His Duty to Protect

by Lindsay McKenna

  Ty never heard Rachel approach. He’d dragged himself over to a tree trunk and leaned against it, his weapon in hand. Startled when she seemed to appear out of nowhere, he saw her smile. Her dark hair framed her face. Her cheeks were red and it emphasized her large, intelligent gold eyes. Ty found himself wondering what the hell had possessed him to try and destroy her career. There was nothing but feminine strength and beauty, not to mention a powerful intellect, in Rachel. He began to appreciate what she brought to their collective table in this dire situation.

  Rachel knelt near his left side. “How are you doing?” She had been gone a good hour. Hamilton’s face had a bit of color to it now. He was no longer looking like a wan ghost.

  “Better,” he said. “What did you find?”

  “We’ve got some luck on our side,” Rachel said, smiling. She lifted her hand and pointed toward where the stream was located. “It’s a lot wider than I thought it would be. Plenty of trees and brush to hide us for as far as I could see. I think if we get you up and walking, we’ll be a lot safer.” She looked up, her brows falling. “I know the Taliban has people walking the bank of this river on our side.”

  Ty nodded. “Yeah, and I’m jumpy as hell about it. It’s only a matter of time before they’ll be near our hiding place.”

  “Right.” Rachel inspected his head wound. “It’s stopped bleeding. Do you still have a headache?”

  “It’s gone,” he murmured. “It’s my arm.”

  Rachel examined the dressing she put around his upper arm. “It’s a really deep gash, Ty. It’s got to hurt like hell.”

  He shouldn’t have liked the way his first name rolled from her lips, but he did. It sent an incredible, warm sensation through him. “It does. I’ve been trying to lift it, but I’m not doing too well. I’m just glad it was my left arm. I shoot with my right.” He grimaced.

  Rachel chuckled. “You need a sling for that arm. And I don’t have anything to make it with.” She looked around. “Maybe we’ll find something along the creek.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, tucking the .38 back into his chest holster. “Would you help me up?”

  Rachel put her pistol away and walked around him. She held out her hand to him as he prepared to stand. “Hold on to me. I don’t want you falling if you get dizzy.”

  Agreeing, Ty gripped her outstretched hand and was surprised at her strength. He heaved himself to his feet. Instantly, dizziness struck him.

  Rachel saw him start to fall. She stepped forward, slid her arm around his back and stabilized him. Hamilton had to lean heavily on her in order to stop from falling forward. “Easy,” she whispered, keeping him in a tight embrace.

  Ty didn’t struggle. He was amazed she could take his full weight until he could regain his balance. She was incredibly strong. His arm had gone around her shoulders. She was five foot ten inches tall, two inches shorter than he was. Grateful that she anchored him, Ty fought the dizziness. Finally, it passed.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” he told her.

  “Let’s just walk together for a while,” she counseled, glancing up at him. Rachel was once more aware of how incredibly good-looking Hamilton was. Truly, he could be the poster child on a U.S. Army ad for television. Definitely eye candy of the finest sort. And she found herself absorbing his strong body against her own, his arm around her shoulders. For a split second, Rachel wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his body against hers.

  Hamilton said, “Yeah, good idea. Until I know I can walk and the dizziness isn’t going to nail us.”

  “Hold on.…” Rachel leaned down and picked up her pine tree limb. “We’re going to have to turn and cover our tracks as we go. Otherwise, the Taliban will find them and follow us.”

  Ty knew they would make a snail’s pace toward their objective. “Let me try and do that.” He held his hand out for the branch.

  “Okay,” Rachel said, keeping her arm firmly around him, her hand on his right hand. “Let’s see if doing it causes you dizziness or not. If it does, I’ll have to do it.”

  “I’ll do it,” Ty told her. Somehow, he had to be of help, and not utterly helpless.

  “Okay, let’s go…” Rachel urged in a whisper.

  It was nearly 1600, 4:00 p.m., by the time they reached the fork that would lead them up the creek. Rachel saw the perspiration on Hamilton’s furrowed brow. It cost him so much to continually turn, lean down and sweep their boot tracks out of the sand. Yet, he did it without complaining. His left arm didn’t work well, but well enough to make the broad, sweeping movements. Rachel knew he was in a lot of pain.

  “Let’s sit down and rest,” she counseled him. Guiding him to a thick pine tree trunk, Rachel helped him ease to the ground. She kneeled beside him. “Are you in pain?”

  “Yeah, but that’s all right,” he muttered, feeling profoundly weakened. “I guess I’m not very good with a broom,” Hamilton joked.

  Smiling a little, Rachel peeked at the cut she’d made in his flight uniform arm. “Good, there’s no blood showing on the dressing.” She reached into her right thigh pocket and found some pain pills. “You need to take one. We’ve got a lot of hours of daylight left, and we’ve got to keep moving.”

  Ty didn’t argue and swallowed the pill. He was thirsty. But to drink that water without purification tablets could be a disaster, too. Looking around, he spotted a plastic bottle near the stream. “Hey, go get that bottle, will you? We need something to put water in.”

  After spotting it, Rachel walked over and picked it up. She laughed softly as she brought it over to him. “It’s a water bottle! Just what we need.”

  “That village up above this creek received fresh water from the Army in their supplies. Some kid probably drank it and tossed the bottle into the creek. It eventually found its way down here.”

  “You’re probably right.” Standing, Rachel handed him the bottle and dug in her other thigh pocket. “I’ve got tablets that will clean the water.”

  “I made fun of you carrying an Army in your pockets, now I’m not,” he told her with a slight grin.

  “In the Apache we have an actual compartment with a bag that holds all this stuff,” Rachel said. “When I found out I’d be flying Chinooks instead, I just transferred it all to my leg pockets. I’m glad I did.”

  “And I’ll never make fun of your bulging leg pockets again,” Ty swore. He saw her find a packet of water purification tablets. When he handed her the bottle, their fingers met and touched. Something good and warm flowed into Ty from that brief contact.

  “I feel like a pharmacy on legs,” Rachel gripped good-naturedly. “I’ll be right back.”

  Rachel filled the quart-size bottle and dropped a tablet into it. She shook it until it dissolved. Walking back, she knelt down next to Ty and said, “Drink all you want.” She handed it to him.

  Ty guzzled about half of the cold, delicious water. “Here,” he told her, wiping his mouth, “you take the rest.”

  Nodding, Rachel drank the other half of the water. Once more, she stood and refilled the bottle and put another tablet into it. “Ready to go?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, pushing himself upright and using the trunk of the tree to stop him from falling. Dizziness struck again. He closed his eyes, head resting against the solid wood. And then it passed.

  “Okay?” she asked before tucking the filled bottle of water into her leg pocket.

  Opening his eyes, he rasped, “Yeah. It wasn’t as bad this time.”

  “Good. Ready?”

  Ty said, “I am, but let me see if I can walk by myself.”

  Prepared, Rachel said, “Go for it.”

  “We’ll make better time if I can,” he panted. With an iron will engaged, Hamilton stepped away from the tree. The dizziness did not attack him. He grinned triumphantly over at her. “I can walk.”

  Rachel returned his grin. His blue eyes appeared less murky, especially with the pain pill taking hold. “Great.” She picked up their p
ine broom. “You lead and I’ll follow.”

  Feeling relief that he wasn’t going to continue to be the helpless one, Ty gave her a thumbs-up sign. He pulled out his .38, and kept it in his right hand as he started slowly up the creek.

  Rachel quickly covered their tracks and felt a bit happier and more relieved. She constantly looked around, her hearing keyed. They began to make good time up the gentle slope. They had survived a terrible crash. She was uninjured, and Hamilton was well enough to move on his own. Now, all they had to do was stay hidden, avoid the Taliban and make it to that tiny village on the side of the mountain.

  Wiping her mouth, perspiration dotting her brow as she worked to erase their prints, Rachel realized something crucial. When night fell, they would be alone. And together. The sudden awareness of their intimacy panicked her. She had gone from hating Ty to liking him. He had been brave, courageous and a team player after the crash. She wiped her brow with the back of her sleeve. Now she understood as never before that Ty had changed. For the better. What was she going to do now?

  Chapter 11

  Ty fought with a vengeance the pounding headache that had come back. He attributed it to the ever steeper slope, which they quietly continued to navigate parallel to the creek. The trees would thin out here and there, and that was when they’d stop, look around, and ensure they wouldn’t be seen before making it to a thicker grove of trees and brush.

  Looking back, Rachel noticed Ty’s face was becoming more pale. His mouth had tensed. When they got to a thick stand of pine and brush, she knelt down. He automatically knelt beside her.

  “You’re in pain?” she asked in a low voice.

  Digging into his thigh pocket, Ty pulled out a packet of aspirin. “Yeah, it just came back. I’ll pop these down and it should go away again.”

  “Let me check the wound,” Rachel insisted. She got up and went to examine him more closely. One hand on Ty’s shoulder, she gently moved his head a bit to get a good look at the wound. “It looks okay. There’s no drainage. No sign of infection.”

  Absorbing her touch, Ty tried to keep things impersonal. “Good. It’s just aftermath, is all. I’ll be fine.” How he wanted to reach out and grab her hand. This was all crazy, and Ty decided that the crash had made him emotionally vulnerable in a way he’d never been before.

  “Here,” she said, handing him their only water bottle.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking it from her.

  “We’ve been climbing for forty minutes. A good hiking walk takes twenty minutes.” She saw his Adam’s apple bob several times as he downed the two tablets. His eyes were dull and she could tell he was in a lot of pain. Yet, he didn’t complain. Rachel wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t have griped about it.

  “We’ve probably gone a mile,” Ty said, continuing to look around. The green strip that defined the creek quickly died and went back to the yellow grass and rocky soil. It was a barren, challenging landscape. “We’re climbing and I’m slow,” Ty added with a slight grimace.

  “You’re doing fine under the circumstances. How is your arm?”

  “It would be nice to have a sling,” he said. Holding it against his body kept it from really being painful. “If I drop my arm, it feels like it’s on fire.”

  Rachel turned and craned her neck upward. “I don’t see any village on that slope. Do you?”

  Worry was evident in her tone. “It might be right on the creek, and we wouldn’t see it from here,” Ty said.

  Rachel grunted. “You’re probably right. Still, we’ve got about two more miles to go, and it gets even steeper.”

  “That village is at seven thousand feet,” Ty agreed. “I don’t know if we should try to contact the elders in it or not.”

  “I know,” Rachel said, worried. “They could be pro-Taliban.”

  “Most Afghan villages aren’t,” Ty said. He enjoyed simply looking at Rachel. She sat with her knees drawn up, arms around them. Her dark brown hair had dried and hung straight around her face. Cheeks red from exertion, she was a sight to behold. He wanted to kiss her. This time, he didn’t overreact to the thought as he had before. Maybe because they were in a life-and-death situation, and the cards were stacked against them.

  Glancing over at him, Rachel asked, “What do you want to do? Get close to it and hunker down for the night here at the creek? Contact them tomorrow morning?”

  “No. It dives below freezing at night. All things being equal, I’d sure as hell like to be in a warm rock home with an elder than stuck out here.”

  “Mmm,” Rachel agreed. Frowning, she muttered, “My ears are still ringing. I can’t hear as well as I want to.”

  “It will go away within twenty-four hours,” he said.

  “I miss it. I’m afraid the Taliban will sneak up on us, and I won’t hear them in time.”

  Reaching out, Ty briefly touched her hand. “Relax. My ears aren’t ringing. We’ll protect one another.”

  Warmth fled through her hand. Rachel was startled by his action. She could see Ty meant to give her solace. His fingers were long. Flight hands. Yes, he was a damn good pilot. Searching his eyes, she said, “Are you ready? Feel like going another mile?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “Let’s do it.”

  Rachel took the lead. She stayed as close to the bank of the gurgling creek as she could. The sun had moved to the other side of the peaks ahead of them, the mountains now in shadows on their side. The temperature had dropped. Rachel wished mightily for her thick, warm jacket but it had gone down in the Kabul River. Just moving kept her warm. Breath coming in gasps, she knew the altitude was getting to her.

  By the time they’d gone another mile, Rachel called for a halt. Ty came and stood near her, his gaze fixed ahead.

  “Do you hear that? Bells?” he asked.

  “No,” Rachel said. “Is that what you hear?”

  “Yes,” he said, focusing in on the sound. “I don’t see anything but I know there’s always a bell on the lead goat or sheep in a herd. Could be one nearby.”

  Mouth tightening, Rachel tried to see through the thick brush ahead but couldn’t. “This would be a natural place for villagers to bring their livestock to eat and drink.”

  “Yes.” Ty saw the worry in her features. “Since I can hear better than you, let me take the lead. You keep watch on our back.”

  Rachel nodded and moved aside. It was a good idea. Wishing she could hear better, she knew that her eyesight had to take over and make the difference. The creek had widened where they stood. As far as Rachel could see ahead around a slight curve, it continued to widen. It was perhaps ankle to knee deep here and there. Green moss floated along the bank. The grass, or what was left of it, was stubble. She was sure that the village’s goats and sheep came through here regularly.

  She pulled out her .45 and kept it in hand. Ty had pulled his .38. They had no idea who they might run into up above. Her heart was pounding from the relentless climb, but now, adrenaline started to flow into her bloodstream. Fear stalked her. Jittery, her nerves frayed by the near drowning after the crash, Rachel tried to focus.

  As they rounded the curve of the creek, Ty suddenly went down on one knee, his pistol held up and ready.

  Instantly, Rachel crouched behind him.

  Ty made a signal with his hand and pointed to the other side of the creek.

  Looking, Rachel saw a group of brown-and-white goats foraging up ahead. There was a young boy, about twelve years old, staff in hand, walking with them. The lead goat, a nanny with a leather collar and tinkling bell around her thin neck, took the small herd toward them. Rachel’s heart began a slow pound. The boy wasn’t armed and must have belonged to the unseen village above. She laid her hand on Ty’s shoulder.

  Twisting around, he looked at her.

  “Let me get up and greet him. I know enough Pashto to speak to him. You stay hidden. If he runs or this is a trap, you can get away.…”

  Ty couldn’t argue with her reasoning. He moved quietly
into the nearby thickets, making sure he could draw a bead on the boy in case he had a hidden gun on him. Ty gave Rachel the signal to go ahead with her plan.

  It was a risk but Rachel decided to put the pistol back in the holster across her Kevlar vest. If this boy was part of the unseen village, then he would know what an American helicopter pilot looked like. He’d be surprised to see her, a woman, but he would know she was American. And, hopefully, a friend…

  The dark-haired boy was dressed in a long, blue vest, a white, long-sleeved shirt beneath it, brown trousers and, clearly, American, black hiking boots. Feeling a little more hopeful, Rachel eased from her hiding place. As she stepped to the bank of the stream, the nanny bleated and anchored.

  The boy instantly looked up. His mouth dropped open.

  “I come in peace,” she called to the boy, giving him the customary greeting. “We need help. Can you take us to your elders?”

  For a moment, the boy stared. Then his mouth clamped shut. He was frightened.

  “Please,” Rachel called to him in Pashto, “we are American. We need your help. Can you take us to your chief?”

  Blinking, he called, “Where did you come from?”

  “We were flying across your valley and we were shot down earlier today by the Taliban. We’re trying to reach help.”

  The boy scratched his head. “Then it was you!”

  Rachel didn’t know what he was talking about. She did see the lad suddenly become excited. And then he raced to the other edge of the bank. “We saw your helicopter shot down earlier. My parents said the Americans died. But…you’re here!”

  Rachel smiled with some relief. “It’s true. My friend, Captain Hamilton, is hurt. Can you lead us to your village? We need food and safety for the night.”

  “Of course, of course,” the boy said. “I will bring my herd over. Wait!”