by Kaylea Cross
Up in the warm, brightly lit kitchen, Ben set her down in a chair and crouched down at her feet. “Okay, you need to look at me,” he said in a low voice.
She focused on him with blurry eyes. Luke was alone. Suffering. Dying. No one could get to him to help. “He’s hypothermic.”
“Not yet, and he’s going to be okay. The weather’s going to lift and the temp will go up. As soon as it’s clear enough, Rhys will be going to him with Dec and his team.” He took her chilled hands between his and rubbed them, sending a glance at Bryn. “Get her some tea, will you?”
“I don’t w-want tea.” She wasn’t going to sit in a warm, comfortable kitchen and drink hot tea while the man she loved was freezing to death out in the desert.
Her mind spun. Did Luke believe he was going to die and hadn’t wanted her to know when he did? Is that why he’d cut communications?
“Luke’s a tough sonofabitch,” Ben added. “He’s been through worse than this before, I promise you.”
Oh God. She curled her fingers around Ben’s, so warm and strong. “They’ll get him out, right?”
“Absolutely.” His voice rang with conviction. “As soon as the storm clears enough the others will find him, and we’ll send in a chopper. The crews are already standing by, waiting for conditions to improve.”
It helped a bit, but not much. Bryn set a cup of chai tea next to her despite her refusal, and the sweet, spicy aroma brought a flood of fresh tears. Luke had bought that for her. And now he was dying out in the cold while a cup of it steamed in front of her. The thought of drinking it turned her stomach. No way in hell would she take a single sip. She pushed it away, wanting to throw up. “He didn’t want me to know.”
Ben caught her hands again. “He didn’t want you to hear him like that. Because he knew it would upset you, and he’s already worried about your health. I’d have done the same thing if it was me out there and Sam on the other end of the line.” He looked to Bryn for help, and her friend slid into a chair beside her.
“Go on back downstairs,” Bryn said to him. “I’ll stay with her.”
But Emily grabbed his arm when he got up. “Swear to me you’ll tell me if something happens. Good or bad. Please.”
He nodded. “All right, but at least go upstairs and try to rest. That’s what he’d want you to do.”
Bryn placed a comforting arm around her shoulders and Emily leaned into her embrace. “I can’t stand it,” she confessed.
In answer, Bryn wrapped both arms around her and held on tight. “Yes, you can. We both can. And we will.”
Closing her eyes, Emily sent up a prayer for Luke. Sitting together in the silent kitchen, all she and Bryn could do was wait for one of their men to re-establish communications and let them know what had happened.
****
Blurred thoughts and fragmented sounds swam through Luke’s head. Shuddering, he pried his heavy eyelids open and listened. He had the vague impression of a lightening around him, and that he couldn’t feel his body anymore. And someone was talking to him.
Luke...
Fighting to keep his eyes open, he focused on that far away voice calling his name.
Luke...come in.. .
His breathing was shallow and fast. His heart beat sluggishly. He peeled his lids wide open and shook his head, feeling like he was coming out of a general anesthetic. Desert. He was in the desert, crammed into this dark hole in the rocks because of enemy mortar fire.
Jesus, had he lost consciousness? He’d never been so fucking cold in his entire life. His limbs didn’t respond when he tried to move them. Damn he wished he’d have put on the cold weather gear before inserting.
“Luke!”
He grunted at the shout in his earpiece, fighting to bring his arm up in the tight space. Couldn’t feel his fingers. They were like lumps of ice as he fumbled for the button on the squad radio.
“Luke, come on you ugly bastard, say you copy.” Dec. Dec was talking to him.
His body shuddered uncontrollably as he managed to key the mic. His brain was sluggish, slow to turn over. Like a computer coming back online after a power outage. “I c-c-copy,” he managed, speaking into the boom mike.
“‘Bout friggin’ time.”
He was too cold to smile. His limbs were numb, but everything else ached like a bitch, and his teeth were rattling so hard he wondered if he’d broken them all. The wind was calmer now, and he didn’t hear any rounds going off. How long had he been asleep? Another few minutes and he could have died.
“Storm’s lifting, buddy. We’ve got your coordinates. Any action where you are?”
“N-ne-g-gative.” Not yet, anyway.
“Can you move?”
No, but he had to. “Y-yes-s-s.” If he didn’t get moving he’d freeze to death. He had to keep his blood circulating. Move, dammit.
“Make your way southwest, and we’ll find you.”
“W-wilc-co.”
“Cobra Team leader, out.”
Luke gritted his chattering teeth and pulled upright. His legs were like lead weights attached to his torso and he couldn’t feel his feet at all, but he forced himself to shuffle painfully out of the rocks toward the opening. At the entrance he paused, listening for signs that the enemy was still close, but only the wind answered him. It was still stiff, but nowhere near what it had been, and the snow had almost stopped. The eastern sky showed a line of turquoise lightening the indigo horizon. Had to be close to dawn.
Struggling to raise his forearm, he squinted down at his watch. He’d been trapped in there for almost three hours, and he’d been asleep for probably twenty minutes or more. It scared the hell out of him to know how close he’d come to succumbing to hypothermia. His thighs would be covered with bruises because he’d kept pinching them to stay awake, but he’d fallen asleep anyhow. He was lucky to still be alive.
Move, you dumb bastard.
Staggering because he couldn’t feel his feet, he dug his ruck out of the snow and finally put on some cold weather gear. Already a bit warmer, he managed to get the ruck on after struggling with the straps. Then he contacted Sam back at the compound to let her know he was still kicking and intended to link up with the rest of the team. All except one. “Any w-word from D-Davis?”
“Negative, and the Agency can’t confirm his location either.”
“T-tell Em to g-go to b-bed.” He knew he’d scared the shit out of her with that radio call and hated it. As he disconnected, a wave of uneasiness washed through him. Davis was a pro. He’d never missed a rendezvous yet. Until now. What the hell had happened? The blizzard hadn’t blown up until after his scheduled insertion time.
Shifting his slung rifle around, Luke shuffled ahead for the first few meters until he got a renewed sense of balance. His movements were wild and jerky at first, but soon his respiration evened out and warmth returned to his core. The sky lightened enough for him to push the NVGs up onto his helmet and slog forward. If the enemy was close by, there was no way they could miss the tracks he left in the snow. Sensation slowly came back to his arms and legs, bringing a stinging rush of blood, but his hands and feet remained numb. Thawing them out was not going to be fun, and it’d be a miracle if he didn’t have frostbite on at least a few of his digits.
Moving toward the original RV point in the growing light, he hugged the base of the cliffs to maintain what cover he could. Since the snow and wind had died down, he was able to make out the topographical landmarks and match them to the terrain detailed on his map. The worst of the shivering seemed to have subsided, but he was still wracked with occasional shudders. He thought again of Emily talking to him over the radio during the night. Shit, he wished she hadn’t heard his transmission to Sam. Sure as hell she’d been up all night waiting for word about him, worrying herself sick. Sicker, he corrected himself angrily.
A few minutes later Dec came on the squad radio. “We’ve got you in our sights.”
Good.
“No enemy contacts observed, but we’
ll keep you covered. We’re six hundred meters from your present position, south-southwest behind the rise.”
“R-roger that.” With friendly eyes on him and their weapons covering his movements, Luke pushed his body into a jog, his bones feeling brittle enough to shatter like glass with each step. About twenty meters from the rise, Dec appeared at the bottom, his white teeth a slash in the middle of his camouflaged face.
He grabbed Luke’s shoulder. “Glad you could make it.”
A rusty laugh was all he could manage. Dec led the way to a more secure location where the others hunkered around a small warming fire, apparently convinced the enemy had left the field otherwise the SEAL platoon leader would never have allowed it. Rhys stepped out of the shadows, a towering figure holding a steaming mug. “Coffee,” he said as he handed it to him.
Luke let out a low chuckle. “I’m out th-there f-freezing my a-ass off while y’all’re h-hav-ving a f-fucking tea p-party?”
Rhys cracked a grin. “Pretty much.”
Nice.
Holding the metal mug with both hands, some of it spilled as he brought it to his mouth. The coffee burned his lips and scalded his mouth, searing right down his esophagus to his stomach. He chugged it down anyway and gave a heartfelt groan of appreciation. Dec helped him pull off his ruck and the SEAL medic came over.
“Better sit by the fire, sir.”
“D-don’t mind if I d-do.” He squatted down in front of it and held his gloved hands out to the flames. The warmth against his frozen face was bliss, and stemmed the shivers that continued to plague him. After a few minutes feeling came back to his nose and lips. The medic pulled the Nomex gloves off and examined his hands. They were pure white, but at least the skin wasn’t hard and waxy.
Rhys draped a blanket around him, then the medic took Luke’s hands between his and held them there, and soon warmth registered. The younger man’s gray eyes held a sardonic glint. “Just frost nip. But this is still going to hurt like a bitch, sir.”
And holy hell, it did, as soon as the blood began flowing to his fingers again. The fiery burn made it feel like he’d stuck his hands in the fire rather than between the young SEAL’s palms. As it warmed, his skin throbbed and turned bright red, but at least the pain meant he hadn’t killed any nerve endings, so he could still shoot if he needed to. Inside his steel-toed assault boots, his toes were like icicles. As soon as he was able to move his fingers, he unlaced his boots and pulled off his damp socks. Someone handed another pair to the medic and they set about warming up his feet.
When the familiar burn started up in his feet, the medic stood. Dec ambled over, his golden eyes assessing the situation. “Well? What’s the verdict?”
“No need to amputate, sir,” the medic replied with a grin. “He’s good to go.”
“Damn right,” Luke growled, and Dec clapped a hand on his shoulder as he squatted down next to him.
“We’ve already scouted the village,” he said, and from his tone Luke already knew what he was going to say. “No sign of Tehrazzi, and nobody’s saying anything.”
“Any evidence to suggest he was in one of the caves during the air strikes?”
“None.”
Luke clenched his jaw. It was possible the HUMINT Davis had received from their source was false, but Luke had never known him to be wrong before. Something else that made him uneasy. Even if he’d been caught up in the blizzard, Davis should have checked in by now. “Any word from Davis?”
“No, but the TOC confirmed his arrival at the insertion point twenty-five minutes prior to you. I’ve got some of the boys out looking for him.”
He wouldn’t have gotten caught up in the air strikes. Davis was way too good at what he did to make a mistake like that, and he was a superb navigator. If he was out there wounded too badly to make radio contact, they’d have to resort to using the infrared cameras on an aircraft or satellites to scan for him. The temperature was rising, so if he’d survived the cold this long, he’d probably make it until they found him. He swiveled around to grab his ruck, but Rhys was already there, handing him a satellite phone.
“Thanks.” Rising, he dialed using the secure connection and Jamie answered on the second ring. “No word on Davis,” Luke told him. “Miller know anything?”
“He dropped Davis off at the airfield yesterday. Hasn’t heard from him since.”
Well, they weren’t leaving until they found him. “Keep this line free.”
“You know it.”
Luke tucked the phone away into one of the pockets of his assault vest and pulled on his gloves. “Let’s get moving,” he said to the others.
They doused the fire and grabbed their equipment, then Luke and Dec consulted their maps. Using Davis’s insertion point, they established a search area radius between that and the RV point, then split everyone up into two groups. Dec updated the SEALs already out looking for Davis as they left the shelter. The sky grew brighter, layers of stratus clouds breaking up and letting in rich golden rays of early sunlight. Moving around in enemy country during daylight hours was not a covert warrior’s ideal operating conditions, but the only other alternative was to hunker down until nightfall. Not an option. They needed to find Davis and regroup until another lead on Tehrazzi came along.
Luke, Rhys and two SEALs humped it out to their designated area and fanned out, still maintaining vigilance for any of the insurgents, or whoever the hell had lobbed those mortars last night. His heart was heavy. He didn’t want to find his friend’s body out here. Don’t do that to me, Davis.
They combed the snowy terrain at the insertion site, moving steadily toward the original RV point. Less than a klick away from the village, Dec came over the squad radio, saying they’d found evidence of tire tracks leading away from there.
Luke and the others hustled over to meet them, and when he got close enough to see Dec’s grim expression, his stomach sank. “Find him?”
Dec nodded, and Luke knew Davis was dead. “This way.”
Ah, Christ, Luke thought, wanting to bow his head and close his eyes for a minute. But he followed Dec to where two of his SEALs hunkered beside a body laid out in the snow. Tire tracks showed in the sandy soil beneath the melting snow, leading up to his friend.
Davis was on his back, dark eyes half open and staring sightlessly into the blue sky. Luke knelt next to his friend, jaw clenched so hard it ached. Part of his skull was missing on one side, and on the other, two round bullet holes marked the skin behind his temple. A double tap to the head. Done at close enough range to leave powder burns. Whoever had shot him had been up close and professionally trained. One of them.
Luke had seen death enough that it didn’t affect him much anymore. This time was different. This hurt. It always hurt when he lost one of his own, but Davis had been the closest thing he’d had to a friend out in the field. They’d gone through variations of hell together, and they’d made an incredible team. One of the best.
Luke took Davis’s hand. His facial muscles were already stiff with rigor mortis. The motionless fingers were still bendable, but the elbow and shoulder were fairly rigid. Rigor mortis wasn’t a reliable thing to use for estimating time of death, but it gave Luke some clues. Maximum effect occurred anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours post mortem. Rapid cooling of the body could delay the onset, but it always occurred upon thawing. Like the sub-freezing temperatures of last night's blizzard, and the comparatively warm temperature now. God dammit. Forcing aside his anger and sadness, Luke glanced at his watch, then up at Dec and Rhys. “They had to have shot him right after he inserted.”
Rhys’s expression remained calm, but his navy eyes hardened like shards of steel. “Someone he knew.”
And trusted. The words hung in the air between them all. Was it the contact? Davis had trusted his murderer. Otherwise he never would let someone that close with his back turned.
Dec looked at Luke. “Any hunches?”
Yeah. He had a few. Each as ugly and hard to believe as the next. B
ut unless he found more evidence, he couldn’t prove a damn thing.
A molten anger boiled in his gut as the pieces clicked into place. He didn’t want to accept the conclusion he’d come to, but it had to be dealt with. As soon as he calmed down enough to make the call. While Dec got on the radio to request an extraction, Luke and Rhys went over Davis’s body to examine it more closely. No blood soaking the ground, so he must have been dragged and dumped here after the killing shots. Pulling off his friend’s web gear and vest, something crinkled beneath Luke’s gloved fingers. He stilled an instant, then opened Davis’s coat and BDUs. A wrinkled piece of paper lay against his cold, bare chest.
Pulling it out, Luke opened it and read while Rhys and Dec watched him closely.
Betrayal is the deepest wound of all. Let us finish this in the place where it all began. Allah’s will awaits us both.
The handwritten Arabic blurred before his eyes for a second. He knew that writing. Would recognize it anywhere.
Tehrazzi.
“Jesus Christ,” Rhys growled, looking up at him. “You think he did it?”
Luke’s heart leapt. Had Tehrazzi been here after all? He could have captured Davis somehow, though Luke didn’t think that was likely. But shit, had Tehrazzi done this and managed to escape from under their noses?
Betrayal. It could mean so many things, but his gut said his first reaction was the right one.
Luke fished out the satellite phone and contacted Jamie.
“Ah, shit,” his boss sighed when he heard Davis was dead.
“Double tap to the head, along with this note.” He translated it, and after a shocked pause on the other end said, “You need to get over here, now.”
“Yeah. I’ll be on the next flight to Beirut. I’ll contact Miller and let him know.”
A lethal rage began to build, cold and bitter. “Tell him you want a meeting with him in Beirut. I want to talk to him face to face.” Before Jamie could respond, he ended the call and stood. “How long until the chopper gets here?” he asked Dec.
