by Pamela Clare
“Both Gabriela and I have survived abductions.” Elizabeth took her hand. “I was kidnapped by a terrorist who would’ve slit my throat if not for Quinn. Gabriela was taken captive by a Colombian drug cartel for a week. We both know what it’s like. It will take some time, but you’ll get through this.”
“You don’t have to go through this alone.” Gabriela handed her a tissue. “You’re part of the Cobra family now. You saved one of ours from those cabrones, and Malik loves you. You can call me or Elizabeth any time you need to talk. I’m still blown away by the fact that you made a Molotov cocktail and set the warehouse on fire.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Says the chick who gunned down the head of the Andes cartel and a bunch of his sicarios.”
Kristi gaped at Gabriela. She was young and small like Kristi. “You did that?”
Gabriela nodded. “That’s a story for another day. I think Doc wants to see you.”
Kristi followed the two women back to the infirmary, where Doc stuck the pulse oximeter on her finger. “Ninety-six. That’s better.”
“How is Malik?” Kristi saw that he was sound asleep.
“I’m pretty sure he’s going to need surgery. He’ll be laid up for a while. I’m hoping he won’t have permanent damage.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m told you started the fire to stop them from roasting Jones, so thank you.” He pointed to the other bed. “Now, rest. Doctor’s orders.”
Kristi went to lie down, but she couldn’t sleep.
When Doc left the room, she got up and went to sit by Malik, her gaze moving over him. The exhaustion on his face. The dark purple bruises on his arms and wrists. The edema in his fingers. Overwhelmed by tenderness for him, she bent down, pressed a kiss to his forehead.
His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled. “Hey, beautiful.”
She touched a palm to his cheek. “How do you feel?”
“Better.”
“I think that’s the morphine.”
“Doc says he thinks I might need surgery on my shoulders.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Your poor shoulders sustained a lot of trauma, your arms and upper back, too. It’s going to take you a while to heal.”
“I’ve never felt pain like that. Those bastards wanted me to hand over David and Obi. I couldn’t do it, Kristi. I couldn’t—no matter what they did to me.”
A hard lump formed in her throat. “I don’t know how you did it. I don’t know how you held out for so long. You’re my hero, Malik. I love you.”
She’d already told him, but she wasn’t sure he remembered.
His lips curved in a smile. “I love you, too. I think I’ve been in love with you this entire time. I just didn’t know how to tell you—or how to deal with the fact that we lived such different lives. Besides, we said no strings.”
“Too hell with that. I want strings, Malik—all of them.”
“Are you sure? What about working as a nurse on all seven continents?”
“Five out of seven isn’t bad. All I wanted was adventure. After lions, quicksand, and driving across the narrowest railway bridge in the world ahead of a freight train a hundred feet above croc-infested waters, what more is there?”
He chuckled. “I see your point.”
“I think it’s time for a different kind of adventure—one where we do normal stuff together.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Watching TV. Eating real food. Sleeping in a bed made for two.”
“That sounds pretty dull for a woman who slings Molotov cocktails.” She could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he was teasing her.
“With you, nothing is dull.” She bent down, kissed him.
21
They landed in Denver at four in the morning the next day. Malik and Kristi were taken via ambulance to University Hospital, where Cobra’s concierge physician team met them and took over Malik’s care.
Grateful for the morphine now, Malik slept through the MRIs—and woke to the unwelcome news that he would need surgery.
“Torn rotator cuffs,” the doctor said. “With surgery and good physical therapy, you should heal well. You’re relatively young and in peak fitness.”
“How’s my wife?” Malik had gotten so used to calling Kristi his wife that he didn’t realize he’d said it, but once the words were out, he didn’t take them back.
Okay, maybe that was the morphine. Or maybe it wasn’t.
The doctor looked confused. “I didn’t realize you two were married.”
Malik cleared his throat. “It’s a secret. We haven’t told our parents.”
“She’s doing well. Her smoke inhalation was mild, and the irritation in her lungs will settle down over the next few days. I told her to wait outside because I didn’t know she was family. She ought to have told me she was your spouse. I’ll bring her right in.”
“Please.” Score.
She walked into his room, sat beside him. “The doctor says he thinks you’ll make a full recovery after surgery. That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He hoped the doctor was right. “When are you leaving for San Francisco?”
Some selfish part of him wished she could stay, but he knew she wanted to see her parents, and they wanted to see her.
“I’m staying, Malik. I can’t leave now, not when you’re about to have surgery. We’ll get through this together.”
That was exactly what Malik had hoped to hear. “What about your folks?”
“They know I’m back, and they know what happened. I told them I hoped to be home for Christmas but that I would be living in Denver and taking care of you until you’re back on your feet. They seemed to understand.” She took his hand. “Also, I told them that I’m in love with you—and that you’re Black.”
Uh-oh.
“Is that going to be a problem?”
Kristi considered his question. “I’ve heard my grandfather say a few things I didn’t like when I stayed with him in Beijing, so I was worried about how my dad would take it. My mother said you could be purple for all she cared. My father said, ‘We are Americans. In our country, such things do not matter.’”
“So, you’re sticking around, huh?”
“I’d stick around no matter how they felt about it. Strings, baby. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
Kristi stayed by his side until they took him to surgery. She was there in recovery when he woke up. She stayed with him overnight, making sure he got pain meds on time, keeping his ice bags refreshed, helping him to get out of bed, waking him when he had bad dreams, watching over him like his own personal angel.
He was discharged just before noon the next day, both arms in slings. She went with him then, too, opening the door of the Cobra limo, buckling his seat belt, carrying his medications.
“Welcome home,” he said when they walked inside his condo. “I hope you like the place.”
It had three bedrooms, three bathrooms, wooden floors, an ultra-modern kitchen, a gas fireplace—and a great view of the city lights.
She glanced around, walked to the window. “I love it.”
It was only when she’d gotten him settled that he remembered Kristi only had the clothes on her back—and even those didn’t belong to her.
Because he couldn’t use his arms and had no phone, he had no choice but to ask Kristi to send an email to Isaksen, asking him and Samantha to come over and do him a favor. After that, he dictated another email to Tower, reminding him that neither he nor Kristi had passports, driver’s licenses, or cell phones.
By the time Kristi had given Malik a sponge bath and settled him on the sofa with ESPN on the screen and a glass of water with a straw, Isaksen and Samantha had arrived.
“Samantha!” Kristi and Samantha hugged, their happiness at being reunited putting a smile on Malik’s face.
Isaksen sat beside him. “You said you needed help, brother. What’s up?”
“Samantha, can you please take Kristi out to buy clothes?
She doesn’t have any ID or credit cards or even a cell phone. All of that was lost or burned in the fire. Can you do that for her? We’ll pay you back.”
“Of course! How awful. Thor told me what happened—or most of it. I’m so glad you’re safe. Why don’t you work on a list of what you need, Kristi, and we’ll head out.”
But Kristi wasn’t happy, worry on her pretty face. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“He’ll be fine. We’ll watch some football. I’ll take care of him.” Isaksen paused. “But I won’t hold your dick when you pee, dude. You’ll have to sit.”
Kristi told Isaksen when Malik was due for his next dose of Percocet, and then she and Samantha left together.
“So, you and Kristi, huh?” Isaksen went to the fridge, got himself a beer.
“Yeah. I never quit thinking about her. I should have called.”
Isaksen took a drink of his brew and sat again. “Who would have thought Cobra’s crazy mission to Antarctica would have such an impact on our lives?”
“That is a strange thought.”
“Yeah, we both shot the parrot on that one.”
Malik knew he was on Percocet, but that made no sense at all. “Is that more Viking-speak? What the hell does that even mean?”
Isaksen spoke English so well, Malik sometimes forgot it wasn’t his primary language.
“You don’t say that in English?”
“Nah, man, not unless you literally shot a fucking parrot.”
The Viking looked surprised for a moment, then laughed. “In Danish, it’s an expression that means we had good luck.”
Good luck.
“Isn’t that the truth?”
Kristi held Malik’s hand and slowly moved his bent arm thirty degrees to the outside, working on external rotation. “Don’t force it. This is passive motion. Let me do the work. Your arm is just going along for the ride.”
“Passive motion. Right.” He glowered, clearly unfamiliar with any kind of passivity and frustrated that his recovery hadn’t been instantaneous.
Kristi had taken on the job of helping with his physical therapy, the two of them heading to Cobra’s gym once a day and doing the rest of the work at their place. They didn’t really need the gym—not yet—but Kristi had thought it would lift his spirits to be in that familiar environment.
“Great. That was perfect. Now the other side.” She repeated the exercise on his right arm—fifteen repetitions.
The past few weeks had flown by. Cobra had stepped in to get new passports for both of them, enabling Kristi to get a new driver’s license, open a bank account in Denver, and have her belongings shipped from San Francisco. Samantha, Elizabeth, and Gabriela had all been there to help with groceries and meals. Malik’s Cobra buddies had done their best to buoy his spirits, their camaraderie a comfort to him.
Best of all, Tower had told Malik that he still had a job.
In her free time, Kristi had filled out job applications at area hospitals. After Nigeria, she wasn’t excited about going back to the corporate medical environment—top-down directives, daily pressure to expedite patient discharges, policies based on profit and not patient outcomes. With Malik’s encouragement, she’d started applying for jobs at nonprofit community clinics. The money wouldn’t be what it was in a hospital setting, but then she hadn’t become a nurse to get rich.
“And now your favorite—the squeeze ball.” She picked up the little black ball and placed it in his upturned palm.
“My favorite. Right.” He squeezed, his expression going tight. “If I can’t squeeze the damned ball, how will I hold a firearm?”
“It will come with time. I promise.” Kristi knew he was afraid that he wouldn’t be declared fit for duty and would find himself out of a job. She’d tried to reassure him that he was doing well, but he didn’t seem to believe her.
She couldn’t blame him. It must be discouraging for him to find himself so limited. He wasn’t used to being helpless, and right now, with restrictions on how he could use his arms, there wasn’t much he could do for himself. That overflowed into everything from eating to getting dressed to taking showers. It affected their sex life, too, forcing him to take the passive role—not that he seemed to mind getting lots of head.
She counted out the squeezes with him. “Great! It’s getting easier. I can tell.”
He nodded. “Table stretches?”
“Yep. It’s almost like you don’t need me.”
His gaze shot to hers. “That’s not true.”
She guided him through the exercise, watching to make sure he didn’t overdo the stretch or put any weight on his arms.
Tower walked in. “Can I see the two of you in my office when you finish here?”
Malik answered for both of them. “Yes, sir.”
Kristi watched Tower walk away. “Why does he want to see me?”
“No idea.”
Ten minutes later, she found herself sitting in Tower’s very nice office with its flat-screen monitor, windows overlooking the city, and black leather furniture.
“A short time ago, Corbray and I got some news from the State Department. The phones and laptop we confiscated during our raid in Lagos proved to be extremely useful. Last night, the Nigeria Police Force took down the Sky Kings in cooperation with law enforcement in several countries.”
The breath rushed from Kristi’s lungs, tears filling her eyes. “They’re gone?”
“Good fucking riddance,” Malik said.
Tower nodded. “Their leaders have been killed or arrested, and their overseas operations have been shut down. Hundreds of trafficked Nigerian women are getting medical care and therapy and being repatriated.”
Kristi wiped her tears away. “That’s the best news.
“We’re glad to hear it, sir.”
“There’s more. US forces participated in the operations in Nigeria. An element from DEVGRU was there, along with a company from the Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment. They were told they were there to avenge one of their own. They wanted to know they got the job done.”
“Thank you, sir.” Malik’s voice sounded tight.
Kristi reached over, squeezed his fingers, barely able to imagine how that felt for him—vengeance at the hands of his brothers in arms. “It really is over.”
Malik squeezed back. “It’s been over since the day they abducted you. They just didn’t know it.”
“Jones, I’d like to speak privately with Ms. Chang for a few minutes if you can bear to be away from her for any length of time.”
Kristi exchanged a glance with Malik, who clearly had no more idea what this was about than she did.
“Sure.” Malik stood. “I’ll be outside.”
Tower waited until Jones had gone. “I’d like to offer you a job.”
Malik walked with Kristi to the elevator. “What was that about?”
“He offered me a job.”
“He offered you a job?” That’s not what Malik had expected.
Kristi punched the call button. “He says Cobra is expanding and they need more medical staff. He said he was impressed by my grit—that’s what he called it—and how I handled the situation at the warehouse.”
Malik had to agree with Tower there. “You kicked ass.”
“He’s also watched me helping you with PT. He wants to hire me.”
“Wow.” Malik liked the idea—as long as Kristi understood what she’d be getting herself into. “What did you say?”
“I told him that I had my heart set on working with underserved populations at one of the low-income clinics. He said working full-time for Cobra comes with lots of time off, so I could have the best of both worlds—traveling with Cobra and volunteering at one of the clinics in my free time.”
“Huh.” Malik fought not to roll his eyes.
Tower had known exactly what to say to catch Kristi.
That Green Beret bastard.
The elevator car arrived with a ding.
They stepped inside, and Kristi pu
shed the button for the parking garage.
“He said he’d give me a fifty-thousand-dollar signing bonus. Can you believe that? The salary he offered is a lot more than I’d ever make working anywhere else, though the money isn’t that important to me. He said it would be a way for me to finish my goal of working on every continent.”
“Did he also tell you that you’d be on call every day of the year?”
“Yes, he was clear about that. He also told me I might find myself in a situation—God forbid—where you were gravely injured or even dead and I would have other injured people to care for. He wanted to know if I’d still be able to do my job.”
It was a valid question. “What did you say?”
“I told him about a time the six-year-old son of a fellow nurse, a friend, was brought in after being hit by a car. His mother was there at the hospital working. He died while I was fighting to save him, and I was the one who had to tell her.”
“God. Sorry.” Malik couldn’t imagine. “That must have been hard.”
“It was awful. Tower asked a few other questions, too—whether I’d thought of getting a master’s in nursing, how I felt about working in a male-dominated environment.”
“He turned it into a job interview.” Malik couldn’t help but laugh.
That was so like Tower.
She hadn’t applied for a job, but Tower was grilling her anyway.
“I haven’t gotten to the best part. He talked about the vacation and parental leave policies and then wanted to know if I could remain professional if you and I got divorced. I told him we’d have to get married first. He said he thought we were married already. I guess that little lie caught up with us.”
Malik laughed, but he wasn’t sure it was a lie. “Did you give him an answer?”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, cold air rushing in.
They walked toward Malik’s vehicle.
