by Loye, Trish
At 0100, she did a last check on Jalila, who slept huddled on the mat, her face innocent in sleep. Then Sarah closed the door carefully and went back upstairs. She slipped out her back door and into the alley. She had to swallow back bile at the smell. She’d purposely placed the body of a dead dog under some boxes nearby. The stench of it kept anyone from loitering, especially Ahmed.
She ran through the night like a shadow. It was time to work.
* * *
Dylan moved down one side of a deserted street in Mosul, keeping tight to the shadows of the buildings. Dante “Gears” Moreno was his partner, the new guy on their team. He’d started working closely with them about five months ago, just about the time Sarah—
No. He locked that thought away. He wasn’t thinking about her anymore. He focused back on the op.
Jake, his team leader, worked with Marc, the ex-CSIS agent, on the far side of the street. They’d left the truck they’d hot-wired a few blocks away, wanting to make the last few blocks of the approach on foot. Tonight was all about stealth.
Most of the streetlights were out, either shot out or the grid was dead. He didn’t know or care; either way, it worked for them. Only the occasional white pickup truck with the ISIS symbol painted on the doors drove on the streets, the standard vehicle of the extremists. It had been another reason to ditch their ride. Too conspicuous so close to their target.
According to the two operators in the city, the CIA agent William Patel was being held in the building at the end of this street. E.D.G.E. had sent a four-man team, thinking a small unit could get in where a larger one wouldn’t be able to.
Dante, a tough and technically brilliant operative, was a good partner to have. The guy’s tats didn’t convey a man from the world of special ops, but rather one who’d come from civilian life. A harsh civilian life, judging by the scars he’d seen. Dylan would love to hear how this guy had made it into E.D.G.E. But Dante wasn’t one to share tales, as he’d found out on the long journey to Iraq.
But what he did know was that Dante was the car guy. He could commandeer anything with wheels and drive the shit out of it. He also knew engines and machines inside and out. Some people—okay, maybe it was Dani, one of E.D.G.E.’s tech goddesses—had whispered that he was a robot himself. Dylan smiled at that thought. It would be good to have some kind of cyborg along.
But it really didn’t matter to him as long as Dante did the job. Dylan signaled to him and then moved past a narrow alley to the next building. He covered while Dante crossed. They moved forward in tandem. The man had some kind of training; Dylan just couldn’t figure out what kind.
On the other side of the street and one block ahead, Jake and Marc stopped when a person stepped out of an alley ahead, motioned to them and then ducked back into the shadows.
Must be the embedded operator.
The radio in his ear clicked. “Cowboy, Gears. Get your asses over here. Change of route,” Jake told them.
Dylan frowned, but clicked an affirmative on his throat mic and headed across the dark street to their location. Their contact for the mission stood with Jake in an alley.
The contact stood shorter than Jake and was dressed in black. Dylan scowled now as he came up to them, stopping just a few feet away. Everything but the eyes were covered. He recognized those dark eyes.
Sarah Ramirez.
Fuck. He’d known she was in Iraq, but he hadn’t expected to see her tonight. And by the look of her wide eyes, she hadn’t expected to see him either.
The last time he’d seen those eyes, they’d been gazing at him from under his sheets. But then they’d been filled with warmth, with desire. Now they held the cold distance of a stranger.
Dammit. Sarah Ramirez. He’d really thought they’d had something together, that they’d been building something. And then she’d walked out of his apartment and never looked back, never contacted him again. Treating him like a spent shell, something to be discarded without thought. Anger traveled up his spine and into his throat as he looked at her, watching him as if he were just another guy on her team.
He gave his head a slight shake. He couldn’t process seeing her right now. He clenched his teeth and forced his thoughts back to the mission. Dylan turned from Sarah and scanned the street around him for movement; his MP5 moving in the same direction as his gaze.
Sarah didn’t say a word to him, but spoke briefly with Jake and then headed farther into the alley. They all followed, wading through garbage, sludge, and fuck-knows-what. The stench coated his throat and made his stomach roll. He followed the others into another narrower alley that had him bristling and checking overhead. A perfect place for an ambush.
It was Sarah. She wouldn’t lead them into an ambush. He’d worked with her on ops before and she was flawlessly devoted to the missions and to E.D.G.E.
It was only in personal relationships that he didn’t trust her, where she might not think twice about what her actions did to someone.
Like leaving for Iraq with only a simple note saying good-bye.
Anger burned through him, clenching his gut, and he had to force down a snarl.
Time to get a grip, Cowboy.
He refused to spend another second thinking about the woman leading them right now.
Sarah stopped in the middle of the alley and knelt by a metal door there. She pulled something from a belt pouch.
“This is an office building,” she whispered, inserting lock picks into the door’s handle. “Mostly empty at night. There’s a roof access door on the top. It’s a short leap to the target location.”
“How’d you find that out?” Dylan asked, not quite keeping the edge out of his voice.
“It’s my job.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “The intel I need, as well as one of my contacts, is in the HQ. I’ve spent a lot of nights watching from different locations.” She looked at Jake, dismissing Dylan. “The roof is your best option to get inside.”
“Where’s our guy?” Jake asked.
“Fifth floor,” she said. “Third room from the east on the north side.” She briefed them on a few other key points about the building before she turned the knob and opened the door for them.
Jake took over. He pointed at Sarah and then motioned for her to be their lookout. No more words would be spoken unless absolutely necessary. They had a drone overhead feeding the team information. The roof’s access door would be their entrance tonight.
They quickly made their way to the roof. No one waited on it, and Sarah had been right that it was a fairly easy jump between buildings, as long as you didn’t look down the six stories to the ground. Chances were ISIS expected bombs but not small-team attacks; otherwise they would have many more guards around the place.
Dylan looked over the lip of the building. He saw two guards out by the front doors, their rifles slung and their shoulders slumped. One yawned. Another two walked a perimeter, chatting with each other. None of them looked up.
Perfect.
A quick check and he spotted the small figure cloaked in black making her way to a shadowed alley on the far side of the street. Sarah would be their eyes on the ground.
He breathed easier with Sarah hidden away. Not because he thought she couldn’t handle herself, but having her near distracted him too much from the mission. He needed time to process her being here and he didn’t have it. Patel waited for them.
Jake nodded to Dylan, who took a few steps back. He sprinted hard and leapt, soaring over the gap.
* * *
Dylan was here!
Sarah couldn’t calm her racing heart. It was her bad luck he was on the rescue team. She’d counted on not seeing him again until she was ready, until any feelings she’d had for him had died. But by the way her heart had stuttered when his blue eyes blazed at her, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready.
His hard jaw was now covered with a short beard. All the team grew beards when they did missions in the Middle East. Dylan’s was darker than his wheat-blond hair, but it di
dn’t hide his high cheekbones or sculpted lips. The dark camo paint that disguised his skin made his gaze even harsher. He’d looked dangerous and not at all happy with her.
She’d done the right thing breaking things off between them. It would only have been a matter of time before he’d have done the same.
She just wasn’t meant to have lasting relationships. She’d been taught that over and over again. Mostly by her mother, who’d chosen drugs and life on the street over caring for her young daughter. It was obvious to Sarah that something was wrong with her, and she hated the thought of Dylan finding out and leaving her.
But the dislike she’d seen in his gaze had cut straight through her. It had taken an effort to keep her voice even and her hands steady when he’d glared at her.
It was for the best, she repeated.
She gave herself a little shake. Time to focus on the op. Nothing else mattered.
The men should be on the roof now. Sarah moved away from ISIS’s building to make her way across the street, away from the guard’s sight. She worked her way back to the front of the building and picked an alley with a prime view, before hunkering down into the shadows to wait.
5
Dylan pulled a rope out of his pack and anchored it to the wall. It would be their exfil if nothing went sideways. It should be a simple mission: get the agent and get the fuck out.
Jake led them to the access door that Dante promptly unlocked with a couple of tools from a pocket on his webbing.
Dim light filtered up from the bottom of the stairwell, barely illuminating the concrete steps. Dylan lifted his rifle and took point, forcing his breathing to stay slow and controlled as they crept down to the fifth floor. He couldn’t have adrenaline spiking his breathing or heart rate; it would cause his hands to tremble and throw off his aim.
Slow and steady, he breathed.
They hadn’t run into any guards yet. But that could change at any moment. From what Sarah had mentioned, the upper floors mainly held offices but with a few high-priority holding cells. Cells that would most likely be guarded.
He put his ear to the hallway door, but couldn’t hear anything. As he touched the door handle, he looked at Jake, who raised his rifle so he’d have line of sight down the hall when the door opened. Jake tensed, then nodded. Dylan sucked in a deep breath and cracked the door silently. His heart thudded hard in his chest. Still no noise and no light either.
But Dylan couldn’t see all the way down the hall.
Dylan threw the door wide. Jake moved his rifle slightly to sight his target and pulled the trigger once. Even with the suppressor on the end, the shot made a crack as the bullet broke the sound barrier, but the suppressor contained the muzzle flash. A thud followed and then Jake entered with Marc and Dante behind him. Dylan followed, letting the door swing shut behind him.
A guard lay sprawled on the floor. Dark blood pooled below his head. The shot meant they were on a time limit now. Anyone could have heard it. They needed to grab their guy and get out.
Jake went up to the door and tried it. “Locked. Check the guard.”
Marc bent to frisk the guard while Dylan kept focused on the stairwell they’d come from, making sure no one snuck up on them. Dante covered the other end of the hallway.
“I’ve got keys,” Marc said.
Dylan risked a glance. Marc unlocked the door and swung it open. “Got him,” he said.
A voice warbled out in Arabic. It was the dead guard’s radio.
“We’re on the clock,” Jake said. “Gears, Cowboy, get our guy. Spooky and I will keep our exfil clear.”
Dylan moved into the small room. It was an interior room. No windows. The stench of shit, sour sweat, and pain hit him. A thin man with brown skin and a beard sat against the wall. One eye had swollen shut. He raised bloodied hands. “Please, no.”
“William Patel? My name is Sergeant White of the United States Army.” Dylan gave a false name. It was SOP for anyone in special operations, but especially for E.D.G.E. The unit was so secret that most people in the military hadn’t heard of it. “We’re here to rescue you. Can you stand?”
“Thank you. Thank you.” Patel tried to get up but stumbled. Dylan wrapped an arm under the guy’s shoulder, ignoring the stink of the man.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I’m a little dizzy.”
Dylan shuddered to think of what this man had been through in the last few days. Dried blood coated his fingertips where they held on to Dylan. They’d pulled out the man’s fingernails.
“Come on, sir. I’ve got you.” The man didn’t weigh much. He shifted his rifle to a one-arm hold and held on to Patel with his other arm.
“You got him?” Dante’s gruff voice echoed in the room.
“Affirmative,” Dylan said.
“Move it, guys. Someone’s coming up the stairs,” Jake said over the comms.
Dylan ran down the hall, half dragging the agent. Dante followed and covered behind. In the stairwell, Jake motioned them to the top. Patel wheezed as he breathed, but it couldn’t be helped. Dylan had to make him move faster.
Patel must have sensed the urgency, because though he didn’t speak, he nodded at Dylan.
Marc held the door to the roof open. He had his back to them while he scanned the area. Their comms clicked on.
“There’s a patrol coming down the street,” Sarah said, her voice hushed over the line.
Jake had made it to the roof at this point. They could hear men running up the stairs to the fifth floor. It wouldn’t be long before they checked the roof.
“Fuck.” Marc peered over the edge. “Ten men below, College. Heavily armed.”
Dylan set Patel down so he leaned against the lip of the roof. He glanced over. Ten ISIS fighters stood below. Sarah huddled in the shadows of the far alley, barely visible to him.
Their radios clicked again. “I’m going to create a diversion,” she said.
“Wait out,” College said.
But there was no stopping Sarah.
Shots rang out below; Sarah fired three times in rapid succession. An ISIS fighter fell with each shot. Then she left cover and stood for a whole second in plain sight while his heart stopped.
Fucking get out of there!
She ran down the alley, away from them. The seven men left in the patrol followed her, firing and screaming threats.
“Fuck,” Dylan said. “What has she done?”
“She’s saved our asses,” Jake said. “Now let’s move.”
* * *
Sarah sprinted for her life. She didn’t bother zigzagging down the alley; it would only slow her down, and the chances of being hit were just as likely. She pushed her legs as hard as she could, her breathing ragged.
She’d been in Mosul for five months. As a woman, she’d been unable to go for any runs, and the limit of her exercise had been calisthenics in the basement.
It hadn’t been enough.
A bullet whipped by her head. She had to get away from the HQ area and out of the downtown business district, with its tall buildings and wider streets. She veered right, down an alley with a chain-link fence at the end.
It took precious seconds to climb. She just made it to the top when the bullets started. She fired two shots, hitting one of the men. They moved back around the corner and she dropped from the ten-foot fence to the other side, landing heavily. Her breath whooshed out of her.
She hated running.
She stood and fired once more at the men now sprinting toward the fence before taking off. The alley led to another main street. A lone car drove along it. She dashed across, aiming for another alley. She wanted to get to the old district, south of al-Saddiq street, the closest residential area, where the narrow streets and numerous alleys created a maze she could lose the men in.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Dammit. They’d called in reinforcements. Her comms clicked on in her earbud.
“Ghost, this is College. Sit rep. Over.”
She panted between w
ords. “Running…six men…reinforcements on way.”
“Location.”
She made it to the end of the next alley and pulled back into the shadows. The men hadn’t made it to this alley yet. A police car zoomed down the street. “You can’t help me. Get the package out.”
“Location, Ghost.” That was Dylan’s voice.
She glanced at a street sign as she passed. “Nuhoor Street. Alley across from a bakery.”
“En route. Advise if you move.”
Dylan was coming to her? “Negative. No need for assistance.”
She practically heard his growl over the comms link. “Don’t be so damn stubborn—”
Jake came on the line. “Cowboy’s your backup. We’re moving the package.”
She swore silently. And then had to push the annoyance aside. She heard men speaking Arabic, coordinating their search for her. Time to move. The street ahead was empty. She hugged the line of parked cars as she ran in a crouch down another block.
With a quick prayer, she sprinted across the street, streaking into an alley beside a tea house. Three more blocks to the west and she should be entering the old district, where she knew she could lose the fighters behind her. Almost free.
“Sit rep, Ghost,” Dylan said.
She huddled beside some overfull trash cans. The whole alley smelled of rotting food, dog shit, and urine. She just needed to catch her breath. “I’ve almost lost them,” she whispered, opening her mouth wide to try to control her panting. “No need for assistance.”
“I’ve got your location on my GPS,” he said in response.
What? She almost groaned. The damn E.D.G.E. phone in her belt was letting him track her. She didn’t want Dylan’s help. She didn’t want anything from him. It was a childish reaction, but she was distracted enough not to fight it.
“I repeat. Situation is fine,” she whispered. She glanced down the alley. “Shit.”
