Stand Fast (DEA FAST Series Book 3)

by Kaylea Cross

  Nuh-uh.

  “Tag him,” Zaid growled.

  Granger fired. A roar of pain split the air. Nasar fell to one knee and braced himself against the mountain to keep from pitching over the edge.

  “Drop your weapon!” Zaid yelled, beyond pissed off.

  “He lost it,” Granger said from behind him.

  Zaid set his jaw as he stared hard at Nasar. You’re mine, asshole. “Stay where you are,” he commanded, and began creeping his way forward once more.

  Granger hit Nasar with the high-powered beam from his tactical flashlight, lighting him up like he was in a spotlight. Nasar turned his head away and threw up a hand to shield his eyes. Blood dripped from it.

  Hope that hurts, you son of a bitch.

  “Where’d you hit him?” Zaid asked, transitioning into medic mode. Whatever hole Granger had put in him, Zaid would have to plug before they transported him out of here and back to base.

  “Lower leg,” Granger answered, staring down the barrel of his weapon at Nasar.

  Too bad it wasn’t his ass.

  Zaid slung his rifle across his back and drew his sidearm before picking his way toward their target, now bleeding and trapped on the cliff’s edge. “Come this way,” he ordered gruffly. Man, he wanted to plow his fist into Nasar’s face when he reached the bastard.

  Granger was moving in behind him, staying close to provide backup if necessary, the brilliant beam from his flashlight cutting through the darkness like a laser. Nasar didn’t move, still crouched against the rock, just stared back at them with utter loathing as his blood pooled into the dirt.

  Zaid set his jaw. They were going to have to go grab Nasar and drag him back to the cave. The idea of a wrestling match on such a narrow ledge didn’t thrill him, even with Granger here to back him up. He’d rather put another bullet in Nasar in a more vital place and haul his unconscious ass back to the cave to await the others.

  “Target acquired,” Granger said behind him over the comms, alerting the others, and gave their position.

  “Copy that. Moving to you now, ETA whenever the fuck we get out of this tunnel,” Hamilton replied through Zaid’s earpiece.

  Even though Nasar was wounded and unmoving, Zaid approached him with the utmost caution. The guy had been trained by U.S. SOF guys and knew all the same dirty tricks Zaid did. Zaid wasn’t taking any risks up here.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he bit out, pistol trained on his quarry. He was still using Dari because it felt more personal that way. This was between him and Nasar.

  Nasar glared up at him for a moment longer, then let go of his wounded leg and slowly moved his hands behind him.

  Zaid reached into a pouch on his vest for a pair of flex cuffs. “Stay right there. You move so much as an inch, and I’ll put more holes in you.”

  Even while squinting in the intense beam of the flashlight, Nasar’s expression managed to convey utter loathing and defiance. But Zaid didn’t care, his attention riveted to Nasar’s hands and body. The prisoner reluctantly brought both hands behind his back and waited there, but the tension in his body set off all kinds of warning bells in Zaid’s head.

  He edged closer to Nasar, closer, until only a few feet separated them. Granger was right behind him, now using the tac light on the end of his weapon instead of the flashlight. Zaid angled his body toward the wall of rock and crouched down in front of Nasar.

  “Turn around and give me your hands,” he ground out, his entire body wound tight and ready to spring if Nasar tried anything.

  The man shot him one more lethal glare before turning slightly, his hands resting at the base of his spine. Zaid shifted his weight and roughly grabbed hold of the prisoner’s wrists. He had the cuffs on in seconds, and pulled tight.

  A measure of relief hit him. He holstered his pistol and sat back on his haunches to grab his dressing kit, prepared to bind Nasar’s wound.

  “Zaid, look out!” Granger said.

  He jerked his head up in time to glimpse two men emerging from a gap in the rocks above them, weapons up.

  Fuck.

  His hand flashed down for the sidearm in his holster. He drew it lightning fast and raised it just as Granger fired at the figures above them.

  Too late.

  Nasar lunged and knocked him over as gunfire ripped apart the silence, hurtling them both toward the cliff’s edge. Zaid bit back a curse and wrenched his body to the left, toward the safety of the rock. Nasar let out a feral snarl and tried to lash out with a boot, but Zaid blocked it and slammed a fist into the side of Nasar’s face. Pain shot through his hand as the bastard’s head snapped back and hit the rock wall.

  Shaky and breathing hard, Zaid rolled to his knees and grabbed Nasar, who appeared to be at least stunned, if not unconscious, then secured his feet as well. Granger was still ahead, keeping watch on the rocks above, and finally the rest of the team emerged from the tunnel.

  “Holy shit,” Hamilton breathed, backing away from the sheer drop off.

  “I got Nasar,” Zaid called over his shoulder. “Gimme a hand.”

  It took them eighteen minutes to haul Nasar’s dead weight back through the tunnel, to the LZ where Hamilton had called in the Blackhawks to pick them up. Some of the friendly NIU guys were there as well, many of them wounded.

  “He dead?” the team leader asked.

  Zaid set two fingers beneath the angle of Nasar’s jaw, felt the steady beat of his pulse. “Nah. But he’s gonna have one hell of a headache,” he said with satisfaction.

  Zaid was never so glad to see a helo in his life when the two Blackhawks appeared in the midnight blue sky and flew toward them. As soon as they touched down, a mad rush of the survivors ensued.

  Two men from one of the helos ran toward them, likely PJs to assist with the wounded. He hoisted Nasar over his shoulder and headed for the helo, handing him off to Maka before climbing aboard the second bird. Two of his teammates each loaded a dead NIU member on board.

  As soon as everyone was inside, the pilots took off. They climbed skyward and turned to the west, ready to fly back to the FOB. Zaid couldn’t wait to get there, finish up work for the night, and call Jaliya. He needed to tell her he was okay, and he needed to hear her voice.

  A spray of bullets peppered the right side of the helo.

  “God dammit,” he bit out, hitting the deck with everyone else. The door gunner opened up on whoever was shooting at them below.

  More rounds strafed along the aircraft’s metal skin, punching through it and sending bits of insulation raining down on them. The pilots veered sharply to the left and climbed. Then Zaid smelled it. Fuel. Even though the fuel cells and lines were self-sealing, they were leaking fuel and at risk of exploding should anything ignite it.

  “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Colebrook snarled, bracing himself as the bird pitched hard left and dropped.

  Zaid couldn’t answer because his heart was stuck in his windpipe. They’d survived the ambush and Nasar, only to die in a helicopter crash?

  The crew chief shouted at them, his voice carrying over the noise of the laboring engines. “Hang on tight, boys.”

  Zaid closed his eyes and reached out blindly for something to anchor himself with. His hand met skin, and immediately strong fingers locked around his. He opened his eyes to see Prentiss gripping his hand, his expression grimmer than Zaid had ever seen it.

  Zaid held on tight and shut his eyes again as the helo bucked and dropped sharply, summoning a picture of Jaliya’s face. She was smiling at him, her expression soft.

  More bullets thudded into the aircraft. Screams of agony filled the cabin.

  Trapped in the wounded bird with nowhere to hide, Zaid’s only comfort was that at least Jaliya wouldn’t see them crash into the mountain below.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nobody knew what the hell was happening, and Jaliya was about to lose her mind with worry.

  Her palms sweated inside her gloves as she stared across the helo at Taggart whil
e he desperately tried to make contact with FAST Bravo and the Afghan army officials tried to reach what was left of the NIU force on the ground. She’d passed on anything that might be of use to Taggart, but there was little he could do for his men at the moment. And she’d received word ten minutes ago that Barakat had died on the operating table, taking any remaining insider intel with him.

  The blood roared in her ears along with the thump of the Blackhawk’s powerful rotors, muted by her headset. She was fighting to hold it together, her heart throbbing so hard it hurt. Her stomach was a massive knot of fear.

  Zaid and his team were out there somewhere in the darkness, miles from the helo’s position, fighting for their lives. The last report they’d had from the team said that they’d chased Nasar through some kind of tunnel complex and managed to corner him, but then an unknown number of rogue NIU members had attacked as they were taking off in the helo. They’d taken serious small arms fire and the helo was badly damaged.

  There were casualties, but she didn’t know who or even from which unit, let alone how bad the injuries were. Taggart had tried to get more details from the team but they’d lost radio contact along with the feed from Hamilton’s helmet cam a few minutes ago, as the team was boarding one of the choppers.

  All Jaliya knew was that a combat search and rescue team were en route to FAST Bravo’s position right now, might even have arrived on scene already. The not knowing was killing her. The waiting was killing her.

  She wanted to go straight to Zaid’s location, but the closest she was allowed to get was the FOB. Another gunship had been deployed to their position to help clear off any remaining enemy force converging on the area, but it might already be too late.

  She bit her lip and fought back the acidic sting of tears at the thought of Zaid being shot. She couldn’t lose him. And she wished with everything in her that she hadn’t turned away from the opportunity to have him when she’d had the chance.

  Stupid. You are so stupid, and now he might be gone forever. She pressed her lips together and swallowed past the horrible restriction in her throat, the regret and fear all but suffocating her.

  Across from her, Taggart suddenly straightened and adjusted the laptop screen, his gaze riveted to whatever was happening. After a few minutes he toggled the switch on his headset and spoke to her. “Live feed from the satellite shows a handful of remaining enemy scattering to the west.” He angled the laptop so she could see the infrared footage herself.

  She scanned the scene, took in the dots moving around—and the ones that weren’t moving. There was no way for her to tell friend from foe. And there was no way for her to tell if Zaid was one of the motionless figures. “What about the casualties on board the helos?”

  “CSAR was at the LZ, but they took heavy fire after takeoff. That’s all I know.” He went back to staring at the laptop.

  Jaliya closed her eyes and prayed silently as the minutes ticked by, her throat so tight it felt like she was being strangled. He can’t be gone. He just can’t.

  After what seemed like an eternity the pitch of the Blackhawk’s engines changed and they began to descend. The FOB appeared below them, a tiny blip of light in a sea of black. They dipped lower and went into a hover as they approached the base.

  Finally the pilots landed inside the perimeter and began shut down procedures. Jaliya took off her headset, unbuckled her belt and followed Taggart out into the open.

  Another team was waiting for them and rushed them inside the medium-sized cinderblock building into a room that acted as the TOC. A flurry of confusion followed, with the Afghan military officials crowding around, arguing amongst themselves, pointing fingers and shouting at one another.

  “Jesus Christ,” Taggart growled. “Find out what they know about my team,” he said to her. “I need to keep trying to make contact with them.”

  Without wasting a moment, Jaliya elbowed her way through the knot of arguing men and shouted to get their attention. “Stop!” They were so surprised that everyone stopped and stared at her and she didn’t dare give them the chance to begin arguing again. “What do you know about the American team?”

  “This man’s traitors attacked them,” one colonel sneered.

  The accused man’s cheeks went red. “My men are not traitors, but yours are!”

  “Enough,” she yelled, thrusting a warning finger at both of them. She was ready to punch someone, and didn’t care if it got her ass fired. “Tell us what you know about the Americans.” They’d worry about the attackers later.

  The colonel shot a venomous glare at his counterpart and crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard they captured Nasar.”

  What? She whipped around to find Taggart. The instant she made eye contact he stood from where he’d been working to establish comms with the team. “They got Nasar.” She turned back to the colonel. “And? Are any of them wounded?”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that half our men turned on their brothers tonight, and I want every one of them hunted down like the traitorous dogs they are.”

  More arguing broke out, and this time she didn’t bother trying to keep the peace. She hurried over to Taggart, who had a headset on and was being briefed by the FOB team who had been monitoring the situation. She caught the basics: the CSAR team was on its way to the FOB with the critically wounded.

  Another helo was bringing in FAST Bravo…and two KIA.

  Jaliya’s heart lurched as she stared at Taggart, who was trying to reach the second helo’s crew to get an update. But before he could, the soldier manning the radar pointed out the two Blackhawks. “They’ll be arriving in a few minutes,” he said.

  Face grim, Taggart tossed aside his headset and headed for the door with Jaliya right behind him.

  Together they stood out in the cold with the wind whipping at their clothing, and watched the eastern sky, not saying a word. Jaliya kept praying silently, begging for Zaid to be okay.

  After an agonizing wait, she heard the faint thump of distant rotor blades. She craned her neck back to look toward the mountains rising into the midnight-blue sky. A black speck appeared, streaking toward them through the scattered clouds. Moments later, a second one appeared.

  A crew began to gather around with fire extinguishers and medical kits to await the damaged aircraft and human payloads.

  Her heart pounded as the helos drew nearer. One of them carried Zaid, whether he was alive or…

  No. She refused to even think it.

  The first Blackhawk circled the base before finally coming in to land inside the secure perimeter. One of the ground crews rushed into action, converging on it with fire extinguishers at the ready. In the bright perimeter lighting she could see bullet holes pock-marking its side.

  Taggart started toward it but Jaliya held back, a sudden streak of terror weakening her legs and freezing her in place. If Zaid was dead, she couldn’t bear to find out.

  The helo’s side door slid open and men began jumping out. She strained to see them as they emerged, one by one.

  Two men climbed out carrying a stretcher. Jaliya watched Taggart. The commander approached them and said something. Their answer had him striding back toward her. There was no way he would have left that spot if any of his team members had been aboard, so Jaliya turned her attention to the second Blackhawk.

  It circled high overhead. She peered up at it, hope constricting her ribcage. Her heart slammed so hard it felt bruised as she waited for Taggart to get within earshot. “What did they say?” she shouted over the noise of the engines.

  “Two KIA. They don’t know who.”

  She closed her eyes. Fuck. Fuck.

  Her eyes snapped open when the second bird came in to land. She stood there with her heart in her throat, holding her breath as it touched the ground. Even from where she stood she smelled smoke and jet fuel. It looked like the entire tail section was riddled with bullet holes that streaked up the length of the helo’s right side.

  The ground
crew moved into action as the crew shut down the engines.

  Then the bullet-riddled door slid open. Jaliya stayed where she was as Taggart jogged over to meet his guys.

  A man with dark skin jumped out first. Freeman. Then Colebrook and Rodriguez. Hamilton appeared next with Maka. Together the two of them reached back into the helo’s hold and dragged out someone with his arms secured behind his back.

  Rage and shock blasted through her when they came near enough for her to recognize Nasar’s face. But just as quickly her gaze shot back to the helo. She didn’t even care that they’d captured The Jackal. She only cared about what had happened to Zaid.

  Lockhart hopped out. Then Granger.

  A queasy sensation twisted through her gut when an eighth member of the nine-man team appeared in the opening. His back was to her as he struggled with something, and when he stood and turned around, she realized it wasn’t Zaid.

  Prentiss. He was carrying something large and black draped over one shoulder.

  A body bag.

  Oh God, no!

  Agony engulfed her. Her legs went out from under her like someone had severed her tendons with a knife. Her knees hit the ground with a hard thud but she barely felt the pain, the agony tearing through her chest eclipsing everything else.

  She couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t feel anything, could only stare at that hideous black bag draped over Prentiss’s shoulder.

  Zaid. Zaid Khan, the man she loved.

  He was gone. She and the other taskforce members had sent him to his death. Because that bastard Nasar had fooled everybody.

  Cold wetness filmed her cheeks, and she realized she was crying. Someone was crouched down next to her, trying to talk to her. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him, much less try to listen to what he was saying, too overcome with grief and horror while she stared at the body bag that carried the man she loved.

  A strong hand landed on her shoulder. “Jaliya.”

  Gutted, she wrenched away from the touch, unable to take her eyes off Prentiss and that bag. He was only a dozen yards from her now. Her heart was shattered, lying in a million broken pieces at the bottom of her chest cavity, and nothing would ever put them back together again. She’d done this. She’d killed him.