by Kaylea Cross
Except he didn’t want her to see him die.
He didn’t want to leave her again. Needed to be with her.
Tehrazzi’s lips peeled back from his teeth with an animal snarl. The bastard was fucking strong, juiced by the thought of his impending martyrdom and taking Luke in the process. He jerked his wrist, nearly breaking Luke’s hold. Luke felt his fingers slipping. Beads of sweat broke out over his chilled skin. He was soaked with cold seawater but he didn’t feel it. Inside he was raging hot. And lethally pissed off.
At one time, Tehrazzi had been like a son to him. Following him like a fucking shadow with worshipful puppy dog eyes in the bleak Afghan mountain camps. Doing everything and anything to please his teacher. The slightest amount of praise Luke gave him lit the teenager’s lean face with a brilliant smile. So desperate for approval and guidance that Luke had ached for the kid.
He’d gone out of his way to protect and train him, thinking it would help Tehrazzi survive when Luke inevitably got pulled out by the CIA. Instead, he’d created a monster, and it had finally come down to this. Hand to hand, locked in a death struggle. The teacher and the student, once almost as close as father and son, now facing each other in mortal combat.
Luke growled low in his throat, pouring all his strength into holding onto Tehrazzi’s hand, his left crushing his opponent’s right wrist as it moved down and back toward his waistband and the pistol Tehrazzi had tucked in it. Luke’s knife sheath dug into the quivering muscles of his right calf, the weapon so close but completely out of reach. If he let go of Tehrazzi’s right wrist for even a split second, he was a dead man. Tehrazzi was too fast for Luke to be able to snag the knife and get a clean stab in before he got shot. And Tehrazzi knew it. The taunting gleam in his eyes said so. The bastard was certain of his victory.
Then a malicious smile twisted Tehrazzi’s lips. “I let your wife live,” he ground out in Arabic, forcing Luke’s white-knuckled hand toward the gun inch by agonizing inch despite his full resistance. “She is a woman of God.”
Luke didn’t respond, just kept his gaze pinned on Tehrazzi’s, fighting with all he had to hold on. His muscles burned with the effort, locked against Tehrazzi’s unrelenting strength. The tendons beneath his fingers flexed as Tehrazzi’s fingers opened, reaching for the gun, shifting around the grip. Fuck, he couldn’t hold him, Luke realized. His resistance was futile against the inexorable movement of Tehrazzi’s arm as it crept upward. The muzzle of the pistol raised infinitesimally. Up, up. Turning toward him.
Luke’s heart pumped so hard it felt like it might burst. His muscles tightened to the point of pain, determined to hold that gun away from him.
“She suffers,” the bastard continued, raising the pistol despite Luke’s steely grip. “Her body and soul.”
Luke clenched his jaw until he thought his teeth would shatter, trying to ignore the words. Every muscle in his body quivered, struggling to break the stalemate. He could not let up. Had to find a way to disarm him and still hold on to the detonator.
As he glared up at Tehrazzi, those green eyes flashed with hatred and then a shocking vulnerability. “You left us both.”
The accusation hung between them, and the truth of it hit Luke in the heart like a red-hot knife. And finally he truly understood his enemy’s motivation. Betrayal. That’s what his note had said on Davis’s stiffening body. This had all been about perceived betrayal. All of it. Tehrazzi blamed him for the hardships he’d suffered after the CIA had pulled Luke and the others out after the Afghan-Russian war. Luke had suspected it as a cause, but had never guessed it was the whole motivation for Tehrazzi turning to radical Islam.
Guilt jolted through his rage, momentarily weakening him. “I had no choice,” he bit out, sweating and straining. God, he’d caused all this. So much suffering and rage and pain. So much death. But he could end it here and now. He still had that power.
His death grip on Tehrazzi’s fingers eased a fraction. He could end this so easily. All he had to do was let go. Release the pressure on Tehrazzi’s hand and less than a heartbeat later they’d go up in a ball of fire together. His sacrifice would be his last act of penance, a chance at atonement for all his sins. Tehrazzi would never take another life again.
But a picture of Emily’s face swam before his eyes. Green eyes so similar to Tehrazzi’s held his, but they were soft, and filled with tears of desperate hope. Of love. So much love it hurt to breathe. Hold on, she begged him in his mind, her voice so real he could hear it. Please hold on. I need you.
In that moment Luke knew he couldn’t desert her again. Not by choice. She wouldn’t make it without him. He knew her too well. Without him she’d stop fighting. That couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.
The only way he would leave her to face the future alone this time would be through death. And he wasn’t going there without giving everything he had first.
Iron resolve swept through him, giving him a renewed surge of strength. Luke forced Tehrazzi’s arm down with a throttled growl, using his whole body to put more power into it. All the while he kept his other hand curled over Tehrazzi’s on the lever, the relentless pressure turned his bloodless fingers numb.
Sweat trickled down Tehrazzi’s face, the muscles in his cheeks twitching. Time seemed to stop. The pistol stayed where it was, hovering at waist level, muzzle pointed away from them both. Locked in a lethal standstill of life and death combat between their iron grips.
They both panted hard, chests heaving like bellows. No chance they were both walking away from this. Luke could see the deadly intent in Tehrazzi’s eyes. He was more than ready to die and go to paradise to be with Allah. But Luke had unfinished business here on earth. “Not going...with...you,” he ground out.
“Yes, you are,” Tehrazzi snarled. “And your death...will mean nothing.” A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “Others are waiting...to carry on the...jihad I’ve waged.”
Luke knew it was true.
“It’s Allah’s...will.”
“Last...chance,” he bit out.
Holding his gaze in defiance, Tehrazzi began praying, the eerie Arabic monotone raking over Luke’s skin with icy fingers. He knew the prayer by heart. A martyr’s prayer. And Tehrazzi followed it up by reciting, “Allah-uh-aqbar...Allah-uh-aqbar...”
God is great. A death chant. Over and over. Luke’s hand shook on Tehrazzi’s forearm. His grip slipped. Muscles gave way. He dug down for his remaining strength, but the gun came up regardless. Slowly, inexorably. Turning toward him. Closer with every heartbeat. The fingers gripping Tehrazzi’s wrist loosened.
No. You won’t let go, Hutchinson. SEALs don’t quit and they don’t give in.
He had only seconds left until Tehrazzi gained the leverage he needed to twist the gun up and shoot him. Refusing to give up, Luke gathered his remaining strength and spun, risking letting go of Tehrazzi’s gun arm for a split second before ramming him back against the dashboard with the full force of his body, simultaneously grabbing the trigger with his left hand. His other seized Tehrazzi’s right wrist, twisting the muzzle down and away.
Tehrazzi’s outraged cry rang in his ears and Luke pushed back with all the strength in his legs, mashing his spine into Tehrazzi’s chest. Crushing him against the dashboard. The hard edge of the explosive vest dug into Luke’s back. He glanced at their left hands, locked around the detonator. Luke couldn’t feel his fingers, but he was still holding on. His shoulder and arm muscles burned with the strain. Tiring fast.
And still the gun came up. Shit, he couldn’t hold it anymore. Couldn’t stop it no matter how hard he tried. Up, up it inched, the muscles in their arms bulging, shaking. Luke stared at the little black hole at the end of the muzzle as it cleared his waist. Seconds now. That’s all he had left.
His arm slipped. His heart missed a beat, eyes riveted on the muzzle of the pistol as it swung up toward his chest.
****
Emily lay shivering on the floor of the boat when Rhys got to the dock. He lif
ted her and jumped ashore, running flat out toward the street. His booted feet made a hollow thudding sound as he pounded over the damp wood. She tried to raise her head to see over his shoulder, but couldn’t. She was too weak. Too cold. “L-Luke,” she muttered. She’d heard the other boat quit a few moments after Rhys started them back to shore, but there’d been no explosion. No way Tehrazzi had given in. Had Luke gotten aboard? Or was he alone in the dark sea, left to find his own way back to land?
Noises brought her heavy eyelids open. Rhys shouted something. She heard more voices, all talking at once until she wanted to cover her ears. Then Rhys handed her to someone else and she looked up into Ben’s pale green eyes. “Wh-where’s L-Luke?” she repeated, wanting to scream it at him. Why the hell wasn’t anyone telling her what was happening?
Because they don’t know anything. The knowledge chilled her even more.
“Rhys is going after him,” Ben finally said, jogging over to a black truck. He yanked open the passenger door and put her in the seat, belting her in before racing around to the driver’s side and sliding behind the wheel. “Dec and his boys are on their way.”
Like that was supposed to reassure her? Luke was alone out there. How long would it be before any reinforcements arrived?
Ben gunned the engine and took off. Reaching over, he aimed the vent at her and turned the heat on full power. The hot air blasted over her chilled skin but didn’t touch the ice encasing her heart and lungs. Inside she was frozen solid with fear for Luke. A ragged sob built up.
“Hang in there.” Ben took a sharp turn before hitting the gas once more. The powerful engine revved as the vehicle raced over the pavement. “We’ll get you warmed up and dry when we get back to the house.”
The sob worked free. She didn’t care about getting warm and dry. Tears of fury and pain tracked down her cheeks. The medallion lay heavy against her chest, reminding her that Luke had woken up that morning expecting to die.
Chapter Twenty
Luke’s heart lurched as the pistol came up to point at his chest. Tehrazzi gave a shout of triumph. It reverberated in Luke’s head like a gunshot.
Fuck. This.
Pressing his lips together, he reached down inside him for his last ounce of strength. In one final burst, he shoved the gun upward, catching Tehrazzi by surprise for the split second he needed to bring the weapon up high enough. Luke angled the pistol and steeled himself against what was coming, praying the angle was right so it wouldn’t trigger the vest. His thumb reached down to curl around the curved trigger. He closed his eyes. Stopping the sudden jerk of Tehrazzi’s arm, he squeezed down. The shot rang out above the hideous, burning pain in his left shoulder, so strong his hand loosened on the detonator. His own scream shattered the night.
His fingers spasmed around it and he held on with all his will, fighting to stay above the pain as Tehrazzi slumped behind him with a terrible wheeze. Releasing the gun to grab the vest’s detonator with his right hand, Luke’s legs gave out and they crashed to the floor. He bellowed as the raw wound in his shoulder burned like fire, stealing his breath and making him light headed. His hand spasmed on the detonator.
Don’t let go. You can’t let go. He wanted to live. Had to look after Emily.
Clamping down, he managed to firm his grip around Tehrazzi’s slackening fingers. A terrible gurgling filled his ears. Fighting through his agony, Luke jerked the gun from Tehrazzi’s limp hand and turned it on him with his ruined arm, fighting to maintain his hold on the trigger as he turned painfully toward his former protégé.
Through the haze of pain, he stared down at Tehrazzi’s pale face and the ragged, bleeding hole in his throat. The bullet had missed the spinal cord, passing out the side with a baseball-sized exit wound. Severing the jugular vein and carotid artery on the right side of his neck. Mortal wounds, even if there’d been an equipped medic standing by.
Tehrazzi’s body corded, his hands going to his throat, clawing at the hideous wound. Luke shook, the pain and fatigue combining with blood loss and shock. He clung to the desperate will to survive, somehow holding fast to the vest’s trigger.
Wide green eyes stared up at him beseechingly. Tehrazzi’s lips moved. Froths of scarlet blood bubbled from his mouth and nose. He choked on it, gagging and heaving, eyes rolling into his head for a moment.
Gasping, Luke looked into that young, handsome face, only a few years older than his son’s. A sound wheezed out amidst the choking noises.
Luke leaned closer. “W-what?”
The lips moved again, rapidly turning blue beneath the hideous gush of blood. Tehrazzi’s eyes bulged. “F-finish...m-me...” The English words were slurred, nearly unintelligible.
Ice congealed in Luke’s gut. His hand tightened around the grip of the pistol. He could do it. End Tehrazzi’s earthly suffering and release his soul to Allah. Would be a kindness. One final gesture of mercy for the boy he’d once loved.
But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t make himself take the shot. All he could do was tremble and pant through his own pain as he stared down into those pleading eyes.
“A-Allah’s...will...” Tehrazzi rattled out, blood flowing from his mouth and throat, pooling around them in a warm, sticky pool. The metallic smell of it coated the back of Luke’s throat.
Before he knew what he was doing, Luke dropped the suddenly heavy pistol and reached up with his injured arm, dragging it up despite the roar of agony tearing from his lips to grasp one of Tehrazzi’s blood-slick hands. Luke tightened his grip and clung to it fiercely, holding his gaze.
Tehrazzi stared back, his fingers closing around Luke’s weakly. Hardly more than a twitch. But the gratitude was there, along with the fear. A sheen of tears filled his frightened eyes. “S-stay,” he wheezed, clutching with the little strength he had left.
Luke nodded once, fighting to hang on. “I won’t...leave you...”
“S-swear...”
The raw vulnerability in that plea made tears burn his eyes. He’d loved the son of a bitch. “I swear.” He squeezed harder.
Tehrazzi’s hand contracted around his and he bowed up, thrashing as he choked on his own blood. Gritting his teeth to stay on his knees and keep the detonator pinned down, Luke held tight to that hand. It seemed to take forever for the rattling gasps to stop and for Tehrazzi’s body to still.
Those green eyes remained open, staring up at Luke’s face even in death.
Exhausted, overwhelmed by the white-hot fire in his shoulder, Luke finally allowed himself to slump down and roll onto his back. Rising above the pain, all his focus remained on holding the trigger. He held that directive in his consciousness while he sucked air through his nose in shallow bursts. Where the hell was his backup? Surely to Christ someone was on their way to him. He couldn’t hold on forever.
His fingers twitched spasmodically around the metal lever. He was too far gone to attempt disarming it himself. The blood loss and shock already had him shaking and queasy as hell.
Then, finally, he made out the sound of a distant motor coming toward him.
Thank Christ.
His left hand twitched again. Don’t you fucking let go.
He cranked down on it, the abused muscles in his hand and forearm exhausted. He didn’t want to die. Emily was back at the house by now. She needed him. And dammit, he needed her. The goddamn vest was the only thing standing between them now. He’d taken care of Tehrazzi. Had redeemed himself for past mistakes. He wanted it to be over with. Once and for all.
Because he still had to find a way to make up for what he’d done to Emily.
The steady hum of the approaching boat grew louder. He recognized the pitch of it. Knew the skimming sound the distinctive rubber hull made as it skipped across the tops of the waves. A zodiac. Relief slid through him. The SEALs had finally arrived. Dec and his boys would take care of the bomb.
Hold on. Almost over.
Luke forced his eyes open when someone climbed aboard and the beam of a flashlight blinded him until they
hunkered down beside him. The light illuminated Dec’s golden brown eyes like topazes in his camouflaged face.
“G-gotta...hold th-this...” Luke rasped.
Dec grabbed the trigger from his numb fingers. “I’ve got it,” he said in a low voice, glancing up as three of his men climbed in. With a shudder of relief, Luke shut his eyes and let his left arm flop on the deck, his fingers still frozen in their curled position.
God, he was going to puke. The pain was merciless, all consuming. The warm, sickening smell of blood made his stomach roll.
Someone knelt next to him and ripped his BDUs open. Luke bit back a howl as the medic probed the wound with his fingers. “Don’t think you clipped the artery, sir,” the man said, ripping open his ruck. “But I bet it’s gonna need surgical repair.”
Luke didn’t care. All he wanted was the bleeding stopped and the pain to go away so he wouldn’t pass out. The medic put a steadying hand on the ruined shoulder and someone else pinned his other arm and legs.
“Brace yourself,” the medic said. “This clotting powder’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”
Luke gave a curt nod and clenched his teeth, but when the powder hit the raw wound he bowed up like he’d been electrocuted. “Fuuuuuck!” he roared, almost welcoming the blackness hovering at the edge of his vision. His whole body was instantly covered in sweat and he jerked against the hands holding him when the medic packed the wound and pressed down hard to stop the bleeding.
“Hang on. Here comes the morphine.”
Luke didn’t even feel the syringe go in, but all of a sudden his body felt lighter, as though he was going to float away. The pain receded. Vanishing into nothing more than a memory. He faded in and out for a few minutes until he lost all concept of time. He was vaguely aware of the men around him speaking in low tones, and of the snipping sound of wire cutters. Knowing he was safe in their hands, Luke let himself go. The words “We’re clear” registered briefly before he began to sink under. The last of the tension in Luke’s gut dissolved. It’s over, he thought blearily. It’s finally over.
