by Ronie Kendig
Fekiria drew back. Captain Watters! Cold washed across her shoulders and spine. What is he doing here? If he was here, then…Almost on their own, her eyes searched the other four men huddled around him. The really big guy. The dark-haired one. A shorter one.
Oh thank goodness! He had not come.
The really big soldier craned his neck to the side, his gaze forward on the hazy room, as he seemed to listen to someone. Then with a smile, he shifted.
And she saw him—Sergeant Brian.
Fekiria hauled in a breath and straightened, pushing her gaze to the teal carpet. Panic swirled. If he saw her…
She started to turn to her left, but that would put her in a rather intimate position with Captain Ripley. What if Sergeant Brian saw that? She cut a quick glance to the side.
Green eyes met hers. He looked away.
Oh. He hadn’t recognized her. She shouldn’t be hurt. Relief. She should feel relief. Had he forgotten her so quickly? It was easier, didn’t complicate things, if he forgot her.
His gaze flicked back to hers, recognition evident in his raised eyebrows and cocky grin.
Fekiria closed her eyes. Touched her fingers to her forehead.
“You okay?” Captain Ripley asked, his attention bouncing between her and the newcomers. “Know them?”
“Not really.” The words were honest. But not entirely.
“One of them seems to know you.”
“He… We were at the same funeral once.”
Captain Ripley’s eyebrows rose as his gaze seemed to follow someone. Then he stood. “Can I help you?”
Fekiria’s heart pounded as another set of shoes appeared.
“No. I’m here to say hi to her.”
Mustering her courage, Fekiria looked up. Wanted to pretend she didn’t recognize him. But this close, he seemed…large. Powerful. When their eyes met, something in her warmed.
“Miss Hai—”
Her name! “Sergeant Brian.” He knew her real name. She punched to her feet. “A surprise to see you here.” She refused to glance back to the other Americans, terrified Zahrah’s boyfriend would join them. But her body acted on its own. A dizzy flood of relief washed through her when she found the foyer empty—the others were gone.
“I could say the same for you.” His taunting tone drew her gaze. His gray-green eyes were mere inches from her.
She pulled in a steadying breath, willing herself not to look away. Not to yield to the electrical storm surging between them. Curse the man! Why did he find everything so amusing? “I’m out with friends. Not so strange, is it?”
Something curious and penetrating flashed through his eyes. “I guess not.” As he studied the UPT—One. At. A. Time.—he seemed to take in a lot of information with the way his eyes darted and processed. An intense awareness that this man could unravel the last two years of hard work became apparent as he angled his head toward her. “Just didn’t realize you hung out with U.S. military. Last I recall, you had a particular dislike for my kind.”
She lifted her chin. “Yes, your kind. That hasn’t changed.”
Green eyes locked on to her.
“Have we been introduced?”
Sergeant Brian smirked at Captain Ripley, who held out his hand. Then Sergeant Brian patted the captain’s shoulder. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “I—”
“Miss Haidary—my pleasure.”
“It was only yours, Sergeant Brian.”
His grin grew. “Yes, ma’am. I reckon it was.” With that, he turned and navigated the thick throng, vanishing into the smoky back room like a ghost. One that could definitely haunt her if he told Captain Dean. Who would, no doubt, tell Zahrah. Beyond that, he’d used her name. Which meant this could come back to end her piloting career.
“Who is he?”
Fekiria started. Then smiled at Captain Ripley. “A soldier who helped my cousin.”
“The one who was taken captive?”
Fekiria stilled. Met the gray eyes that bespoke confidence and intelligence. And a hint of romance. “How did you know that?”
“Don’t worry about secrets. We all have them, Lieutenant Haidary.”
BORIS
Unknown Location, Afghanistan
Invincible. Indestructible. I’ve laid below their radar for almost a year now. My programs are infecting their systems. My mastery evading their efforts. I’ve wreaked havoc against one of the most invincible cyber networks in existence.
And I’m still alive.
They haven’t caught me. Nor are they even on my trail, thanks to Zmaray. Distracted by the lion, they don’t see the panther hiding in their own systems. Because of their success against his effort and rescuing the girl, they’re blinded by their own arrogance and have forgotten the thorn in their side.
A festering thorn. Creating a wound that will abscess and kill its host.
Almost too poetic, isn’t it?
Almost too much for me to bear.
I said, almost.
After the fiasco six months ago, I thought my windfall had…well, fallen. Assets were locked. I had to vanish. And now, now it’s their turn. They thought they’d squished this bug. Now, I’m back. Bigger and better.
I’ve relocated my home away from home to a different site. Really, it’s insane how close I am to them. If I wanted I could step outside, hook up to their power box, and be up and running. (Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.)
Except that I won’t. That’d be stupid—like leading an electrical bread-crumb trail right to my metal cabin. They’d discover me before I got the door closed on the way back in. So, I’m playing it safe. Taking it slow.
Had a friend in high school who always said, “Fast is slow. Slow is fast.” The guy had some serious OCD issues, but I see what he means. Take it slow and steady and you can make it. Rush, screw something up, and you’re starting all over.
My phone rings and I glance at the caller ID. Compare the number against my codec. It’s one of the dozens of contacts I’d made in the last few months trying to track down the special ops team who infiltrated the former factory, ripped the girl from Zmaray’s hands, and destroyed a year of work.
So not letting that one go. They’ll pay. Mightily, if I can swing it. You know what they say about payback.
“Salim, my friend.” I put as much college-boy into my words as possible. “What can I do for you?”
“Those men you ask about?”
I pump my fist but restrain the excitement from my voice. “Yes?”
“Men just came into the bar. I am not sure if they are the ones you are looking for, but…”
“I’ll be there.” Excitement nearly chokes me as I shove to my feet. Then remember my manners. “Thank you.”
“What of my money?”
“Of course. I’ll have it.” I grab a stack from the safe as I set up the security protocols to alert me if anyone so much as breathes on my little piece of heaven on earth. But then, why would they? The outside just looks like a run-down piece of junk. Which sucks considering the frigid temperatures said to be coming in.
For a second, I wonder if this tin can rusts. If the snow will make it hard to open doors. With a glance over the bank of monitors streaming the data, the codec flickering through security footage feeds with a facial-recognition software to find matches, I turn. It’s the thought of payback that keeps me warm as I head into the oncoming storm to tag and bag them.
CHAPTER 4
Mazar-e Sharif, Afghanistan
17 December—2010 Hours
Distraction had never been so pretty—or annoying. Brian shifted to the edge of the chair he occupied in the corner of the hookah bar. Angled his body in the hopes his mind would get the message and home in on the convo. But that put him closer to the SEALs. They smelled like fish. Actually, everything in here smelled bad. A tickle at the back of his throat made him cough.
The SEAL next to him glared.
Dude. Get
a grip, he mentally chided the frogman. Uptight, fish-out-of-water guys tended to get grumpy on land.
“So, it’s connected to the SCIFs we were chasing all over creation five months ago.”
Bent forward, elbows on his knees, Captain Watters looked primed to blow.
“Wait,” Falcon said. “What’s the proof on this?”
Commander Riordan swept a piece of thin bread around the hummus before tucking it in his mouth. He chewed, clearly savoring the fact that an SF team was waiting on him. “About a month ago, a team of Rangers went into a location. No sooner did they touch down than they were set upon. RPGs took out their vehicles.”
No exit.
“Then snipers took them out, one by one. IEDs went off.” Riordan, dark eyes probing the men gathered around him, seemed in his element. “Ramsey sends us in to bring them home. By the time we get there, nobody’s alive.”
“It was a calculated, systematic ambush,” one of the SEALs—the one who constantly rammed his shoulder against Brian’s—said. “Never seen anything like it.”
“Then you”—Riordan pointed to Raptor team—“are lured into a location believing brothers-in-arms are under heavy fire.”
Brian bit back the urge to defend their actions.
“The coms chatter,” Falcon said.
“Anyone who heard it would make the same call.” Brian nodded. “That’s what was off with that chatter. It was perfect. Exactly what they knew it’d take to get us out there, against orders and alone.”
Riordan was on the edge of his seat now. “Absolutely. And that’s what they want.”
“Who?” Brian asked simultaneously with Captain Watters.
“Whoever got into the system.”
“They’re in.” The captain shook his head. “That’s…”
His captain wanted to say it was impossible. That someone would’ve told them. In fact, Brian saw those thoughts in the eyes of his entire team—Harrier, Titanis, Eagle, and especially Captain Watters and Falcon.
“They’ve pulled back nearly every SOCOM team. Black ops have been ordered on high alert, even strongly advised to RTB.” Riordan dumped back a glass of water.
“Why is Command keeping this under wraps?” the captain asked.
“Because if this leaks out that someone got in—we are screwed.”
Churning in his gut pushed Brian to his feet. He wanted to punch someone. Hurt someone for this. Taking down the American military. The sheepdogs. “I’ll be back.” He headed to the restrooms, needing to move. Needing to walk off the frustration of feeling like a sitting duck. Or worse—a dog on a leash being led into trap after trap.
After he relieved himself, he scrubbed up, watching as water swirled down the sink. All their efforts, all the carefully negotiated alliances with Bedouins and farmers. Locals. What little trust they’d built, Raptor would now have to question. They’d have to vet who they could trust. SOCOM and JSOC would have to adjust protocols. Reel in their embedded operatives, if that hadn’t already been done. But why…why didn’t Burnett give it to them straight?
“You done?”
Brian blinked and caught the smirk of that SEAL in the mirror standing behind him. “If I was, I’d move.” He again scrubbed his hands with soap. Patted water on his face. Grinned at the SEAL. Then ripped off a paper towel, dried his hands, and slammed the towel in the trash. Muscles taut, he waited—expected—the guy to shoulder-butt him again.
Only when he stepped into the hall, one that barely allowed a guy to breathe let alone walk, did Brian release that anticipation of a fight.
“Sergeant Brian.”
The firm, sweet voice tugged him around. Brian pivoted, surprised—pleasantly surprised—when Fekiria Haidary emerged from the semidark corner near the exit.
“May I talk to you?”
He held out his hands—accidentally bumping someone. After a hurried apology to the bystander, he redirected his attention to her. “I’m all yours.”
A half smile and a chin tuck either spoke of her timidity—heck no; there wasn’t a timid bone in this woman’s body—or frustration. “I must ask a favor of you, Sergeant Brian.”
“Just Brian.”
“I must ask that you…” She wet her full lips and her gaze slid to his right.
He glanced back to gauge the trajectory of her gaze and spotted Raptor and the SEAL team.
“I must ask that you not tell anyone you saw me here.”
Brian folded his arms. Curiosity filled his mind with a bank of data and possibilities. But the one that bugged him the most made it past his lips. “Afraid someone will find out you’re dating an American?” She’d been awfully cozy with the buzz-cut Airman who smelled of officer.
Irritation twitched her left cheek. “You know I would never do that.” She lowered her eyes but couldn’t hide the flash of anger from him. “I don’t know why I thought I could trust you—”
“Whoa.” He caught her arm as she tried to slide past. “Hold up there, chief. Don’t question my character. If you don’t want anyone to know, what’s it to me?”
A flicker of a smile made it to her face as wide, wary eyes considered him. Slowly, the tension knots smoothed from between her eyebrows. “Thank you.” Quietly, she eased around him.
Brian wouldn’t let her off that easy though. “One condition.”
Suspicion crowded her expression as she hesitated, waiting. But not speaking.
“Tell me what you’re doing here with them.”
“That’s not your business.”
“You’re right, but this business that isn’t any of mine—you’re asking me to be secretive about. I need to know it’s all legit, that you aren’t getting into something that could hang my butt out to dry.”
Her lip curled. “Just like an American—only worried about his own interests.”
Man, the chick had some heated issues with Americans. “Hey, what interests me is you, and you’re here. But you’re afraid I’ll say something.” Brian glanced at the captain, knowing she feared somehow something would be said to the captain and it’d get back to her cousin. “I’m a guest in your country, but if I’m caught in some mess because of a promise I keep—and I will keep it—then you and I are going to have problems.”
Fekiria closed the distance a bit. “If I swear on my life that this is nothing that will endanger you, is that enough?”
Cinnamon. Something else. She smelled like Thanksgiving dinner. And she looked good, even in this dim lighting. “ ’fraid not.”
Her chin lifted. How Muslims thought that a woman wearing a hijab kept them from tempting a man, Brian had no idea. Because the woman in front of him, her hair and neck concealed beneath the silky fabric, was doing a serious number on his memory. Like remembering local women were hands off. That Captain Watters would have his neck in a noose.
But he sure wasn’t standing down because of a little competition. The wusses at the front of the bar had the look and smell of officers. He could take ’em.
Warning buzzed at the back of his mind. One more tangle and the captain might make good on his threat to bust Brian down a rank or two. Maybe discharge him. Was this girl worth it?
He didn’t know anything about her except her name, a passing familiarity with her family, that her cousin was dating his captain, and she had killer eyes—and lips. Yet for all he knew, she could be plotting some serious scheme to take out Americans.
Nah. She might spew her American hatred easily, but he didn’t see the darkness in her eyes necessary for such a campaign.
“Listen.” After a glance back to the officer she’d left, Fekiria once again slipped into the shadows of the small hall, pulling Brian around so he had his back to the team. To danger. He just wanted to know if she had the hots for that guy. Was that what she wanted his help to cover up?
“What you must know—”
“Hawk!” A boisterous voice erupted from the side as someone slapped him on the back.
Brian rounded, indignant when he met t
he gaze of the SEAL who’d ridden his case since they met in the motor pool.
“What do we have here, Sergeant?” The SEAL angled around and grinned broadly at Fekiria. “Whoa, soldier. You are going all out. This is one fine woman.”
“Hey.” Keep cool, keep cool. “Go on back to your frogmen, Schmidt.”
Fekiria shrank against the wall.
“I like this scenery better.” He touched Fekiria’s cheek. “Afraid of some competition, Hawk?”
At the touch, she jerked back with a quick intake of breath.
Heat spread across Brian’s shoulders. “Stand down.” He would not—not—get into a fight. Not here. Not right in front of Captain Watters.
“Easy there.” Schmidt laughed. “You can’t keep them all to yourself.” He took her arm. “We’re here to protect and serve, aren’t we?” His smile turned into a sneer.
“No.” Fekiria tugged back, trying to wrest free of the SEAL.
“Let her go.” Brian tugged Fekiria out of Schmidt’s grasp and stood between them, knowing his large frame shielded her. What ticked him off most was that this SEAL had been begging to pick a fight with him, and he chose to do it with Fekiria in the middle. Piece of dirt! “Beg off, Schmidt. Move on. Back to the group.”
Challenge lit the guy’s dark eyes. “You first, Gee-Bee. Isn’t that your motto—you lead the way?”
Was the guy still in high school? That was the Ranger’s motto. All this guy wanted was to goad Brian. Rather than make his point with a fist, Brian worked his jaw muscles, struggling against the storm brewing in his gut. No way would he walk away and leave Fekiria with this jerk. “We were having a conversation. It’s not your concern.”
“Hey, why don’t you let the lady speak for herself. She might want me, a real man who can show her a good time.” Schmidt crowded toward Fekiria.
Brian’s blood boiled. “Hey! Enough.” He nudged the SEAL’s shoulder back.
“Hands off, Green Beret.” The threat, the hunger for a fight, lurked in the words. Then that stupid, sloppy grin honed in on Fekiria again.
She took a step back, defiance clear but also no small amount of fear. “If I wanted you,” Fekiria said, “would I be talking to him?”
