Well. He’d had a good run.
He stepped out into the hall, hands raised. For an endless minute, Askar didn’t move. Didn’t draw his gun. Just stood there, staring. He’d recently shaved off his bushy beard and, except for spots of razor burn, the lower half of his face was as white as an Irishman’s ass in the middle of winter.
This was the weirdest standoff Quinn had ever been in. He got the sense the guy’s head was more fucked than his.
He dropped his hands. Still, Askar stayed put.
All right. Keeping his gaze trained on Askar, he waved the girls out of the classroom and pointed them toward the courtyard door. The last to emerge were Saboora and Nurse Girl, who were dragging Harvard behind them on Saboora’s burqa.
Smart girls.
Askar cocked his head slightly like a confused dog, but still didn’t make any moves to stop them.
Quinn took a step backward. And then another. And another. Just as he was about to bolt through the door to freedom, Askar seemed to come to a decision. He raised his rifle in a see this? kind of gesture. Very slowly, he knelt and placed the weapon on the floor, then straightened and kicked it down the hall.
Quinn stopped it with his foot, disbelief roaring through him as Askar walked away. No fucking way that just happened.
Grabbing the rifle, Quinn checked to see if it was loaded and functional. It was and he didn’t bother mulling over Askar’s motives for helping them. He’d just give himself a worse headache.
Turning, he shoved through the courtyard door—and came up against the barrel of an M-4. The man on the other end, dressed in combat gear, was favoring one of his legs.
Gabe.
“Friendly,” Quinn said and lowered his weapon.
“Friendly,” Gabe echoed for the rest of the entry team’s benefit. Then he added, “Fuck you, Q. How many times are you going to try to get killed this year?”
“At least two more. And you’re one to talk, asshole.”
“Fuck you,” Gabe repeated, but there was a smile in his voice. “Tuc’s men have Harvard and the girls secured. You good to go or do you need the medic?”
Christ, he wanted in on the raid, but his head still pounded in beat with his heart and his stomach churned. He didn’t remember what happened in the moments after Harvard was shot, could only assume he’d blacked out again. And because of that, he’d put Phoebe in danger.
He held out his weapon. “I’m out.”
Gabe hesitated. Although his face was mostly covered, Quinn knew his expression was broadcasting a whole lot of what the fuck?
“Got a concussion,” he added, which might be true. “Vision’s shit.”
Finally, Gabe accepted the weapon, looped the strap over his head, and ordered the men inside with a hand motion. He gripped Quinn’s shoulder and squeezed. “Go get your head looked at.”
“Roger that,” Quinn said although there was no point.
He already knew exactly how fucked his brain was, and no medic was going to fix it.
Chapter Forty
After Gabe, Ian, and Jean-Luc fast-roped to the courtyard, the helo dropped Seth, Marcus, and Jesse on the roof.
Both teams waited for the helo to get out of range before moving, and the seconds it took drove Seth half crazy with impatience. He needed to calm down, so he used the time to soften his breathing, relax his shoulders, and lower his heart rate.
In a sniper’s world, all impatience got you was dead.
Finally, Gabe’s voice whispered, “Go,” in his earpiece.
As the three of them headed silently for the shelter’s roof access, adrenaline coursed through his blood, burning away the icy detachment he’d been functioning with since realizing Phoebe was in danger. He experienced a moment of worry—without the ice, would his demons get the better of him? Would he hear his men’s voices screaming at him again?
But, no.
There was no paranoia. No more flashbacks. Only the knowledge that he had a job to do.
They weren’t challenged at any point during their descent from the roof, thank fuck. Stairs could be a deadly place when you couldn’t see who was waiting around the next landing. They emerged in the dark second-floor hallway, clearing each of the bedrooms as they went. Phoebe’s room smelled like her and a lump rose in his throat.
She had to be okay. He wouldn’t accept any other outcome.
As he left her room, Jesse caught the front of his vest. “You good for this, Harlan?”
Irritation blasted away the sharper edge of his fear. “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Sawbones.”
Jesse’s expression remained unconvinced. Seth shook off the medic’s grip and moved toward the stairs. Hadn’t he proved himself when they were attacked in the mountains? Or at the compound? What would it take for these guys to trust him?
Nothing he needed to worry about now. Right now, his objective was to find Phoebe.
Soft sounds floated up from the lower floor and Seth motioned Jesse and Marcus back with a wave as Jahangir Siddiqui crossed the foyer below, headed toward the dining room. He carried a small cell phone–shaped object.
Fuck.
Crouching by the wall at the top of the stairs, Seth beckoned Jesse and Marcus closer. “Siddiqui’s here and I’m ninety-nine percent sure he has the bomb. He’s carrying a dead man’s switch. We can’t shoot him.”
“Gabe needs to know,” Marcus said.
“Yeah, but do we risk using the radio if he’s got it rigged to detonate by remote?”
The three of them stared at one another for a beat and came to the same conclusion. No choice. Except none of them wanted to do it.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” Marcus suggested and promptly lost. Twice. Wincing, he hit the talk button on the radio strapped to his vest.
Nothing happened.
“City’s still here,” Jesse said, exhaling hard.
“For now,” Seth added. Listening with half an ear as Marcus reported to Gabe, he peeked around the wall and saw Siddiqui cross the foyer again. He moved like an agitated bird in a cage, impatient but unable to leave. Was he waiting for something?
Seth wasn’t prepared to stick around and find out.
When Siddiqui disappeared into the dining room again, Seth made his move, taking the stairs as quickly and silently as possible. Marcus and Jesse stayed right on his six and they stacked up along the shared wall between the dining room and foyer. Seth grabbed a handheld mirror from his vest pocket and took stock of the situation.
Jesus.
Siddiqui had shoved the table and chairs out of the way, creating an open space in the middle of the room, where Phoebe, Zina, and Tehani sat huddled together, their wrists and ankles bound with rope, mouths gagged with several layers of duct tape that wrapped around their heads. The bomb was on the floor in the middle of them.
Tehani stared at Siddiqui’s back with narrow-eyed hatred. The older women were holding it together well enough, although Phoebe had been crying recently. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her tears had left clean trails on her dirty cheeks.
Hang on, sweetheart.
As if hearing his thoughts, she lifted her head and stared in his direction. He let the mirror catch the light once. A risk, yeah, but he wanted her to know he was here.
Siddiqui noticed her wide eyes and whirled around. “What is it?” From his position on just the other side of the wall, there was no way he’d see anything, but Seth didn’t dare take another risk. He silently tucked the mirror away and motioned to Jesse and Marcus, telling them he had eyes on the girls and the bomb.
Siddiqui started toward the foyer, but paused when the front door swung open. “Ah, there you are. It’s about time.”
Fuck. Seth shared a glance with his team. Anyone coming through that door was going to spot them lined up on the wall and he motioned for them to be ready.
All hell was about to break loose.
…
Askar smiled when he stepped through the door and saw the three mercenaries already
in position to take Siddiqui down.
Had to give them credit. They were good. He’d suspected as much when they raided the compound, but now he knew for sure.
Of course, he had all but laid out a welcome mat for them.
His gaze landed briefly on the first merc in the line and his chest tightened with a shockingly painful jolt of…something. He hadn’t let himself feel emotions in so long, he couldn’t even come up with a name for the experience now.
The merc lowered his weapon slightly.
Askar blinked in acknowledgment and didn’t point them out as he strode past Siddiqui. Sick fuck held the three women captive around the open suitcase like Girl Scouts around a campfire.
Captive.
Suddenly that word had a whole new meaning, one he’d only recently realized still applied to him. Drawing a knife, he crouched and started cutting away the women’s bonds.
The look of blank confusion on Siddiqui’s face was priceless. He fumbled a gun out from under his tunic. “Stop!”
Once the women were free, Askar handed the redhead his knife. “Run.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. She grabbed the girl by the hand and bolted with the other woman right behind her. Siddiqui tried to catch them, but look at that. Between the gun and the dead man’s switch, he didn’t have any free hands.
“This isn’t the plan!” Sputtering with outrage, Siddiqui swung the pistol in his direction. “You follow orders, Askar. What the fuck is this?”
“My revenge.”
Siddiqui finally looked at his face—really looked—and his eyes bulged. The gun wobbled. “Askar. What happened to your beard?”
“I’m not your soldier,” he answered in English that felt rusty on his tongue. “I haven’t always remembered that.” Still crouching, he grabbed the roll of duct tape Siddiqui had used for the women’s gags and pulled out a strip. The sound it made was that of a life being torn apart. “But now that I do, I have something American to say. Fuck you.”
He lunged.
The gun bucked and pain blazed through Askar’s chest, but he grabbed the detonator and wrapped the tape around Siddiqui’s hand.
The mercs burst into the room, weapons aimed. More than three of them now, but only one of them mattered. Askar searched for and locked eyes with Seth.
He remembered Seth Harlan now.
His strength began to leak out of his arms. He wasn’t going to be able to hold Siddiqui much longer and he swung around, providing Seth with an easy target. “For fuck’s sake, Lieutenant. Shoot him!”
…
Seth took the shot. The bullet tore through Siddiqui’s heart, ending his life before he hit the floor.
Ian ran toward the detonator, but there was no need. The tape held. He crossed to the bomb and knelt down. Studied it for a moment, then released a slow breath and removed the trigger, a golf ball–size piece of metal. “Disarmed.”
“Thank you,” Askar said and collapsed, blood erupting from his mouth. He wheezed, his lips turning blue as he gazed up at Seth. “I really thought I was one of them. Then I saw you at the compound and started remembering…what happened to us.”
Seth stared into the man’s bare face. Studied every line, every scar. Leaner, older, leathered by too much time in harsh climates…but he knew that face and his knees gave out at the realization.
He sank to the floor. “Bowie?”
Blood stained Aaron Bowman’s teeth when he smiled. “Yo mama so fat…”
Jesus Christ. It was him.
Seth choked on a sob and clasped the guy’s outstretched hand. “Yeah, how fat is she, Bowie?”
“She so fat…she fell in love and broke it.”
“Aw, man. Not your best one.”
“I know. All…I…got.” His eyes went out of focus and he started making an ominous rattling sound deep in his chest.
Seth sent a panicked look over his shoulder at Jesse. “Can’t you do something?”
Jesse stepped forward and took off his helmet. He didn’t have to say a word. His answer was written on his face.
“For fuck’s sake, at least give him something for the pain.”
Nodding, Jesse knelt down and administered a morphine injection with the steady hands of a tested battlefield medic. Then he stood again and backed away. “We’ll be outside.”
“Lieutenant?” Bowie whispered.
“I’m here.” Seth tightened his grip as the hand in his went slack.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nah. Don’t do that.”
“They broke me. The things I did…” His voice trailed away and his eyes took on the glazed, far-off look of a man already staring into the spirit world.
Seth’s vision blurred. “Hey, Bowman, it doesn’t matter. Aaron, can you hear me? I don’t care what you’ve done, okay? I don’t. No matter what, I’m here for you, buddy. I’ve got your six, okay? Semper fi.”
His features smoothed out and he smiled again. “Oorah, Lieutenant.”
A moment later, he drew in one last gasping breath. The rattling stopped and his chest stilled.
Seth let go of his hand and sat back, numb to his core. Hollowed out. He didn’t think he could survive the grieving process a second time and waited for the anguish, the wrenching pain as if someone was ripping his heart from his chest.
Except it never came.
This man had Bowie’s face and voice, but he was still more Askar than Aaron. Seth had already said his good-byes to the real Aaron Bowman, who was always quick with a joke and a smile, who had gone out of his way to keep from hurting anyone. Seth refused to remember him as this broken husk of a human.
Broken.
Yeah. This is what broken looked like. Evil so dark, it twisted a good man into someone unrecognizable.
And Seth realized that had never been him. He was damaged, maybe, but never broken. And he was healing.
Because of Phoebe.
And HORNET. His team. His friends.
He walked out of the dining room, leaving his past lying there on the floor with the man who had been one of his best friends. As the brisk night air stung his wet cheeks, relief filled his chest and for the first time in three years, his lungs opened and he could actually breathe.
Phoebe darted across the courtyard, her hair a streak of fire in the darkness. She slammed into him with enough force to shock all of that newfound air from his lungs. Her fingers clenched his shirt at his back and she buried her face against his vest as trembles racked her body.
Quinn broke away from the team and followed her at a slower pace, stopping several feet away. “I couldn’t keep her back without hurting her. And figured you’d kill me if I did.”
Seth rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Smart man.”
A fleeting smile touched Quinn’s mouth before his gaze shifted toward the shelter. “We’re going to make sure Bowman’s body gets back to the States. No matter what he’s done, he’s a POW. He’s one of ours and he’s going home.”
Seth nodded, for a moment unable to articulate past the lump in his throat. “His mother will be glad to finally have him back. But she doesn’t need to know all the details.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Quinn agreed. “You holding up?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” And, he realized with a mild jolt, he was telling the truth. “Hey, Quinn? Thank you.”
His eyes narrowed in question. “For what?”
“Rescuing me from those mountains.” Against his chest, Phoebe released a shuddering sob and he stroked a hand over her hair.
Quinn’s lips flattened, his Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice, when he spoke, held a note of strain. “I told you once before I’m not looking for thanks.”
“But I’m giving it. You pulled me out of there, then gave me a second chance when nobody else would. I can’t express my gratitude enough.”
With a stiff nod, Quinn retreated. It was such a classic Quinn response, Seth chuckled and shook his head. Someday, that guy would have to face his emotions
or he was going to end up like Askar—cold and unfeeling to the core.
And that was a disturbing thought.
Seth pushed it away, focusing instead on the woman in his arms. “Phoebe, are you okay?”
She drew back enough to gaze up at him. Tears spiked her lashes. “Yes. Scared shitless,” she admitted with a half laugh, “but okay. What about you? I was so afraid this would bring back memories and—”
“It did,” he said. “I remember more now than I ever have and I’m sure it’s going to haunt me when I try to sleep, but I’ll get through it.”
As if suddenly remembering things were still troubled between them, she dropped her arms from his waist and stepped back. “You don’t have to get through it alone.”
“I know I don’t. I have the team.”
She flinched as if he had slapped her. “So that’s it? I ruined us for good, haven’t I?”
Seth reached to brush away her tears, but caught himself before touching her with his bloody hand. “Not for good,” he said, wishing like hell he could just forgive and forget. But the wound was still too raw and that coupled with Bowie…
It was too much.
“Give me some time, okay?”
“Okay,” she said and hugged herself.
“Okay,” he echoed stupidly because he couldn’t think of anything else. They stared at each other for several heartbeats.
Finally, she drew a breath, let it out, and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Good-bye, Seth.”
Shit, he thought as she walked away. That good-bye had sounded really fucking final.
Chapter Forty-One
It was nearly noon by the time Seth returned to his room from the debriefing, and paper crinkled under his boot when he stepped over the threshold. He lifted his foot and glanced down.
Fucking manila envelopes.
His immediate gut response was to toss it in the trash. Nothing good ever came in a manila envelope. Then he spotted his name written in feminine handwriting on the front.
Phoebe’s handwriting.
He’d only seen her write something once or twice before, but he already knew the bubbly lettering as well as his own nearly illegible scrawl.
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