Collateral Damage

by Lynette Eason

  Which was confusing, but welcome. However, she didn’t expect that would last much longer. The one thing allowing her to keep her fear under control was the fact that they hadn’t been searched. Knowing it would happen at some point, she’d seized the opportunity during a chaotic moment to snag the satellite phone from the pocket of her burqa. Using the bodies crammed against her as a shield, she’d pressed the SOS button and sent out her distress signal.

  Minutes passed, the only sounds the hushed whispers and terrified weeping of her cellmates mixed with the low voices of the guards outside the window. Sarah leaned her head against the wall and watched the hallway while her hand searched through the folds of the cloth. Fatima looked up at her as Sarah’s fingers closed around the sat phone. Did she dare take a chance to see if anyone had called? If there was a message? If help was on the way? All she had to do was sneak a peek.

  “Don’t ask why,” she whispered to Fatima, “but can you sit slightly in front of me?”

  “Yes.” The girl moved enough to shield her from the guard’s gaze, should he return.

  With shaky fingers, she pulled the phone from her pocket.

  “What are you doing?” Talia asked. Her eyes widened at the sight of the phone. “If they know you have that, it won’t be good.”

  “I know. I need to find a place to hide it.”

  She glanced at the screen. Nothing. No response that her plea for help had been seen. Cold dread sent a wave of nausea through her. The SOS should have gone out to her brother, FBI Special Agent Caden Denning, and to their father, Lieutenant General Lewis Denning. Even if her father ignored the message, Caden should have been able to track the phone and have help on the way before these monsters could blink. He might be in the United States, but he had a long-range reach. As did their father. She’d thought carefully about adding him to the SOS list, then decided to do so “just in case.”

  This situation was about as “just in case” as one could get, and for once, she was glad her father was who he was—although she’d bite her tongue in half before admitting it. Then again, if admitting it would get them out of here, she’d shout it from the rooftops.

  Surely, the message had gone through. She pressed the SOS button once more and slipped the phone back into her pocket. Caden would do something. Her father? The last time she’d talked to him had been when he’d told her he disinherited her for going into the Army. She’d laughed. “I don’t need or want your money.” She needed and wanted his love, but that had never been within her grasp.

  Because of her ongoing conflict with her father, Sarah had kept a low profile, never acknowledging her relationship to the powerful man. Just before she’d joined the Army, she’d dyed her blonde hair a dark brown and decided to go by a different first name, insisting her family get used to calling her by it. Her only feature that might draw attention to her was her green eyes. Otherwise, with her flawless Pashto, she should be able to pass as a native. At least, that’s what she told herself.

  The guard’s heavy footfalls sounded in the hallway once more, and her adrenaline spiked. Another guard joined him. They stood at the door grinning and pointing, talking openly about the girls’ futures. Bile rose in the back of her throat, even as the comforting presence of the phone pressed into her hip.

  Please, Lord, send help.

  Former Army Ranger and Special Ops soldier turned private contractor Gavin Black monitored the situation. From his position just outside the compound, protected only by a hill of sand, he could hear the faint hum of the plane’s engine fifteen thousand feet above him. “It’s a go,” Gavin said into the headset. “Once you’re down, wait for my signal.” He’d gone ahead, on the ground and at great risk to himself, to make sure the others could breach the compound in a way that would catch the occupants off guard—and give him and his team the advantage. Mere seconds would make the difference between life and death.

  When the lieutenant general had called Gavin and requested his services, he hadn’t been able to refuse—and not just because of the man’s rank.

  “My daughter’s been kidnapped,” he said, “taken by the Taliban from a school where she was a guest instructor. She, another teacher, and twelve female students are being held at a compound in the middle of the Registan Desert. The only way in without detection is to drop in at night.”

  Registan Desert? There was more than one compound in that suffocating place. “Which compound, sir?”

  “Hibatullah Omar’s. And they’re saying he’s behind the kidnapping.”

  Gavin stilled. Of course it would be his. “That’s not possible. Omar’s dead.” Gavin had been a part of the raid that led to his death. But another terrorist organization could have taken over the compound.

  “Somehow he’s risen from the grave. We’ve received satellite footage that he’s up and running again. You know that compound. You lived there for over a year. I need you to put together a team and get Sarah and the others out of there.”

  Yes, he’d lived there. Working undercover as a terrorist, gaining the trust of one of the most horrific murderers in the Middle East. And Gavin had set him up to die. If Omar was truly alive, then he’d know about Gavin’s betrayal.

  Already on the ground in Kabul for another reason, Gavin had dropped what he was doing and quickly navigated his team onto this assignment.

  Rochelle Denning. Also known as Sarah. He’d met her in Kabul when they’d been deployed at the same time. Met her and found her fascinating. They’d gone out for three dates, shared an amazing kiss, and then she’d quit answering his calls and texts. Not one to tread where he wasn’t wanted, Gavin had let it go in spite of his confusion over her sudden cold shoulder.

  The general had shared that Caden had already called his resources with the FBI, but they wouldn’t be much help in the Registan Desert.

  The men in the plane would parachute far enough away to remain undetected, then make their way across the open fields of sand to the compound and to the north wall, where Gavin would meet them and lead them inside. With the night vision goggles and binoculars, he could make out the entrance he’d used to come and go undetected when he was living at the compound.

  “There’s no way that’s Omar,” Cole Lawton said, his voice clear in Gavin’s ear.

  “I wouldn’t have thought so either,” Gavin said, keeping his voice low, “but the pictures don’t lie.”

  “I saw his body, Black. He was burned to a crisp. We’ve got pictures of that as well, remember?”

  “Yeah.” And before they could extract that body for DNA testing, they’d come under fire and had to fight for their lives to make it to the waiting bird.

  He blinked against the memories. Unlike many of the people he served with, he didn’t suffer nightmares often, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dwell on the stuff nightmares were made of.

  “You think they know who they snatched?” Lawton asked. “That she’s Denning’s daughter?”

  “I sure hope not.” Because if those killers knew they had the daughter of one of the highest-ranking men in the US Army, there would be no saving her. He checked his watch, then the altitude of the plane. Just a few more seconds, then . . .

  “It’s go time,” he said. “You know what to do.”

  “You sure this is going to work?”

  “I’m sure.” Mostly.

  “What’s Plan B?”

  “There is no Plan B. I don’t believe in them.”

  With the pack on his back and night vision goggles over his eyes, he watched the plane. His adrenaline pumped at an all-time high. “Three seconds,” he said, mentally counting down.

  On cue, the men propelled themselves out one at a time. Gavin could almost imagine he was with them, spreading his arms, feeling the wind pressing against him. He shuddered and focused back on the compound. He had to time it just right, which was why he was going in on the ground and not coming down through the sky. Among other reasons. But the most important was that he have the door open when his team
arrived.

  “I’m coming, Sarah,” he whispered. “Hang on, I’m coming.”

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Sarah had buried the satellite phone in the corner of the cell’s dirt floor only minutes before the guard had returned. Since then, he’d stayed just outside the door, and one hour turned into two.

  “What are they waiting on?” Fatima whispered.

  “I don’t know.” Every so often another guard would come and the two men would exchange whispers. Then he’d turn and hurry down the hallway, only to return a half hour later to repeat the whole thing. “I’m going to move to the door and see if I can hear what they’re saying,” she whispered to Fatima. “Stay put.”

  Eyes wide, Fatima nodded.

  On hands and knees, so as not to draw attention by standing, Sarah moved through the group, pressing a comforting hand on a shivering teen’s shoulder or squeezing the ice-cold fingers of another as she passed. Talia’s terrified gaze met hers, and she pressed her lips together, her displeasure at Sarah’s movement clear.

  But if the phone hadn’t worked like it was supposed to, they were going to have to know what was going on. At the door, she slid against the wall. The other guard should be returning any moment. As though he’d read her mind, footsteps pounded down the hallway to stop in front of the door. His radio crackled and Sarah thought she caught the words, “Search them one by one. Bring her to the conference room. We will make the video there.”

  Bring who?

  “Get up! All of you!”

  Sarah jerked at the order and slowly stood. The other girls followed her lead.

  The guard who spoke was in his early thirties with a long beard and body odor strong enough to knock her out.

  And a rifle gripped in his right hand.

  When all of them were standing, huddling together, the guard threw open the door and lifted the rifle. He pointed it at Fatima. “You. Come with me.”

  Fatima stepped through an opening in the group. When she reached Sarah, she grabbed Sarah’s hand in a death grip. The teen shook like she’d splinter apart any second.

  The guard jabbed Fatima with the rifle. “What is your name?”

  “Fatima.”

  “Remove your head covering.”

  Slowly, Fatima pushed the cloth away, her eyes downcast.

  “It’s not her,” the other man said. “But I will take her for a little while.” He jabbed his weapon at Fatima. “Come with me.”

  The teen shuddered but didn’t move to obey the order.

  The guard’s eyes gleamed. “Come, I said. Obey or die. Which will you choose?”

  Still gripping Sarah’s fingers, Fatima lifted her chin. “I choose to die.”

  A multitude of gasps sounded behind her.

  He pulled the trigger. Fatima jerked and fell, her hand sliding from Sarah’s grip.

  Screams echoed.

  “Fatima!” Heart pounding, ears ringing, Sarah dropped to her knees and pressed hard against the wound, barely able to control the rage she wanted to unleash on the guard. But the girl . . .

  “Fatima,” she whispered.

  “It hurts,” Fatima whimpered.

  The rifle jabbed Rashida, the girl next to Sarah. “You. Get up.”

  “Kinaaz,” Sarah said, “come press on her wound.”

  Without hesitation, Kinaaz, the gentle soul who loved poetry, nature, and puppies, darted to her friend’s side and replaced Sarah’s hands with her own.

  “Hold on, Fatima,” Sarah whispered, “help’s coming.”

  “I said get up!”

  Rashida wailed and covered her head with her arms. The guard adjusted the rifle.

  “Stop! Don’t shoot her!” Sarah stood and stepped between the rifle and the other girls, ignoring the nausea curling in her gut. “What do you want?” she asked, keeping her head lowered but watching him through her lashes.

  His eyes glinted and raked her up and down. “I didn’t tell you to interfere.”

  Sarah waited for the bullet. It didn’t come, but she thought he considered it.

  “Remove your head covering.”

  Sarah reached to do so, and the smile that split his lips turned her stomach once more. He jerked the rifle, indicating she was to hurry up.

  The guard behind him chuckled and muttered something under his breath.

  Gunfire erupted from the hallway, and the terrorist flinched, his rifle wavering for a fraction of a second. She lunged at the man, slamming her elbow into his throat. He went down, and she clamped a hand around the barrel of the rifle and rolled, jammed the stock into her shoulder, and aimed it at his face.

  He charged at her and she pulled the trigger. Felt the kick against her shoulder. His face exploded into a red mist.

  Bullets spit into his partner behind him. Footsteps pounded on the dirt floor. Another spray of gunfire above her head brought screams from the girls still in the cell. Fire exploded in her side and then her arm.

  Just as quickly, the shooting stopped.

  Ears still ringing, Sarah ignored the burning pain just under her rib cage and swung the rifle toward the hallway that opened into the area where she and the teens were being held. When she spotted US Army uniforms, she dropped the weapon and lifted her hands above her head. One hand. She couldn’t lift the other without massive agony racing through her arm.

  “Move away from the weapon!”

  “Hands! Show me your hands!”

  The commands rolled over her and she let out a sob of relief. “Don’t shoot!” she screamed. “Don’t shoot! I’m an American!”

  “Sarah!”

  The voice came from behind the first soldier. Even in her terrified, semiparalyzed state, she recognized the voice. “Gavin!”

  He rushed to her and snagged the rifle from the dirt.

  She refrained from launching herself into his arms. Instead she yanked the burqa covering from her head and drew in a ragged breath. “Thank God.”

  Gavin lowered his weapon, helped her remove the rest of her burqa, and stared into green eyes he’d recognize anywhere. “Sarah.”

  “About time you guys showed up,” she said.

  “Had to stop for a burger. Knew you could take care of yourself until we got here.” His words came out gruff, filled with emotion he had no right feeling at the moment. Surprised, he cleared his throat.

  She huffed a short laugh that ended on a hiccuped sob. “Right.” She didn’t take her eyes from the man on the floor. “I killed him.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He listened to the voice in his ear. “The threat has been neutralized.” They were safe for now. Plan A had worked.

  She swiveled her gaze to him. “What?”

  “You missed.”

  “Not even. I don’t miss.”

  “Whatever the case. We need to get out of here.”

  She stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m so very glad to see you.”

  “Same here.” He gave her a quick squeeze and she gasped. He frowned but was intent on their next move. “Come on, we’ve got to go before their reinforcements arrive. You ready?”

  “As long as there’s room for the other girls. Fatima is injured and needs a doctor.”

  “There’s room and we have a medic with us.” He turned to the girls in the cell and, in Pashto, said, “All of you, follow those two soldiers and we’ll get you to safety.”

  His Pashto must have been good enough, because the girls hurried from the cell. He stepped over to the fallen teen and her friend, who still knelt beside her, hands covered in blood but still pressing hard. “Don’t take your hands away yet, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Gavin?”

  He turned.

  Sarah’s hands clasped her side. She swayed, then sank to her knees.

  “Sarah!” He strode back to her. “You’ve been hit.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I hadn’t noticed.”

  He slung the rifle over his shoulder and caught her just as she passed out.
>
  Acknowledgments

  I’m so very grateful for those who were willing to answer my questions! ANY mistakes can be laid at the author’s feet, not these fabulous resources.

  Many thanks to the following people:

  My family! I love you all bunches. Thanks for always encouraging and supporting me!

  My Greenville, SC, brainstorming group—Edie Melson, Emme Gannon, Linda Gilden, Erynn Newman, Lynn Blackburn, Tammy Karasak, Michelle Cox, Alycia Morales, and Molly Jo Realy. I love you ladies!

  My suspense brainstorming group—Lynn Blackburn, Colleen Coble, Robin (Miller) Carroll, Voni Harris, Carrie Stuart Parks, Pam Hillman. I couldn’t do this without you guys. Thanks for all the fantabulous ideas!

  Tim and Melanie Rose—wonderful fans who offered insight into the world of the army. Thank you!

  Corporal William Ryan Tinsley—stationed in Afghanistan. Thank you for answering my many texts and for your service, Ryan! Stay safe!

  Brian and Ronie Kendig—Thank you so much for reading and providing feedback on the first draft of the initial scenes in the book. You guys are awesome. And readers, if you don’t know about Ronie’s books, you’re missing out. Check out her website at www.rapidfirefiction.com.

  Judy Melinek, MD, Forensic Pathologist, Alameda County Sheriff-Coroner’s Office CEO, PathologyExpert Inc.—thank you so much for putting me in touch with the fabulous Grace Dukes.

  Grace Dukes, MD, Forensic Pathologist, Pathology Associates, Greenville, SC—thank you so much for answering all of my questions! I can only hope I did justice to your answers! If not, readers know that’s on me, not you. :)

  Thank you always to the incredible team at Revell. I love working with you guys!

  Thanks to my agent, Tamela Hancock-Murray. Thank you for always having my back. I love you, my friend!

  And most especially, thank you to this incredible guy:

  Vincent Davis—SPC (Specialist) Davis, 489th Civil Affairs Battalion—thanks aren’t enough. You are amazing. I so appreciate all the time and effort you put into making the opening of this book just perfect. And if y’all like historical reads, look him up on Amazon. He’s an awesome writer. AND, if you need any marketing help, Vincent is your guy. Check out his Warrior Book Marketing Group at: http://warriorbookmarketing.com/.