by Vanessa Kier
The rebels’ troop transport truck blocked the entrance to the road. The rebel soldiers were pinned down in the middle of the lorry park, using one of their vehicles and what was left of the tour company’s Land Cruiser as protection. The inhabitants of the way station fired at the rebels with shotguns and at least one AK-47.
Max did a quick search, but saw no sign of Ziegler.
He eased back the way he’d come.
Emily was standing outside the Jeep when he returned. Her face relaxed when she saw him and he realized that she’d been worried about him. It felt strange, but nice, to be the target of a woman’s concern again. He rubbed the back of his neck. Damn, he really had been out in the jungle too long.
“What’s the situation?” she asked.
He explained, then added, “We’ll have to cross the road again.” He glanced over at her. “I saw you rubbing your damaged shoulder. Are you good for another few hours?” Wrestling the heavy vehicle without power steering had to be taking a toll on her.
She shrugged and held out her hands. “No muscle tremors or spasms yet, so I’m okay.”
“That’s my girl.” The words felt oddly right. Almost inevitable.
Emily raised a brow at him, the slight motion giving her such a regal air that he couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?”
“You. One raised eyebrow and you went from bedraggled waif to imperious queen.”
Emily stuck her nose in the air and let go of him. “Hmph.”
He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “It’s cute.”
She mock glared at him. “That’s the best you can do?”
“Sure.” He pursed his lips. “Okay, it’s sexy, too. How about that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Better.”
He grinned. “You’re a good sport, Emily Iwasaki.”
“What? Now you’re British? Who says ‘good sport’ any more?”
“Hey, I’m a world traveler. I’ll adapt whatever language I please, so long as it conveys what I need.”
She opened her mouth as if to reply, but a startled parrot exploded out of the bushes next to her and she shrieked instead.
“Sorry,” she immediately said. She gave him a sheepish smile. “I guess I’m a bit on edge.”
“No worries. I’d be surprised if you weren’t. You sure you don’t want me to drive?”
She looked pointedly at his injured leg.
“Yeah, okay, that’d be my clutch leg, but still…”
She shook her head. “No. Save your strength. The way our luck has been going, you’re going to need it.”
Hating that she was right, he climbed back into the passenger seat.
They crossed the road without incident, then drove through tall grasses toward the jungle’s edge. While the grass was easier to navigate, it also left a more noticeable trail as the Jeep flattened and otherwise displaced the grass.
Dammit, he should have created a diversion in case they were followed.
No. On second thought, he didn’t want to draw the attention of the rebels away from the fight. He’d just have to watch for signs that someone was manning the transport truck. They couldn’t afford to have a rebel scout spot them.
They finally reached the jungle and Emily turned into it, driving roughly parallel to the road. For someone not used to driving, let alone driving a stick shift Jeep, she impressed him with her skill. He only wished he could do something to help.
“You’re an amazing woman, Emily. You’re handling all of this incredibly well.”
Her head rocked back in surprise at his statement. “Uh,” she said. “Thanks.”
He reached for her hand. “How many times do I have to say it before you’ll believe it, Emily? You’ve got strength. The ability to still see the humor in life despite all we’ve been through. You haven’t once thrown a hissy fit or complained about how tired you are.” He placed a kiss to the middle of her palm. “Amazing.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I…” She glanced away, then shrugged. “Thanks.”
And…she hated being complimented. Right. Should have remembered that.
Emily pulled her hand away and pursed her lips. “Max, it’s going to be full dark soon.”
“Yeah, I know.” He hated to ask, but, “Do you think you can keep driving after dark if I give you the night vision goggles? We really need to put more distance between us and the rebels.”
She rolled her neck and flexed her fingers against the steering wheel. “I honestly don’t know. I’ll do my best.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t going to say anything yet, because he didn’t want to argue with her, but if they hadn’t made it far enough from the way station before the light completely disappeared, then he would take over the driving. He wanted to get far, far away from the rebels.
AN HOUR AFTER the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Emily wore the night vision goggles as she drove without lights along the road. She’d been forced out of the jungle because the trees here grew too close together to allow the Jeep to pass.
The muscles across her back were tight and achy and her arms felt heavy as lead. She knew Max’s mission to find the plane and retrieve the weapon was important, and that she needed to get over the border, but she could barely keep the Jeep on the road. If—
The vehicle bucked, then lurched to the right. “What’s happening?” Emily shrieked as she fought the wheel and steered them to the side of the road. “Max?”
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He put his hand on her thigh, and the heat and weight of it broke through her panic. “We’ve got a flat. No problem. We have a spare.”
Emily sat frozen in her seat, her heart still hammering in her chest, as Max got out to take a look.
He poked his head back through the window. “Yep. Flat tire.”
Emily removed the night vision goggles, then stared out at the darkness. “Max, can we please just stop here for the night? I’m so tired, I can’t go on. I know we have the goggles, but wouldn’t it be easier to change the tire tomorrow morning?”
His jaw firmed and she knew he wanted to protest. That if Max were alone, he’d keep driving until he collapsed. But if there was one thing Emily had learned during her years as a dancer, it was to recognize her limits and stop before her body shut down. “If we push on tonight, then I’m going to be too exhausted tomorrow to be of any help. Please.”
She met his eyes and saw his expression soften. He stroked her cheek. “All right. But we’re going to change the tire first, then find a spot wide enough so we can drive into the jungle and camp. That way, we’ll be ready to make a quick getaway in the morning, if necessary.”
“Thank you!” She gave him what she intended to be a grateful peck on the lips, but he leaned forward and deepened the kiss. She closed her eyes, sinking into the heat and the comfort of it. Then, before she lost her head, she pulled back. “Okay, Mr. Fix-It. Let’s do this.”
“You don’t have to help,” Max said. “I know how tired you are.”
Emily crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrow, since that seemed to have had a positive effect on him earlier. “So says the man who’s been beaten until his ribs cracked, sliced with a knife, and speared by a piece of metal.”
Max tipped his head in her direction to acknowledge her comment. He reached into the back seat and pulled out two energy bars and their water bottles. “Munch on this. We both need energy, first.”
“Talk about bossy.” Emily rolled her eyes, but tore off the wrapping and took a huge bite, because darn it, she was starving. The dry mix of nuts and berries tasted surprisingly good. “Where’d you get these?” She hadn’t seen energy bars on sale at the local market.
He gave her a smug smile. “Special stash from that underground group. They keep road-worthy snacks available at all of their safe houses.”
Emily finished her bar and washed it down with a long drink of water, then placed the used wrapper in the plastic garbage sack. Their water was running low
, but since they both had advanced filters on their bottles, all they needed to do was find a stream. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Max dusted off his hands and stowed their trash in the cargo compartment.
“Are your ribs up for lifting down the spare tire?” she asked, pulling on the night vision goggles and opening the panel where the tools were kept.
“Yes,” he grumbled. “I’m not an invalid.”
She bit her tongue instead of answering.
“Let me guess,” he said as he removed the cover from the spare. “Changing a tire was included in your emergency training.”
“Of course. Father made certain that everyone in the family, including Mother, could change a car’s oil, other fluids, and tires.” People who met her reserved, impeccably dressed father in his three-piece suits never believed that he could change a car’s tire, unclog a toilet, and perform other daily maintenance. And watching her blonde, aristocratic mother don a pair of blue jeans and a ratty t-shirt to work on the car with her father had always made Emily smile.
Despite the weathered look of the Jeep, it had been very well maintained. The lug nuts on both the spare and the flat tire came off easily. As she helped Max lower the spare tire to the ground, Emily’s back and shoulder muscles threatened to give out. Thankfully, the spare tire was full-sized and in good condition. It took them less than twenty minutes to change the tire. Max was just tightening the final nut when Emily saw headlights down the road in the direction of the way station.
“Max, a vehicle is headed this way.”
“Shit.”
Max shoved the flat tire into some bushes while Emily tossed the tools into the cargo compartment. Then she slid behind the wheel and drove with the lights off until she found a spot a few hundred yards down the road with just enough room for the Jeep to squeeze between the trees. As she navigated the obstacle course of above ground roots and thick bushes, she kept shooting glances in the rearview mirror, expecting to see headlights racing toward them. But despite their slow progress, the other vehicle wasn’t in sight yet.
A couple of minutes later, Max declared, “This is good. Turn off the engine.”
Not liking the spooky green tones of the night vision goggles, Emily tugged them off. The complete darkness that engulfed her sent a shiver down her spine as her eyes struggled to adjust. Through the open window, she heard the tick of the engine as it cooled. The silence caused by their passage through the jungle was soon replaced by the buzz of insects and the occasional cry of a bird. It was another five minutes before she heard the rumble of a truck engine. Even though she knew the Jeep was parked out of sight of the road, her heart still skipped a beat.
What if the rebels had some sort of night vision equipment that allowed them to see heat signatures? Should she start the Jeep? Prepare to flee? But where? Trees hemmed them in on all sides. She’d never get the Jeep started fast enough to get away if the rebels burst through the jungle.
She struggled to breathe against the rising tide of panic. What if—
Max reached over and took her hand, squeezing reassuringly. That point of contact temporarily steadied her. She squeezed back. “Max,” she whispered. “What if they have heat sensing equipment?”
“Shh… The rebels aren’t that sophisticated. They don’t have the money for that type of stuff. Now hush.”
As the wait for the truck to pass stretched on, the air pressed down on her, threatening to suffocate her. Despite Max’s reassuring presence, her mind kept conjuring up grisly scenarios of what would happen if the rebels found them and she struggled not to succumb to complete panic.
The truck eventually passed by without so much as reducing speed. Yet five minutes later, her body was still poised on the edge of flight.
“Easy, Em, we’re okay. They’re gone.” Max tugged on her hand and she went willingly into his arms.
Safety. Strength.
She snuggled against him. “How do you do it? Live with that kind of fear on a regular basis?”
She felt Max shrug underneath her cheek. “That’s what my life is like. It’s normal for me. I’d definitely panic if you put me on stage in front of hundreds and asked me to dance.”
Emily snickered at the image of Max in a pair of ballet tights, dancing a pas de deux with a semi-automatic in hand.
“Better?” Max whispered.
“Yes. Thanks.”
“Good. Let’s get some rest.”
Emily helped Max string their mosquito nets over the open windows of the Jeep, made a quick pit stop in the bushes, then tumbled onto the sleeping bag Max had laid out for her.
She waited for sleep to claim her, but although she remained enervated, her mind refused to shut down. She kept replaying all the events of the day. “Some of the rebels at the crossroads were so young,” she murmured. “Just boys. I’d heard reports from other wars in Africa, so I know the use of child soldiers is common, but still, it’s a shock.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why? Why do they enjoy hurting and killing people?” She knew the question sounded naïve, but she’d never been able to understand why people resorted to violence. What made someone like Agatha, who’d seemed so docile and sweet, decide that the best way to further her career was to throw acid on Emily in hopes of taking over Emily’s position? It hadn’t worked out the way Agatha wanted, but what had made her think violence was the answer?
“If I could figure that out, I’d be able to stop all the bloodshed,” Max said.
There was a dark edge to his voice that let her know he’d seen horrible things. Based on how he’d been abused at the hands of Ziegler, she knew he must have experienced situations that would have turned her bitter and angry. “How do you keep going without losing your own humanity?”
There was a long pause before he answered. “Sometimes you just have to lock everything away. Ignore the suffering. Ignore your conscience shouting at you to do something to help, because there’s a bigger picture and what you’re doing will have an effect on more people. And each time that happens, you lose a little more of your soul.”
The silence that followed was heavy. She wanted to probe. To know more.
“I’m not a hero, Emily. You were right to be wary of me. I’ve been in Africa this past year and seen countless incidents of abuse and other acts of violence. Yet I’m not here fighting to stabilize the region. I’m not a political idealist intent on making the world a better place. My motives are entirely selfish.”
She heard his body shift against his sleeping bag, then his deep exhalation. “I’m here for revenge.”
CHAPTER TEN
MAX STARED INTO the darkness, unable to believe those words had come out of his mouth.
It wasn’t that he’d been hiding his need for revenge against Dietrich. Kris and the rest of his former team had no illusions regarding Max’s real mission. And Wil had been quite vocal in his opposition to Max’s one-man quest to take Dietrich down.
No, what shocked him about what he’d just said was how reluctant he was to lose status in Emily’s eyes. He might be beat-up and barely able to carry out his mission, but being with Emily reminded him that there was life outside of this narrow world he’d immersed himself in. Reminded him that people laughed and loved and went about their everyday lives without a thought to men like Dietrich whose work destroyed that peaceful world.
For Emily, Max wanted to be a hero.
Emily’s soft sound of surprise reminded him that she was waiting for an explanation. “Dietrich has a side business to his arms dealing. He also deals in intelligence, if the price is high enough.” He sighed and shifted on his sleeping bag to relieve pressure on his knife wound. “Okay, there’s really no way to make this story short.”
To Max’s surprise, Emily moved in and laid her head on his chest. He draped his arm around her and she snuggled close. “We have time,” she murmured. “I’m physically exhausted, but my mind won’t settle down. Think of this as my bedtime story.”
He
snorted. “Yeah, well, I don’t know that this story will relax you, but here goes.” He took a deep breath. “I started my junior year of college in 2001, working on a double major in history and folklore. I hoped to get a position with a museum. Then the attacks of 9/11 happened. Like so many guys I knew, I desperately wanted to take action. In fact, a bunch of us headed into town and joined the Marines.”
“You were a Marine? Really? You don’t seem to have the ah…appropriate respect for authority.”
Max chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what my father thought. ‘Max, you’re always questioning. Always figuring out alternative ways to achieve a goal. You will not fit in with the military, particularly not the Marines.’ But I didn’t care. I wanted to be a Marine, like my younger brother Wil, who’d enlisted right out of high school.”
“How’d it go?”
“For the first few years, it was fine. During basic training, I was so pumped up with patriotism that I tamped down my need to always understand why I was being asked to do something. Then I got assigned to a newly formed crisis response team and the specialized training for that kept my mind occupied. It also helped that I served under excellent commanders. Men who knew how to put my intelligence to best use. Who encouraged me to become a leader. But then my lieutenant was killed during a raid that should have been a cake walk. I helped plan the mission and everything was solid—our intel, our approach, and our execution. No way should the enemy have known we were coming and prepared an ambush. Yet they’d set up a kill zone. Fortunately, our rifleman had spooky good instincts. He insisted something was wrong, so we scaled back on our approach. His warning prevented the whole platoon from getting mowed down. As it was, we lost the lieutenant, two other men, and took severe casualties.”
“You blamed yourself.”
“Yeah. Because—”
Emily put her hand over his mouth. “No, Max. I’ve seen how protective you are. How thoroughly you think things through. You did your best to make the mission safe for your men, right?”
“Of course, but—”
“Uh-uh. You’re not to blame.”
