Cover of Darkness

by Kaylea Cross

  “Car bomb,” he confirmed in response to her questioning gaze. “Someone rigged the Hummer.”

  She gasped, one hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, God, was Ali—”

  “Yeah.”

  Her eyes closed.

  His cell vibrated. “McCabe.”

  Luke’s voice was sharp. “What the hell’s happening over there? I can see the smoke from here.”

  Dec told him.

  “EOD team there yet?”

  “Negative. First responders are still cleaning up.”

  “Okay. Lie low and I’ll make my way to you. Meanwhile, find out what they uncover. I’ll contact Ali’s family.”

  “Roger that.” At least he wouldn’t have to deliver that news. But where was he going to stash Bryn while they puzzled this thing out? They should get her out of the country as soon as possible.

  No way could he stomach her being in jeopardy again, and until this mission was finished, she was a major Achilles heel. With their team’s security compromised, it wasn’t safe for her to remain with them. “What do you want me to do with Bryn?”

  “Take her to Fahdi’s place. Hala will keep her company.”

  He hesitated. “With no one to guard her?”

  “It’ll only be a couple hours, but move her now. And see if you can get hold of Sam.”

  He didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all. Maybe she could go to Sam’s instead. “Roger that.” He dialed Sam’s number and waited, disconnected and dialed again. “Shit. Sam’s not picking up.”

  He put the phone away and held out a hand to Bryn, pulled her up. Staying here wasn’t an option until they made it secure, and maybe not even then. Whoever had planted that bomb had already gotten into the perimeter once. Unless they found out who was responsible, it could happen again. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Where?” she asked in an unsteady voice.

  “Fahdi’s. You can stay with his wife until I find out what the hell’s going on.”

  ****

  As Dec hustled Bryn past the wreckage on the street, the horror of it seeped into her, slipping past the barrier of her shock. People lay scattered on the ground, bleeding and crying and twitching. She recoiled from their torn and burned flesh, the stench sickening her over the scorched metal and acrid smoke. Her head spun as they passed the carcass of the blown-up vehicle.

  That could have been her. Could have been all of them. Dear God, they would be dead right now if not for Ali. Her throat tightened. Poor, sweet Ali.

  “Don’t fall apart on me now,” Dec muttered, gripping her arm.

  His words hit her like a slap. “I won’t.”

  Trailing after his long strides, her legs hampered by her robe, she wished for the thousandth time she’d chosen not to come on this mission. What had she been thinking? Dec had been right about her. She wasn’t cut out for this, couldn’t take this bombardment of danger and death.

  While he weaved in and out of the crowd milling around, the smoke curling into the air, she grabbed hold of his hand. He tightened his fingers around hers, his acknowledgement of her need for reassurance staving off the panic as they meandered through the neighborhoods to Fahdi’s house. He didn’t say another word to her until Fahdi’s wife answered the door, welcoming them with wide eyes.

  He ushered her inside, eyes scanning the place. “You should be safe here,” he said, pressing his cell into her hand, but his expression was grim.

  He probably didn’t want to let her out of his sight after the bombing, but she understood he had to secure the area and find out who was responsible. He’d already explained that the phone was preprogrammed with various numbers where she could reach him, and that they would be using it to keep tabs on her via the GPS chip.

  Not that they’d need to with her here, but it made her feel better to have it. Then his hand came up to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it, wanting to hug him so badly it was all she could do to hold back.

  “I’ll come for you as soon as I can, okay? But if you need me before then, call.” He wrapped her up in his arms for a moment and kissed her once.

  Her heart weighed heavy as he walked away, disappearing from view. She wanted to call him back, beg him not to leave her. What if another bomb went off at the compound? Fahdi’s wife spoke softly to her in Arabic, of which she only caught some, then put a tentative hand on her shoulder and led her inside.

  Bryn’s heart kept racing, her mind caught in the fiery wreckage of the Humvee. She took a couple deep breaths as she followed Hala into the room at the rear of the house and stood staring over the courtyard with its fountain and palm trees.

  Roses bloomed in a rainbow of color, their cupped heads nodding in the breeze carrying their sweet scent. A wind chime tinkled from the frond of a palm tree. For a moment Bryn felt disoriented. The peaceful oasis came as a shock. Beyond the concrete wall, the plume of black smoke roiled up into the sky.

  Someone tugged at her robe and she looked down. Karima, Fahdi and Hala’s five-year-old daughter, was staring up at her. Bryn forced a smile. “Salaam.”

  Full of empathy, the little girl’s hazel eyes seemed way too old in her young face. One tiny hand reached up and wrapped around her fingers in an offer of comfort.

  Touched by the child’s intuitive kindness, Bryn sank to her knees and pressed a kiss to the smooth forehead. “Thank you, little one,” she whispered.

  With a pleased smile, the girl towed her to a different room and showed Bryn her dolls.

  The afternoon passed quickly, and by the time Bryn had helped her hostess prepare dinner amid a mixture of gestures and halting Arabic, the sun had set. After they ate, she helped Hala bathe the baby and get the others ready for bed. Bryn loved every second she spent with the children. They reminded her of the good things in life. And what was important. These children were the future of Iraq. She prayed they would have a peaceful place to live soon.

  Later, when Hala handed her the baby wrapped in a fuzzy blue blanket, her heart squeezed. She sat in a chair and snuggled him close. The sweet scent of him made her ache.

  Singing softly, she rocked him, nuzzling his downy black hair with her nose. He made a murmur of contentment and yawned hugely, his long lashes resting against his smooth cheeks as he slept in her arms. So innocent. Precious.

  Bryn closed her eyes and breathed him in, savoring the warm weight of his little body tucked so trustingly against her. She wanted this someday. Someday soon. She wondered if Dec wanted kids, too.

  Hala stood watching from the doorway, a smile wreathing her face, as if she’d known holding the baby was exactly what Bryn needed. Stealing one last snuggle, she placed the baby in his crib and the two of them went to sit in front of the television. When the news anchor reported on the explosion at the compound, Hala hurried to change the channel.

  After a while, she went into the kitchen and returned with some hot tea. Grateful for her kindness, Bryn wished she was completely fluent in Arabic so they could talk properly. She approved of her mothering skills, especially of how clearly she adored her children. As they drank, Hala kept glancing at the clock on the wall. Was she wondering where her husband was?

  Bryn searched her vocabulary. “He is probably helping the men at the…” She didn’t know the word for explosion. “Fire.”

  Hala looked down at her teacup, tension taking hold of her frame.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Bryn added to reassure her.

  When Hala lifted her gaze, it was filled with sympathy and…trepidation.

  “What is it?”

  The other woman pressed her lips together.

  “Hala?” She risked putting her hand on Hala’s wrist. It trembled. “What is it?” Her chest tightened.

  Her hostess’s hazel eyes clouded with tears. “You should not be here,” she began in a hoarse whisper.

  Bryn’s skin prickled.

  “My husband,” she said, wringing her hands, her voice stronger this time. Her gaze traveled to the window overlooking the garden, wher
e a smudge of smoke from the bombing stained the twilit sky, then reverted to Bryn.

  The fear and shame in that gaze hit Bryn like a fist.

  “He is… You are in danger here.”

  As her brain processed what the woman was saying, Bryn’s stomach plummeted. The blood drained from her face and her mind shrieked with denial. Fahdi. Oh God, not Fahdi…

  Hala’s shoulders jerked as she began to cry. “You should never have come here.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Day 12: Baghdad

  Evening

  “I still can’t reach Sam,” Ben said to him. “You heard anything from her yet?”

  Dec shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Rhys is out sniffing around, but she wasn’t at her place when I went by.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not like her to drop out of contact like this. Think she’s okay?”

  “Let’s hope so.” Dec didn’t like it either. Not a damn bit. There were too many unknowns right now, and Sam falling off the radar wasn’t easing the tension in his gut. And now Bryn was at Fahdi’s, with no one to protect her. He’d hated leaving her there, but he hadn’t had a choice.

  Nearby Luke was talking with the head of the Explosives Ordnance Disposal team, examining something in his hand. His expression went black.

  “Uh-oh,” Ben said under his breath. “This ain’t gonna be good.”

  No shit, Dec thought as Luke stalked over to them and dumped a chunk of metal into Dec’s palm.

  He studied it, gearing up for bad news. “Nice fuse.”

  Next Luke handed him a timing mechanism. “Iranian. Could have been planted on the Hummer by anyone, but it had to be someone we know, and who would have sympathetic ties to Tehran?”

  “A Shi’a,” he reasoned.

  Luke kept gazing at him.

  Dec’s heart and lungs constricted as he connected the dots. Shit…

  “Fahdi.” Ben confirmed.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Dec moaned, breaking out in a clammy sweat. “What are we gonna do about Bryn?”

  “Nothing. Leave her where she is for now.”

  “Are you fucking nuts? If we’re right about Fahdi, he could turn her over to Tehrazzi, or kill her himself.”

  “Fahdi’s not going to do anything to her. Tehrazzi wants her for his bodyguard to kill in front of him, so if Fahdi’s working for him, he won’t touch her. Right now, Bryn’s our best hope of finding out whether he planted the bomb, or if he’s our mole. Let’s wait and see what she can dig up.”

  Dec’s heart was in his throat as a terrible realization hit him. Jesus. Luke had suspected Fahdi all along. That’s why he’d ordered him to take her to Fahdi’s. “You son of a bitch. You sent her there as bait, didn’t you? You had me put her there even though you knew she’d be without protection.”

  Luke didn’t answer.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you? She’s a civilian—”

  “She’s a member of this team. She signed on for this—I’m not asking her to do anything she didn’t agree to.”

  “Fuck that!” Dec fought to get hold of his temper, drilled him with a dark glare. “We have to at least contact her, make sure she’s all right.”

  Luke’s eyes hardened. “If she knows we suspect Fahdi, she won’t stay long enough to find out what we need to know, will she? Hala and Fahdi aren’t going to hurt her.”

  “We can’t just leave her there.” His stomach was in knots. He wanted to get her out of there, right now.

  His new cell rang. He snatched it, stared with a tripping heart at the display. “Bryn.”

  “Fahdi did it,” she blurted. “Fahdi planted the bomb. His wife just told me—”

  “Shit.” He mouthed the information to Luke. “Where are you?” His heart was pounding at the thought of her in that house, in a bomber’s house.

  “Running down the street. I snuck out so I could call you,” she panted. “Hala probably knows I’ll warn you. What if she tells Fahdi?”

  “It’s okay, Bryn.” He had to calm her, keep her coherent and focused. “You need to get out of there now. Find some cover, somewhere you can drop out of sight. We’ll come find you, track the GPS chip in the phone.”

  “That’s not your call to make,” Luke said.

  Dec thrust the phone at him. “Then you tell her we’re leaving her there.” His muscles were coiled like springs, ready to snap.

  Luke’s lips thinned, but he didn’t argue further. He was probably beating himself up for trusting Fahdi, for not seeing through the guy sooner. Probably still hoped Bryn could ferret out more inside info that would help him nail the bastard. Well, that was Luke’s problem. Damned if Dec was leaving her there as bait for another second if he could help it.

  “Does she know where Fahdi is?” Luke demanded.

  Dec put the phone to his ear and relayed the question, then shook his head. “If Hala has any clue, she’s not saying.”

  Luke looked at Ben. “Lock onto Fahdi. We’re bringing him in.”

  Forget Fahdi. “Bryn first,” Dec snapped, then more softly to Bryn, “Keep moving, baby. Make sure you’re not being followed. And stay on the line with me, okay?”

  “O-okay.” Her breath hitched.

  Christ, he hadn’t meant to scare her even more, but he had a real bad feeling. No doubt Fahdi knew by now that his attempt to assassinate them had failed, and there was Bryn, the perfect target, awaiting him at home. Why the hell had Dec let Luke go ahead with this?

  He dashed outside, Luke and Ben on his tail. His frantic gaze fell on an army vehicle parked at the curb. He tore over. Leaving Luke to pull the Iraqi soldier out of the front seat, he and Ben did a quick once over to check for explosives before climbing inside. He put the phone to his ear. “Bryn, you hidden yet?”

  “No, I can’t see anything to—Where are you?”

  Her fear hit him hard. “We’re on our way.” His fingers tightened around the phone as Luke gunned it. “How long, Ben?”

  “Barring roadblocks, about seven minutes.”

  He kept talking to her as the minutes ticked past, linking to her with his voice, trying to keep her level as she slipped away from Fahdi’s house into the darkening neighborhood, alone. Goddamn Fahdi. He’d actually liked the son of a bitch. Why would he do something so despicable? Had to be the money. He couldn’t wait to get the bastard, and could tell Luke was itching to as well.

  “Three more blocks,” Ben said.

  “Any minute, Bryn.” Then, on the other end of the line, he heard the screech of tires, Bryn’s sharply indrawn breath.

  “Oh, God, Dec!” she yelled, making the hair on his arms stand up. “Two men. They saw me. They’re coming after me.” He made out her running footsteps as she fled for her life.

  He barked her name, muscles tight as a steel cable. She screamed. A clatter followed, as though she’d dropped the phone.

  “Bryn!” he roared, desperate for her response.

  No answer, just grunts and her desperate cries as she struggled against whoever had her. “Jesus Christ,” he said hoarsely, “they’ve got her.”

  ****

  Bryn broke free of the meaty arms wrapped around her, a scream trapped in her throat. Her heart thundered in her ears as she lunged away, but someone else caught a fistful of her robe and wrenched her backward. Whirling on him, she landed a punch to his face, barely registering the pain in her hand, and flung herself backward with all her strength.

  They would not take her.

  Not this time.

  More hands grabbed at her.

  Heels planted, she turned. Kicked one guy’s feet out. Damned robe kept tangling around her legs. Turned again.

  Another man coming at her. She crouched in her fighting stance.

  Punch.

  Wheeling around, she drove up with her elbow toward his throat. Missed.

  Spin. Block left. Block low.

  Punch.

  A fist glanced off her ribs. She sucked in a breath.

  Punch. She threw him
over her hip, screaming her rage at him.

  The man flew to the pavement with a grunt. She turned to face the other.

  Come on, you bastard.

  She aimed high. Kicked. Caught him in the shoulder. Keep moving.

  Punch.

  He staggered back with a curse.

  Panting, she broke free again and took off down the street, weaving in case they drew a gun so she’d be harder to hit. Where the hell was Dec with her backup? Footsteps thundered behind her, getting closer. Closer. A sob caught in her throat. Tiring fast.

  A heavy weight hit her between the shoulder blades and she went crashing down. If they captured her they would torture or kill her. She could not let them take her.

  Fight, Bryn. Struggling out from under his sweaty weight, she choked when he locked a damp, hairy forearm under her throat. As he squeezed, her vision dimmed.

  ****

  A block away, Dec gripped the door handle as Luke pushed the vehicle to breakneck speed, hurtling down the street and around the last corner. There was Bryn, in the shadows fighting off two men, battling her way out of a headlock.

  “Fuck!” Dec snarled, body coiled tight. As Luke careened to a stop, Dec and Ben exploded out of the vehicle and took off at a sprint.

  Bryn fought loose from one of her attackers, landing an elbow to the groin and scrambling away, but the other man snagged her ankle and hauled her toward the waiting car, pistol in hand. Dec raised his Glock, but didn’t have a clear shot.

  Swearing, he ran on, oblivious to the bullet ripping past his head. They must be under orders to kidnap her without harming her, but if she kept fighting, they would get more violent.

  “Dec!” she cried as the other man lunged at her, then she lashed out with a roundhouse kick, knocking both of them down. Clear, she started to run, but the first guy tackled her and sent her face-first into the pavement.

  Ben aimed his pistol and fired, hitting the bastard in the thigh. He staggered and Bryn kicked him in the chest, completing his fall, then shot forward, her eyes so wide Dec could see white all around the irises as she came flying toward them. Nearly there, baby. Keep running.