by Zoe Dawson
“Dexter.”
“My husband will tend to him.”
She brought Piper to another room with a basin of water. “Please wash up, and you may use anything in my closet. She reached under the small basin that was placed on a table and, as she passed, took Piper’s wrist, setting soap in her palm, then closed it. “We are here to help you. Please, be at ease.”
“Thank you so much.”
Piper made quick work of stripping down to her soaked and soggy underwear, dropping everything into the corner. She scrubbed herself with the tepid water and only wished it were cold. Getting out of that heavy and hot burka was heaven.
After looking and finding underthings, but no bra, she went without it. She donned a simple cotton blue dress, drying her hair with a towel beside the basin.
She went back through the house until she came to the sleeping area where Dexter was laid out. As she came in the door, she gasped. They had taken off his shirt and exposed his raw, torn and bleeding flesh. As they cleaned the wound, Piper could see it was red and swollen.
Afsana, her beautiful eyes concerned, came over. “He is very bad. His stitches have torn and will need to be mended. I’m also afraid he has the fever. He must receive antibiotic. Soon.”
“Do you have any?”
Her face went grave, and she glanced at her husband, whose lips thinned. He was distraught, to say the least.
“We are sworn to an ages-old Pashtun tradition known as Pashtunwali. We will help and protect anyone in need, friend or enemy.”
“We’re not your enemy.”
“This we know. Dexter is our friend and that is a true fact.”
“How can I get him antibiotic?”
“This is very distressing. My cousin, who is not sympathetic to Americans, is due to arrive at any moment. If we are not present, it would be very bad. It would be dishonoring to him. Therefore, to protect Dexter, we must stay here. My husband can go with my cousin to get the crop to market and I will conceal Dexter.”
“What are you saying?”
“You must do this for him.”
“Oh, God. But how?”
“There is a town not three miles from here.”
“Charikar.”
“Yes, that is it. There is a woman, Dr. Blessing Contee, who runs a World Health Organization clinic. She knows Dexter and will help. She will come here and tend to him. But you must make the trip.”
Piper’s knees went watery and she groped for a chair to sit down. She stared at Dexter, who was now tossing and turning, totally lost in the fever. His handsome face was taut with pain. If he didn’t get the medical attention he needed, in his weakened state…
“I’ll go.” Groaning, she added, “More of the burka. Sorry, but I know it’s your custom. I don’t know how you handle wearing it.”
Afsana smiled and said, “I’m not overly fond of it myself, but we can’t dress you as a woman. They usually travel in groups and a woman alone would be suspect.”
“Then what…?”
“One moment.” Afsana disappeared for a few minutes and came back with…men’s clothes.
“You want me to dress like a man?”
“Yes, but keep the headscarf wrapped around your hair and most of your face. This is very risky, but a lone man will not cause much alarm. These belong to my son.” She took Piper’s wrist and dropped two metal pieces in her hand. “I took these off the ruined clothes Dexter was wearing.”
Piper looked down at the lieutenant bars. Back in Afsana’s room, she put on the clothes—a pair of loose-fitting cotton pants, a long overtunic, dark vest and leather sandals. She pinned the bars inside the fabric and just the thought of having them there bolstered her.
Afsana handed her a bottle of water from their stash and what looked like small dumplings.
“Walk straight out of the village. Do not talk to anyone. If someone talks to you, touch your throat and then your mouth and shake your head to indicate you are mute. Most people will leave you alone. Be very careful on the road. There are still some rebel convoys. They shouldn’t bother you. Once you get to the city, do not take a cab. I will draw you a map and you should be able to navigate. It usually is crowded, and you shouldn’t be noticed. Never look anyone in the eye. It’s very difficult to see from a distance and most people will not get that close to you. You should be safe.”
“Could I have a moment alone with him, please?”
“Of course. Raffi, come.”
They left the room and Piper went to kneel beside Dex. His handsome face was ashen, but he groaned, and his eyes fluttered open. For a moment he looked up at her. “Beautiful angel,” he said softly.
“I wish I was an angel, and I could come up with a miracle.”
“You’re safe with me,” he said. “I’m a SEAL. We don’t wish for miracles, we make them.”
“Then that would make you the beautiful angel.”
He smiled in his delirium. “I’ve thought about nothing but kissing you. Okay, maybe I did think about surviving and killing anything that threatened you, but kissing was definitely in the top three.”
She should be shocked by that, but she wasn’t. Everything in her world was topsy-turvy and she was losing her perspective. They had supported each other and were in survival mode. Somehow DC and Brad seemed so far away.
“So kissing was up there with killing and protecting?” Before she even realized what she was going to do, she touched the side of his face, thrilling at the rough stubble on his cheek. Ah, the way this man felt beneath her fingers, it was like she was coming out of some kind of delirium herself. The minute their gazes met, something inside her collapsed. His eyes were so blue, so deep with concern, and she tried to be practical and cool, but she realized that she might not make it back here, and if she didn’t, that would mean she was dead. Because nothing short of death was going to stop her.
His face softened, his full lips parting, but even as a wave of pain shuddered through him, he didn’t take his eyes off her. The thought of not kissing him ever was too much for her. Her attraction to him might have been adrenaline-induced, but this felt…real.
He reached up, his hand tangling in her hair. He closed his eyes, drawing her down, the rush of sensation so intense she had to grit her teeth against it. He tightened his hold on her; her heart was hammering, her breath constricted. He pressed her face against his in such a tender move that she clutched his head, her hands curling around his scalp. She made a low, desperate sound and twisted her head, his mouth suddenly hot and urgent against hers. The bolt of pure, raw sensation knocked the wind out of her.
She widened her mouth against his, feeding on the desperation that poured back and forth between them. She made a soft sound and clutched at him.
“I’ll be back,” she whispered against his lips.
She rose away from him, and in his confusion, he said, “Back? Where are you going? Don’t you do something stupid, Piper,” The warning in his voice was filled with anger, but it wasn’t directed at her.
“Everything is okay,” she said in a soothing voice. “Afsana?” she called, and they both came back into the room.
Every muscle in her body protested moving, and her nerve endings felt as if they were stripped raw, but she tried to ignore the feelings pounding through her. She had no idea what she was doing or what he’d done to her.
“Piper,” he said weakly. “Don’t you dare…” He trailed off, rolling to his good side and pushing up, gritting and gasping in pain. She ran back over and supported him against her, his glassy eyes pleading. “I can get up. We have to keep moving.”
“No. You can’t. Stop being a macho idiot. I’ve got this covered.”
He writhed in pain, his head rolling. “The bodies…stop pulling…stop dropping…I can’t breathe…” He passed out again. There wasn’t anything he could say that would stop her. She gently laid him down.
They walked to the door and Afsana wrapped the headscarf tightly, pulling the material up over Piper’
s face, tucking the ends in securely. “Good luck, Piper. I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you.”
“No, I understand, and we can’t wait. I’m sure it will be fine, but if I don’t come back…”
“You will, but we will take care of him. I promise.”
The door closed behind her and she found herself on a dirt road, where several children were playing and an old man was working an outside kiln. Some shopkeepers had small carts and were selling food, the aroma hitting her hard.
She started walking, not looking right or left. Walking briskly, already feeling the effects of the heat, no one paid her any heed except for a wave from the guy with the kiln. She waved back and kept moving. As she walked, she reached back for a bottle of water and the food Afsana had packed. Slipping her hands to her mouth, she ate and drank as she hit the outskirts of town. Her stomach tightened, but she kept walking, rounding a bend in the road, and the trees crowded closer, forming a scrubby wall on the side of the road as it dipped to a small, narrow bridge with plank decking. She crossed the bridge and followed the curve, soon hitting the paved road that stretched out into the distance, mountain ranges up ahead. After thirty minutes, she couldn’t see the town anymore.
Suddenly there was a rumble from behind her and she bowed her head and kept walking. She heard someone speak in the Pashto language, but she kept walking. She stopped when the voice got insistent.
Turning her body so she could see better, she froze. Her heart stalled, then dropped in a sickening rush. There was a convoy of soldiers alongside her.
There was a man who was motioning out of the side window of the lead truck, the back full of men carrying guns and what looked like grenade launchers. She stared at him, a wild, tense flutter taking off in her middle. She had no idea what he was saying; her brain froze.
Gripping her hands together, she tucked them into the wide sleeves to hide her light skin and to help stop the trembling, she swallowed hard, her mouth dry, fighting against the knot of fear in her gut.
She bowed her head, touching her throat and then her mouth. The man yammered at her again and pointed to the back of the truck. She felt as if every ounce of warmth had drained out of her, leaving her cold and clammy, while he stared at her, looking angry and grim. She would bluff her way through this…Dex’s life hung in the balance. She had to get that antibiotic.
Feeling completely unsure, she took a breath, trying to remain outwardly calm, her heart pounding even harder.
She finally got it, a shock of realization through the paralysis. He wanted her to catch a ride with them into the city. She shook her head, bowing and moving off. He said something else and then the convoy started moving again.
She kept walking, her breathing erratic and her heart hammering inside her chest. The ache in her throat so intense that she was afraid she was going to cry. Putting one foot in front of the other, she kept heading toward town. She watched as the trucks kept moving, and finally relief washed through her.
Consciously resisting the pull of old memories, Piper watched the changing sky, listening to the rustle of the leaves and the stirrings in the bushes.
That kiss had really rocked her, her attraction to Dex overwhelming even with her grief over the loss of her husband. With guilt heavy on her, she had to admit she hadn’t felt like this—ever. That also shook her quite a bit. Brad had been the love of her life, but with Dex…it was different. Hotter, more intense, totally consuming. But it had been eighteen months since Brad had died and her world had collapsed. Losing their unborn child and the complications, making it unlikely she would ever carry another, were also devastating losses.
Even if she could get past all that, Dex was a SEAL, a man who lived his life in constant danger, gone on deployment most of the year. She wasn’t sure she wanted that in her life. When she committed, it was one hundred percent. She was the kind of woman who worked closely with her man, stuck by him when times got tough, even though the political trail was an exhausting one. She’d been fearless back then, before the accident. But loss had a way of changing someone and the pain of losing somebody she loved again would be too hard.
She tried not to think anymore, downing the last of the water just as two men appeared, each riding a small donkey and leading two camels laden with what looked like wheat, cropped at the bottom of the stalk and tied onto the tall beasts. She could almost believe she was in Utah, the landscape was so familiar, but seeing the camels drove home to her that she wasn’t in the United States and she was far from safe.
The memories of Brad dredged up her longing for a family of her own, a solid, close-knit one. Brad had been like Dex―fearless, strong, his principles and convictions driving him. Such a good man.
Well, this wasn’t doing her any good, thinking about Brad and guilt and Dexter’s very hot, very real kiss. She closed her eyes briefly, battling with the lingering feel of his lips against hers. She was trying to deny she was thinking about Dex wanting more with him, using fear and adrenaline as excuses, but deep down she knew neither of those biological reactions had anything to do with the very feminine reaction she’d had to that gorgeous mouth. Tears stung her eyes as she recognized that maybe she was ready to take that step. Her gut twisted with her real need to get beyond feeling disloyal. Brad would want her to move on. Wouldn’t he? But that uneasy feeling persisted as the city materialized in front of her in the haze of the heat. Her heart did a little spin, remembering the way his lips had tasted, the deep, melting blue of his eyes and the immediate response she had of craving more. They had connected so fast, so deeply, it scared her. More than being alone with nothing. She was used to nothing.
She had to concentrate on getting out of this mess and saving the SEAL who had saved her, not spinning fantasies that would easily dissolve in the harsh reality of running from unknown assailants who wanted her dead for God knew what reason.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the convoy drive off the road and head into the distance in a cloud of dust. They were bypassing Charikar. That was a good thing.
She noticed with a start that there were two armed guards, part of the Parwan security forces, manning the entrance into the city. People were moving easily around the long cylinder, a green-and-white striped pole similar to a parking garage barrier gate. The gate stretched across a turquoise-and-white stylized arch as it was lifted for entrance and lowered to stop vehicles for searches. She lifted her chin, relaxing her muscles to look more natural. She didn’t want to draw any attention. The two guards at the gate were busy searching a vehicle and she sauntered through without any problem. Once inside the bustling city, she pulled the map out of her pocket and studied it.
The WHO office was downtown and that was still a trek. With a city of ninety-six thousand people, it was as crowded as many places in the States, only the cars were older and rougher-sounding. People moved briskly along, and Piper didn’t slow, but waded into the crowd. She was jostled and had to sidestep often.
Taking a left, according to the map, put her in a residential section with the same sandy-colored houses that she’d seen in the village, only a little less worn. She found fewer people here but continued her pace.
Turning right this time, she went down a long street and came out to a main thoroughfare. She’d reached the center of town. As she traversed deeper into downtown, Charikar hummed with commerce. She encountered more and more people. Passing the bazaar that was marked on her map, she breathed a sigh of relief.
She was almost there. Feeling the effects of too much adrenaline, dehydration, shock and terror, she reached the clinic’s doors and pushed through them. She stumbled down the corridor and came out into a waiting area.
There was a woman behind the counter, and she looked up, her dark skin glistening with sweat. She said something in Pashto, but Piper couldn’t catch her breath, she was so hot.
Piper swayed, feeling dizzy. For a moment, she couldn’t speak, then she rasped, “Help me.”
The woman’s eyes widened and s
he rushed around the desk as Piper started to fall. She caught her and bodily dragged her to a chair, pulling off the keffiyeh. Her eyes widened when she saw her blonde hair.
“You are American?” the woman said.
Piper nodded. “Water, please,” Piper rasped.
Just then two Afghan soldiers walked in, and Piper stiffened. It wouldn’t do for anyone to know she was an American and draw attention. Piper switched to French and said, “Please help me.”
Immediately the woman responded, “Of course. Tell me what is wrong.”
Piper relaxed as the soldiers lost interest in her.
The woman called to the back in rapid French and a dark-haired man emerged and started to speak to the soldiers. He nodded and went to the back. When he came out, he handed them something and they left.
“What are you doing here? This is no place for an American woman alone.”
“I’m here for Lieutenant Dexter Kaczewski. He’s wounded and has a bad fever.”
The woman’s face went from professionally detached to concerned, then she yelled, “Pierre!”
The dark-haired man came rushing out and spoke more of the rapid French as he went into the back and brought a bottle of water. Piper drank.
“Are you Dr. Contee?”
“Yes, but please call me Blessing,” she said with a thick French accent. “Anyone who is a friend of that fine man is a friend to me. This is my husband, Pierre. Let’s get you cooled off.”
“There’s no time. Dex.”
“All right, then.” She turned to her husband, a large, imposing man. “Keep giving her water.” She walked over to two white cabinets and opened the door to the first one. “What happened to him?”
Between sips of water, Piper explained everything from his RPG wounding all the way to when he collapsed at Afsana’s.
“He was bleeding?”
“Yes, a lot.”
“Still when you left?”
“Yes. When he got into that fight with the insurgent, I think that guy pulled his stitches. Really, it’s only been a day…”