WARRIOR (CROSSFIRE SEALS, #5)

by Gennita Low

  “You’re crazy and I love you,” she said into his ear.

  He smiled lazily. Now he got the lady where he wanted. In love with him. Next step was to get her to marry him. If he survived whatever was eating up his system.

  He pushed it out of his mind. Couldn’t do anything about that right now. “You’re crazier. You attacked a grenade launcher,” he reminded her.

  “I think I want to attack this one now,” she said.

  That naughty woman’s hand somehow slipped inside his pants over his very aroused, very unprotected warhead. At least one major part of him didn’t think he was that sick. He laughed at himself silently.

  “Lucas, you’re not wearing underwear!”

  “I’m not a fucking Airborne Ranger. SEALs don’t need no fucking underwear,” he told her, lifting her by the waist.

  He could run ten miles. He could carry a big boulder. He could make love for hours to a hot woman. Only one way to find out if he was up to the task. Yup. Standing and ready, sir!

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Shahrukh didn’t interrupt the woman pacing back and forth in front of him. Zerya wasn’t yet calm enough for a discussion. She swerved around to face him suddenly, her eyes glittering with emotion, her lips pursed in anger.

  “You ask too much,” she said. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

  “Am I talking to one of the top officers of the Peshmerga warriors?” Shahrukh countered. “Or am I talking to Zerya?”

  Her chin went up. “Are you challenging my position? I asked a favor, yes, but it wasn’t official. Obviously you’re trying to wiggle out of it by changing our agreement. I gave you the names you wanted and you said you’d take care of the traitor.”

  He shook his head. “No, I said I’d find a name to do your task but he comes with his own price.” He lowered his voice. “Perhaps you were being more Zerya at that moment because we were negotiating in bed.”

  He had no illusions about that part of their relationship at all. Zerya was a Peshmerga warrior first, in or out of bed, but they had also been lovers a long time ago, before she gave her life for a cause, before words and actions became mere items of negotiations.

  Her expression softened for an instant before resuming the tough mask. “Rukh, you made it sound like he was going to cost me money. Not going into another battle for him or giving up our stockpile of weapons!”

  “You know I deal with, as you call them, treasure hunters. They like...assets,” he said. “Some of your weapons, that’s all, and a group of men for me to take with me for a small mission. Once that’s done, my man will take care of your problem.”

  Or he would, if Jed didn’t agree. It didn’t matter now.

  “It’ll expose us, Rukh. “I was ordered here for a reason.”

  “I understand. I’ll protect our identity. Yes, you lose the weapons, but in exchange, you’ll be rid of a pest and can go back to France where you’ll be free to do battle. You aren’t the type to hide and covertly move things around, Zerya. You’ll wither and die.”

  He spoke the truth. Zerya couldn’t last in this country, where everywhere she went, she’d had to hide her true self, playing a submissive role to those she was in command of, just because she was a woman. She had always been a woman of action and a willful one at that. A mountain lioness could not be a lamb for long.

  “This young girl you want to use my weapons for...are you in love with her?”

  Shahrukh shook his head. “It’s a favor.” He thought of how brave the child was and how well she took his escape advice. “Yet, she is a young girl whose life I’d like to spare. I have to get to her quickly before she’s out of reach, and this is the fastest way to get them to talk to me. Look at it this way, a life for a life, and perhaps a future warrior woman is saved.”

  Zerya stared down at the papers on a nearby desk, an obstinate expression on her face. He could tell she was trying to find another way. Those weapons, left by insurgents who had run off during the border skirmishes, had been a boon. Transporting them into the hands of other Peshmerga agents outside the country, however, had been one of her major obstacles and having to do so in small numbers at a time had really affected her mission. Shahrukh was offering her another way, but the price was half her stockpile. This was his way of getting what T had referred to as the “government connection” in this whole damn affair. A whole shitload of weapons would do, all right.

  He’d done many such negotiations when he was a Temple operative. Such missions were called H-A-X, Hostage/Arms Exchange. Like a game of chess, every one of his moves must be calculated. Sacrifice was sometimes necessary.

  “An innocent life is irreplaceable, Zerya,” he continued to persuade softly. “That cache of weaponry is cheap in comparison.”

  And still she hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of his proposal. Shahrukh didn’t hurry her, even though time was of the essence, because hers was an equally heavy responsibility too. If exposed, her small army of fighters here would be in even more danger, surrounded by insurgent groups left and right. The Kurds, as a people, had suffered ethnic cleansing and genocide for generations; they had no loyalty left but to their own cause, which was self-survival and statehood. Although his being brought up in the States alienated him from the cultural aspects, these were his people and he understood their fight for recognition and dignity. Those years back with his father and clan had given him both a sense of loss and reunion at the same time, a relationship that pulled at his soul yet simultaneously pushed away his heart.

  She finally looked up, revealing the intense storm clashing inside her through her large dark eyes “Those are our people’s weapons. I’m going to call Paris and talk it over with them. Give me twenty-four hours.”

  His heart sank. Twenty four hours. A life time. That little girl’s life meant so little to this woman. It was time to use his trump card for the H-A-X. Just as he was about to speak, a series of quick knocks at the door interrupted them.

  “Enter,” Zerya said in their native dialect.

  A man strode in. “Our cameras detected movement, Lieutenant. Two interlopers tripped our wires while moving in the forested area toward our tunnels. Two men with Taliban clothing and they appeared to be looking for something. What do you advise?”

  “Can we get to them before they reach the tunnel?” Zerya asked.

  “No, we’re too far away and someone had removed the shrub covering from it without our noticing it.”

  “What?” Zerya angrily walked past Shahrukh, snatching the printed photo from the man’s hand. “How can that be?”

  “The battery in the main camera must have gotten wet. It rained hard last week.”

  “You expect to use that excuse when the council asks you?”

  “No, Lieutenant. I’ll take full responsibility.”

  She slapped the papers back into his hand. “That’s good but now we have a big problem. If they find our tunnel, they can call their people and we’ll be exposed.” She bit her lower lip, then added, “There is no choice. We’ll have to head down there and destroy our cache. If we can’t have it, no one can.”

  That he couldn’t allow to happen. He wasn’t going to let a young life be destroyed because of ego. Once upon a time he might have hesitated about using ruthlessness to fight ruthlessness, but that was before a few years with his unit. He was now a COS Commando, trained to infiltrate and kill from within.

  Time to use his trump card. “Zerya,” Shahrukh cut in. When she turned to him, he said, “As my father’s heir and as head of the clan, I’m ordering you to relinquish your command of your weapons. This is a clan order.”

  Then he invoked the order using the royal incantation passed to him by his father. The silence in the room thickened with tension as the other two occupants stared at him.

  “You’ll do as I say in this matter, Lieutenant Zerya.”

  “You dare—”

  “It’s done,” he told her gently. He turned to the man who immediately saluted him and t
hen giving him the clan show of respect to their elders; he bent slight from the waist, a clench fist against his chest. “Get the necessary contingent ready. And do not blow up the weapons without my say so.”

  “Yes, Excellency.”

  * * *

  Kit shone her flash light around the cavern they had entered. Now that they were no longer in a confined space, she felt much better. The little shaft of sunlight from the air holes here and there gave the darkness a strange shadowy glow.

  “There’s a maze of them in here. Are they really all manmade?” She took out her small camera and took a few pictures. She might be able to use this in the article. “You’re lucky I have yarn in my backpack. We’d be totally lost in here, with no way out!”

  “Too bad that backpack doesn’t have a pair of ruby red shoes, Dorothy,” Lucas said, shining his downward and ahead. “Watch out here. Don’t trip.”

  She stuck a tongue out at the broad back in front of her. He had to bend his head so as not to hit the jagged cave roof. Other than pausing to look around, though, he appeared to be all right. “How do you walk so surefooted, anyway?”

  “What, Ranger brother didn’t teach you to walk in the dark? Awww.”

  “You sound so much better,” she mused. His voice was still strangely hoarse, though, and he wasn’t walking very fast. Maybe the coolness in the cave was helping. “Almost back to your old self.”

  “Maybe you have the magic touch, Cupcake.” He sounded amused. “Sexual magic.”

  “I bet all cavemen used that line,” she said, mockingly lowering her voice into a Cumber-growl. “Hey, baby, want to cure my sickness? Let’s get it on.”

  He chuckled softly. Then he halted so suddenly, she ran smack into his back. She suddenly found herself flattened against the cave wall behind Lucas’ back. He’d moved so quickly she hadn’t even managed a squeak of surprise.

  “Shh,” he said, turning off his flash light and peering around the wall. “If there’s anyone there, they’d have heard us but just to be sure....”

  “Why do you think there’s anyone around?” She whispered.

  “I can see piles of stuff all over in the next cave. Nobody there, though.”

  She squeezed from behind him and peered around the wall too. At first, all she saw were glints reflecting back from different piles. “What do you think they are?”

  Lucas clicked his light on again and swept it to the odd-looking mounds. She felt his whole body tense up.

  “Weapons,” he said. “Hella lotsa weapons.”

  Her eyes widened at the sight of the number of weaponry. “I thought this place was taken up by our side and searched.”

  “From what I know, there are networks of tunnels leading to different caverns. They might have missed a few. But damn, this cave holds a hell of a lot they missed.”

  He cautiously stepped into the cave, waving the flashlight here and there. “Just making sure it’s okay to go further, babe. Hang on. Follow me very carefully, okay?”

  They made their way to the first grouping.

  “Here, shine down on them so I have better lighting,” Lucas continued. He went on one knee, held his slim flashlight between his teeth and picked one of the weapons up. He examined it for a minute. Then he looked at another. And another. “Shit.”

  “What?” She asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “They’re all well-maintained, newly oiled down. The last border skirmish I read about was a few years ago.”

  “I remember reading that in my research,” Kit said. “It was a huge deal with lots of news articles. They found the insurgents’ hiding place and all their weapons. Supposedly. That guide I told you about said he saw quite a bit carted off by the government, so why are there some here? Another group hiding out here?”

  “Possibly,” Lucas said, his voice grim.

  “But the guide said these caves were regularly monitored by the authorities now.”

  Lucas sighed. “Yeah, well. Let’s just say the government here doesn’t monitor as closely as we would like.” He stood up. “We have to find the tunnel out of this cave and get to one that’s connected to the main ones your guide and all the others know about. If we’re lucky and Hawk sent out choppers and saw your message, they’d be heading there and looking for us.”

  “All right. So, how do we look for this tunnel?” She stared around her dubiously. “It looks impossible.”

  “Let’s start by checking out the sunlight shafts. It’s got to be close where they can have air. Someone or some ones come by here often enough to maintain these weapons so let’s look for any piles of cleaning cloths and bottles, that sort of thing.”

  “How about a desk?” Kit asked, pointing to a far off corner. “They might need one to use for cleaning. I bet there will be lots of oils and cleaners near there, if not on it.”

  He tweaked her hair. “Very good, Watson.”

  She grinned. “Pfft. I’m Holmes, you’re Watson,” she declared.

  She was right. As they got closer, their light revealed a working space, with a shelf to the right, stacked with bottles and pails. She quickly took several photos while Lucas checked everything out.

  “I’m hoping there is an entry near here. If they’re using tunnels like the one we were in, logically, they would enter from wherever, light this lamp hanging here on the wall so they could see, wait, I feel some kind of breeze...voila!” He pushed aside a crate, revealing a small entry way big enough to crawl through.

  Kit crouched down and felt the air coming from the hole. “Shall we crawl through and—”

  A crack sounded behind them. She turned and caught a quick glimpse of shadows and reflection of metal from their flashlights before Lucas pushed her out of the way. A single gunshot exploded, its echo reverberating over and over. She laid on the floor in shock for an instant, then rolled away, looking for a place to hide.

  Lucas! Where was Lucas? Was he shot?

  She pulled out her gun. She heard a familiar grunt to her right and turned her head, searching for his silhouette. The shafts of sunlight looked like little strobes of dust as shadowy figures fought. Somehow Lucas had managed to run to the other end of the small cavern, disarm one of their assailants and was now engaging in hand-to-hand combat with him on the floor. The other man lifted his big weapon and butted the side of Lucas’ head with it. She had no time to scream a warning. Without thinking, she aimed and fired. Dropping his firearm, Lucas’ attacker yelled in pain, then fell over.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth at what she’d done. The man was in the shadows, rolling around in pain. She shivered and stared at her hand holding her weapon. She’d fired one in self-defense before, when she’d surprised a burglar at her apartment in college. At that time, she was being attacked and she’d gone for her firearm after being chased into her bedroom. The burglar had run off at her first shot and was subsequently caught by the neighbors. This was different and it was frightening how she’d just shot a man as a target.

  She took a deep breath. Stay calm. It wasn’t the time to be hysterical about it. Her father had told her when he’d taught her how to shoot—“you’re in or you’re out when you use this. Don’t hesitate.” She stood up and charged towards Lucas, who was still wrestling on the floor. He was at the bottom, after falling over from the hit in the head. She kicked away the offending machine gun lying nearby.

  “Hoo-yahhh!” She yelled and launched on top of the enemy pounding on her man.

  She pulled at the man’s hair and punched him in the throat. Scratched. Gouged. He was howling and turning around to grab her fists.

  Someone pulled her off from behind. She struggled valiantly but didn’t have the strength. The person grabbed her arms and pulled them back. She yelped in pain and twisted back and forth, trying to free herself.

  Lucas must have heard her because he let out a roar of anger and somehow stood up, with his attacker still attached on him, and half-leapt-half-stumbled onto her assailant. Then, yet another pair of arms grabb
ed her. Only then was she aware of many voices surrounding them. How many of them were there? She’d only seen two when Lucas was fighting.

  She watched Lucas tackle one man and another jumped in from behind. Punches flew. Lucas threw one body across the room. She screamed his name and struggled as yet another shadowy figure appeared and another, till she couldn’t see him under so many bodies.

  Someone yelled something out in Arabic. Kit blinked from the sudden light. There were men everywhere, some of whom were holding lanterns. Except for a howling man still rolling on the floor and another being held at gun point, these were in military uniform. To her surprise, a woman appeared, in camouflage shirt and pants. She studied Kit for a second then turned toward the men on the floor.

  “Five of you against one man?” She asked, in perfect English. “We must be getting soft.”

  In the brighter light, Kit could only see Lucas’ leg and she anxiously waited as the male bodies on top moved out of the way, leaving one man pointing a weapon straight at Lucas. She whimpered at the sight of blood on his face but dared not move or say anything, in case it’d set him off.

  He appeared calm, though. He slowly turned his head.

  “Kit.” His voice came out in a hoarse growl.

  “Here. I’m okay,” she hastily assured him.

  The woman stepped forward. “It’s okay, soldier, I’m Lieutenant Zeravich from the 210th Division. I apologize to have mistaken you as the enemies. We’re here to transport you.” She turned to her men. “Take the two prisoners out of here.”