by Pamela Clare
She blinked, saw something flying above the camp.
Not a bird. Not bees.
A drone.
It hovered near the center of the camp just beyond the men’s reach, then flew off when they tried to shoot it down.
Had someone come to rescue her?
Then Peter hovered above her, anger on his face. He pointed a pistol at her head. “I will not let them take you back.”
She managed a feeble protest. “No!”
Her parents’ and grandparents’ faces flashed through her mind. This would be so hard for them.
I’m sorry.
Peter fell in a spray of red.
Blood?
Had someone shot him?
It was so hard to think, her head throbbing.
You have a concussion.
She fought to sit up, saw Peter dead in the dirt beside her. A group of men chased the drone in circles, then followed it south toward the river. It felt surreal, like a dream, like something that was happening far away, something that wasn’t even real.
So many gunshots. Men falling dead.
Instinct took hold, her scattered thoughts coalescing into a single word.
Run.
If she could get to her feet, if she could get to the forest and escape…
She tried to stand, but her head seemed to shatter, the world spinning. She sank to the dirt again, landing on her side, the pain inside her skull almost blinding.
“Kristi, stay down!”
Now she was hearing voices.
Great.
Then a man in camo ran out of the forest, heading straight toward her, rifle in his hand, his face painted. “Stay down!”
Was he talking to her?
Of course, he’s talking to you!
That must mean he was here for her.
Thank God!
She rolled onto her back, watching as he dropped to one knee, aimed, fired.
Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at! Rat-at-at!
Then he rushed forward, clipped his rifle to a rig on his chest, and helped her sit. “It’s going to be okay, Kristi.”
She looked into his painted face, saw his eyes through his safety glasses. The breath left her lungs in a rush, relief washing through her, as sweet and pure as sunlight. She would recognize those eyes anywhere. “Malik!”
Cobra had come for her. Malik had come.
“I’m getting you out of here.” Malik spoke to someone through his mic. “Quit fucking with the drone and cover us!”
The drone flew over the camp, heading north.
Malik helped her to her feet, steadied her. “I need you to move as fast as you can. We’ve got a three-mile hike back to the vehicles.”
“My head… It hurts. I hit it. Concussion, I think. I’m so dizzy.”
“Can you walk?”
“I … I think so.” Then she spotted Obi.
He lay in the dirt beside Jidda, terror on his face.
She held out her hand. “Obi! Come with us! Hurry!”
“Kristi, I don’t think—”
“He’s just a boy.” Kristi struggled to stay on her feet, dizziness dragging her down, black spots in front of her eyes. “He isn’t one of them.”
Malik spoke into his mic. “Don’t shoot the kid. He’s coming with us.”
Obi looked over at the bodies near the river, then he clambered to his feet and ran to her, fear in his young eyes, tears on his cheeks. “Peter killed Jidda.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Let’s move!” Malik led the way.
7
Malik knew right away that Kristi was in trouble. She must have hit her head hard. He wrapped an arm around her, half leading and half carrying her toward David’s position. “Stay on your feet, Kristi. Come on, kid!”
To his surprise, the boy wrapped a skinny arm around Kristi’s shoulders, helping to support her.
Malik was reluctant to trust anyone with Kristi, but he needed his hands to work his rifle. “Have you got her? Let’s go. Hurry.”
As long as they stood in this clearing, they were sitting ducks for any asshole with the balls to shoot back. Most had fled into the forest or run downriver. But all it took was one bullet.
From the rise ahead, David fired a three-round burst.
Someone behind them grunted, hit the dirt.
“Eyes forward! Keep moving!” Malik shouted to the kid, who’d looked back over his shoulder.
Fuck.
Malik wished they’d been able to wait for the police or the army to show up, but there was no way he could have sat there while that bastard brutalized her. Now, they had a five-kilometer retreat back to the vehicles with no one to watch their six.
They reached the edge of camp.
“Keep going!” Malik turned and dropped to one knee to cover the kid and Kristi as they made their way into the cover of the forest.
He watched for movement, but the camp seemed deserted, bodies lying still in the dirt. The bastards had no idea they’d been attacked by a force of only two. When they figured that out…
The drone buzzed by above him, David’s voice coming over his earpiece.
“They have all fled down the river. I see no movement around us. Let’s go!”
Malik stood, caught up with Kristi and the boy in a few strides, and led them to David, who was ready to go, rifle over his shoulder, drone controller in his hand.
Kristi looked around them. “Where are the rest of the guys—Thor, Lev?”
She thought Malik was here with Cobra.
“It’s just the two of us.”
She gaped at him. “What?”
There wasn’t time to explain or to introduce David.
With the drone giving them eyes in the sky, they made their way through the forest back to the waiting vehicles.
Malik helped Kristi climb into the backseat of his rental, buckled her seatbelt, then got her and the boy bottled water and energy bars from the back. “We’ll be in Kaduna in a few hours. You need to hang on until then.”
She drank thirstily. “I’m fine now that you’re here.”
As good as that made Malik feel, he knew it wasn’t true. He could see from her face that she was in pain. “Watch over her, kid.”
Kristi closed her eyes, rubbed her temple. “His name is Obi.”
“Good work, Obi.” Malik gave the boy a smile.
What was his story?
With no time to ask, Malik took the wheel, rifle beside him, while David rode shotgun, his hands busy controlling the drone.
“The way ahead looks clear.”
Malik started the vehicle, hit the gas, and they were off, bouncing over rutted roads. He glanced into the rearview mirror, saw Kristi pressing her fingers to her temple, the pain on her face putting a knot of worry in his chest. Head injuries were unpredictable. “When we reach Kinu, you’re driving.”
David looked over his shoulder, spoke to Obi. “Who are you?”
Obi spoke to David in rapid Naija, Malik catching some of it. He understood that Obi had lost his parents and someone named Jidda had taken him in. He understood, too, that Kristi had helped Obi. But the rest of the conversation escaped Malik.
By the time they reached Kinu, Kristi was asleep. Malik parked just outside of the village and climbed out to trade places with Obi, while David recalled the drone and updated his contacts about their situation via sat phone.
“You are Malik, her husband?” Obi asked as he passed.
That was … interesting.
Malik didn’t want to contradict anything Kristi might have told them. “Yes.”
Obi smiled, the first smile Malik had seen on his young face. “She said you would come. She said you would kill any man who touched her.”
She’d said that?
“She was right.” Malik grabbed a combat first aid kit and another bottle of water for Kristi out of the back, then climbed into the backseat beside her and stowed his rifle, barrel facing downward, near his feet. He peeled off his gloves, reached o
ver, and stroked her bruised cheek with his knuckles. “Kristi, sweetheart, wake up.”
She whimpered, raised her head. “Worst headache ever.”
“I’ve got some painkillers in this kit—oxy, acetaminophen, ibuprofen.”
“Acetaminophen and ibuprofen, please.”
He got out the pills, placed them in her palm, watched her swallow.
“Thanks.”
To hell with this.
“Come here.” Malik unbuckled her seatbelt, drew her toward him so that she rested in his lap now, her head pillowed by his arm. “Rest. I’ll get you home.”
“Malik.” She said his name, smiled. “Will you be here when I open my eyes?”
“Damn straight I will be.”
Malik watched her fall asleep. He told himself she was safe, that it was over, but the knot in his chest wouldn’t go away, one thought running on loop through his mind.
What if he and David had waited?
What if they’d come tomorrow or a week from now?
Fuck.
Kristi woke with a start, found herself looking into Malik’s beautiful brown eyes. “It wasn’t a dream.”
He grinned. “I’m real.”
“Thank God for that.” She sat up, her head still aching. “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life.”
“How do you feel?”
“A little better.”
It was dark now, the streets busy with traffic, okadas and tuk-tuks—motorbike taxis and auto-rickshaws—competing with buses, cars, and vans for space.
She rubbed the ache in her temple. “Where are we?”
The Nigerian man at the wheel met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Croc City.”
She glanced around, recognizing it now. “Kaduna.”
He grinned. “You know Nigeria. I’m David Ayodele Olatunji. I’m a friend.”
That didn’t explain why David was here rather than the rest of the Cobra team, but Kristi didn’t have the energy to ask and wasn’t sure she should.
Malik took her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “We’re driving you to a private hospital so someone can check you out.”
“No, not a hospital. I’m fine, really. I just need a hot shower, food and water, and a real bed.” She could barely stand to be in her own skin. “I’ll need antimalarials, too, and, well, clothes.”
Everything she owned was in her dorm room.
Malik frowned, concern on his painted face. “We can handle that, but I’d feel better if a doctor had a look at you.”
“We can send for my doctor, have him come to our hotel. He can look her over and take care of Obi’s burned hand, too. Does that work for you?”
“Yes,” Kristi said.
Malik gave in. “She’s the nurse.”
Kristi saw that Obi was sleeping. “Thanks for letting him come with us.”
David made a left turn into the downtown area. “He told us all about you—how you saved his Uncle Jidda, how you stayed faithful to your husband, how you told them Malik would kill any man who touched you, how you helped him with his burned hand. You’ve got courage, Miss Chang.”
“He’s right.” Malik squeezed her hand. “What you did was incredibly brave.”
David stopped at a red light, looked back at Kristi. “How did you know Malik would come for you?”
Kristi looked into Malik’s eyes, a lump forming in her throat. “I didn’t. I… I wasn’t sure anyone would come.”
A part of her still couldn’t believe this was real, that she was free—and safe.
“We’re almost to the hotel.” Malik caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “You can take a shower in my bathroom. We’ll order you food and get some bottled water and whatever else you need.”
“Thanks, Malik—for everything.”
David pulled into the hotel’s valet entrance, rested a hand on Obi’s shoulder to wake him. “Get her and the boy inside, Jones. We’ll take care of the gear.”
“Copy that.” Malik climbed out, helped Kristi down, steadied her as she found her feet. “Dizzy?”
“Yeah. A little.”
Malik hadn’t forgotten Obi. “You okay, buddy? Just follow me.”
Kristi motioned for him to follow. “Come, Obi. It’s okay. We’re safe here.”
Obi followed them up the stairs and inside, his mouth falling open at the sight of the high ceiling, marble floors, and the uniformed staff.
The staff stared back, probably shocked by Obi’s ragged, filthy clothing and Kristi’s dirty scrubs. Or maybe a fighter in camo and face paint with a rifle in his hands made them nervous. Kristi couldn’t blame them either way.
Malik led them to the elevator, punched the call button. “We’ve got a couple of suites upstairs—one for us and one for David’s bodyguards.”
It sounded like heaven to Kristi. “As long as there’s modern plumbing and a bed.”
How strange it was to stand beside Malik again after all this time. It had been more than a year since she’d seen him or spoken with him.
And still he came for you.
The elevator doors opened, making Obi smile.
Kristi stepped inside, Malik close beside her. “Have you ever ridden in an elevator, Obi?”
“No, miss.” He followed, his grin widening when the doors closed and the car began to move.
The motion exacerbated Kristi’s dizziness. She threw out a hand to steady herself, but a strong arm went around her shoulder.
“I’ve got you.”
The elevator doors opened, and Malik led them to a door down the hall and to their left. He unlocked it and stepped aside to let Kristi and Obi enter first, then followed them inside.
Malik shut the door behind him and began to peel off his tactical gear—eye protection, chest rig, body armor. “My room is through there. There’s a bathroom with a shower and lots of clean towels. I think there are some toiletries, but feel free to use my stuff. I’ll get Obi settled.”
“Thanks.” Kristi walked into his room, closed the door, and made her way to the attached bathroom.
At the sight of the shower, she couldn’t get out of her filthy clothes fast enough. She stripped, turned on the water, and stepped under the hot spray.
Oh, it felt good!
She shampooed and conditioned her hair, a big, tender goose egg on her scalp where she’d hit her head. Then she scrubbed her skin until it glowed, the water at her feet running muddy brown as she rinsed off. It was only when she wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel, stepped out of the shower, and saw her bruised face in the mirror that the weight of the past four days hit her, images running through her mind.
Peter dragging her past slain security guards to the SUV. An enraged Jidda telling her to accept her fate as his concubine. Peter shooting Jidda, striking her, dragging her toward the hut. Peter pointing a pistol at her head, then falling dead to the ground.
Four endless, awful, terrifying days.
And Kristi broke, sobbing, all of the tears she’d held back finally spilling down her cheeks.
Malik sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands, only half listening as officers from the NPF questioned Obi about his time with the bandits, David acting in loco parentis for the kid. The doctor had arrived with a nurse a half hour ago to check Kristi. Malik had wanted to stay with her, to support her. He’d heard her crying in the shower earlier, her sobs making his heart constrict, making him want to hold her. But they hadn’t seen each other for eighteen months. So, he’d held back, uncertain where they stood. He didn’t want to crowd her or invade her emotional space.
Instead, he’d washed the paint off his face in David’s bathroom and had gone with Bruno to a nearby mall, where he’d bought clothes and toiletries for both Kristi and the boy, who owned nothing but the rags on his back. The kid had already taken his first shower and changed.
He’d emerged smiling ear to ear. “I make baff up.”
David had translated the Naija. “He says he’s all dresse
d up.”
“You look good, man.”
Malik was glad the boy hadn’t gotten caught in the crossfire.
Malik’s phone buzzed.
Shields.
“Jones here.”
“You got her! Oh, my God, Malik, I’m so relieved. We all are. What happened?”
Malik went through it, pausing so that Shields could put him on speaker. “We set up a recon north of the camp and called in to David’s contacts when we got confirmation she was there. But the situation went south fast. One of the assholes decided to kill their leader and take Kristi for himself. We had no choice but to move in early.”
“Just the two of you—against at least twenty-seven combatants?” That was Segal.
“Yeah.” An image of Peter aiming that pistol at Kristi’s head flashed through Malik’s mind. If Malik hadn’t already had the bastard in his sights… “David used a drone to create a distraction, while I opened fire. I was able to reach Kristi and get her and a boy to safety. The surviving bandits fled, and we drove back to the city.”
“How is she?” Shields asked.
“She’s with a doctor now. She has some bruises and probably a concussion. The boy told us that she bartered her nursing skills for physical safety, making them promise not to hurt her if she helped their leader, who’d been shot.”
He didn’t tell Shields that Kristi had also told them she was married and that her husband would be coming to kick their asses. He didn’t feel like being ribbed.
“Smart woman.” Shields sounded impressed. “And brave.”
That was an understatement.
“Good job, man.” That was Isaksen. “Samantha is going to be so relieved.”
“Tower here. We’ve notified the State Department that she’s been freed. Well done, Jones. When do you expect to fly out—”
Then the door to Malik’s room opened. The nurse stepped out in her crisp white uniform and motioned to him.
“I’ve got to go. Thanks, everyone, for your help and support on this. I couldn’t have done this without you.” He ended the call, slipped the phone into his pocket.
He found Kristi sitting on the side of his bed wearing a hotel bathrobe, arms hugged around her waist, her hair still damp. She smiled when she saw him. “I’m going to live—thanks to you.”
