Dead Reckoning

by Ronie Kendig

“Khan! Drop it,” Reece roared, his pulse throbbing in his neck and temples. “I’ll end this. So help me, you know I will.”

  “No!” Shiloh shot him a glance. “Baseer, just put the gun down. Please!”

  A crooked smile faltered on the embattled man's lips, a stream of blood oozing out as he looked at Shiloh. “He loved you so very much.” His knee buckled. Although he swayed, he remained upright. “Nisa wanted you in the family even though you had no faith in God. I argued with her. But she loved you as a daughter.” The smile dropped into a frown. “They will rape and murder her. You know this, yes? Then my daughter— poor Aatifa. I can’t … can’t let that happen.” His finger coiled around the trigger, his hand shaking. Eyes glassy, he aimed at Shiloh again.

  Boom!

  Baseer spun. Fell. The weapon skidded to the side.

  Shiloh rushed to him. “Baseer! Why? You could’ve come— taken Nisa to America. You could’ve hidden.”

  Reece stood over them. The mentality—the fear that destroyed the lives of normal, decent men—angered him.

  “Here …” Baseer gasped and stuffed something into Shiloh's hand. “Gerard Mo … Mor …” Trembling, bloodied hands encompassed hers. “Take to him. Tell Nis … love … er.” He slumped with his last wheezing breath.

  Shiloh sniffled as she bent over Khalid's father.

  Shouts outside.

  Reece grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back. “We’re outta time.” With a firm but gentle grip on her arm, he led her to his bike just inside the building. The blown-out wall had given him the perfect entrance and exit.

  Tires squalled nearby. Sirens blared.

  Carefully, he fitted a helmet on her and secured the chin strap. With a tap on the top, he pronounced it good to go.

  “We’ll be on the road all night. Will you be okay?”

  Liquid blue-grey eyes drifted to his. A somber nod. He pointed to the graze on her shoulder. “If that bothers you, let me know. Tug on my jacket.” He hunched so they were eye-to-eye. “Got it?”

  Another nod.

  He flipped down her face shield, mounted the Monster, and shifted back to her. She stood, stared at the bike, and slowly hiked up the absurd burqa, revealing a pair of jeans. Surprise lit through him. Why had she worn jeans? Somehow, she knew something would happen tonight.

  Proud that she had obeyed her instincts, he held out his hand. Shiloh placed hers in his and swung her leg over the back. He bent and lifted her foot and set it on the footrest. He repeated the move with her other foot. As he stabbed the key in the engine, he felt the subtle pressure of her grip against his leather jacket. Reece tugged her hands around his waist and patted her arm.

  “Hold on—tight.”

  He revved the engine, released the clutch, and the bike screamed forward. Rubber tires clawed for traction. He felt her tense. Her fingers dug into his jacket. Then she moved closer. No lady-like distance between them.

  They burst out of the building. Sparks flew off the fairing—bullets missing their target. With a bounce, the Monster screeched and jerked forward, propelling them down the darkened street. He accelerated and up-shifted, ready to embrace the night.

  Lights shattered the darkness. Ahead, several cars appeared on the road.

  Left foot downshifting, he tucked his head and glared. Lord, we need an—

  The alley! Urging the bike to the far right, he spotted the turn and fired down through the gears to second. Barely slowing in time, he felt her muscles constrict. A glance at the speedometer—60 mph—warned him this corner would be terrifying. Hoping to give her a silent message to trust him and go with his movement, he pressed his elbow against her arm.

  Then he banked left, leaning hard into the turn. Down … down … Shiloh countered his momentum, trying to stay upright instead of following his lead.

  He pulled harder, arching his side toward the road and once again accelerated. Kiss of death? Come on, come on, he prodded her mentally.

  Her weight eased into his. Aha! There, she’d figured it out. The scathing warmth of the cement sneered up at him. A fraction more and his knee would sizzle. Just a little farther. They nailed the corner.

  Nice and steady, he tugged his body straight, and she came right into position, pressed to his spine, stopping the bike's curve trajectory. At the next street, he repeated the maneuver, thrilling over the way Shiloh had adjusted and flowed with it as they roared toward the interstate. The wind whipped against them, and he hammered through the gears. The arms encircling him bound tighter and tighter. It wasn’t until he flicked the bike into fifth and smoothed out at one-twenty that she started to relax. By the time they’d reach the Green Beret camp, her legs would feel like jelly.

  But he wondered if the Shiloh Blake he’d met on Mumbai Beach two weeks ago still existed. Tonight's ordeal ranked up there on the catastrophe scale that left people with major issues.

  God, protect her mind and heart. Help me get her to safety.

  He concentrated on the winding road to avoid the potholes that felt like landmines. Whatever Baseer Khan had given her, Reece would have to convince her to hand it over. That could be the answer, the key to this whole disaster. Beside his wife and children, the man had a secret worth dying for.

  Reece could only hope nobody else knew about it.

  15

  Northern India

  PRE-DAWN COLORED THE WORLD IN A GREY HAZE. A SLIGHT BREEZE swirled cool mist around the street. Trees stood guard along the winding path to wherever they were going. At this point, she really didn’t care where, just as long as they kept going. And going.

  At a trash bin, Shiloh tossed the burqa. Her gaze darted to Brutus, who haggled with a street vendor. His frame seemed enlarged next to the short woman tending the stand. Never would she forget the image burned into her mind of him killing Baseer. Shot after thundering shot. With a quick shake of her head, she tried to push the image far from her mind. But her thoughts danced with it in some sick serenade. Khalid in her arms … his last breath.

  Why did God do that? Why did He take Khalid? He was such a good man.

  He's gone. She blinked fast and dropped her gaze to the UCSD T-shirt she wore. Why didn’t God protect him? Isn’t that the way it should work? Khalid lived his life for God. Shouldn’t the Almighty return the favor and let him live?

  Brutus approached, armed with two bottled waters and protein bars pulled from his pack. “It's not much, but it’ll get us through till we make camp.” He handed her one of each. “How’re you?”

  What a question. How did he think she’d be after watching her best friend and his father killed? Her shoulder ached, and her head pounded like a distant echo of his firing weapon. Ignoring him, she twisted off the water bottle cap. After a couple of sips she closed it and set it in her bag.

  The early morning hues shrouded his face in shadows. “We’re not leaving until you down that bottle.”

  Shiloh studied him. His almost flat brows seemed to sit in a perpetual line. His lips were tight, his jaw set. Did it even bother him that he’d shot a man to death?

  “We’ve been on the road since midnight.” He glanced at his watch. “It's nearly four. You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since last night.”

  “So?”

  “So you need to guard against dehydration.” Without waiting for her reply, he retrieved her water and handed it to her. “The water and at least one protein bar.”

  “Or what?” She heard the hollow jeer in her own words. It didn’t matter if she ate or drank. Nothing mattered. Everything seemed senseless.

  Straightening to his full height, he stepped closer and slid the protein bar into her hand.

  Heat shot through her chest. In a tantrum, she threw it across the dusty street. Without a word, he offered another.

  Eyes searching his, she felt the hammering in her chest. “You killed him in cold blood. You just shot him where he stood.”

  Brutus didn’t flinch. His gaze held hers, constant and steady.

  “Not
once.” Her voice rose, and she shoved him. “Not twice. Four times!”

  Despite her shove, he didn’t budge.

  “How can you stand there”—another shove—“and not say anything?” Right jab to his gut. “You shot him.”

  His hands rose slightly in a defensive move. “Shil—”

  With all she had, she slammed her fist toward his stomach, but he caught her strike.

  And he let her go just as quickly. “I’m not going to fight you.” Hands held up, he took a step back.

  Her fury fed off his words. Her palm stung when it connected with his face, slapping him again and again.

  In one fluid move, he wrapped her in a tight hold. Blood roared through her ears. Unable to reach his face, she writhed in his grasp and pounded his sides.

  “I hate you!” She hit him again. “I hate you! You killed his father.” Tears poured down her face. “You made me leave him.” I loved him. “Like a dog in the street.”

  Her vigor renewed, she pummeled his sides. Occasionally, he grunted from a blow, but remained steadfast in holding her tight and close. It felt like she beat him forever … until she could hardly hold herself upright.

  Finally, she slumped her forehead against his chest, fingers coiling around his supple leather jacket, and she sobbed.

  Spent, Shiloh eventually shuddered and drew in a ragged breath. She remained in his arms, wishing that the enclosure was some portal to a different life, a life without raw pain and shattered dreams.

  Sudden awareness of what she had done embarrassed her. You must look like a complete idiot.

  Brutus released her.

  Humiliated, she couldn’t bear to look at him. He moved out of view. Seconds hung like doom. Had he left? Would he leave her like Baseer had planned to? She swiped a hand under her dripping nose. Though an ache burned her neck, she dared not look up.

  Then, his feet returned—large, booted feet. He stuffed another protein bar into her hand and waited as she gobbled it all and guzzled the water.

  He held out his large black helmet. “We should get going.”

  She couldn’t figure him out. Why didn’t he hate her back? How had he controlled his anger at her accusations? He hadn’t struck her once as she beat on him.

  “Why?” Her own words snapped her from the stupor. She hauled her eyes to his. “Why aren’t you angry?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “We have a long ride ahead.” His soft words held understanding as he lifted the helmet from her and set it on her head. He crouched closer, working with the strap and securing it. “Looks good.” He straightened and looked at her with his incredibly blue eyes. “Ready?”

  Something stirred within her as she nodded. No condemnation? No order to grow up and act like an adult? Her father would’ve said that.

  He straddled the motorcycle, started the engine, and then glanced back at her. “By the way, it's Reece.”

  “What?”

  “My name. Reece Jaxon. Not Brutus. Deal?”

  Heat climbed into her cheeks. That, too, frustrated her. “Deal.”

  Hand planted on his muscular shoulder for balance, Shiloh swung her right leg over the back of the bike. She plastered her body against his. It wasn’t romantic … just necessary. As Reece had proven last night, if she didn’t sit close and tight, she’d end up as roadkill.

  The engine revved, and the bike lurched forward. Shiloh wrapped her arms around his waist and gripped her own wrists for a tight hold.

  Once the motorcycle settled into high speed, she relaxed a bit. Her thoughts tumbled over what had just happened. It was so unlike her to lose control like that. But she’d never felt so close to plummeting off a mental cliff .

  Shiloh rested her head against his back so she wouldn’t end up with another crick in her neck.

  The whole time she’d hit and kicked out at him, he just stood there taking it. She felt so stupid, like a three-year-old child trying to beat up a high-schooler. The thought pried a smile from her unwilling lips. She sighed. He’d had no choice with Baseer. She knew that. And yet she had accused him of murder.

  Reece possessed a steely quality she didn’t have. How could he kill someone for the sake of his job? What he’d shouted at Baseer reverberated in her memory. She’d heard something in his words. Anger? Was he angry over what he’d been forced to do? Yes, but it was more than that. His voice revealed … what? Grief? Regret?

  His leg bounced against hers as he downshifted. She peeked over his shoulder and spotted a road jutting off the highway. He aimed for it. At least it wasn’t a turn. She wasn’t sure she could take another screamer.

  Again he upshifted. Shiloh tensed her arms, hugging him tighter as the propulsion tugged her back, the wind trying to rip her off the bike. Then just as suddenly, he downshifted again. Their speed must have been cut in half. She glanced over his shoulder at the speedometer. It read sixty but it felt like they were crawling. Then she saw the turn.

  Reece looked back at her, their eyes meeting despite the shield. Oh no! She scooted closer and clung to him. Just as she felt confident she could hang on, the bike laid right. At first, she tried to pull left, but remembered and let herself ease into his back and follow his lead. Trust. Trust. Trust him. If he wanted her dead, he would have pumped her full of lead in Mumbai.

  Within seconds he rose upright, and she followed him. Another half-hour passed before he steered onto a dirt road, slowing considerably. He eased the bike to a stop. With both legs stretched out, he balanced the Ducati as the engine idled.

  Confused, she glanced around, wondering why they had stopped.

  “You handled that corner beautifully,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  Reece retrieved his cell, dialed, and put it to his ear. “Five miles out.” After he stuffed the phone away, he glanced at her. “The terrain is rough from here on.”

  In other words, painful.

  The engine sprang to life, numbing her legs with the vibration. During the next ten minutes as they bounced their brains senseless, including six terrifying seconds when they went airborne after taking a small incline too fast, Shiloh wondered if she’d ever walk again without a limp. As the road straightened, Reece picked up speed. Would this ever end?

  Dark movement blurred to her right. She glanced back, her pulse spiking at the sight of another biker burning up the road behind them.

  There was no way to warn Brutus. He must have noticed, too, because he upshifted, increasing speed. He bent closer to the bike. She leaned forward to stay with him and then peeked back.

  Unbelievably, their pursuer had gained on them. Whoever he was, he’d have to keep both hands on the handlebars, so he couldn’t shoot. Right? The black-clad rider pulled even with them.

  Reece dodged trees, downshifted, and spun the bike around, whipping Shiloh's mind into a mural of colors and chaos. They stopped. Hard. She looked for the other rider but instead saw a half-dozen men step from the woods with fully automatic weapons trained on them. Her heart skidded into her stomach.

  She loosened her hold on her bike partner, but he seemed to think it was funny. Reece actually laughed!

  A man ran toward them. Shiloh stiffened, recognizing the black rider. He gripped Reece's hand and pulled him close, patting his back, both men laughing.

  “I creamed you!” the man practically yelled, jabbing his finger at Reece.

  “Keep telling yourself that, Miller.”

  Awkwardly and on shaky legs, Shiloh pushed off the bike. Her knees almost buckled. The perimeter of men closed in.

  Reece took his first breath that didn’t feel like he needed pure oxygen. He turned to Shiloh and helped her with the helmet. Wide eyes met his, uncertainty blanketing her features.

  “You okay?” He held her shoulder, waiting until she nodded.

  “Were you followed?”

  Reece shifted toward the voice and saw something in his friend's face that made him pause. What it was, he couldn’t be sure. “Just this slow guy who thought he could
beat my Ducati.” He couldn’t help but grin. It felt so good to be back among men he could trust.

  Miller slapped Reece's chest. “Keep telling yourself that.” He winked. Then snatched the helmet and tossed it to another man. “Stow the bike, Stick.”

  Reece shot the scrawny guy a silent thanks, then turned back to his friend. “Who's your medic?”

  “Ron Hinck.” Miller glanced back at Reece. “Did you take a bullet?”

  “Both of us.”

  His buddy spun and started toward a building. “Come on.”

  “I’m fine.” Shiloh said, her voice quiet.

  “Won’t hurt to check it out.” Motioning for her to follow Miller, Reece noticed the way the men seemed dumbstruck, gawking at Shiloh as if she’d descended from heaven in a chariot of fire. He fell into step behind her and trailed her to the hut.

  As they plodded up a worn path in the high brush, Miller pointed to the side. “We’ve got that hut set up for her. You’ll be right next door.” He dragged himself up over a boulder. “Hinck will be glad to have someone to play doctor with finally.”

  Half an hour later, Reece emerged from Hinck's tent. Gripping his right thigh, he hoped he could knead out the fire still shooting up his leg where the wound had been cleansed. “He's mean.”

  Miller nodded with a grin. “And you met him on a good day.”

  Reece looked at Shiloh, who sat on a log nearby, her shoulder bandaged. “How are you?”

  She shrugged. “A graze.”

  “Come on.” Miller stood. “Get some rest. You both look like you need it.”

  The screen door squawked as they stepped into the ten-by-twelve space.

  “Gita cleaned it up.” Miller stood in the middle of the cramped hut. “It's not the Mumbai Palace, but it’ll keep you warm.” His gaze moved to Shiloh. “Glad you made it out okay.” He extended a hand. “Captain Cole Miller.”

  At the gleam in Miller's expression, Reece had a sudden urge to step closer to her but resisted. Shiloh's face still wore the telltale signs of fire and battle. She glanced between him and Cole.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust him, either,” Reece said. “Seriously, he's a good guy. Leader of these bunch of misfits.”