by Loye, Trish
She landed in a crouch, just as the man dove for his rifle. She snatched up the fallen soldier’s rifle and took the split second to aim. Head shot. She pulled the trigger.
The soldier dropped.
She took a gulp of air and slowly stood, swaying slightly.
That was when she heard the pounding on the access door. Reinforcements had arrived.
The man she’d stabbed in the gut lay on the ground near her, blood pooling around him, his radio clutched in his hand. He spoke into it.
“She has killed us.”
She made sure he didn’t have any more weapons before turning her back on him. The pounding on the door had turned into rhythmic thumps. They must have a door breacher. It wouldn’t be long before they busted through.
She shuffled as quickly as she could around the perimeter of the roof, checking for climbing ropes or some other access to the ground. Why had Dylan wanted her up here?
There was nothing to help her escape. She was stuck on the roof of an office building that was about to be bombed by a drone strike. This was not the plan of champions.
She checked the magazine on the AK-47 she’d taken from the soldier. Almost full.
The door gave an ominous squeal.
She ripped off her hijab and abaya, throwing them into the wind. If she was going to die on this stupid roof, then she was going to die as Sarah Ramirez, not as the cover she played. The wind tugged at her hair, releasing some of the strands from her braid.
She took the mag from the other soldier’s weapon and stuck it into her pants pocket. She faced the door and held the rifle up, her finger light on the trigger.
The door burst open and soldiers ran through like ants defending their hill. She pulled the trigger, doing three-round bursts, trying to conserve ammo and yet suppress the soldiers coming out the door.
Three—no, four—fell. The others stayed inside. She could hear someone yelling orders to take her down.
She sprint-shuffled to a new position and crouched, cursing her swollen feet, before aiming once more at the door.
Where are you, Dylan?
The soldiers tried again to burst through, spraying bullets at the spot she’d been. She fired one round at each soldier who came through, trying to conserve ammo even more. She took out another three before they pulled back. She immediately dashed to a new location and crouched again.
A loud thumping echoed behind her, moving fast toward the rooftop.
Fuck. They’d called in a helicopter. She’d need cover fast.
She tensed, prepared to run, but no bullets ripped through the night toward her.
Could it be?
She chanced a glance. The bird hovered just above the roof. There was no door and she could see the pilot. He jerked his head at the empty seat beside him, as if to say, what the hell was she waiting for?
What was she waiting for?
She had to trust that he’d hold the bird steady, that she wouldn’t get mowed down by bullets as she ran for it. But this was Dylan, the man who’d come back for her again and again. He’d never left her, not once. If she couldn’t trust him, then she would never be able to trust anyone.
She sent another burst of bullets at the doorway, before she stood and ran for the helicopter, her stride shortened by the agony searing her feet. She panted through the pain, focusing on Dylan. She just had to keep moving.
Almost as if they sensed she was running, the soldiers piled from the doorway, firing at her and the helicopter. Sparks flew as bullets pinged off the metal of the fuselage. Dylan kept the bird steady in the midst of the fire. His helmet was turned toward her and she knew even though she couldn’t see his eyes that he watched her.
Five more steps. The six-story drop loomed. She’d have to leap only a few feet, but any jump seemed far with her abused body. Her blood pumped and adrenaline ripped through her. She pushed herself to go faster, harder.
Two steps. Her heart thundered in her chest. Wind from the rotor blades whipped her hair back and made her squint, but she didn’t slow. She kept her gaze on Dylan.
She leapt, aiming her body for the cabin door and seat. She landed heavily; the bird jostled with the impact, making her clutch at the seat, but Dylan corrected quickly.
Her breath whooshed out of her. She’d made it.
Dylan wore a shit-eating grin. “Told you I had a good idea.”
She grinned back. She couldn’t help it. He’d come back.
For her.
Scrambling upright, she tried not to kick any instruments. A bullet pinged off metal near her. Her heart leapt. They weren’t out of danger yet.
Her stomach rolled as Dylan zoomed the helicopter away. She turned, grabbing the harness to steady herself, and shot at the men on the roof.
Then she swore. One of the soldiers ran out with an RPG on his shoulder. The rocket propelled grenade could take them down if it hit.
“RPG!” she screamed as loud as she could over the deafening roar of the rotors and wind.
Dylan must have heard her or read her fear. He pushed on one stick and pulled the other; the helicopter swooped in another direction. An explosion boomed off to their right.
Within seconds, they flew high above the city. Dylan grinned at her and nodded at the helmet lying near the copilot’s seat. He didn’t take his hands from the controls. She squirmed her way into the harness, finally buckling in, before she placed the helmet on her head. Immediately the noise from the rotors lessened and her ears thanked her. She turned on the headset.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said. “Need a lift?”
“Seriously?” She answered his grin with laughter. “That’s the line you’re going with?”
* * *
Dylan set the bird down behind a knoll, about fifty kilometers northeast of Mosul, where E.D.G.E. had designated the exfil location. Two armored Jeeps waited off to the side.
The bulk of the Peshmerga, the Kurdish forces fighting ISIS in this region, waited in a camp not far from the location. He’d spoken with Jake on the radio and confirmed that they’d hand over the bird to the Peshmerga and take their own helicopter to Baghdad and then catch a flight to Germany and then stateside.
He shut down the helicopter. Sarah smiled beside him, almost bouncing in her seat, still high on the adrenaline rush. The tension that had been riding him for so long drained out of him with each slowing sweep of the rotors, leaving him exhausted, but he smiled too. It was over. He’d have to check in with Rakin ASAP to make sure Jalila and the girls had gotten out okay, but for now, it was over and they were safe.
“We did it, Dylan.” Sarah’s eyes shone as she took off her helmet. “And I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming back for me,” she said. “On the roof.”
His chest tightened at her words and a sinking sensation went through him. He frowned. “Did you think I would send you to the roof and leave you there? Like some kind of diversion?”
“No. I…” She looked down at her lap.
How could she think that of him? “But you weren’t sure, were you?” He shook his head. “No, don’t bother answering that. I don’t want you to lie to me.”
Disappointment churned inside him. Nothing had changed. She hadn’t changed. And whatever connection he thought they’d had while escaping disappeared; she still didn’t trust him.
“Dylan, that’s not what—”
He held up his hand. “I’m tired of fighting with you, Sarah. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Their team still waited in the Jeeps, as if giving them time to adjust to being safe. But really, he knew, it was to keep themselves out of the dust storm the bird had kicked up.
“You don’t want to do what anymore?” Sarah asked quietly.
“Us,” he said. “You’re right. We don’t have anything beyond good sex. And I want more.”
He wondered whether they’d see much of each other after this. He shut down the systems one by one. Of course she wouldn’t want
to talk. She was so closed off from her emotions that she probably wasn’t feeling anything right now. And he was too tired to try to pull them out of her.
Normally, he’d be celebrating right now, whooping it up with whichever team member he’d just rescued from a rooftop. But with Sarah, he sat, feeling hollow inside as he waited for her to speak.
She still hadn’t said anything by the time the rest of the team got out of the Jeeps. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Time to end it for good. A clean break was what he needed.
“Look. I’m not going to mention anything about us in the report and I certainly won’t tell anyone. So you don’t have to worry.”
Her head snapped up. He held up his hand to forestall any argument on her part. “I don’t want to fight, Ghost. Let’s just go home.”
He got out of the bird and walked away.
* * *
Sarah watched Dylan leave. A strong, proud man who’d tried to connect with her. A man she’d rebuffed time and again. A man who had been there for her, had come back into hell for her.
And now he’d had enough. Her heart wrenched at the sight of him walking away, but she had no words. Had no idea what to say to him now that the mission was over. She wanted to call him back and explain that she did trust him, but her throat tightened on the words. He’d just told her he was done.
She unbuckled her harness. Her body ached, her feet throbbed, and she desperately needed a bath, food, and sleep. Though sleep seemed to be taking priority right now. She slid off the seat and gingerly put her feet on the ground.
Dylan strode to the people by the Jeeps. She could just make out Jake, Rhys, and Cat, Dylan’s sister. Marc stood there as well, a little apart from the others, his arms crossed. Jake strode out to meet them.
Sarah took a deep breath. She was Sarah Ramirez. Ghost. An E.D.G.E. operator. She just had to hold on a little longer before she could be by herself and collapse.
It must have been because she’d been off her feet for the last fifteen minutes, but they seemed to throb worse than before. With the first step, she almost stumbled and had to force herself upright.
Jake’s keen gaze caught her misstep even in the dark; he turned his trajectory and aimed straight for her.
But Dylan got to her first.
“Dammit,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Sarah.” He swept her up in his arms. “I totally forgot with everything going on.”
“What’d you forget?” Jake asked quietly as he came up to them. The rotors had almost stopped turning now and they could speak normally.
“They whipped her feet,” Dylan growled, even as he tightened his grip on her.
Sarah shook her head at him. “I can wal—”
“No.” A muscle in Dylan’s jaw twitched. “Just let me help you. I’ll be out of your life soon enough.”
His words tore something inside her. “I…Thank you.”
He frowned but didn’t reply. He carried her over to the Jeeps, with Jake walking beside, while he gave a verbal update without even a hitch in his breathing.
“The drone strike had direct hits on the ten locations,” Jake said after hearing of their escape. “It sounds like you two just made it out. Next time I want you both out before the final countdown on an airstrike.”
“Sure thing, College.” Dylan carefully set her on her feet.
Cat, her expression fierce, grabbed Dylan and hugged him, before pulling back and punching his arm. “You scared the shit out of me, Dylan.”
“Couldn’t be helped, sis,” he said.
Cat glowered at him. “Pain in the ass.”
“Love you too.”
Their easy banter emphasized to Sarah how much of an outsider she was. A feeling she knew well.
“It’s good to see you, Ghost.” Cat stepped forward and gave her a quick hug. “I’m glad you both made it out okay.”
“Thanks,” Sarah said. “Me too.”
Dylan scowled and turned away. Her insides twisted as he strode with Marc and Jake to the first Jeep.
“Come on.” Cat wrapped Sarah’s arm over her shoulder. “Let’s get you back to the base where we can have someone take a look at those feet.”
Sarah let herself be led to the second Jeep. She sat quiet in the back while Cat and Rhys updated her on Rakin and the girls. They’d made it out of Mosul and to the Peshmerga, east of the city. Rakin had promised to see the girls settled with their families before he went back to Britain.
Sarah nodded and tried to smile, rubbing at the ache in her chest. She wasn’t going to see Jalila again. She’d barely said good-bye to her before she’d gone to get Besma, so caught up in the op. She stared out the window into the complete darkness of the mountainous landscape they drove through, blinking against the wetness that welled in her eyes.
Soon, she promised herself. Soon, she’d be alone and then she could cry about losing the first two people she cared about in a long time.
24
Three weeks later…
Sarah walked back into E.D.G.E. HQ for the first time since the debrief after returning home from Mosul. She’d been given leave to recover and to readjust to her old life. Her feet were still tender, but most of her work today consisted of writing reports. And she was more than ready to get back to work—but mostly she was ready to see Dylan.
She’d done a lot of thinking while lying on her couch binge-watching Supernatural on Netflix and reading all the latest releases from her favorite authors. Dani and Charlie had come by with books and movies one night. It made her want to call Dylan and shout that she did have friends.
Mostly she’d thought about Dylan and how she’d treated him. How teamwork had not just saved her life but that of Jalila and the other girls. She thought about how Dylan had made those few days in that hell bearable. And how much she missed him.
Cat had come by the first day she’d been home, after Sarah had called her. She and Cat had become closer since the Nigerian mission last year, closer than Dylan realized. When Rhys was on an op without Cat, they would hang out, watching a movie or going to the range. It was nice to have someone to talk about things other than work.
Sarah had hobbled painfully to her apartment door when her buzzer had sounded to find Cat there with a bag of groceries.
“I figured you’d need the basics like milk and bread.” Cat frowned when she saw Sarah holding onto the doorjamb. Then she gasped when she glanced down.
Sarah’s legs looked as though someone had sewn on Frankenstein’s feet, with how swollen and bruised they’d become. She could barely stand on them. Cat helped her back to her couch.
“I knew you were hurt but I didn’t realize it was this bad. Is it painful? Do you need meds?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t bullshit me. You’re not fine. Has Dylan come by yet?”
“No.” Sarah kept her voice even. Not letting the hurt show was a skill she’d developed long ago. “And I don’t expect him to. He was pretty clear about that.”
Cat frowned. “This is ridiculous. I’m calling him. He’d want to know that you can barely walk.”
“No!” Sarah struggled to rise.
“Give me a good reason.”
Sarah flopped back onto the couch. “I know I need help. It’s why I called you.”
“Hold on, you actually admitted you need help.” She shook her head. “What happened to you over there?”
“Too much,” Sarah said softly.
“Nightmares?”
Sarah pressed her lips together. Dylan was right. She needed to reach out and rely on her team. She nodded.
“I’m going to make an appointment with psych. They’ll come to you.”
“I don’t—”
Cat laid a hand on her arm. “You do need help. Probably more than you know. Don’t worry—we all need help at some point, especially with what we do.” Her lips twisted and she crossed her arms. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t call my brother. You guys were a thing before your assignment. What
changed?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Everything.”
“Well, that’s helpful.” Cat pulled her phone out.
“Wait!” Sarah ran a hand through her hair. “If you call Dylan, he will come over and try to take care of me.”
Cat sighed through her nose. “And this is bad why?”
“Because he doesn’t actually want to. But he’ll help me because he’s a good guy. And I couldn’t bear to have him around if he doesn’t want to be here.”
Cat stared at her a moment. “How do you know that he wouldn’t want to be here?”
Dammit. “He told me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at her clenched hands. “He’s done with me. And I don’t blame him.”
Sarah took a deep breath, steeling herself to confess. “I haven’t treated your brother very well,” she finally said. “He has a right to want to keep his distance.”
Cat sat on the arm of her couch. “What’d you do?”
Sarah sighed. “I told him I didn’t like him.”
“But you lied.”
“How do you know?”
Cat raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stupid. What else?”
“He might think that I thought he would leave me behind.”
“What?” Cat stood. Her mouth opened and closed once before she spoke. “Please tell me you don’t actually think Dylan would leave you behind.”
“No,” she said, and then whispered the truth. “Not anymore.” And she told Cat everything—well, almost everything—about their time together. When she’d finished, Cat didn’t speak for a long moment.
“So really,” Sarah said. “It’s best to just leave him out of it. Please.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, her brows pulled together while she studied Sarah. “I’ll play it your way. For now.
“I’m going to arrange with other team members to pick up groceries and check on you,” Cat continued. “Give me a list. And I’ll swing by tonight with some of Lucky’s gumbo.”
And then Cat, Dani, and Charlie had all taken turns stopping by, bringing her food or whatever they thought she might need. It had been…nice.
