The Princess And The Mercenary

by Victoria Paige

  She was about to put her sneakers on when her eyes caught the cargoes Kade wore yesterday. Yara got up and padded over to them, not even guilty in the slightest for going through its pockets. She doubted she’d find keys to whatever vehicle they used last night, but her fingers touched a solid object and she slid out a memory stick from the front pocket.

  The door opened, she didn’t jump or attempt to hide the device in her hand and, instead, glanced over to Kade who was walking in. Dressed in jeans, he was toweling the water droplets from his back.

  He flicked a casual gaze at her before heading to his massive duffle to pick out an undershirt and a plaid polo similar to the ones the locals wore. “Garrison gave that to me.”

  “Garrison?”

  “Stryker,” Kade murmured. Pulling on a white tee, he slowly donned the polo, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

  “He works for you?” Her mouth fell open, blood pressure shooting to her head. “That’s how you got me out of the compound?”

  He gave a slight nod. “I work for him. Well, not really, we worked together on—”

  Before she could stop herself, she slammed both palms at his chest in righteous anger. “You people are like multiheaded snakes!” she yelled. “How did Stryker get past Tariq’s screening?”

  “He works for people, babe.”

  “You mean the CIA. Stop calling me babe!”

  Her chest hurt, her stomach hurt, and heat prickled her nape. Yara bent over and heaved.

  “Breathe.” His palm rubbed her back, but she shrugged him off, too pissed to have him soothe her.

  After drawing cleansing air into her lungs. “I think,” she gulped. “You need to tell me everything.”

  “I know him as John Garrison,” Kade acknowledged. “But I doubt that’s his real name either.”

  “How does he play into all this?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Not sure? Don’t know? Can’t tell?”

  “All of the above. I didn’t know it was him when he showed up in Aden with Tariq. I’ve only met him a few times, but he was clean-shaven with short hair then. I only realized it was him when he blocked me from going after you. We kept in contact. Told me how you were doing.”

  Yara looked away. “I hated you.”

  “I know.”

  “You should have left me there.”

  “It’s not safe. Good thing Garrison and I already had a plan on getting you out before Nasir’s men came to the compound.”

  “I could have called Tariq.”

  “Nasir isn’t the only problem.”

  “You mean General Boustari?” She glared at him. “How sure are you?”

  “Garrison backs my suspicions. That’s enough. That memory stick you have in your hand might have the proof we need about Boustari and why he’s after you.”

  “Should we look at it now?”

  “No electricity.” He pointed to the light fixture above them. “We’ll need power for the satellite internet. Garrison mentioned it’s encrypted so I may have to download some software.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not turning me over to the general and collecting the money.”

  “There’s a thought.” His face blanked of emotion, but his tone was sarcastic.

  Ugh, this man was infuriating.

  Yara slipped on her sneakers and stood. “Well, why do we have to stay here then? Why not just hand me over to him? Or are you using me—”

  She never got all the words out. Kade pounced on her, gripped her shoulders, and pushed her up against the wall. “You wanna know why?”

  Yara couldn’t speak.

  His face contorted into tortured rage. “You trusted me to protect you.”

  I trust you to protect me.

  “Is that no longer true, Tink?” he asked hoarsely, eyes burning with fierce intensity, with anguish.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “You hurt me, Kade.” And with those simple words she saw his features morph from anguish to self-loathing.

  “I’m sorry, Yara,” he said earnestly. His eyes searched her face, couldn’t focus, growing angry when they latched on to her scarf. He yanked it off and her hair spilled out, his fingers digging at her scalp. “I’m so sorry.”

  His mouth descended, but at the last second, she turned her face and his lips touched her cheek.

  She couldn’t kiss him. Not like this, not when what he’d done weighed heavy on her heart and mind.

  What was the saying? Fool me once …?

  Fingers slid from her hair to frame her jaw, bringing her face forward. Kade touched her forehead with his own, their breaths mingling.

  “I swear, Tink. I’ll earn your trust back. Give me a chance?”

  She couldn’t move her head away, he held on gently but firmly.

  “Please?” The word wrenched from his throat.

  Her lids lowered a fraction. “I can’t promise anything right now.”

  “Promise you’ll try?”

  She pursed her lips and nodded slightly.

  Kade kissed her forehead and let her go. She turned to search through her things, but her mind was racing. He had deceived her—yes, but was he wrong in his way of getting to AQAP?

  She thought about Abdul and his daughter as the shades of gray grew more muddled in her mind.

  19

  “Tell me about your family.”

  Kade stiffened at Yara’s request. After an unspoken truce, they left Abdul’s house to check out the nearby town, pick up some groceries, and find more clothes for her to wear. He needed to get to an area far from where they were hiding to call Bob or Garrison. With the rolling blackout in effect, Kade couldn’t get a bearing on the political situation.

  They were driving down the road behind Abdul’s house to see where it led, if it was a viable escape route. It was nothing but trees interspersed with smaller houses, some makeshift traveler’s stops with people selling fruits and handmade wares.

  “Have none,” he replied curtly. His family was SSRR and, now, he might not even have them. Max was pretty pissed when Kade took half the team with him, including Roarke who was one of their best men. The crew that broke off from Max wanted to go with Kade to secure Yara, but moving around as a team would be too conspicuous. So, he left them in Aden. With his height and bulk, Kade had a problem blending in even with the scruff on his face, which was why he wore a keffiyeh on his head—a typical Yemeni male’s scarf-like headgear.

  “Any of your guys have families?”

  “No. We were our own.”

  “Were?”

  “Max is pretty pissed at me right now.”

  “For doing the right thing?”

  “That’s my belief. Doesn’t mean it’s his.” Kade slammed on the brakes as a kid streaked across the road. “Dammit!” A goat herd was up ahead. He eased his foot from the brake and let the vehicle roll slowly forward.

  “Maybe you should have convinced him.”

  “Not my place.” They’d been restricted by military rules for so long, it was liberating to operate outside the realm of the military code of conduct and not be slapped with an Article 134.

  Kade glanced at her briefly, noting her frown before turning his attention back to the road. The last of the goats made it to the other end of the road and into a pasture. “I don’t know about you, but I think I’m ready for some meat.”

  “Oh my god, you’re one of those people who sees a cow and thinks about steak,” Yara exclaimed.

  “In this case, I’m thinking mutton.” Abdul told him he’d make a stew for dinner if Kade would bring home the meat. He could eat anything right now that was not an MRE, beans, or eggs.

  Following Bob’s rudimentary directions to the nearest town, Kade guided their Patrol along the narrow lane until the road widened into a small commercial area—a group of one-story mud buildings, roadside shops, and people milling around. It was more crowded than Kade would have preferred but Yara needed clothes and he needed to pick up a few thin
gs.

  “Oooh, I wonder if Abdul would like some fruits,” Yara said, glancing at the street vendors as he pulled in between a motorcycle and a pickup truck on a dirt parking lot. “I noticed there were no fruits in the house.”

  “We’ll pick some up before we leave. Come on.” He stepped down from the vehicle and surveyed their surroundings. Looking at Yara over the roof of the Patrol, he pointed to the building with a gold and black sign. “There it is.”

  “There’s what?”

  “Farideh’s Creations.”

  “You read Arabic too?”

  Kade grinned. “Sort of.”

  “Is there anything you can’t do?” she groused as she walked ahead.

  “Yara …” He swallowed a grin. He caught up with her and grasped her elbow, pulling her back.

  “We’re supposed to act like newlyweds.”

  She answered him with a glare.

  “Ah, are we having our first marital spat?”

  A mulish chin lifted, but not before he saw the tug of a smile when she turned her head to look straight. He released her elbow and they walked side by side.

  Kade’s senses were alert as they made their way to the shop. A group of young men stood outside a mini-mart, eyeing them suspiciously, all conversation ceasing. He nodded to the group and greeted them in passing. “As-salam alaykom.” The young men returned his greeting, visibly relaxing and continued to talk among themselves.

  They reached a line of clothes shops and women of every age thronged in front of them, making it difficult to get to their destination. Fortunately, Farideh’s Creations was less crowded, and they managed to squeeze into the store. There was a rack of abayas on one wall and several mannequins covered in formal gowns on another.

  Yara broke away from him and headed to an elaborately fashioned blue dress with sparkly embellishment shit.

  “May I help you?” a voice in Arabic said to them.

  They turned to see a woman dressed in a tailored black dress. Intricately stitched scrolls lined the edges where the buttons met in the middle. Her head was uncovered, hair twisted into a knot on her crown. Kade would put her age in her late thirties. Her skin was porcelain smooth except for the creases at the corner of her eyes which were drawn heavily in dark pencil, her lips painted a blood red.

  “Are you Farideh?”

  The woman nodded, her eyes inquisitive.

  “Bob sent us.”

  Her gaze shifted to Yara. “You need items for her.”

  Kade looked around the shop. “I’m not sure he picked the right store. She needs casual …”

  Farideh held up a hand, silencing him and then leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I have what she needs in the back.” The shop owner straightened and told her assistants to handle the shop for the next half hour. “You will need to stay out here.” She informed Kade. “This is a ladies’ shop and men are not allowed in the back.”

  “I’m not leaving her alone.”

  “You’re going to attract more attention if you insist on accompanying us.”

  At Kade’s unbending stare, Farideh sighed. “There’s an alley between this building and the next that leads to the back exit. I can let you in from there.” She shrugged. “Best I can do.”

  Yara showed an understanding of their conflict and touched his arm lightly. “I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

  He inclined his head and watched as Farideh led Yara behind the counter, then into a backroom. Kade turned on his heel and stalked out the door, the crowd of women giving him a wide berth. Making a left at the deserted alleyway, he made another left to find Farideh holding the back door open for him.

  Kade entered the back room of the shop. “You don’t mind if I look around?”

  “Go ahead,” Farideh said in English. “I told my seamstresses to take a break, too.”

  Yara’s mouth fell open. “Your English has a French accent.”

  “Good observation.” Farideh smiled faintly as they walked into a room. Western clothes like jeans and tees were stacked in a corner. Kade listened briefly to the women’s conversation as Farideh told Yara about her job as a seamstress for a Parisian fashion house. The Yemen civil war killed her sister, leaving behind two kids—the only remaining relatives she had in this country. She was helping her brother-in-law raise them. Kade left the women in the dressing room and moved on to inspect the rest of the space. A stock room, a sewing room, and a little kitchen completed the area. He made his way back to the women.

  Yara was holding up a pair of denims. “Levi’s. Can’t get more American than that.” She turned to Farideh. “I’m surprised you have skinny jeans.”

  “You would be surprised what women wear under the abaya.” Farideh winked at her.

  They shared a laugh.

  Yara peeled off her black robe and bent over to inspect the other clothes. It was a sight to see—a genuine smile on her face for the first time since their time in Ankara. Kade missed it. More than anything, he wanted to give her that feeling of security, that feeling of something familiar. Despite Yara’s efforts to put on a brave face, that strum of anxiety running through her was palpable.

  “I’m going outside for a sec. Be right back,” he informed them.

  The women didn’t even acknowledge him but continued chatting about the wash of denim and cuts. Shaking his head, he exited to the back of the building. Fishing the burner from his pocket, he thumbed Garrison’s number. It continued ringing without a change to voicemail so Kade ended the call and tried Bob’s number. After two rings, the fixer answered.

  “Spear?”

  “Yeah. We’re at Farideh’s. Good choice.”

  “She’s a cool one,” Bob said with a fondness in his tone.

  “Garrison’s not answering his phone.”

  “Everyone’s looking for him right now.”

  “What?”

  “They pinned Ms. Emerson’s disappearance on him. Tariq and Jeff have gone ballistic.”

  “What happened with Nasir’s soldiers who showed up at the compound?”

  “They weren’t his soldiers. They were his hired militia. This group is known as his death squad although he denies one.”

  “Fuck.”

  Bob’s breath hissed through the phone. “Yeah. Good thing you got Yara out. Word is Tariq got pissed. His uncle recalled him to Sana’a to prevent him from interfering.”

  Damn, that was a close call. “General Boustari show his face yet?”

  “This morning. He and Tariq were questioning everyone. From my sources inside, they’re reviewing the security tapes.”

  “Tariq and Boustari?” Together in a room?

  “Yeah, tense as fuck from what I’ve heard.”

  “And Nasir?”

  “Holed up at his Sana’a compound.”

  Kade leaned against the wall. “How am I getting Yara out of the country?”

  “There are checkpoints from Taiz to Aden and coalition guards at the airport. Your best bet is to head west to Hudaydah Port. It’s controlled by the Emiratis. So we eliminate the wildcard of Nasir.”

  “This whole operation has gone FUBAR.”

  “Everyone’s on pins and needles about the ceasefire. Explosive is an understatement. Jeff talked to the UN and expanded security for ERAF’s folks. There are also talks about evacuating to Hudaydah.”

  “Where are Max and my crew? Roarke?”

  “Off the grid, man. No contact since yesterday.”

  Kade scrubbed his face in frustration. “Fuck.”

  “If you don’t hear from me in two days, find your way to Hudaydah. I have a feeling Boustari has someone following me.”

  “Sorry, Bob.” He spotted a young girl and a teenage boy in the alley and turned his back to them.

  “Goes with the job.”

  “When—”

  A booming voice, a shrill scream, and a broken shout erupted behind him.

  “What the fuck …?” Kade wheeled around to see an older bearded man locked in a scuffl
e with the boy who couldn’t be more than fifteen. The girl looked no more than twelve. She was watching the fight in agitation, in tears, while backing away from it slowly.

  “Gotta go.” He ended the call.

  Kade advanced on the trio, fury skyrocketing when Bearded Man grabbed the boy by the shoulders and flung him to the ground.

  Twenty feet away. The older man reached for the girl, but the boy grabbed his legs.

  “Go!” the boy screamed at the girl in Arabic. “Go to Aunt Farideh.”

  Ten feet away. Bearded Man tried to shake the boy off and kicked him. Flashes of the beatings Kade sustained from his stepfather turned the blood churning through his veins molten.

  Five feet away. Kade registered Farideh screaming behind him, but his ears were stopped up with rage, his eyes focusing on the much stronger man preying on the weak.

  “Laila!” the boy shouted as he struggled to hold back the fucker who raised his sandaled foot to stomp on him.

  Bearded Man never got the chance.

  Kade had him by the throat and, walking him backward, slammed him against the wall. The man’s face contorted in anger, then in fear. Fingers clawed at Kade’s wrists, desperate to ease the choking, desperate for air. All he could see was his stepfather, wearing a wife beater, his receding hairline and bloodshot eyes courtesy of the bottle and sleepless nights of gambling.

  “Kade, let him go.” In the grip of bloodlust, Yara’s voice came to him.

  “Kade!”

  The image of his stepfather faded away and a flurry of noises returned.

  He released Bearded Man’s neck. The man sank to the ground, his relief palpable as he gasped lungfuls of oxygen. He glared up at Kade, an expression mixed with fear and outrage.

  Backing away from the man, he looked at Farideh who was patting the boy over, checking for injuries. He could feel Yara’s concerned gaze on him, but he couldn’t look at her.

  She’d witnessed him lose control. He could have easily snapped the fucker’s neck. She’d seen the killer inside him.