by Elle James
“So, we’re back to the question of where does that leave us?” Mac said.
“I think if two people care enough about each other, they can make anything work,” she said softly.
“Does that mean you care?” he asked, his chest tight, his hands gripping her arms.
Kylie opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the earbud in Mac’s ear crackled.
“Mac,” Rucker’s voice blasted into his head, jerking him out of a possible future, back to the present.
He pressed a finger against the communications device. “I read you.”
“Got trouble coming,” he said, his breath huffing across the airwaves as if he were running. “We’re on our way back.”
“What trouble?” Mac asked, scooting Kylie off his lap onto the couch beside him. Then he pushed to his feet.
“Truck load of men in black outfits and turbans. Can’t be sure, but they might be Ahktar’s—”
“They’re here at the hotel,” Dash’s voice interrupted. “I’m heading up the stairwell. Mac, get Kylie out of the room and on her way out of the building.”
“On it,” Mac said.
“What’s going on?” Kylie whispered.
Mac grabbed her hand and started for the door. “Time to bug out.”
“Damn, they don’t give up, do they?” she said as she snagged her backpack on the way through the room.
Mac pushed through the door. “Apparently, Ahktar gave a damn about his brother.”
“Or his pride,” Kylie said, lowering her voice as she stepped out into the hallway behind Mac.
The stairwell door at the end of the hallway burst open.
Mac ducked down, taking Kylie with him.
When he saw Dash running toward them, he straightened.
“Can’t go back that way,” Dash said. “It leads to the hotel lobby and more than half a dozen Taliban terrorists.” He kept moving, passing them in the hallway, racing past the elevator toward the other end of the building. “Come on,” he called out. “This way leads out the back.”
Mac moved Kylie in front of him. “Run,” he urged.
Kylie took off, catching up to Dash as he opened the door to the other stairwell.
Mac was right behind her and heard the elevator ding as he rushed through the door.
He dared to look back through the window to see four men in black garb and turbans rush from the elevator car into the hallway, turning toward the room where he and Kylie had been moments before.
“They’re in the hallway,” Mac announced in a muted tone. He spun to find Dash climbing the stairs instead of going down.
“Trust me,” Dash called out softly, leaning over the rail above. “You have to go up before you can go down.”
Kylie was already halfway up the stairs, moving quickly and quietly.
Mac ran after her. They had to get out of the stairwell before the Taliban men discovered they’d missed them and went looking.
Dash led them up a flight, down a long hallway, around a corner and into another stairwell that led downward. When they reached the bottom, the door opened into a huge laundry room filled with commercial-grade washers and dryers as well as giant machines for ironing the sheets. A couple men dressed in white staff uniforms worked folding sheets, tablecloths and towels.
As Mac ducked through, he heard shouts behind him in the stairwell. He let the door close quietly and hurried to catch up with the others. As he reached Kylie and Dash, he called out over the roar of the machines, “We have company headed this way.”
Dash nodded and pushed open a door on the other end of the laundry room. He rushed through, Kylie on his heels.
Mac followed, worried they weren’t moving fast enough. What if they got out of the building only to find the Taliban had set up a perimeter around the structure to keep them from escaping unnoticed?
Dash was one of the best Deltas Mac knew. He would check before running out into the open.
They moved down another hallway, off which were the kitchen and a storage room. For a split second, Mac considered hiding out in the storage room among boxes of supplies. He immediately squelched that thought, not liking the idea of being a sitting duck, waiting for the Taliban to find them.
The door at the end of the hallway opened onto a loading dock where men worked moving crates and boxes from trucks to stack them on the concrete.
One of the men shouted at them and waved his fist.
Dash kept moving down a set of concrete stairs and out into an alleyway behind the hotel. A large block wall separated the hotel grounds from the other buildings nearby.
With little time to spare and a long wall to follow if they wanted to go around it, Dash shook his head, cupped his hands and said, “You first, Mac.”
Mac ran toward him, placed his foot in his friend’s hands and leaped up to the top of the wall, pulling himself up to straddle the top. Then he leaned over and reached for Kylie’s hand.
She stepped into Dash’s cupped hands, grabbed Mac’s outstretched one and let him pull her up onto the wall.
A shout from a window above made Mac look up.
A man dressed in black stood on a balcony shouting down at them. He raised his rifle to his shoulder and shot down at them.
Mac shoved Kylie over to the other side, holding onto her hand. She dropped, her grip on him slowing her fall until she landed lightly on her feet.
Mac reached down, grabbed Dash’s hand and swung him up to the top.
As soon as Dash had his leg over the top, Mac let go. His teammate let his momentum carry him over the top and down the other side.
Another shot rang out. Something stung Mac’s shoulder. He grunted and tipped over, dropping to the ground. Pain throbbed in his left arm. He winced but kept moving.
“You’re hurt,” Kylie said, running with him alongside the wall.
“I’ve been hurt worse,” he said through gritted teeth. “We have to get out of here. That man will alert his buddies, and we’ll have all of them after us soon.”
Mac led the way this time, keeping Kylie close beside him.
“We’re almost back to the hotel,” Rucker said into his headset.
“We’re out of the hotel, moving away from the back into the city,” Mac said.
“Good,” Rucker said. “We’re coming up from the rear.”
As Mac emerged from an alley into a busy road full of cars, bicycles and people walking, he realized they were in a marketplace.
“I see you now,” Rucker said. “We’re by the rug dealer, twenty yards to your left.”
Mac searched the crowd and found Rucker, Josh and Blade hurrying toward them. When they screeched to a stop, Mac shot a glance over his shoulder. His heart skipped several beats, and his blood ran cold.
Five men in black garb ran through the marketplace, pushing and shoving people out of the way. They brandished AK-47s and shouted something that made the crowd of people duck down.
“Get down,” he yelled and forced Kylie into a hunkered position as they ran.
Dash leaned over and raced to a gap between buildings. “This way,” he shouted.
Rucker and Blade joined them and knelt at the corner of buildings to provide cover when the Taliban got closer.
Mac had his Glock pistol tucked beneath his jacket, but he couldn’t shoot it in a crowded marketplace full of civilians that included women and children.
That didn’t stop the Taliban.
They fired their rifles at the Deltas.
Women screamed and fell to the ground, covering their children with their bodies.
Urging Josh to lie flat against the ground, Rucker and Blade stayed low but didn’t shoot back. With their only weapons the pistols they’d worn inside their jackets, they had to wait for the terrorists to move dangerously closer before they returned fire.
Mac shoved Kylie between the buildings, but they were far from out of the woods. The men with the guns would follow, hunting them down until they killed them.
Unless the Deltas killed Ahktar’s men first.
That meant getting them out of the market into a less crowded area where they wouldn’t incur as much collateral damage.
Mac prayed they had enough time to get to a defensive position and set a trap. He refused to let this be the way his and Kylie’s relationship ended. He wanted more.
Chapter 7
Kylie ran, determined to stay abreast of Dash and Mac as they did their best to keep her alive. She hated the thought of one of them dying because of her. They’d done so much to keep her safe. The least she could do was keep up.
Her lungs burned, and her breath came in short gasps as she ran and ran, following Dash, and then Mac and now Dash, again, through the maze of Kabul’s city streets.
She glanced back at every turn. Rucker and Blade were close behind them, ready to defend them as they ran.
As they moved from the business district to the residential area, the buildings became denser, but there were fewer people on the streets.
“We can’t keep running,” Mac said as they entered a narrow street with single-story homes on either side. “This will do to set up defense.”
“Give me a boost,” Dash said.
Mac cupped his hands.
Dash stepped in and swung up over the wall surrounding a home, disappearing onto the other side.
Rucker, Josh and Blade caught up.
“They’re a block behind us, heading this way,” Rucker said. “We don’t have much time.”
“Dash, is it clear?” Mac called out.
“Clear,” Dash responded. “We have a woman and two small children.”
“Come on, Kylie. Over the wall.” He lifted her in his arms.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’d rather stay with you.”
“I need to focus on taking these men down. If I’m worried about you, I could put myself and my team at risk.”
She nodded. “Okay. But I don’t like it. If you have another gun, I could help.”
He kissed her and swung her to the top of the wall. “For now, your shooting days are over. Keep your head down. These walls may or may not stop bullets.” He spoke into his headset. “Kylie’s coming over.”
Kylie slipped down the wall on the other side. “Hey, what about Josh?”
“They’re not after Josh. But we’ll keep him safe,” Rucker responded.
Dash stepped to the door of the home and waved Kylie inside.
A woman cowered in the corner of the front room, clutching her children to her breast.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Kylie said.
“They don’t speak English,” Dash said. “Stay here and stay down.” He left her and ran back outside. A moment later, she heard footsteps on the roof.
Kylie glanced at the woman and children, feeling awful about invading their home. They appeared terrified. One of the small children sobbed quietly.
His mother held him close, whispering softly, urgently. The child hiccoughed and sniffled.
Outside in the street, shouts sounded, and gunfire erupted.
Kylie sat on a carpet and kept her head down, praying the Deltas were successful and stopped the Taliban terrorists. She wouldn’t be safe until they did. And they wouldn’t be safe if they continued to protect her.
As she hunkered close to the floor, she stared across the room at the woman and her children. She hated that they were afraid of her when she meant them no harm.
Fumbling in her pocket, she pulled out a package of Lifesaver candies she liked to suck on when she was nervous. She hadn’t opened them yet, determined to have some left for the trip back to the States.
While the gunfire continued outside, she eased her way across the floor, stopping five feet from the woman and her children. Then she held out her hand with the roll of candies.
The children shrank against their mother.
Realizing they were too afraid to come get the candy, Kylie set the package on the floor and gave it a gentle push, sending it rolling toward the kids.
She backed away, letting them know she wasn’t a threat.
For a long moment, the children clung to their mother, the gunfire still going off outside the walls of the home.
Kylie felt sorry for the family. They were probably used to those sounds, having heard them all too often.
After a minute or two, the oldest child leaned away from his mother and reached for the candy on the floor. Once he had it in his hand, his mother yanked him back to her side.
The two children hovered over the package of hard candy. The mom kept her eye on Kylie.
Kylie smiled at the woman. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” she said softly.
The gunfire slowed and finally seemed to stop.
Had the Deltas taken down all the men who’d been following them?
When they didn’t come right in to get her out, she worried that maybe the Taliban men had taken out the Deltas.
She shook her head. That wasn’t possible. The Deltas were highly trained. They couldn’t be defeated by five or six Taliban terrorists.
The woman sitting on the floor across from her stiffened, her eyes growing wide. She made a small sound that caught Kylie’s attention, and her gaze darted to something over Kylie’s shoulder.
Kylie spun too late to deflect the blow to her head that sent her flying across the room. She lay for a moment. Her head spun, and her vision blurred. She thought for a moment she’d pass out.
Someone grabbed her arm, yanked her to her feet and shoved a pistol against her temple. He shouted something in a language she couldn’t understand, even if she wasn’t about to black out.
Then he was shoving her toward the door, his free arm clamped around her middle, trapping her arms to her sides.
“Let me go!” she said, her voice slurring, her vision fading from clear to black and back to clear. She stumbled, almost taking him down with her.
He yelled again.
The children on the other side of the room sobbed. Their mother clutched them to her, turning away to place her body between them and the gunman.
A fleeting thought raced through her muzzy head. If she could only remember the Krav Maga techniques she’d learned, she could take this bastard down.
But she could barely stand, much less fight.
When he reached the door, he lowered the gun long enough to pull the door open. Once it was wide enough, he pushed her in front of him, yelling. “I kill! I kill!”
The longer she stood, the clearer her head got. She had to pick the right time to kick the man’s ass, or he’d pull the trigger and blow her brains out before she could twitch a finger.
Where was Mac? They weren’t shooting anymore. Were they all dead? Was this guy one of the Taliban terrorists?
Dash dropped from the roof to the ground in front of the man, raising his hands. “Don’t hurt her,” he said, “and we won’t hurt you.”
The man holding her banged the barrel of his pistol against her temple, sending a sharp stab of pain through her head.
Anger pushed aside the fuzzy gray shroud of dizziness.
Taking a deep breath, she went limp, dropping down through the man’s arms. His grip slipped, and the gun in his hand rose above her head.
Then she came up fast and hard, tipping her head back, catching his chin with her skull.
He jerked backward and lost his hold on her.
Kylie dove forward.
The man behind her was slammed sideways, hitting the ground with a thud with Mac on top of him.
The Delta Force soldier pinned the man’s wrist to the ground, banging it until he released the gun.
Dash kicked it out of reach, and then picked it up.
Once he’d lost his weapon, the man cried out. “No kill, please. No kill.”
“Why should I spare you when you tried to kill my woman?” Mac growled.
“No kill.”
“Mac,” Kylie called out. “Don’t kill him. I think that’s his wife and children
inside.”
“He threatened to kill you,” Mac said, his face ferocious.
“I’m okay.” Kylie laid her hand on Mac’s back. “He didn’t kill me. Let him up.”
Mac remained on top of the man for another long moment then climbed to his feet. He yanked the man up and twisted his arm behind his back.
The woman and small children burst from the home and ran toward the man.
The little boys wrapped their arms around his legs and cried. The woman stood in front of the man, talking fast to Mac, her hands clasped together as if begging him to let her husband live.
“He was just protecting his family,” Kylie said.
“He almost killed you,” Mac said, his voice low and rough.
“But he didn’t,” Kylie repeated. “You can let him go. I don’t think he’ll hurt us.”
“Go ahead, Mac. I’ve got you covered.” Dash held his weapon trained on the father.
Mac released the man. He turned and pushed his wife and children behind him. Then he bowed, pressing his hands together. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Mac pulled Kylie into his arms. “I died a thousand deaths watching him press that gun to your head.”
“Wouldn’t have done him much good,” Dash said. He held the gun in his hand, the bolt open and empty. “It wasn’t loaded.”
Kylie laughed. “Now, I feel bad for hitting him with my head.”
“I don’t feel bad.” Mac brushed his thumb lightly across her temple. “He hit you.”
“I’ll live,” she said. “Those kids have been through enough. I’m sure this isn’t the first time they’ve been scared.”
Rucker entered through the gate of the walled home. “We’ve checked. The threat has been neutralized.”
“We can’t go back to the hotel,” Mac said.
“I’ve contacted the air transport folks at Bagram Airfield,” Rucker said. “They have a plane they can get Miss Adams on tonight. We just have to get her there in the next hour to fill out the paperwork.”
Dash glanced at this watch. “That doesn’t give us much time. I doubt we’ll find a taxi this far away from the city center.”
