That would be something she'd never forget, or forgive.
He hurried down to her stomach. Her abdomen was tight, the muscles not yielding.
He could sense the flare of her hips, coming next to torture him, and he almost gave up at that point.
"Hurry up!" someone called from the trio of men."You can seduce her at bed-time." Harp again. Dec recognized the voice. Still, the man was right. They had to get a move on.
"Okay," he muttered to Laila. "This is going to be the tough part." He rested a hand at the top of her legs. "Spread 'em. It'll be easier."
She sucked in a breath, and then obeyed.
He ran his hands over her quickly. She was so thin he wondered if she had that empty triangle right at the juncture of her legs that supermodels sometimes possessed. He had to admit, he'd like to stand her up, pull down her pants and check out the possibility, but that was a fantasy, not an action he'd ever perform.
"Have you been hungry on your journey," he asked, just to distract himself.
"Everyone between here and Turkey is short of food," she said tartly.
Even her annoyance didn't jerk him out of his lust. It was like a living, breathing thing, pressing down on his chest, clouding his brain, and hardening his body.
Gruffly, he ordered her to remove her socks and shoes, just to be sure there was no little knife in there. She had to sit up to do that and when she was finished re-tying her shoes, he held out a hand to help her to her feet.
"You can bury yourself in that cloak again," he said, pointing to the burka. "But I am wondering why a woman would go on a long hike in the wilderness in a silk garment."
Her mouth fell open just enough to tell him that he'd surprised her again. He raised his eyebrows and waited.
"I borrowed this from a friend," she said. She paused again, and then said, "I don't normally wear these garments at home. But, like I said earlier, the niqab gives me anonymity and protection here in the Middle East."
"Good answer," he said. "I knew it wasn't yours. It's too long."
They quickly wrapped up the search of her backpack. Declan was forced to admit that she was reasonably well-prepared. She had her own GPS, MREs, some emergency equipment and a well-stocked first aid kit.
"Are you an experienced hiker," he asked as she was re-packing.
"I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail," she answered. "I know what I'm doing."
"The Appalachian Trail," he repeated. "So you've been to America?"
She froze for one second. He could see the effort she made to resume packing. "Britain has a lot of hiking trails which, of course, I've also done. But they don't have anything as long and rigorous as the Appalachian. It was something I wanted to try."
"So where'd you finish?"
She shot him a glance, her face white in the encroaching dawn. "At the end, of course. Mount Katahdin."
"Which is in the state of—"
"Why are you quizzing me like this?"
"I've told you, I'm a suspicious guy."
She shoved her toiletries kit into the pack with a little too much force. "The state of Maine, okay? And it was a damn hard hike getting to the top."
He laughed. "It's not for sissies. Did you do the Knife's Edge?"
She zipped the main compartment, stood up and faced him. "I did the Chimney Rock route on the way up, and yes, Knife's Edge on the way down. Happy?"
He grinned at her. It looked like riling her was about as much fun as he was going to have on this mission.
Chapter Nine
Saed Jindil picked the last red tomato, placed it in his worn sack, and straightened up slowly. He pressed a hand to his aching back. The sun was setting over the Sinjar Mountains, which meant it was time to go into the stone hut where his granddaughter would have laid out a simple evening meal of vegetables, onions, tomatoes, beans. They had to be ready for bed when darkness fell because they never turned on a light. Never. Not that there was any electricity. But Saed wouldn't light even a match, if he'd had one. He understood that the only way to possibly protect Aveen, the sole remaining member of his family, was to be as invisible as possible.
He entered the hut, placed his cane against the wall, and sat down on a worn pillow on the stone floor. In the dim light, he faced Aveen, smiling at her thin face. "Eat as much as you want," he said.
Her eyes widened. "Papa?"
"We're leaving tonight."
She gasped. "What happened?"
Silently, Saed mourned the fact that her first response to anything was fear. Of course, that was the legacy of what she'd lived through. They were Yazidis, worshippers of the Blue Peacock, a small religious group who'd lived peaceably in Iraq until Daesh invaded two years ago.
He wanted to be positive for her. "The peshmerga have returned to Sinjar." Deliberately, he did not use the words of war, battles and conquests. He'd heard today that the Kurdish peshmerga had re-taken the city of Sinjar from Daesh. He'd known instantly that he would have to seize this chance to save Aveen. They'd tended their vegetable plot all summer, but he hadn't started with enough seeds. He had no fertilizer, too little water, and insufficient labor. The sheep who'd been his livelihood all his life had been stolen or killed when Daesh first came.
They could not survive another winter on the run. He was too old, and she was too weak.
"Peshmerga?" Aveen grasped the end of one of her light brown braids, and stroked it, as she always did when she was frightened. "Will they—what will they do to us?"
"They will protect us," Saed said firmly. "They saved thousands of Yazidi when Daesh first invaded our lands. They have no quarrel with us."
"No one saved our family," she whispered.
"They didn't save everyone. But we must be grateful that they did what they could."
Saed did not know what would await them in the ruins of Sinjar. He couldn't be sure the Kurds would support them. But he was sure they wouldn't hurt them. For that reason, he would leave the uncertain haven of this uninhabited village tonight. Winter was coming, but the onset of dropping temperatures was not what made him cold at night. No, it was fear for his twelve year old granddaughter. He knew her age and innocence would not prevent her from being forced into sexual slavery if the Daesh captured them. Added to that was the fear that they could starve to death, because they didn't have enough food to survive the winter.
He was going to have to approach civilization with his precious granddaughter, even knowing what could happen to her. The alternative was to face certain starvation in the mountains.
"We must go," he said again to Aveen. "You need an education, friends, safety." Safety most of all. He could not sleep at night for thinking about the terrible things that had befallen the girls and women who'd fallen into the hands of Daesh. His mind could not stop repeating the images he himself had seen—his son and his son's sons murdered in the street.
No, he had to take this opportunity. Who knew if the Kurds could last in Sinjar? She needed to be safe before the fortunes of war changed again.
In the morning, before dawn, they set out. They carried as much of the harvested vegetables as they could manage. They each wore two layers of clothes, as a way of bringing supplies for winter. Saed hoped they could forage for more clothing in the abandoned houses of Sinjar, as they had in the abandoned villages they'd passed through in the past year.
Saed brought his cane, a sturdy wooden staff with a polished handle. He'd been pleased to find it in one of the homes in the village they'd just left. Someone had valued the cane, and kept it in good shape. But Saed felt certain that the previous owner wouldn't mind his use of it. War was never kind to the old and it was doubtful the owner was alive to miss it.
Aveen brought her burka, a garment she'd found somewhere in their wanderings. It wasn't a garment such as they wore in their religion, but Saed felt it would be a good thing to have.
Aveen was silent on their trek, and Saed pre-occupied with his thoughts. He knew the route. But he couldn't help fearing there might s
till be roving bands of Daesh, out in the countryside, looking for trouble.
On the third night, they reached a ridge overlooking the city of Sinjar. Sitting on the hard dirt ground, Saed looked down into the valley onto a changed city. Before the war, Sinjar had been a vibrant home to hundreds of thousands of people—both Muslim and Yazidi leaving peacefully together. Now, he saw only pinpricks of light, instead of the warm glow of a modern city.
The city was sparsely populated, haunted by evil. Even up here on the ridge, the air was disturbed, with little eddies of wind stirring up the dirt. Random fires flared in a few spots in the city, the smoke rising into darkness.
"I don't feel good about this, papa." Aveen glanced around the encroaching darkness, as if she could spot the evil that was so often out there. "I don't want to go into the city. We'll be fine on our own until our people return."
Saed couldn't agree with her. He knew their people had either been murdered or dispersed far away, to refugee camps or to other countries from which they would most likely never return. How could the Yazidi ever feel safe in Iraq again?
Saed clutched the head of his staff. Aveen's anxieties had affected him. Her brown eyes were worried, her lips tight, her narrow shoulders hunched together, as if she were trying to become invisible. She clutched one of her long braids, smoothing the end as if it were a talisman.
A plane roared overhead, the sound not unusual. Saed watched it, high in the sky, knowing it represented a civilization as far as was possible from the subsistence lifestyle they were living. He could only pray that the anti-Daesh forces were still prevailing in Sinjar. Tomorrow, they would find out.
While the hum of the plane faded into the distance, Saed noted a movement in the corner of his eye. He turned his head. Men. Men dressed in black, and carrying rifles. Walking towards them. His heart pounded so hard he feared a heart attack.
Aveen gave one small cry, her terrified eyes meeting Saed's. "Papa? Will they take me?"
"Be quiet, child. Let me handle this." His tone was fierce, because he was afraid. His helplessness seared his very soul.
Moving stiffly, Saed rose to his feet, the cane anchoring him to the ground. The men, four of them, moved steadily forward, confident in their youth, their strength and their numbers. Saed knew at a glance that they'd never learned to show their strength by protecting the weak.
When they got closer, the man who was clearly the leader began grinning at him. Saed saw the devil in his eyes. "Good evening," he offered, hoping that courteous treatment might buy him something.
"What's that you've got there, old man?" The devil pushed past him to halt in front of Aveen. "I see a pretty little girl." He shoved back the scarf that covered her head.
"A child," Saed answered. "May Allah protect her."
"Don't bother with Allah, old man." The devil laughed and his friends joined in. "Is she a virgin?"
Saed closed his eyes. The worst had finally come. Nothing he had done had saved her. "She is a child," he repeated.
"All the better," one of the other devils called out. "Someone will pay dearly for a tasty little morsel like this one."
Saed stepped to the side, to keep himself between Aveen and the leader. She grabbed his leg, and he felt her trembling terror.
"Stand aside, old man."
He saw the butt of the AK47 swing out. He felt pain bloom like a bomb had exploded in his head. He fell to the hard ground.
When Saed awoke, she was gone. His precious granddaughter. The only person left in his family. He was old and withered, perhaps eighty years of age. The strong force of life would never surge again in his blood. The life force he had now was thin and pale, as emaciated as his frame. He'd watched his wife die in the mountains a year ago, watched his son and his son's sons die unarmed when the Daesh first drove them out of their village. He'd gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and vowed to protect the one who remained to him.
Now she was gone. Sprawled on the ground as he was, he ached all over, especially his head. He forced himself to sit up like a man. He bent his head for a long moment, trying to absorb the unbearable truth. Unheeded tears dropped to the thirsty ground.
While he'd been debating whether this was the place to make his last stand—he'd always known he'd have to do it somewhere in this battle against the enemies of his people—they'd clouted him on the side of his head, knocking him out.
His granddaughter had been kidnapped. They'd left him for dead. But he wasn't dead yet.
It was still dark. He looked at the sky, and realized it was hours since they'd been attacked. The attackers were long gone.
Then he lifted his head, stood up and began walking to Sinjar.
Chapter Ten
As much as possible, the SEALs avoided the faint trails that showed the easiest, best routes which the local inhabitants had established over the years. Naturally, those trails provided the most direct paths from one point to another. But, since the team's goal was to remain invisible, it was best to stay away from spots where other people might be found. However, there were times when the mountains closed in and their choice was to spend hours hiking around a pass, or to gamble on their luck, and venture onto the more straightforward route.
Early that morning, when the sun was transforming its translucent dawn light into the heated warmth of midday, they clambered for more than an hour over sharp-edged rocks that slowed them down considerably. Although they hiked on a downward route, Dec could feel the trap that was closing in on them.
To the right, a sheer wall of rock was slowly impinging on the point where he knew the Kalkan Pass was located. On their left, he could see a ravine up ahead that would require a long detour as it stretched away to the east for as far as his eye could see. Damn.
"Let's take a break," he said. "I want to look at the map."
Harp pulled out their topographical map and he, Dec and Zack studied it while Greg kept watch. Laila dropped to the ground wearily, shading her eyes with one hand as she lay back on the rocky ground. She didn't speak.
Dec took a sip of water from his water bladder, and then offered one to Laila. She shook her head. Declan knew he'd have to have it out with her about the water later. She was seriously de-hydrated. But they had a tight spot to get through first.
Dec pointed on the map to the Kalkan Pass. "I think we need to do this even though it means taking a well-used trail."
Zack grunted. "Nothing's well-used in these mountains these days."
"It's a potential trap though," Greg put in.
Harp ran a finger over the long ravine ahead of them. "Can't go down into this," he said. "Unless we have a couple extra days."
Dec shook his head. "A detour into the mountains would also take too long." They were losing too much time. His neck was itching. As if someone were hunting them. He didn't like the feeling, but he couldn't do anything about it other than move on, and keep up the pace.
No matter what was going on around him, Declan always maintained situational awareness. In his line of work, no one liked surprises. But when he first heard music, he had a moment of disbelief. Music in these barren mountains? Without changing his bearing, he focused on the thread of sound. Humming. A haunting, catchy tune.
With a second shock, he realized the sound was coming from Laila. Beneath that stuffy black veil, she was humming to herself.
He moved closer to her. "Is that you humming?"
She stopped instantly. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was doing it."
"That's okay. It's pretty." He wanted to hear her start up again, but he didn't know how to ask her to do it without looking like a wimp.
"I've probably been humming since I left the refugee camp," she said. "It comforts me."
He nodded. "Whatever helps."
Her eyes softened, and he decided to view that as a smile.
"It's called "Edelweiss"," she offered. "A song by Rodgers and Hammerstein."
He nodded. "I know the song."
She arched an eyebrow. "From wh
at movie?"
He couldn't resist grinning at her. "Sound of Music."
"You don't seem like a Sound of Music kind of guy," she retorted. "You have sisters or something?"
His grin was obliterated immediately, so abruptly that she couldn't fail to notice. He had to change the subject. Immediately. "I dated a girl once who loved the movie," he said. "Only the first half though. It was years after she was nothing but a memory before I learned the movie had two parts to it." Was he babbling? It was his sister who'd watched the first part of the movie over and over again. But he didn't intend to talk about her.
"I didn't even realize I was humming it," Laila said. "It comforts me so I guess I do it more than I know. After all, we are in the mountains, not the Austrian Alps, I'll grant you, but the symbol of hope resonates with me."
He slanted a look at her. "You don't seem like the little white flower type to me."
Her eyes above the black veil flickered with distress and he wondered what that meant.
"The song reminds me of my sister," she said. "She doesn't look like me at all."
"She's not beautiful?"
Her eyes definitely smiled this time and he watched, enchanted. "Flatterer," she said.
He made a scoffing noise. "I'm not the first man who's called you beautiful."
"You can't even see me with this veil on."
"I have a good imagination."
"Well, let me assure you that I'm very different from my sister. We had different mothers."
"What does your sister look like?"
"She's always been small, or at least she was when I last saw her." A shadow crossed her face again. "She has fluffy white-blonde hair and she's delicate." She clasped her hands together tightly.
"Whereas you," he said, "are tall and dark and mysterious. Very different from the edelweiss flower."
She shrugged. "I repeat, you don't exactly know what either one of us looks like."
"I saw you unveiled by moonlight." His voice rumbled and he had to clear his throat. "It was enough for me."
He wanted to capture her gaze, but she was looking resolutely at the ground, as if she feared what he might say if she encouraged him to talk.
Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances Page 115
