On cue, the men propelled themselves out one at a time. Gavin could almost imagine he was with them, spreading his arms, feeling the wind pressing against him. He shuddered and focused back on the compound. He had to time it just right, which was why he was going in on the ground and not coming down from the sky. Among other reasons. But the most important was that he have the door open when his team arrived.
“I’m coming, Sarah,” he whispered. “Hang on, I’m coming.”
CHAPTER
THREE
Sarah had buried the satellite phone in the corner of the cell’s dirt floor only minutes before the guard had returned. Since then, he’d stayed just outside the door. Minutes had ticked past, turning into an hour, then more.
“What are they waiting on?” Fatima whispered.
“I don’t know.” Every so often another guard would come and the two men would exchange whispers. Then he’d turn and hurry down the hallway, only to return a while later to repeat the whole thing. “I heard the word ‘delayed,’ but can’t make out anything else. I’m going to move to the door and see if I can hear what they’re saying,” she whispered to Fatima. “Stay put.”
Eyes wide, Fatima nodded.
On hands and knees so as not to draw attention by standing, Sarah moved through the group, pressing a comforting hand on a shivering teen’s shoulder or squeezing the ice-cold fingers of another as she passed. Talia’s terrified gaze met hers and she glared, her displeasure at Sarah’s movement clear.
But if the phone hadn’t worked like it was supposed to, they were going to have to know what was going on. At the door, she slid against the wall. The other guard should be returning any moment. As though he’d read her mind, footsteps pounded down the hallway to stop in front of the door. His radio crackled and Sarah thought she caught the words, “Search them one by one. Bring her to the conference room. We will make the video there.”
Bring who?
“Get up! All of you!”
Sarah jerked at the order and slowly stood. The other girls followed her lead.
The guard who spoke looked to be in his early thirties, with a long beard and body odor strong enough to knock her out.
And a rifle gripped in his right hand.
When all of them were standing, huddled together, the guard threw open the door and lifted the rifle. He pointed it at Fatima. “You. Come with me.”
Fatima stepped forward. When she reached Sarah, she grabbed Sarah’s hand in a death grip. The teen shook like she’d splinter apart any second.
The guard jabbed Fatima with the rifle. “What is your name?”
“Fatima.”
“Remove your head covering.”
Slowly, Fatima pushed the cloth away, her eyes downcast.
“It’s not her,” the other man said. “But I will take her for a little while.” He placed the weapon against Fatima’s shoulder. “Come with me.”
The teen shuddered but didn’t move to obey the order.
The guard’s eyes gleamed. “Come, I said. Obey or die. Which will you choose?”
Still gripping Sarah’s fingers, Fatima lifted her chin. “I choose to die.”
A multitude of gasps sounded behind her.
He pulled the trigger. Fatima jerked and fell, her hand sliding from Sarah’s grip.
Screams echoed.
“Fatima!” Heart pounding, ears ringing, Sarah dropped to her knees and pressed hard against the wound, barely able to control the rage she wanted to unleash on the guard. But the girl . . .
“Fatima,” she whispered.
“It hurts,” Fatima whimpered.
The rifle turned on Rashida. “You. Get up.”
“Kinaaz,” Sarah said, “come press on her wound.”
Without hesitation, Kinaaz, the gentle soul who loved poetry, nature, and puppies, darted to her friend’s side and replaced Sarah’s hands with her own.
“Hold on, Fatima,” Sarah whispered, “help’s coming.”
“I said get up!”
Rashida wailed and covered her head with her arms. The guard adjusted the rifle.
“Stop! Don’t shoot her!” Sarah stood and stepped between the rifle and the other girls, ignoring the nausea curling in her gut. “What do you want?” she asked, keeping her head lowered, but watching him through her lashes.
His eyes glinted and raked her up and down. “I didn’t tell you to interfere.”
Sarah waited for the bullet. It didn’t come, but she thought he considered it. “Remove your head covering.”
She reached to do so and the smile that split his lips turned her stomach once more. He jerked the rifle, indicating she was to hurry up.
The guard behind him chuckled and muttered something under his breath. She thought she caught, “That’s the one.”
Gunfire erupted from the hallway and the terrorist flinched, his rifle wavering for a fraction of a second. She lunged at the man, slamming her elbow into his throat. He stumbled back and she clamped a hand around the barrel of the rifle and rolled, jammed the stock into her shoulder, and aimed it at his face.
He charged at her and she pulled the trigger. Felt the kick against her shoulder. His face exploded into a red mist.
Bullets spit into his partner behind him. Footsteps pounded on the dirt floor. Another spray of gunfire above her head brought screams from the girls still in the cell. Fire exploded in her side and then her arm.
Just as quickly, the shooting stopped.
Ears still ringing, Sarah ignored the burning pain just under her rib cage and swung the rifle toward the hallway that opened into the area where she and the teens were being held. When she spotted the camouflage uniforms, she dropped the weapon and lifted one hand above her head. She couldn’t lift the other without massive agony racing through her arm.
“Move away from the weapon!”
“Hands! Show me your hands!”
The commands rolled over her and she let out a sob of relief. “Don’t shoot,” she screamed. “Don’t shoot! I’m an American!”
“Sarah!”
The voice came from behind the first soldier. Even in her terrified, semi-paralyzed state, she recognized it. “Gavin!”
He rushed to her and snagged the rifle from the dirt and passed it to the soldier behind him. She refrained from launching herself into Gavin’s arms. Instead, she drew in a ragged breath. “Thank God.”
Gavin lowered his weapon, helped her remove the rest of her burqa, and stared into green eyes he’d recognize anywhere. “Sarah.”
“About time you guys showed up,” she said.
“Had to stop for a burger. Knew you could take care of yourself until we got here.” His words came out gruff, filled with emotion he had no right feeling at the moment. Surprised, he cleared his throat.
She huffed a short laugh that ended on a hiccupped sob. “Right.” She didn’t take her eyes from the man on the floor. “I killed him.”
“No, you didn’t.” He listened to the voice in his ear. “The threat has been neutralized.” They were safe for now. Plan A had worked.
She swiveled her gaze to him. “What?”
“You missed.”
“Not even. I don’t miss.”
“Whatever the case. We need to get out of here.”
She stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m so very glad to see you.”
“Same here.” He gave her a quick squeeze and she gasped. He frowned, but was intent on their next move. “Come on, we’ve got to go before their reinforcements arrive. You ready?”
“As long as there’s room for the other girls. Fatima is injured and needs a doctor.”
“There’s room and we have a medic with us.” He turned to the girls in the cell and, in Pashto, said, “All of you, follow those two soldiers and we’ll get you to safety.”
His Pashto must have been good enough, because the girls hurried from the cell. He stepped over to the fallen teen and her friend who still knelt beside her, hands covered in blood, but still pressing ha
rd. “Don’t take your hands away yet, okay?”
She nodded.
“Gavin?”
He turned. Sarah’s hands clasped her side. She swayed, then sank to her knees.
“Sarah!” He strode back to her. “You’ve been hit.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. I hadn’t noticed.”
He slung the rifle over his shoulder and caught her just as she passed out.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Sarah’s own voice woke her. Terror sent blood racing through her veins and sweat pouring from her brow. She pressed a hand against her racing heart.
Another nightmare. Just another stupid nightmare. She was safe. Her captor was dead. Thanks to her. She’d killed a man and couldn’t stop seeing it. No matter how much she told herself she’d had no choice, the vision of his exploding face wouldn’t leave her.
“Rochelle.” A soft hand gripped hers, the gentle voice propelling her toward the full awareness that she wasn’t alone. “Rochelle, wake up.”
She blinked and sat up, only to have the pain freeze her, rebuking her for moving too fast.
Hands eased her back into a reclining position. “Be careful now, Miss Denning, you’ve got a nasty wound there.”
Sarah looked up at the woman. “Who are you?”
“I’m your nurse. You can call me Yasmoon.”
“Well, thank you, Yasmoon, but I’m fine.” Once again, Sarah shifted. Once again, pain shafted her into stillness.
“Be still, girl, before you rip out those stitches.”
Stunned into obedience at the second voice, Sarah lowered her head onto the pillow and closed her eyes while she caught her breath and tried to process the presence of the man in her room.
Yasmoon cleared her throat. “I have your medication here.”
Sarah opened her eyes, keeping them trained on the nurse. No way would she acknowledge her father yet.
Yasmoon handed her a little white pill cup. Her other hand held a Styrofoam cup with a straw. “Please take it.”
“What’s it for?”
“It will help you with the nightmares. Make you less jumpy.”
Sarah crushed the cup around the pill and handed it back to Yasmoon. “I’ll pass.”
“Rochelle—” the general started.
“My name is Sarah,” she snapped. “And I’m not taking medication I don’t need.”
Yasmoon bowed her head in a sign of surrender. “I’ll just leave you to visit, then. Please let me know if you change your mind. The doctor will be in shortly.”
Once she was gone, Sarah shut her eyes. “What are you doing here, General?”
“Making sure you aren’t going to die.” His hand covered hers, the action clogging her throat and fogging her thought processes.
“I’m not your daughter anymore, so you don’t have to play the part of the concerned father. At least not on my behalf.”
“Not my daughter—what the heck are you talking about?”
“You disinherited me, remember?” Still, she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to see him. “Cut me off and never looked back. That means you don’t need to be here.”
“Rochelle . . .” He cleared his throat. She thought she might have heard an echo of hurt in the word. “Stop. Of course I’m concerned. I thought you were dying.”
“I’m not. At least it doesn’t feel like it.” Actually, it kind of had, but the pain was bearable as long as she didn’t move. Fatima’s pained face filled her mind, and she gasped, eyes flying open. “Talia, Fatima, and the other girls? Are they all right?”
“All rescued. The one who was shot is still critical, though. She’s on another floor.”
Sarah fought the tears that built behind her eyes. There was no way she was crying in front of the general.
“That was a doozy of a nightmare you had there,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“It wasn’t the first.”
“I’m aware, thanks.”
“You should have taken the medication.”
“I don’t want medication I don’t need. The nightmares will fade. They always do.”
He held out a wet paper towel and she frowned, then met his gaze. He shook the towel. “It’s not a snake. It won’t bite.”
“Wasn’t worried it would.” But he might. She snatched it from him and wiped the sweat from her forehead and cheeks, taking in the hospital room, noting the equipment. “Wait a minute, I’m in Afghanistan. You were home in the States. How are you here?”
“They have these things called planes—”
She shot him a dark look and he shrugged.
“I got word you’d been shot. Twice.”
So, he’d hopped a plane and flown halfway across the world? For her? She squinted at him, tilted her head, closed her eyes tight, then reopened them. Yep, he was still there and he still looked like her father. “How long have I been here?” Asleep and unconscious. Had she said anything?
“Four days.”
What! Four days? “And you’ve been here how long?”
“Two.”
Which meant he’d dropped everything and flown over the minute he’d heard. She wasn’t sure what to think about that—except to try to figure out how it would benefit him.
“You could have died,” he said.
His gruff words jerked her attention back to the situation. She huffed. “What is it with you men and the need to state the obvious?” Why couldn’t she simply thank him for coming? Because she didn’t want him here. She really didn’t want to be in the same room with him.
He scowled. “What I’m saying is, the fact that you came so close to dying—or worse—has taken a toll on your brain. You might have some PTSD.”
“I’ve come close to dying before, and other than a few sleepless nights, I’ve never had a problem. I’ll be fine.” Hopefully. She refused to admit the latest round of nightmares was worse than anything she’d experienced before.
“You should talk to the psychiatrist,” he said.
“I don’t need a shrink, General.” And if she did, she knew exactly who she’d go to. A trusted friend named Brooke Adams, not a clock-watching stranger. “I can’t believe those words even came out of your mouth. You think they’re a bunch of nonsense, remember?”
He let out a low sigh that morphed into a chuckle. She didn’t think she heard any humor in the sound. “You’re just like me, you know that?”
She cut a look at him, her heart going cold. She hoped her eyes reflected the ice flowing through her. “I’m nothing like you.”
His almost imperceptible flinch should have given her satisfaction. Instead a deep sadness grabbed hold and she looked away.
“Right.” He cleared his throat and stood. “I guess I’ll leave you alone then.”
“Have you heard from Dustin?” She wanted her father to leave, but she needed to talk to her younger brother.
“No, not in a while. I tried to call him, to let him know I was here and what had happened to you, but all I got was voice mail.” He shook his head. “You know him. He’ll check in when he’s ready.”
Usually with a text saying he was fine and would be in touch later. It had been at least six weeks since she’d had a good conversation with him. Longer than that since she’d seen him. “And Caden?” Her older brother would be pacing the floor.
“He’ll be waiting at the hospital in Greenville. You’re being flown home tonight.”
She tried to sit up and winced. Decided that was a bad idea and stayed still. “I’m fine—or will be. I’m not going anywhere. I have a job here, remember?”
“You’re being sent home to recover and given hero status for your actions in rescuing the girls. There’s talk of a medal of honor.”
Her jaw dropped. “But I didn’t do anything!”
“That’s not what I hear. You defended yourself and the girls. Because of you, Fatima has a fighting chance. And you killed one of your captors.”
Sickness welled. “I was try
ing not to think of that.”
“The nightmares?”
“No!” Well, not completely. Partly.
“He would have killed you if you hadn’t pulled the trigger, Rochelle.”
“Stop calling me that. I’m Sarah. And I’m perfectly aware he would have killed me.” Her breath caught in her lungs. She closed her eyes and yanked the blanket to her chin. “I think I want to rest now, thanks.”
“Roch—Sarah—” A pause. A sigh. “This name thing is nonsense. I’m not calling you Sarah. It’s not your name.”
“My name is Rochelle Seraphina. It’s got Sarah in it. Now, please, let me rest.”
“Fine, but you’re going home.”
“I am no—”
A knock on the door popped her eyes open. So much for resting. Her father opened the door and Gavin stepped into the room. The two men shook hands, then exchanged words, but she couldn’t hear them over her thundering heart.
Gavin Black. Out of all the people to come to the rescue, it had to be him. Not that she wasn’t beyond grateful for his timely appearance in that compound. She would have been thrilled to see her father at that point. But . . . Gavin Black? She gave him a small wave. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Tattoos rippled every time his arms moved under the short-sleeved shirt, and his five o’clock shadow had morphed into a neatly trimmed beard and mustache.
“You lose your razor?” she asked.
His brows rose and a surprised laugh rumbled from him as he stroked his beard. “Ditched it. This is less trouble most days.”
“Never figured you one for doing things the easy way.”
“Always a first time, I guess.” He crossed his arms, those tats flashing, green eyes flicking from her father to her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” Sarah said. “The general was just leaving.”
Her father shot her a tight smile, his eyes chilling. Now that was the man she knew. “We’ll be flying out shortly, but I’ll give you two a few minutes to visit.”
He left the room and Sarah’s stress level went down significantly, in spite of his reference to flying home. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Acceptable Risk Page 2
