Kate snapped her fingers at Chris, one of the younger agents, who moved forward and sat down on a nearby chair.
“Do you mind if he takes notes?”
“Okay.” Aisha eyed the agent as he nervously scribbled on a pad of paper.
“What else can you tell me right now?”
“I can tell you what they are planning to do,” Aisha said quickly, toying with the strings of the blanket, unsure if her information was as good as she’d sold it to be. What would happen to her if she couldn’t provide?
“Your father met with Saudi’s crown prince at the G20 here in Canada today. It was no secret. Televised for the world to see,” Kate replied. “I’m going to need more. My boss wants to be reassured we are getting a good deal for the level of effort it will require to get you a new identity and green card.”
Aisha’s heartbeat accelerated. She imagined Kate wasn’t trying to be unkind—she had a job to do. Business was business. All the same, she searched her thoughts for something, anything, that seemed intriguing.
“He shakes hands with world leaders, smiles and plays along. But those men are evil. They only care about power and are supplying Daesh weapons to use against the people.” Aisha tried to convey the seriousness of her revelations.
“What people?” Kate pressed.
“The people… The people in Djibouti.” Aisha looked down, twisting her hands. She wished she could bring the blanket up and over her head. Hide away.
Jake’s face flashed to the front of her mind, and she felt his deep mistrust of Kate and Charles. He felt something was wrong.
Kate frowned, and she stared into the fire for a few moments. “Supporting terrorists, Aisha? That’s what we are talking about?” Kate asked.
Aisha felt relieved that something she’d said seemed worthwhile. “Among many other hideous things.” A tear threatened to escape her eye, but Aisha told herself that she would not cry in front of Kate.
“Why?” Kate implored. “Why does your father want to hurt the people of Djibouti?”
Aisha pushed her bowl away. She felt like she was under the microscope. Her throat was tight. But she reminded herself that this was what she had to do to gain citizenship, start a new life. To be self-sufficient. Independent. She didn’t have to live in her father’s kingdom, repressed, forever. The things her father controlled the most—her words—would be the things she used to save herself. If that wasn’t poetic justice, she didn’t know what was. All she had to do was to be strong. Resilient. To persevere. No matter how scary it was. She was almost there. Almost.
Kate narrowed her eyes as she studied Aisha, and Aisha fought to keep her breathing under control. She had a penchant for hyperventilating in times of stress.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Aisha blurted out. “He and the Saudis want to throw a wrench into American power in the Middle East.”
“And using chemical weapons in Djibouti will do this how?” Kate asked.
Aisha continued slowly, “Americans have a giant airbase in Djibouti, no?” Kate did not nod or betray any emotion, giving Aisha the space to continue. “If the people of Djibouti fear reprisal for helping the Americans, then the Americans will lose their major artery of access to the Middle East altogether. It’s so simple.”
As Aisha finished, a pop was heard outside. It was an odd sound, not native to the surrounding forest. She couldn’t place it.
But it shook her.
And apparently, she was not alone.
Kate and Chris exchanged panicked expressions. The young agent stopped scribbling and Kate nodded at him.
“What is it?” Aisha stood up. “What was that noise?” She grasped at the chair absently, searching for something to make her feel secure.
Wide-eyed, Kate turned back to her. “Stay here. Don’t move.”
With that, she gave Aisha an attempt at a reassuring nod and swept from the room, giving discreet orders to the other agents. Aisha observed guns being removed from holsters, and she shivered. Sheer terror rose in her throat, and she got a hazy, dreamlike feeling.
Where was Jake? Where in God’s name was Jake?
The loud sounds grew closer and more frequent. Her rational mind finally accepted it: they were gunshots.
They were coming for her.
Alone in the living room, waiting for her fate, the tears came. She was helpless, hopeless, a pet waiting for her master to return.
Without tending, the fire in the cabin’s hearth went rogue and turned the air smoky. Soon she soon couldn’t breathe, and her tears were accompanied by choking and coughing.
She needed air.
In that same haze that overcame her in high-stress situations, Aisha moved quietly from the armchair to the rear wall, where there was a window and a door. From the other side of the cabin, where Kate and the agents had fled, Aisha heard another onslaught of gunshots. Each shot made her wince.
She feverishly peeled back a plaid curtain and searched for a way to open the window. The crisp March night air was just beyond the fogged glass. She needed to inhale it. She needed to feel it in her lungs.
A face suddenly came into view through the window frame. She nearly let out a scream, stepping back, before she caught herself. As the dreamlike haze dissipated, Aisha realized it was Jake—and he was frowning at her through the glass, motioning for her to remain silent.
Of course he’s lurking in the shadows. Where else would he be?
Beside the window, the back door cracked open silently, and Jake’s chiseled face appeared. Intense. Focused. Furious. He bore down on her, assessing her for damage.
“Aisha,” he breathed.
As tightly wound as she was, a coil of tension relaxed as he dove toward her. She nearly melted into his arms. Fear boomed in her ears. Her mouth felt dry. Her eyes stung.
Moving as silently as a determined ghost, he grabbed her arm. She offered no dispute and followed him immediately, her heartbeat thumping in her chest. Never before had she been so eager to obey his every request. She both hated and craved his control as he compelled her forward at will.
Jake navigated her outside, holding her close to him and occasionally positioning her so that his body stood between her and the unknown. He was the only person that made her feel safe.
Outside, the biting, snowy wind tousled her hair over her shoulder and entrenched snowflakes into her dark locks. She wanted to ask what was happening, but her lips were numb with terror. All she could do was follow the only person she trusted.
Jake led her, low and swift, a few feet across the back lawn toward the shed. He pulled her against it, into a small, dark enclave between stacks of wood. His arms flexed underneath his dark-green wool button-down as he held her body close.
His eyes showed no emotion as he scanned the lawn like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Like he was looking for prey.
“We are under attack,” he whispered, his minty breath blowing like a fog in the air. “I’m moving you out of here.”
More intense shooting sounded from the end of the driveway, and she froze.
He pushed back a black lock of hair that had fallen onto her face, and he moved his hands down her body to her waist. She felt the weight of his hands on her hips, holding her still against him. Through layers of fabric, the warmth of his hands turned hot against her skin. Everything was cold except for him. She pressed into him like her life depended on it.
Her breath grew sharper. The hyperventilating was beginning again, and she just wished she could be strong in front of him.
He tried to calm her. “Relax. You have to relax.”
Relax. She wished she weren’t such a weak fool, but everything was so overwhelming. If only she were a stronger woman. Independent. Tough. Resilient.
“You came back.”
“I never left.”
Snowflakes fell harder and harder, dusting the tops of their heads.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked thorough silent tears.
“Because you need someone to t
rust, and I’m the only person who can do this right.”
She didn’t doubt his reasoning, but she suspected there was more behind it. As if seeing her suspicions, Jake tilted his chin to her level, looking deep into her eyes.
“Do you trust me?” he pressed.
Aisha didn’t want to answer too quickly. She didn’t want him to let go of her. It was the closest she had come to a hug in a very long time. She wondered what answer she could give to encourage his hands to stay, to drive the heat that was reminiscent of her earlier dream. She closed her eyes, but nothing came to her mind.
“Aisha?” he prompted. “We have no time.”
“I trust you,” she whispered through a tight jaw.
He nodded back. “Okay. We need to leave. Now. Without anyone.”
She gave him another slight nod. His demeanor had changed. He’d moved into battle mode. He’d become a warrior, a killer, and he wasn’t playing any games. She was glimpsing a SEAL at war—and thank goodness, because they were at war.
“Aisha, I’m going to ask you to do something. For me.” He voice was low and serious.
“Yes, anything.” Her voice trembled.
“Do as I say—without question.”
She nodded obediently, and he scanned the dark expanse before them like a hawk. His left hand slid down her arm and clasped her hand, pulling her out of the alcove. His eyes were ever vigilant. She could tell by his movements that everything was strategic.
He led her silently into the darkness of the forest, away from the cabin. Away from any noises. Away from any people. She glimpsed the shine of his pistol in his right hand.
She wanted to call out and ask where they were going. But she knew better—they were silent for a reason. He had even made his footsteps inaudible—a real feat for a man of his stature. His impressive special forces training had turned him into a ghost.
Aisha’s foot hit a root, and she stumbled into him. Jake caught her and steadied her, his hands sliding up and down her side, assuring her. He squeezed her hand and led her on confidently. He was just so compelling. She wondered how many jungles and forests he had slipped in and out of, unseen by anything except the moonlight and the breeze.
It was dark, and the snow was quickly becoming a snowstorm. She could barely see. But Aisha could tell that Jake had done this before—he’d led survivors out of danger through the dark of the night. Her feet felt unsure of her steps, and several more times she faltered. If it weren’t for his steady grasp on her, she would have fallen onto frozen ground and hard roots more times than she could count.
Branches crackled, and the snow-filled wind started biting again. She flipped up her hood, wishing she had a hat. Or a scarf. She was absolutely not dressed for the weather. But she didn’t dare ask him. She refused to be any more of a burden. If she wanted him as an ally, she had to recognize that he probably didn’t want to be there.
She picked up her marching, soldiering on, and forced the tears away. She would not be dead weight. Perhaps his validation meant too much to her, a woman who had never shaken a man’s hand. Until him.
They neared a clearing in the dense woods, and he stopped her with his hand. He kept his leg firmly pressed against hers. Perhaps he was doing something with his hands that she couldn’t see through the darkness, and he didn’t want to lose contact.
Then he clasped her hand again and moved forward into the clearing. How long had they been walking? She wasn’t sure. It felt far.
Then, in the clearing, just feet away, she could make out a car before her. His car.
He ushered her to the passenger-side door and settled her inside. Once he got into the driver’s side, he chucked a set of heavy, black, expensive-looking goggles into the glove box.
She looked at him. She hadn’t realized he’d been wearing goggles. He was damn good.
“Night vision,” he explained. “And heat signature detection. Safe to say there are no humans nearby. We are all alone.”
“And non-humans?” she squeaked, faintly hearing a wolf call out in the night.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got that covered.” He removed a giant hunting knife from his side and placed it on the center console.
She sank back in the freezing cold car seat, both alarmed by the thought of him killing an animal with a knife and excited at the thought of him wrestling a beast to protect her.
“Buckle up,” he commanded, turning the wheel of the Shelby.
She jumped at his order and snapped the seat belt together, clutching the chair for support. If this was anything like before, she was in for a bumpy, terrifying escape.
After several minutes, Jake merged onto a dirt road, which eventually merged onto a paved road that actually had an occasional street light and a few cars driving on it. There was something cathartic in watching the trees fly by and hearing the steady hum of the powerful engine.
After many deep breaths, Aisha built up the courage to open her mouth. “Where are we going?” She cleared her throat, squinting through the dark at the forest whipping by.
Jake shot her a brazen grin. Had she ever seen a man so devastating before? Surely he could have any woman he wanted.
“We’ve got a jet to catch.”
And he turned his attention back to the road, unnerving her all over again—but not for the reasons he might think.
8
It’s gonna be a long night, Jake thought as he gripped his steering wheel tightly. Whoever the fuck had stormed the cabin—just as he’d warned—was there to kill, not to capture.
He’d made it back to the cabin just in time.
At a four-way stop, Jake grabbed a blanket from the back seat and placed it on Aisha’s lap. “It’s going to take a while before we get there. You should get some sleep.”
There were things she couldn’t know, for her own sanity.
As he hit the gas again, moving the roaring muscle car down the increasingly snowy road, she looked over at him with weary, dark eyes. There was no question—she was pushing herself hard to keep up. He was used to sleep deprivation and working under duress. He wasn’t sure that a princess would be.
Hugging the blanket against her chest, Aisha tipped her chin down. She closed her eyes, her black lashes creating long shadows on her cheeks. Jake couldn’t help but observe the little kitten through his periphery. She didn’t look like she was trying to sleep—she looked like she was trying to think.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jake offered, trying to be easy on her.
Most people would have fallen apart by this point, but she had kept up. After all she’d been through to get to that point, she was still determined to keep up. He respected that. He was a determined type, too.
“Do you know that it will be okay?” she asked quietly, stirring.
“No,” he responded flatly. He debated if he should lie to her, but his morals won out, which surprised him more than anyone since he was no fucking angel.
A sad look crossed her face. She seemed so small, so broken. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t watch her cry. Feel her lose her breath. Feel her fear. Her sadness. Because he couldn’t do a damn thing about any of it.
Jake ground his teeth at the helplessness he felt, and his grasp on the situation began to slip. But he couldn’t afford to lose focus. To fail her.
Jake cleared his throat and dug deep for a pep talk. “I do know that it’s not about how many times we fail, but how many times we pick ourselves back up.”
“I just can’t fail again,” she breathed.
“What happened last time?”
Aisha fingered the windowsill, uncomfortable. “Years ago, I tried to defect through the French embassy, but they demanded collateral before they’d help me. Same thing Kate wants.”
She blinked rapidly. He could tell it was a painful memory for her, so he gave her the space she needed.
Finally, she continued, “I folded at the first hint of risk. The first sense of threat. It was a grave mistake, because my fath
er found out and forced me back to Yoman. He imprisoned me and punished me severely for a long time. Only recently did he agree to let me leave again.” Her head fell and she played with her fingers. “I wasn’t strong or brave enough,” She choked on her own admission.
“He let you come with him… why?”
“He wants to marry me off. Get rid of me for good. Arrange a good diplomatic match. To the Saudi royal family.”
“An advantageous match for him?”
“Very,” she whispered. “Very much so.”
Jake observed her troubled expression, and knew there was so much more to the story. “Does Kate know this?”
She shook her head quickly and looked back out the window.
“You can’t keep this from her,” he warned, knowing full well that it would appear like Aisha had ulterior motives.
But he stopped pushing, giving her a minute to breathe. He could tell it was an incredibly difficult topic for her—and it only reinforced her narrative of helplessness. But she wasn’t helpless, and Jake wondered what the hell it would take to show her that. Powerful people had vested interests in her, but that didn’t mean she was powerless to push her own interests.
Jake didn’t know who pissed him off more—her father for what he’d done to her, her shitty European boyfriend for dumping her at the embassy, Charles for being so goddamn cavalier, or Kate for shitting the bed. The only thing Jake knew was that if he added in the SEALs for good measure, he’d have a perfectly seasoned soup of pure rage.
Damn straight, he was angry at how everything had gone down. None of it was fair—not to him, not to Aisha. And the more he thought of it, the more he toyed with the idea of bringing some serious pain down on the sheikh for making his daughter feel anything less than strong as fuck.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he promised, as her big brown eyes took him in.
Admiring him? No. There was no way. Her hopeful expression filled him with warmth and purpose—and regret that he’d never be anything more than what he was: a messed-up dude after a hard decade of war. He would always be Chief Special Warfare Operator Jake Wilder, decorated SEAL and haunted veteran, no matter where he went.
Guarding Aisha Page 7
