by Pamela Clare
He must have known she was close because he started to thrust, bucking into her, riding her from below, stroking her inside and out.
She shattered, climax burning through her like molten gold, making her cry out, his powerful thrusts carrying them both home.
She sagged against his chest, his cock still inside her, and for a moment, they stayed as they were, heartbeats slowly returning to normal. Then he kicked off his shoes, socks, and trousers, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the bed.
She snuggled against him, her head pillowed on his chest. “I don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt or killed trying to get me out of the country. I would rather turn myself over to Kazi.”
“Shh.” Derek stroked her hair, kissed her. “Everything is going to be okay.”
And because she wanted desperately to believe that, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.
17
Derek woke early Friday morning and met Corbray and the team in the ops room. Everyone knew their jobs, but they ran through their strategy in detail, a diagram of the airport on the big screen. There was no such thing as too much planning.
“I don’t have to remind you that Kazi controls everything here—airport security, the police, Afghan security forces, private militias, merchants, random street vendors. Anyone and everyone could be on his payroll. In the past, we’ve relied on this fact to accomplish our missions. Today, it presents a threat.”
Heads nodded.
There was one other thing Derek had to say.
“This is all new to Ms. Hamilton. The past couple of weeks have been hard on her, and I want to make sure that this doesn’t add to what has already been a traumatic experience. Watch what you say around her. She’s a midwife, trained to save lives, not watch people kill and die. She doesn’t need to overhear your graphic war stories.”
Cruz’s gaze dropped to the table. “Sorry, man.”
“Feckin’ idiot,” McManus grumbled.
Over Thanksgiving dinner yesterday, Cruz had told Jones about a time when his SEAL element had been ambushed, joking about the number of insurgents they had killed. It was trench warfare humor, the kind of thing operators talked about on their downtime, a way of processing what they’d seen and what they’d had to do to survive. But Jenna had overheard and had clearly been upset.
“Any questions?”
When no hands went up, Corbray turned off the screen. “Our mission priority is Ms. Hamilton’s safety. Remember that a firefight would become an international incident that could potentially destabilize the province.”
“Does Kazi know that?” O’Neal asked.
“I think he does. As angry as he was during my visit, he kept up an appearance of hospitality. He knows he can’t afford to lose Washington’s support.” Derek glanced at his watch. “Let’s make this happen.”
“I’m packed up and ready to be bait.” Shields drew Jenna’s gray headscarf over her hair. “See you downstairs.”
Shields would act as a decoy, heading to the airport with Jenna’s bags and a convoy of three armored Land Cruisers to board a commercial flight to Kabul under Jenna’s name. With any luck, she would draw Kazi’s attention long enough for Jenna to board Cobra’s private jet safely. By the time Kazi realized Shields was a Cobra operative and not Jenna, the plane would be airborne and on its way to Istanbul.
Leaving Corbray, McManus, and Cross in the operations room, Derek went to get Jenna. He found her sitting on her bed in jeans and a T-shirt, Kevlar vest in her hands, white burqa on the bed beside her. Her bags had been sent ahead with Team One and checked in by Shields. Jenna would catch up with them in D.C.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded, lines of worry on her face.
“I’ll help you put that on.” He took the vest, strapped her into it, saw that she was wearing Jimmy’s dog tags.
The weight of what they were about to attempt came down on him hard. She was Jimmy’s little sister. He couldn’t fail her.
I’ll do my best to get her safely home, buddy.
He drew her into his arms, held her. “I know this is scary, but we’re going to do everything we can to keep you safe. This isn’t our first rodeo.”
“Just keep yourself safe, okay?”
That wasn’t his job description, but he didn’t say so. “I’ll do my best.”
Derek held her cold hand as they walked together to the elevator and rode it up to the top floor. “Time to put that on.”
“I swore I’d never wear a burqa.” Jenna pulled it over her head, white fabric concealing her from head to toe, the green of her eyes just visible through the front mesh. “I must look like Casper the Friendly Ghost.”
Derek couldn’t help but laugh. “Nah. Casper doesn’t have feet.”
The MH-6 Little Bird was waiting, rotors running, ready to get airborne, Cruz, Jones, and O’Neal standing nearby, automatic weapons in hand.
Derek shouted to be heard over the rotors. “Keep low, and I’ll help you in.”
“Okay.” He couldn’t see her face, but her voice sounded small and scared.
Cruz and Jones boarded first, Derek following with Jenna, his arm around her shoulders. It was a big step for her, but she made it. Derek strapped her in and grabbed his loaded M4, which sat propped up against his seat. He buckled in and put on his earphones, motioning for her to do the same.
“This is how we’ll communicate during the flight.”
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Little Bird Airlines,” said Fox, their pilot. “Please put your seats and trays in their upright positions as we prepare for take-off.”
O’Neal grinned. “I hope the service on this flight is better than the last one.”
Jones laughed. “Hell, you’d be lucky to get expired MREs from Fox.”
“Have you ever flown in a helicopter before?” Derek asked Jenna.
She shook her head.
“It’s fun.” When the damned thing didn’t crash.
The helicopter lifted off the pad, nosed into the wind, and gained altitude.
Cruz grinned. “And we’re off.”
Jenna looked down on the maze of streets that was Mazar-e-Sharif, holding tightly to Derek’s hand and trying to ignore the frantic butterflies in her stomach. There was the marketplace with its many stalls where merchants sold everything from tea to jeans to handwoven carpets. Over there was Sina Stadium, where locals attended soccer games and races. And there in the heart of the city stood the beautiful Blue Mosque with its twin minarets and two turquoise domes.
The sight put a lump in her throat.
She had taken a tour of the city when she’d first arrived and had been entranced by the new sights and sounds—the song calling Muslims to prayer, the scents of coriander, cardamom, and turmeric in the marketplace, bright colors everywhere. How exhilarated she’d felt, thrilled to be somewhere new and exciting and certain that her two years here would change her life.
That had turned out to be true, but not entirely in the way she’d hoped.
The helicopter headed out of the city toward the airport, the pilot speaking helicopter talk with someone on the ground.
“We’ll be there in two minutes,” Derek said. “We’ll load into a Jeep and drive to the plane, which is waiting on the tarmac.”
Jenna nodded. “Is Elizabeth okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s through security and about to board.”
That was the part of this plan Jenna liked the least. What if someone shot or abducted Elizabeth because they believed she was Jenna? How would Jenna be able to live with that?
The helicopter descended as they neared the airport.
Derek pointed. “That’s Cobra’s hangar.”
“You have a hangar?” Her head began to throb.
“We keep the jet and this Little Bird there. If we need heavier air support, we borrow from the U.S. military.”
But Jenna barely heard him, wind buffeting the helicopter as the pilot carefully landed a hundred yar
ds or so away from a small, white jet.
“Leave the rotors running until we’re airborne,” Derek said.
The pilot gave him a thumbs up. “You got it, boss.”
Jenna did what Derek did, pulling off her earphones, unbuckling the harness. The three men who’d come with them—Malik, Dylan, and Connor—were all business now. They jumped to the ground, bent low, spreading out, weapons raised.
It seemed unreal somehow, like something from an action movie.
Rifle in a sling on his chest, Derek climbed down and then helped Jenna out, her burqa making it hard for her to see, the fabric billowing around her in the rotor wash. With one hand protectively on her elbow and the other holding a weapon, he guided her to the Jeep. They piled in and set off for the waiting jet.
“Good morning, ma’am.” The driver smiled at her from behind mirrored sunglasses. “I’m Gabriel Ortiz. I’ll be your Uber driver today.”
See? It’s all going to plan. Everything is okay.
A minute later, they stopped and climbed out, Derek’s men standing guard around the plane while Derek led Jenna up the mobile stairway and into the aircraft.
“Wow.” The interior looked nothing like any airplane Jenna had seen.
Eight plush leather seats sat at comfortable distances from each other, a flat-screen TV at one end of the cabin, a bar at the other.
“Where should I sit?”
“Anywhere you want, angel.” Derek held a finger to his earpiece, listening to Javier or someone in the ops room. “Cobra, this is Team Two actual. We’re onboard. Out.” He turned to the pilot. “Let’s close the door and get underway.”
“You got it.”
Jenna pulled off the burqa and sat in one of the middle seats, then leaned back, closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath. It was almost over. In another few minutes, they would be airborne. This would all be behind her.
“Cobra, this is Team Two actual. Her flight is grounded, and they’re boarding the airplane. Copy, out.” Derek called to the pilot. “Get us in the air—now.”
Jenna’s eyes flew open. “Her flight is grounded? What will happen to—”
The pilot turned and shouted back to them. “Now all flights are grounded.”
Derek repeated the news into his mic. “Cobra, this is Team Two. All flights grounded. We’ll get her out on the bird and head to Kabul, over?” Derek unbuckled her seatbelt, shoved the burqa into her hands.
“Wh-what’s happening?”
“They’ve probably discovered it’s not you on that plane, so they’ve grounded all flights. We need to get you back to the Little Bird—now.”
A surge of adrenaline brought Jenna to her feet, heart in her throat as she followed Derek toward the airplane’s door. Questions raced through her mind, questions she didn’t dare ask. If flights were grounded, how could they take off in the helicopter? Wouldn’t they be safer in the airplane with the door shut than out on the tarmac in a Jeep? What had happened to Elizabeth?
Dylan ran up the mobile stairway, stopping when he saw them. “A whole lot of trouble is headed our way.”
They ran down the stairs and toward the Jeep.
“Cobra, this is Team Two,” Derek said. “Four vics and at least twenty fighters with small arms and an RPG coming our way, over.”
“QRF coming in fast!” Malik shouted.
“Helo One, this is Team Two. We’re not going to reach you. Get that bird in the air now, how copy, over?” Derek shouted into his mic, waiting just a moment before going on. “Cobra, this is Team Two. Retreating to the hangar and switching to armored Land Cruiser, over.”
Jenna jumped into the Jeep ahead of Derek, and then she saw. “Oh, God!”
Four vehicles, each of them bristling with armed fighters, were speeding straight toward them.
Derek’s mind raced through their options as they sped toward the hangar. The Little Bird was lifting off, the pilot fighting for altitude to put himself beyond the range of automatic weapons fire and that RPG. The three armored Land Cruisers that had brought Shields to the airport sat outside the terminal, prevented from entering the grounds by armed airport security. The hangar, which wasn’t bulletproof, had another armored Land Cruiser, but they had to reach it first.
Yeah, their options sucked.
Derek had to give the bastard credit. Kazi had moved fast and hard. But he wasn’t going to get Jenna, not as long as Derek had breath left in his body.
She was terrified, her eyes wide, her auburn hair blowing in the wind.
He took her hand, held it. “When we get to the hangar, we’re going to switch to the Land Cruiser. We’ll have to move fast. That’s all you need to think about now. I’ll be right there with you. We all will.”
She nodded. “Move fast.”
“That’s it.”
Fast might not be fast enough. At seventy miles an hour, they were keeping ahead of the bastards. But the moment they stopped to switch vehicles, the men in those vehicles would catch up in a hurry.
Corbray’s voice came over Derek’s earpiece. “Team One, this is Cobra. Leave current position, head north down the highway to the end of the runway. Punch a hole in that perimeter fence to make an escape route and cover Team Two, how copy, over?”
“Cobra, this is Team Two. Good copy. Out.”
“Almost there!” O’Neal shouted.
They entered the wide-open hangar door.
Ortiz slammed on the brakes, bringing them to a screeching stop.
“Everyone out!” Derek jumped down, then helped Jenna into the Land Cruiser. “Cruz, O’Neal, stay with the Jeep. Cover our rear. Let’s catch them in a crossfire. Jones, you’re on me.”
Jones climbed into the front Land Cruiser’s passenger seat, while Cruz jumped into the driver’s seat of the Jeep, O’Neal riding shotgun.
“Let’s move!”
“Team Two, this is Cobra. Enemy QRF almost at your position. How copy, over?” Corbray said.
“Cobra, this is Team Two. Acknowledged. Out.”
Ortiz threw the engine into reverse and backed out of the hangar.
“Jenna, get down.” Derek guided her to a sheltered position on the floor and piled extra Kevlar vests around her.
“I thought the vehicle was bulletproof.”
“They are, but I won’t take chances.” Derek checked his M4. “Ortiz, they’re probably going to aim for our tires and try to immobilize us.”
He hoped to fuck these assholes wanted Jenna alive. In fact, he was counting on it. No up-armored Land Cruiser could withstand a hit by an RPG.
Ortiz braked, shifted into drive, floored it, the vehicle’s engine responding instantly. Thank God they weren’t in a lumbering Humvee. Even so, changing to the Land Cruiser had cost them time. The bastards gained on them, Qassim in the lead vehicle. So far, they hadn’t noticed Cruz and O’Neal, who were now in pursuit.
“Here they come!” Jones shouted.
Rat-at-at-at! Rat-at-at-at!
A burst of automatic weapons fire. The thud of bullets against armor.
Jenna screamed.
“Cobra, this is Team Two. Taking enemy fire, over.”
“Team One, this is Cobra. Team Two is taking fire, over?” Corbray replied.
Jones leaned out his window, aimed his M4.
Rat-at-at-at! Rat-at-at-at!
One of the vehicles tried to pull in front of them, but the much-heavier Land Cruiser struck them hard, their momentum causing them to lose control and roll over.
“Woohoo!” Jones shouted.
“Bowling for terrorists.” Ortiz grinned. “My new favorite sport.”
Rat-at-at-at! Rat-at-at-at!
Jenna’s body jerked, her hands over her ears.
The vehicle shuddered.
“We’ve lost a rear left tire!” Ortiz said.
If they had to, they could ride out small arms fire until the cavalry managed to punch through that fence and join the fight—if they managed to punch through.
“Fuck them!” Jones
stood, fired three short bursts, taking out the driver of the lead vehicle and both of its front tires.
That was one enemy vehicle on its side and one crippled.
“Cobra, this is Team One. They have barricaded the main road. We are blocked from leaving the terminal, over?”
Son of a bitch!
The cavalry wasn’t coming.
“Team Two this is Cobra, Helo One has returned to base. Reinforcements inbound. ETA ten mikes.”
“Cobra, this is Team Two. Copy that. Out.” Derek rolled down his window, leaned out, took aim at the nearest pursuing vehicle, and fired, and saw two men drop.
Rat-at-at-at!
Jones fired, too, one of the vehicles spinning out of control.
Rat-at-at-at!
“We lost the other rear tire!”
Derek looked for a way to hold out until that bird arrived. They could keep driving, but they would run out of runway soon. They could try punching their own hole in the perimeter fence and risk getting pinned down without cover. Or they could take cover and fight. They were outnumbered and, if the RPG came into play, outgunned, but Jones, Cruz, and Ortiz were skilled fighters, the three of them worth more than a dozen insurgents.
Then he saw it—a ten-foot-high wall of stacked jersey barriers ahead.
“Take cover behind that barrier!”
Rat-at-at-at!
Jones laid down suppressing fire as Ortiz maneuvered the Land Cruiser behind the wall of jersey barriers, giving them solid cover—but potentially leaving them trapped.
“Jenna, lock the doors, and stay down!” Derek didn’t want to make it easy for Qassim to grab her if they fell. “Don’t come out for anyone or anything!”
She shook her head. “I won’t lock you out!”
“Do it!” Derek threw open the door, strapped his helmet onto his head, and took up a position on the corner of the wall, while Jones climbed onto the Land Cruiser’s hood and Ortiz took the other corner. “Cobra HQ this is Team Two, we have taken cover and are returning fire. Awaiting reinforcements. Out.”
18
Jenna was trapped in a nightmare, barely able to breathe, pulse pounding in her ears as gunfire exploded around her. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed.
