stood and stalked away.
Aspen peeked up over the seat to see Timmy stalking to the rear of the plane. Family? Timbrel saw her as family? What little Aspen knew of the girl’s story—that was as bare as the interior of this 747—wasn’t pretty. Not anywhere close. Timbrel rarely spoke of family or her mother. So, to find out she thought of Aspen like a sister…
Guilt clutched her by the throat. She shouldn’t have chewed Timmy out. Or lost her cool. Not when her friend meant well. And to be honest, Aspen hadn’t really had much in the way of family herself since Austin went MIA. Their dad died when she and Austin were young, and her mom succumbed to cancer while Aspen was in boot camp and Austin on his first deployment. Having entered a year after her twin, she trailed him into military service…and was still trailing him.
As she eased back into the chair, her gaze collided with steel blue eyes.
Somewhere in Somalia
“Now what are we going to do?”
“Walk.”
Mouth open, blue eyes wide, she didn’t move. “Walk? Are you insane? There’s nothing but desert out there.”
Neil Crane did his best to stay calm. He didn’t have energy to burn on getting angry. Or into a fight…again. “And back there are enough countries and ticked-off people to kill us for a thousand years.” He stomped down the road, irritation and exhaustion clawing him apart.
“We don’t have food or water.”
He kept walking. Thank you for stating the obvious. He wouldn’t give voice to his thoughts because she’d go off the deep end. Again. She’d been borderline hysterical since they’d escaped the last ambush. Fear drove her. That was good, it kept her alive. But it also kept her on his nerves.
Had things been different, he wouldn’t have even brought anyone, let alone this woman. But circumstances had tied them at the hip for the last several weeks.
“What if they find us again?”
“I’m counting on it.”
“What?” She hustled up a step to catch up with him. “What do you mean?”
“Somehow they constantly know where we are and what we’re doing.” He didn’t get it. How were they being tracked? Going to the mines would be the last place they’d expect him. But he’d gone with some seriously high-tech gadgetry to try to get proof that had pushed him into this underworld. Come out with the evidence, show it to the world, get my life back.
That’s the way it should’ve worked.
But the exact opposite happened. They were ambushed, lost their equipment while escaping, and he’d taken a bullet—in the arm. No big deal, he’d already tended it.
What had he done wrong? Mentally, Neil went over his notes, over the plays, over their moves. Just as he’d been taught, and he’d been trained by the best. It just didn’t make sense.
As the night deepened, so did the silence and void between them. He’d thought he was in love with her. He’d never forget meeting her at the embassy gala. Man, she looked good in that red silk number. And she knew it. Lina Bissette, admin to a French envoy’s assistant. Diplomatic relations swiftly turned to romantic relations between them.
Then things went south.
Neil wouldn’t let this trip define their relationship, if they still had one by the time they got back. If she didn’t stop blaming him and whining and complaining, he might kill her before then. Nah, he wouldn’t kill her. It made sense, her fear and panic making her emotional.
Her hand slipped into his as they trudged down the dusty road. Resignation allowed him to tighten his fingers around hers. It wasn’t her fault. Nor his. Getting out of Djibouti had been crucial to staying alive.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
Neil pulled her head closer and kissed the top of her dusty, dirty hair. “We’ll make it. Just trust me.”
Trekking through the barren savanna that was Djibouti fried his brain. But onward he went, hand in hand with the woman who had stuck with him for the last four months. They’d been chased from a mine, hunted across the Sudan, and now walked for four days—well, nights were cooler so that’s when they made their way across the land that had no natural resource. Thus the extreme poverty that landed Djibouti on the list as a third-world nation.
Get back to the hotel, dig out his secret stash of money and passports, then vanish again. That was his game plan.
“Do you think they’ll stop looking for us?”
“Eventually,” Neil responded, his mouth dried, his lips cracked. “As long as we don’t blow the cover on their operation.” The thing was, Neil had no intention of keeping quiet. He intended to rip this thing wide open, once he found the right vein and the right conduit under which to do it. “But I want to stop it.”
“Do you have enough to do that?” She hustled a step to catch up with him. “You asked me to go with you—”
“No.” Neil stopped and turned to her. “I told you I was leaving. And I said there were a lot of people coming after me—I told you it wasn’t safe to stay with me. You could’ve stayed, made it to your embassy, and worked to prove your identity.” She could’ve, but it would’ve been a long shot.
“Yeah, but you and I both know someone in that French embassy was involved, too. My passport suddenly invalidated? My name not showing up?” She shuddered then stopped short. Looked at him. “Did you want me to stay behind?”
“Lina, you’re the best thing that has happened to me in years.” Neil grunted. “Stupidest thing I ever did, leaving. Anyway, come on. We’re about fifteen klicks outside Djibouti city.”
“Listen.” She tugged his hand and stopped him. “I don’t think it’s so smart to go back to the city. There are too many Americans there, and many who would recognize you.”
“Exactly.” He felt a smile for the first time. “It’s the one place where I fit in, where I don’t stand out. We just go in and act like nothing is wrong. Slip into the hotel room, get some food and rest, then…” What, he didn’t know. He had information that could bring down a lot of people, and most of them didn’t want him alive to breathe word of it.
“Then what?”
Squeezing her hand lightly was all the answer he could muster as they plodded down the side of the dirt road that led back to the city that had sent his life into a tailspin. An hour and a lot of blisters later, Neil led her to the bay of the Red Sea.
“Okay, let’s dunk.”
Lina gaped at him. “Dunk?”
“Trust me.” He couldn’t help the smile at the way her face almost froze in that expression. He’d seen a lot of that over the last few weeks as they navigated the perils of holding a secret no
body wanted leaked. Neil slid into the water and let the cool liquid rush over him. It felt good, after so many hours of walking dusty, dirty, rubble-laden roads.
He emerged from the water, dripping. Pushing the water out of his face, he grinned. “Ready?”
“For what?”
“C’mon.” He took her hand and led her up the street to the Djibouti Palace Kempinski.
The bellman’s white eyes shone with surprise as he raked them over with a disapproving glare. “May I help you?”
Neil gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Sorry. We took a bit of a late-night swim. When I left my wallet on shore, someone stole it.”
“Very bad luck, sir!” The man opened the door and ushered him to the counter, but his expression warned Neil that he didn’t believe them. “Your name, sir?”
“Neil Crane.”
The girl behind the counter typed his name into a computer. “Ah yes. Welcome back, Mr. Crane. We were concerned. It has been several days.”
“Sorry. We were visiting a missionary in the area and decided to return for some privacy and a bit of luxury.” He winked at Lina, who stood beside him playing the coy girlfriend. “Could I get a new room key?”
“Of course, sir.” She placed the plastic card on the counter then handed him a piece of paper and circled some names. “Here are the names for the American embassy so you can report your stolen wallet. Your passport—”
“In the room safe, thank God.”
“Very good. Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you.” At the elevator, with Lina plastered to his side, he smiled at her. Kissed her for the benefit of those watching. Once inside the car, he dropped back against the wall.
“How long do you think we have?”
He eyed her. “Thirty minutes.”
Nine
Camp Lemonnier, Combined Joint Task Force—Horn of Africa Republic of Djibouti, Africa