Honor Reclaimed

by Tonya Burrows

  Seth was already a step ahead of her, digging in his pack for the meal ready to eat labeled beef stew. He didn’t bother with heating it and ripped open the pouch, dumping the contents into the second bowl. The dog devoured it, so he grabbed another one.

  “Uh, Phoebe?” Jean-Luc called and they both glanced over. He stood at the edge of the hill, staring out over the village. “Did it look like this last time you were here?”

  She gave the dog one last pat on the head and stood. “Oh. My. God.”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Jean-Luc muttered.

  Seth joined them and found himself looking down at a ghost town. Or no, not completely abandoned. Other animals roamed between the mud huts, including an untended herd of goats.

  Really not a good sign.

  “Oh, God. Tehani’s family.” Phoebe spun away and jumped onto their horse, urging it into a run with a “Hyah. Hyah.”

  Shit.

  Seth grabbed Jean-Luc’s mount and swung up into the saddle. He caught up to her easily at the edge of town, probably because their horse had been carrying two riders and was already exhausted. But when he grabbed her reins and eased her animal to a stop, she simply leaped down and continued running on foot.

  “Phoebe, don’t.”

  If she heard him, she gave no sign and ran toward one of the mud houses. She tore through the front door and went from room to room, shouting, “Darya! Nemat!”

  Seth stood in the doorway without comment until she came back to the main room, a ragged teddy bear clutched to her belly.

  “Phoebe, they’re not here.”

  Tears streaked her dirty face. “Something’s wrong. They left everything they own. They’re not nomads. This is their home. Why would they leave everything behind?” She hugged the bear tighter and stared at a forgotten head scarf on the floor. “Maybe they decided to go to Kabul after all? Maybe they’re on their way to the shelter to see Tehani right now.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

  Seth struggled to find a comforting response—except no way Tehani’s family was headed to Kabul without taking at least some of their belongings, and he wasn’t about to lie to her. Something was very wrong here.

  “Not liking this,” Gabe said behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to find the rest of the team standing there in full view of Phoebe’s breakdown. He faced them, but positioned himself in the doorway to offer her a modicum of privacy.

  “Yeah, me either. She’s right. These people aren’t nomads. They wouldn’t up and leave like this unless they were forced.”

  Gabe nodded and motioned for the men to go inside the house. After a second of hesitation and the reassuring touch of Phoebe’s hand on his back, Seth stepped aside to let them pass.

  Everyone was subdued and grim-faced as they packed into the small main room. Seth stuck close to Phoebe’s side, unwilling to let her out of his sight.

  Ian was the last to enter and the dog trotted in behind him, tail wagging.

  “What?” he sneered when everyone gaped at him with expressions ranging from disbelief to suspicion. “I’m a bastard, not a monster. I wasn’t about to tie him back up and leave him there. Nobody should be chained up like that.” A beat passed in awkward silence before he lifted his chin and met Seth’s eyes. “And I mean that. Nobody.”

  Seth opened his mouth, but wasn’t quite sure what to say in response. At his side, Phoebe touched his shoulder and gave Ian a warm smile. “That was kind of you.”

  Ian grunted. “I don’t do kind.”

  “All right, gentlemen,” Gabe said. “Enough chitchat. I know you’re all tired from the long ride today, but we need to keep pushing toward the compound. Now according to Tehani, we head three miles northeast from here. It’s going to be a steep climb and we’ll be on foot, so we should plan to reach the compound sometime in the middle of the night. We’ll spend time on recon and if it looks like our objective is inside, we’ll make plans to go in before dawn. Phoebe.”

  She looked up at the sound of her name.

  “You’re staying here.”

  She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but Seth caught her hand and gave it a hard squeeze in warning. It was enough of a distraction, giving her time to think before she started arguing, and she must have seen Gabe’s logic because she agreed.

  “Rehydrate and check your gear. Secure anything that might make noise,” Gabe said to the team. “We leave in ten. And Phoebe, make sure that dog stays here with you.”

  She nodded and reached for the dog’s reattached collar, giving the scruffy animal a scratch behind the ear. “I have him. You guys be careful up there.”

  The team filed out. Seth started to follow, but she let go of the dog and ducked past him, blocking his path.

  “That goes double for you,” she said softly. “I don’t want to see you coming back with anything more than a bruise. And I plan to check, too. Thoroughly.”

  Her hands tracing his body, dipping inside his shorts…

  Fuck. Heat gathered at the base of his spine and there was a sudden, noticeable lack of room in the front of his pants. He cleared his throat and stepped back, resisting the urge to adjust himself. “You’re, uh, not still mad?”

  “Oh, I am. You were a complete ass last night.”

  He winced. “I know.”

  Phoebe closed the distance between them and clasped his cheeks in her palms, forcing him to look at her. “But that doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt, so come back in one piece, okay?”

  He wasn’t sure what to say to that—it had been forever since anyone besides his family cared enough about him to worry about his safety—so instead of replying, he bent and pressed his lips to hers.

  Wasn’t enough.

  He gripped her hips and drew her against him, slanting his mouth to a better angle over hers. The kiss did a flurry of strange things inside him. Jacked up his pulse, made him aware of every heartbeat, every expansion of his lungs as he drew air in. Even the brush of his clothes against his skin was too much sensation. He felt at once hot and cold, covered with goose bumps, and the surge of heat along his spine coalesced in his balls as an aching need. It had been a long time since he’d been inside a woman. Given half an opportunity, he would have stripped her bare right there in the abandoned house, buried himself in her willing body, and spent the next several hours sating himself.

  Okay, several minutes. It had been a long time and his staying power probably wasn’t what it used to be, but it didn’t matter right now because he had a mission and she was going to stay here where it was safe.

  Maybe when this was over…

  The thought had him jerking backward in surprise.

  Phoebe opened her eyes and scanned his face. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

  That’s what he’d like to know. In the three years since he was taken captive, he’d lived hour to hour, day to day, not thinking about the future. Because until HORNET, he had no future. And even then he’d viewed his employment with the group like an unsteady bridge, always swaying, constantly on the verge of collapse. He’d woken up every morning expecting Gabe to call and tell him his latest screw-up was his last.

  Phoebe was steady. She was solid and real, a focal point he could fixate on. He had a future with her. It probably wouldn’t go any further than one night together, maybe a fling, but that didn’t matter. She gave him something to look forward to.

  He dipped his head again and put every ounce of reverence he felt toward her in his kiss.

  “Harlan,” Gabe called from outside. “We’re moving.”

  Damn, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay right here for the rest of his life.

  When he finally drew away, Phoebe’s eyes remained closed, but a small smile played around the corners of her mouth. “Hmm.”

  He brushed his lips across her temple. “Remember where we were. I want to pick up right here when I get back.”

  “Harlan!” Gabe called again.

  “Fuck
. Hang on!”

  Her lids opened and her eyes went all soft as she traced the stubbled line of his jaw with one finger, ending at the indent in his chin. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” He swallowed hard. His heart was thundering in his chest like he’d just run a four-minute mile. “I’d like to try last night again. Without the part where I freak out.”

  She smiled and started to say something, but Marcus popped his head through the front door. “Yo, Gabe’s getting pissed.”

  Phoebe let go of him and stepped back, still smiling. “Better go.”

  He nodded and made it to the door before she added, “I’d like to try last night again, too, so please be safe out there.”

  He couldn’t help the grin as he joined the team out front and bent to pick up his gear. When he straightened, he realized they all stared at him as if he’d just walked out of the house stark naked. And even though he was fully dressed, in that second he felt stripped bare. Exposed.

  “All right, gentlemen,” Gabe said, cutting through the awkward moment in his usual no-nonsense way. “Let’s go. We have a hike ahead of us. And, Harlan? Next time I tell you to move, you sure as fuck better move. Got it?”

  “Yeah,” Seth muttered and secured his gear on his back. He jumped up and down a few times to make sure nothing rattled or came loose.

  The men fell in line behind Gabe.

  Seth hesitated, glancing back as he brought up the end of the line. Phoebe knelt in front of the squat mud house, arms wrapped around the dog as she watched them go. Her head scarf hung loose over her shoulders, her hair a riot of copper in the dying evening sunlight. Already the temperature had dropped by a good ten degrees, and the night promised to be a chilly one.

  “Find some blankets,” he called. “Don’t start a fire. You don’t want to risk drawing attention to yourself.”

  She nodded and lifted a hand in a wave.

  She was safe here.

  Sucking in a breath, Seth forced the paranoia down and jogged to catch up to the team. He had a job to do and had to put her out of his thoughts for the next several hours.

  Distraction equaled death in these mountains.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  At first glance, the old military outpost appeared heavily fortified, backed right up against the mountain and surrounded by a high, barbed wire–topped mud wall on three sides. When it had belonged to the Americans, it probably had been damn near impenetrable, but now the wall had crumbled in several places and much of the barbed wire had been removed, probably for scrap. One of the five buildings inside the wall had been razed, and another stood in crumbling disrepair. Only the largest seemed to be in use at the moment, and the other two sat dark and silent. One narrow road snaked down the mountainside from the compound and a battered 4x4 waited at the front gate.

  From Seth’s perch in a tree some two hundred meters uphill, he counted six Taliban fighters around a campfire in front of the main building, which was lit up inside like Times Square. They seemed to be engaging in some kind of feast, which didn’t make sense. This wasn’t a holiday and these weren’t rich men, but the layout on the blanket in front of them was a hearty one.

  Unless it was a last meal.

  Suicide bombers. Those six Taliban fighters were preparing to become martyrs.

  And there were probably at least six more men inside the building, because each bomber would need a handler—someone to remote detonate in case the martyrs got cold feet at the last second. So, twelve men altogether.

  Seth repositioned himself on his limb and scanned the narrow slits of windows, hoping to confirm an exact number for Gabe. The more information, the better the team’s odds, but he couldn’t see anything more than shadows and fleeting movement.

  Every few minutes, the muffled pop of a gunshot rang out and the fighters sent up a cheer.

  Seth’s stomach rolled and sweat dampened his shirt along his spine. Whatever was happening inside that building was ugly.

  He gave it another few minutes until the next shot sent a chill racing over his skin. Fuck, they had to get in there and see what—or who—these guys were shooting at. What if they were using Sergeant Hendricks as target practice? Or worse.

  The missing villagers really bothered him.

  And the paranoid buzzing in the back of his brain wouldn’t let up, no matter how emphatically he told it to fuck off.

  He had to talk to Gabe, but they’d been ordered to radio silence. They didn’t have secure channels and couldn’t risk the Taliban overhearing, leaving him with only one option: he had to make his way to Gabe’s position.

  Waiting any longer to raid the compound was a huge miscalculation.

  Slinging his rifle across his back, he jumped out of the tree and landed with far more noise than he’d hoped. He crouched at the tree’s base and held his breath, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

  Save for another shot and cheer from the compound, the mountain was silent.

  He moved slowly, picking his way through dense underbrush until another gunshot stopped him in his tracks. It was followed by a second, then a pause and two more in quick succession.

  And was that…a scream? Faint, it swept through the trees like the wail of a ghost. The hair on the back of Seth’s neck stood on end.

  They were torturing someone down there—most likely Sergeant Hendricks.

  And at the rate he was moving, he wasn’t going to make it to Gabe before the shooter ran out of targets. He glanced around, searching for other options. In the dim light from the half-full moon, he spotted the grotto where Jean-Luc was supposed to be hiding. He dropped his pack and walked in a crouch toward the mouth of the small cave.

  “Cajun,” he whispered, “coming to you.”

  “Roger that.” Jean-Luc’s voice floated out, sounding like an echo.

  A second later, he flattened himself against the cave’s wall at Jean-Luc’s side. A mountain stream rushed somewhere nearby, but without the benefit of moonlight, it was too dark to see the water. The cold spray of it misted his face, though, and the cavern amplified the sound, which provided perfect cover for their voices.

  Jean-Luc touched his shoulder. “What’s up?”

  “I need your scarf.”

  “Can I ask why?” Even as he said it, he started unwinding the fabric from his neck. “I paid a pretty penny for this thing.”

  “I’m going to wrap it around my head and walk into the compound like I belong there.”

  Jean-Luc froze. “Say again?” No doubt he had that you’re-completely-fucking-insane look on his face—too dark to tell for sure, and in any case, Seth was used to seeing the expression aimed in his direction. Didn’t bother him anymore.

  “You heard me.”

  Instead of trying to talk him out of it, Jean-Luc just clicked his tongue and handed the scarf over. “You have some balls, mon ami.”

  Not really. The thought of walking into the hands of the same group that tortured him for fifteen months had him quaking in his boots, but he didn’t see any other options. “We can’t assault the place. You see that feast they’ve cooked up? It’s their last meal. Those men are preparing to martyr themselves. They have nothing to lose and they’ll slaughter us. But we have an advantage. I know these people. I spent over a year living with guys just like them. I can pass myself off as one of them long enough to get inside and create a diversion to give you guys a shot at grabbing Hendricks.”

  “You sure he’s in there?”

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t explain how, but he knew Zak Hendricks was being held somewhere inside that crumbling wall, just like he knew this was their only shot of getting him out.

  Finally, Jean-Luc shrugged. “Hey, it’s all good with me. Love a good suicide mission. But,” he added, dragging the word out, “I doubt Phoebe will feel the same when I tell her you went and got yourself killed.”

  Phoebe.

  Jesus, he hadn’t even considered…

  And he couldn’t start now.

 
Hardening his heart against the sweet memory of her lips on his, he quickly wrapped the scarf around his head and face. “Just get word to Gabe. Tell him there are at least twelve men inside, possibly more.”

  Jean-Luc whistled through his teeth. “You do know if you survive this, he’s going kill you.”

  “Yeah, well, he’ll have to get in line.”

  …

  No amount of training in the world could have prepared Zak for the amount of pain he was in. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. He imagined blinking would even hurt, if his left eye wasn’t swollen shut and his right eye wasn’t taped open.

  Whatever they were about to do, they didn’t want him to miss it.

  Bring it, he thought. They couldn’t make him hurt any worse and he wasn’t going to talk, so whatever they had planned…

  Siddiqui’s second-in-command, an ice-cold bastard who went only by the name Askar, or “soldier” in English, walked into the room, dragging something behind him.

  No, not something, Zak realized as his good eye focused. Someone. A frail old man with sunken eyes and missing teeth.

  Askar grabbed a chair from against the wall and placed it directly across from Zak’s, then forced the man to sit down. He pulled a gun from under his tunic and pointed it at the sobbing man’s temple, then watched Zak without even a flicker of emotion. “Who are you, traitor?”

  So they’d given up on torturing him for information. Now they were moving on to civilians. Christ Almighty.

  “Let him go.” With his tongue so dry it stuck to the roof of his mouth, he found the Pashto words hard to articulate, but he’d die before uttering a word of English in front of these men. They couldn’t know he was American. That was all there was to it.

  Askar didn’t even blink as he pulled the trigger. Zak tried to avert his gaze, but Askar grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him to watch.

  On and on it went, one villager after another. A circle of questions, refusals, and death. And then they brought in a woman. She was young and clutching a toddler to her chest.

  “Don’t,” Zak whisper around the lump in his throat.

  Askar pressed the gun to her temple. “Who do you work for?”