Boomer nodded his acknowledgment. He pulled a grenade from his belt, placed his finger in the pin and waited. His heart hammered in his chest as he watched Sam start to ready herself. If he didn’t place the grenade in just the right spot, Sam could be hurt, or worse, killed. “No pressure,” he mumbled to himself.
“Ricochet, get your ass down. Boomer’s going to toss a grenade,” Kong told him.
“Roger.” A grenade? What the hell was happening? he thought to himself.
When Sam reached the small table, she leaned on it for balance. The pain from her leg was breaking through her barriers. She could feel the cold sweat running down her back, her sight was becoming blurry. God help me, she whispered to herself.
“You know what really pisses me off about you people? You’re going to be forgiven eventually and that’s just not fair.” Using every bit of strength she had, she grasped the table and swung it over toward where the woman lay. “Now!” she yelled.
Boomer pulled the pin, counted to five and tossed it through the window toward the front of the building. Kong and Boomer ducked at the same time and held their breath. Sam tipped the table on its side, protecting as much of the woman’s body as she could, then dived behind it herself. The man stood stunned, unsure of what was happening. When the blast came, it was hell on earth. Blinding white light flashed, the sound echoed throughout the desert. Wood splintered and shot through the air like bullets. Sam pulled herself over top of the woman. She’d take the shrapnel before the woman did.
Kong burst into what was left of the shack, kicking pieces of wood out of his way. When he reached the small table, he lifted it with a growl and found the two women lying still. Adrenaline pumped like fire through his veins at the sight of Sam bloodied. When he reached down and grabbed her arm, she began fighting him.
Sam could feel hands on her, but she couldn’t see anything. When she screamed, she heard nothing. She could feel herself being lifted, then tossed over someone’s shoulder. Pain ripped through her body causing her to scream.
Sam’s screaming tore at Kong. He knew he was probably hurting her, but it couldn’t be helped at the moment. They had to gather the rest of the hostages and get the hell out. The explosion would have been heard all the way into town. It wouldn’t be long before more of the Taliban were crawling out of the sand.
Boomer checked to make sure the man was dead. Ricochet gathered the other woman and followed Kong. When they reached the outer building, the two men were huddled together, wide-eyed and frightened. Kong only spared them a glance and kept moving. Boomer quickly filled them in on what was happening, then forcefully urged them to follow Kong.
“We have two hours before the chopper comes,” Ricochet breathed into his radio. The woman he carried weighed next to nothing. But the pace they were keeping was exhausting. The soft moans he heard reassured him that she was still alive.
“Keep moving,” Kong demanded.
After an hour of moving through the soft sand, Kong was getting tired. Sam had stopped screaming and lay limply over his shoulder. In a small way, he was grateful she’d passed out. At least she wasn’t feeling any pain.
“How are we looking Boomer?” It took all of Kong’s strength to speak. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was fading fast.
“See that building up ahead. That’s it. It’s a good thing too, these guys aren’t going to make it much further.” The radio went silent for a brief moment. “How’s Smoke?”
“She’s out. I need to take a look at her leg.” It was hard, but he spoke in a neutral, calm voice.
The group walked for another ten minutes then collapsed outside a rundown shed. The two hostages dropped like rocks. Boomer immediately pulled two bottles of water and some food from his pack. The men drank without stopping, then devoured the granola bars Boomer handed them. After a quick once-over, Boomer was sure they’d be all right.
Ricochet gently laid the woman down in the sand, then pulled the blanket away to get a better look at her. She was young, maybe in her early twenties. Her hair was matted and stiff. The bruises that covered her body were a deep purple and black. The knife slashes were encrusted with dried blood and oozed with pus that gave off a terrible stench.
Turning his head away for a moment, Ricochet cursed the world for letting this woman suffer so horribly. When he turned his head back, her eyes were open and staring directly into his.
“Is it that bad?” she croaked out.
“Nothing some first aid won’t help,” he said gently. “What’s your name?”
“Rhonda.” Her throat hurt and sounded like a bull frog when she spoke. “Do you have any water? I haven’t had any today.”
Cursing again, Ricochet pulled a bottle from his pack, lifted her head and poured some into her mouth. “Take it slow, your stomach might reject it at first.”
The water was lukewarm, but it felt like silk against her parched throat. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, I have to start cleaning up some of those wounds. It may hurt and I’ll have to see all of you to do it.” He didn’t want to add to her humiliation, but it had to be done.
“After what they did to me, this will be nothing.” The woman laid her head back on the ground and closed her eyes, readying herself for the pain to come.
Kong lay Sam down as gently as possible. Her face was pale, her eyes had black circles under them and her pulse was week. When he lifted her hand, it lay limply in his. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and felt how cold her skin was.
“Boomer, I need help over here!”
When Boomer knelt next to them he swore. It was something he rarely did, but this was a situation that called for it. “We need to stop the bleeding in her leg.” When he spoke, his voice was tight and strained.
Kong pulled his knife from its sheath and sliced her pant leg open. Then he pulled a bottle of water from his pack and poured some over her leg so they could get a better look. As soon as the blood washed away, it was replaced with a fresh stream of dark red blood. Boomer tied a tourniquet tightly around the wound, instantly slowing the bleeding to a trickle. His next step was to check her pulse. It was weak but steady. Now that they had the bleeding all but stopped, she should be out of danger.
“That’s all I can do for now,” Boomer told Kong. The look of fear in his friend’s face told Boomer all he needed to know. “While she’s out, you could start pulling the wood splinters out of her arms.”
Kong nodded, never looking away from Sam. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he whispered.
Boomer slapped Kong on the back, then stood and made his way over to Ricochet. When he got there, he stopped short of kneeling down next to them. Boomer frowned when he saw the state she was in. Oozing wounds, her bones protruding through her pale skin making her look like a sack of bones wrapped tightly in flesh. Her eyes were sunk deep in their sockets. If she lived, it would be a miracle.
“You need any help?” Boomer asked softly.
“Help would be appreciated. She has some serious injuries.”
“Is she awake?” Boomer asked squatting down next to them.
“I’m awake.” Her voice was still weak and scratchy, barley audible. “The woman that saved me, is she all right?” she asked peeing through half open eyes.
Ricochet’s hands stilled as he waited for the answer. He knew she lost a lot of blood from the gunshot. And the shrapnel from the grenade had to be lodged all over her body. His chest tightened.
“I think she’ll be okay ma’am. She’s seriously injured, but I think we’ll get her help on time.”
His slow drawl was soothing and comforting, as were his hands as he dabbed at open wounds. “I’ll say a prayer for her,” the woman said as she closed her eyes.
Ricochet began working again. “How bad?”
“We got the bleeding stopped. Her pulse is weak, but steady. Kong’s pulling splinters from her now.” He continued to clean wounds silently for a few moments before he spoke again. “I think somethi
ng’s going on between them.”
“You just noticin’ that? Hell man, I noticed the first time he set eyes on her. When was the last time you saw Kong fret about a woman so much?” he said with a grin.
“He’s never fought with one before.”
A chuckle erupted from Ricochet. “No, he never did that before, maybe because he never found one that could kick his ass.”
Boomer looked at Ricochet, then over at Kong. His was talking to her while he pulled large shards of wood from her arms and legs. “You’re saying the fact that she can hold her own against him, attracts him to her?” The confusion in his voice made Ricochet chuckle again.
“Two peas in a pod, my friend. Two peas in a pod.”
Boomer pondered that for a second, then shrugged his shoulders. Ricochet may have a point. Kong had never been able to find a woman who could deal with what he did. Surely Sam found it just as difficult to find a man who would understand what she did. “Well I’ll be,” he muttered with a smile.
Kong worked with gentle but sure hands as he pulled wood from Sam’s body. What the hell did she think she was doing back there? Had she lost her mind? She just had to walk into that shack on her own. Couldn’t wait for the rest of them. No. She had to be the hero. Well, look where it got her. Shot up and full of five-inch splinters.
“I swear Sam, when you recover, I’m gonna kick your ass for this. Where do you get off scaring me like that.” The fear was still running deep in his veins like ice water. When he first saw her lying there her body slumped over the other woman, all the air in his lungs had dissipated. His mind could only think of one thing. Get her out of there and run. Run far, far away, so no one could ever hurt her again.
Kong snorted. She wasn’t a woman who needed to be protected. She could damn well take care of herself. She sure didn’t need him watching over her.
She needs you.
Kong froze when he heard the voice. He’d forgotten. After all the excitement he’d forgotten he’d heard it earlier. It warned him she was in trouble—told him her guide couldn’t reach her. Then it told him to trust her. Now it was telling him that she needed him. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was losing it, that’s what was happening. He was tired and his mind was playing tricks on him.
Sam fed him that story about hearing voices, so now his mind was creating one too. He wanted to believe in her so much. Wanted to believe what she told him. God he was so stupid.
Have you forgotten me?
The voice echoed through his head, a voice he recognized from his childhood. That’s right, he told himself. He’d heard it long before he’d met Sam. He remembered how he clung to those words, how the invisible hand would caress his cheek.
Kong groaned to himself. His life was fine until he met this woman. Now his head was all screwed up. If he was smart, he’d walk away from her when this was all over. Jump on the first plane out of Pennsylvania and never look back. Then things would return to normal, his kind of normal.
The whole time he was convincing himself he needed to run, his heart was telling him he needed to stay. That it had found its other half. Walking away now would change his life, but not in the way he thought. He’d spend the rest of his life alone and sad.
“It’s my decision. No one else’s. Mine. Stop screwing with my head!” he said aloud. The outburst caused every one to look at him. When he realized it, he took a deep, long breath through his nose, then let it out his mouth. When he didn’t feel the sense of calm he always felt when he did this, he repeated it.
The thundering of propellers went a long way to bring him back to some sense of reality. He stood listening to the low pitched thwap, thwap, of the blades. His heart seemed to beat in rhythm with it. He stood with his eyes closed and let it take over his body. This is what he needed, this familiar sound, the familiar scent of aviation fuel. The job.
Straightening his back and jutting out his chin, he turned toward his men. “Let’s get them ready to travel. Boomer, you help Ricochet.” He pointed toward the two men they’d rescued.
“You two can walk. Follow them.”
With the orders barked out, he turned back to Sam. Without letting himself think, he lifted her into his arms, picked up their two packs and headed toward the chopper as it began to land.
Boomer helped Ricochet get the woman inside, then pulled the two men in. Once they were settled, he held out his arms to take Sam from Kong.
Kong simply stepped inside brushing past Boomer. He wanted to hold her. He knew that for himself. No voice had to tell him. He had to hold her, just for a few moments.
Once inside, Boomer slapped the pilot on the back, letting him know they were ready. The chopper lifted gracefully off the ground and headed toward the American base. Kong would get hold of Cannon when they got there, let him know what went down. Sam would be looked over, stabilized and put aboard a plane bound for home. That’s the way things should be.
Organized, thought out. Not directed by some disembodied voice.
Kong sat staring straight ahead oblivious to his teammates’ gaze.
“He has it bad Boomer. Real bad,” Ricochet said.
Boomer could see what Ricochet couldn’t. The turmoil that was going on behind the eyes. The desperation, the fear. Fear for Sam or for himself, Boomer wasn’t sure. Just fear.
Chapter Fourteen
When the chopper landed, three gurneys were wheeled toward it. The woman was removed first. Disgust, horror and hatred crossed the soldiers’ faces as they moved the frail woman onto the soft gurney. Many of these young soldiers hadn’t seen what the Taliban could do to a female body. Now it would haunt them in their sleep.
The red-haired man helped his fellow hostage from the helicopter and then helped lift him to the next gurney. When a soldier started pushing him toward the remaining one, he held up his hands.
“I’m fine. You have an injured soldier in there. Take her,” he shouted over the sound of the helicopter blades winding down.
The news that a soldier was injured caused a rush toward the door. Kong stood with Sam in his arms. He would carry her to where she needed to go. No one was touching her until he was sure they knew what they were doing.
“Sir, let us take her! We’ll help her!” The soldier shouting at him was young. Far too young to be seeing gunshot wounds and torn bodies.
Kong looked down at the young man. The concern in his eyes was enough to keep Kong from shoving him aside. “I’ll carry her. Show me where.”
The young man nodded, then led the way. Ricochet and Boomer followed. The doors to the makeshift hospital flew open. People were shouting orders, nurses were jogging from one bed to another. No one paid attention to the tall man cradling the small woman in his arms.
“Put her here,” the soldier said gently. “I’ll make sure she’s seen as soon as possible.”
Kong gently laid her down on the soft bedding. Somehow she looked more frail now. The white sheets of the bed seemed to wash her out. Hours ago she was kicking ass without taking names. Now she looked like a china doll that would shatter with the slightest touch. His heart squeezed hard in his chest. No. He was becoming too attached to the situation. Still looking down at her, he began to back away from the bed.
“I have to contact Cannon. Let him know what went down,” he muttered to his friends.
“We’ll stay with her,” Boomer told Kong as he turned to leave.
“Suit yourselves,” he said indifferently then stormed out the front doors.
The two men were left standing wondering what the hell was happening. One minute he wouldn’t let anyone touch her. The next he acted as though he didn’t care.
“Cannon, it’s Lowe. Mission accomplished,” Kong growled into the phone.
“Everything went well?” Walt asked with relief.
“We ended up grabbing three hostages instead of one. Two male, one female.”
A woman. Walt sighed. “How bad?”
“Bad as she can be without being
dead.”
“Well, if I had known.”
“With all due respect Sir. If you had known, your niece would probably already be dead.”
Kong regretted the outburst as soon as it left his lips.
“What the hell are you talking about Lowe? What happened to Sam?” Walt’s heart leapt into his throat. “Well?”
“Your niece decided to go solo at the end. She walked in on two Taliban warriors. Killed one then took a bullet in the leg. We couldn’t get a clean shot at the guy, so Smoke decided a grenade was in order. She’s at the base hospital as we speak.” Kong slowed himself, took a deep breath then continued. “She lost a lot of blood Sir. And they’re going to have to pull shrapnel from her body.”
Walt sat dumbstruck. What had happened? She never got hurt on a mission. She swore her guide saw to it that she never got hurt. Killed. She actually killed a man? Sweat beaded over Walt’s brow.
“I want a full report by the time you return Lowe. I want every blessed detail, right down to what color boxers you were wearing. Is that understood soldier?”
“Perfectly Sir.” Kong’s tone mirrored Walt’s. Both were angry at each other. Both blamed the other for things going wrong. Kong blamed Cannon for getting this woman involved in rescue work. Cannon blamed Kong for not watching her back.
When Kong slammed the phone down, he scrubbed his face with his hands. How was he going to tell the man that she’d lost contact with her guide for crying out loud. If she lost contact with her guide, that meant she lost her focus. And that was something a soldier never does. She let personal feelings cloud her judgment and if it happened once, it damn sure could happen again.
Walt sat at his desk, his hands fisted. If he unclenched them they would shake. His Sam was hurt, shot. How could that be? She went solo? Sam never went solo when she was working with a team. “Your niece would probably already be dead.“ The words played over and over in his head. How did Lowe know she was his niece? He hadn’t said anything. That meant Sam told him. But why? Questions, too many questions. He needed to see Sam. Relaxing his hands, he picked up the phone and dialed.
BlackSmoke Page 13
