by Zara Chase
“We’re on our way,” Zeke replied, heading for the door.
“Bring her back safe,” Mark said. “We’re here for you guys.”
“We know,” Raoul told him. “And we appreciate it.”
An hour later Raoul was in the pilot’s seat of their private Lear jet, doing the final checks prior to take off. Zeke was strapped into the co-pilot’s seat. Raoul taxied away from the hanger and received take-off clearance.
“Okay, bud,” Raoul said into the microphone attached to his headset. “Let’s go bring our baby home.”
* * * *
They cleared security at Andrews by noon the following day. Pool was there to meet them. So too was Hassan and Agent Parker, the CIA spook who had sanctioned Cantara for her role as intermediary in the peace process almost four long years ago. Part of Raoul wanted to rip him apart for making that decision, even though the rational side of his brain told him he never would have met her were it not for Parker. Would it be better not to have known her, to have loved her, but have her alive somewhere in the world?
The men shook hands all around and followed Pool into a conference room.
“What more can you tell us?” Raoul asked the moment they were all seated. He ignored the coffee that was placed in front of him, unable to eat or drink a damned thing until he knew more.
Hassan’s expression was terse. “She was being held in the cellar of a private house.”
Raoul and Zeke both nodded. “Yeah, Pool told us that much.”
“Er, what he didn’t tell you was that the house belonged to her brother-in-law.”
Raoul and Zeke exchanged a loaded glance. “She mentioned that her husband had a younger brother,” Raoul said slowly. “He worked as her husband’s research assistant at the university. She described him as small, quiet, and insignificant. Far as I know, neither he nor her husband had anything to do with extremist groups.”
“The husband didn’t, but his younger brother was a different matter,” Hassan replied. “Seems he was pretty hooked on your wife, Washington.”
“The hell he was.” Raoul growled.
“You mean he arranged for her to be taken,” Zeke said, “so he could…”
“We do know he was closely associated with the extremist group that Cantara went off to have talks with. In fact, our information is he’s the one that got her hot-headed brothers to join that group when her parents and his brother were killed by that bomb.”
“And got them killed in the name of the glorious cause as well,” Zeke snarled.
“Right.” Hassan rubbed his chin. “We underestimated this guy, gentlemen. We knew about him, of course, but he played the role of the subservient little brother so convincingly that we never realized what a devious little bastard he actually was.”
“Was?” Raoul queried.
“He blew his own brains out when we raided his house.” Hassan shrugged. “Just as well he did because we think the first bullet was intended for your wife, Washington, only we got to him before he could use it. He intended to take them both out in his twisted version of a lovers’ tryst.”
“Christ, what a fucking mess!” Raoul dropped his head into his splayed hands and shook it from side to side.
“That about sums it up,” Hassan said. “This guy, Salim, heard Cantara wanted to parlay with his buddies, and took matters into his own hands. He must have found out from Levi that you were her backup and that she was married to you, Washington. Now, we have to assume that Salim wanted to show Cantara the error of her ways and persuade her to marry him instead, so they could breed lots of little Palestinians loyal to the cause. We know this because we found a locked room in his house plastered with pictures of her, taken when she was married, but obviously without her knowledge. He’d built a shrine to her, so we’re guessing he wanted it all to be pure and perfect between them.”
Zeke snorted. “Yeah, like Cantara would play along with that.”
“Which is probably why he turned to violence, which would explain the skull fracture,” Agent Parker said. “From what we’ve subsequently learned, he was a bit of a sociopath, meek and mild on the surface, as cold and hard as ice beneath it all. Except when it came to Cantara. Everyone has an Achilles heel, and she was his. He’d probably decided she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted her, but when she rejected him, he couldn’t handle it and the cruel side of his nature surfaced.”
“Are you absolutely sure he’s dead?” Raoul asked in a murderous tone.
“Yeah, he’s six foot under,” Parker replied.
“Pity,” Zeke muttered, a chilling cast to his expression.
“So why didn’t they take us both out when they had the chance?” Raoul asked. “That would have resolved the problem of Cantara already having a husband. They were expecting us and had the drop on us. They could have done it easy with a long-range rifle.”
“We think Salim had to do some horse trading with his buddies. He got to whisk Cantara away but they got to keep you two. Two prize Green Berets to use for propaganda purposes. That must have been a pretty compelling reason to give Cantara over to Salim. Unfortunately, you selfishly spoiled their party before they could capitalize on their gain.”
“It’s just fucking crazy enough to make sense,” Raoul said to Zeke after several moments of tense silence. He could certainly understand why a man would get fixated with Cantara. “But why keep her in a cellar, half-starved?”
“That’s what we’re hoping your wife will be able to tell us, when she regains her memory. She might have information about people who visited Salim that will be useful to us.”
“You’re assuming she will regain her memory,” Zeke pointed out.
“We sure as hell hope so,” Pool replied. He had been very quiet during this exchange. Unusually so. Raoul wondered why.
“She only wanted to bring the warring factions together. She was no threat to anyone. We knew a lot of people wouldn’t appreciate her intervention,” Raoul said. “But we never figured some sick fuck would lock her away to satisfy his crazy obsession.” He ran both hands through his hair. “Still, all that matters for now is that she’s coming home. What do we know about her condition?”
It was Agent Parker who answered. “I won’t sugar coat this,” he said. “She had a severe skull fracture, probably caused by that fall you saw on video.”
The muscle in Raoul’s jaw flexed and hardened. “You think that caused her amnesia?”
Parker shrugged. “It’s possible. Or it could be she was so traumatized that her mind closed down. I’ve seen it happen before. It’s a natural defense mechanism.”
“Yet she remembers our names,” Zeke pointed out.
“She wasn’t traumatized by you guys.” Parker looked uncomfortable. “She was in a bad way physically when they picked her up. They’ve been concentrating on rehydrating her and getting some liquid nutrition into her. She’s being sedated for the flight back here. Once she’s here, we’ll get her the best of care and talk to her when she’s in a fit state to be interviewed.”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” Raoul replied decisively. “She’s coming home with us.”
“Now hang on just one goddamned minute,” Pool said. “We can give her the best of everything.”
Raoul glowered at him. “You’ve already done more than enough. We are no longer soldiers, so you don’t get to give us orders. Cantara is my wife. My responsibility.” He fixed each man in turn with a steely look. “Discussion closed.”
“Just as hot-headed as ever,” Pool muttered. “But let me remind you that your wife was on official US government business when she was taken. She needs to be debriefed.”
“She will be,” Raoul said, glowering right back at the man he still blamed for Cantara’s capture. “When she’s well enough.”
“You’re on thin ice, Pool,” Zeke added. “And in no position to lay down the law.”
“Fortunately for you, our focus is on Cantara right now.” Raoul scowled at Pool.
�
�Flight’s on final, Colonel,” a female adjacent said, poking her head around the door.
Raoul and Zeke jumped to their feet and shared a strained, anxious look. This was it. The time had come to welcome their baby home and Raoul couldn’t remember the last time he had felt more nervous.
* * * *
Cantara felt as though she was floating. Or flying. There was a constant thrum that had nothing to do with the pains inside her head that she had learned to live with. Something was different. She didn’t feel hungry, or thirsty. Nor was she too hot. Too cold. Too frightened to think. But everything inside her head was a haze. There was something she had to do. Something that was vitally important. But she was so damned tired, so comfortable for the first time for what felt like forever, that it took too much effort to try and think what it was. Whenever she had an inkling, it slipped away again like an elusive wraith.
There was a man on the periphery of her vision. Two men. One had intelligent gray eyes and dark hair that framed a rugged face. Those eyes softened when they looked at her, making her feel important, cherished. She liked it when that man stayed in her sketchy thoughts. She liked it even better when he was joined by another man with a swarthy complexion and piercing blue eyes.
Raoul. Why did that name spin through her vacant mind as though on a continuous loop? Why did she find it so comforting? And who or what was Ze?
“Shush, honey, keep still. You’re awake, I see.”
A cool hand touched her brow. A calm voice…well, calmed her. “Where am I?”
“In an airplane, sweetheart,” the voice replied. “You will soon be home. Don’t thrash about now. You’ll dislodge the drip.”
She glanced at her hand and saw a needle taped to the back of it, dripping liquid into a vein. She didn’t want anything foreign pumped into her, but was too weak to object. It felt as though she was lying between crisp cotton sheets. She must be dreaming, imagining the calm voice and cool touch. And yet it all seemed so real. She felt clean, too.
“Sit up, honey, and we’ll brush your hair.” A button was pushed and the bed she was lying on slowly rose up so she was in a sitting position. “You need to look your best for your husband.” Husband? “He’s gonna be that glad to see you after all this time.”
She felt a brush being gently pulled through her hair and ran a few strands of it through her own fingers. It was soft to the touch, untangled and smelled clean. When did she last have clean hair? Why was everyone being nice to her all of a sudden? And why was she in a plane? Cantara felt frightened and bewildered, but oddly reassured. She allowed whoever it was to brush her hair, wondering where home was and how she could have a husband and not know it.
“Here we go.”
Someone removed the needle from her hand and fixed a seatbelt around her. The next thing she knew, the wheels of the plane she had been told she was in touched the tarmac with barely a bump. Nervousness gripped her as the plane taxied for a long time before coming to a stop.
The door was opened, but before anyone could help her to unfasten her belt, she was conscious of two men bounding onto the plane. She instinctively flinched. Men rushing up to her meant trouble. Pain. Always so much pain, such deprivation.
“Hey, baby.”
She glanced to one side and gasped. The man from inside her head, the one with the penetrating gray eyes and devastating smile, crouched beside her and gently took her hand. He ran long fingers down the length of hers, soothing, reassuring, as he choked on a sob. She tried to snatch her fingers away, knowing better than to be taken in by him, but couldn’t seem to find the energy. His eyes were moist as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Her head screamed at her to take evasive action. He was trying to lull her into a false sense of security by invading her dream. Her dreams were all she had left. Now they had gotten into those, too, and she had nothing left to fight back with. Tired. She was so damned tired.
The fear that threatened her brain didn’t make it as far as her heart and she remained stock still, no longer caring what they did to her. Cantara mumbled, thinking she recognized the spicy tang of the lips that played over hers. It was memories of that taste that had seen her through her ordeal.
What ordeal?
She turned her head in the other direction, overwhelmed by a torrent of feelings that were as alien as they were confusing. Her imaginary male friend with blue eyes was on her opposite side, playing with her other hand, leaning in to kiss her as well. His hair, long, black, and shiny, seemed too real to be a figment of her imagination, dislodging a fragmented memory somewhere in the recesses of her addled brain. She closed her eyes, expecting the vision to dissipate and to find herself back in her dank, dark cellar—cold, hungry, and afraid of every small noise.
She opened her eyes again and focused, first to one side and then the other. They were both still there. Could they be real? Was one of them the husband she was supposed to have? Why wasn’t she fighting them, like she had fought another man over a period that stretched into infinity? They were both speaking at once, quietly, their voices soothing, reassuring. She wasn’t frightened of them, which was reason enough to be afraid. They had found a clever way to try and trick her. Let them do their worst, she thought wearily. She had reached the end of her tether and had no fight left in her.
“Baby,” the first man said, his voice a soothing caress. “Don’t you know us?”
She had never heard his voice so clearly in her dreams before. He had to be real. The large hand still holding hers was warm flesh and blood, confirming the fact. Without knowing where it had come from, a name sprang to her lips.
“Raoul?” she asked dazedly, blinking to clear the fog that imprisoned her memories. “Ze?”
Chapter Seven
Raoul was on emotional overload. One glance at Zeke told him his buddy was similarly afflicted. Cantara had stubbornly clung to life during the unimaginable hell she’d been through these past three years, but had almost reached breaking point. Her mind was gone, her lovely body emaciated, her eyes blank, her hair lank, lusterless. She was terrified of her own shadow. But not of them. Raoul grasped that one positive aspect of her condition, repeatedly telling himself she still knew who they were. That had to mean there was hope for her.
Didn’t it?
“We’re gonna take you home and make you better, darlin’,” Zeke told her, running his fingers across the contours of her face with infinite tenderness.
Cantara simply looked at him, as though searching his face for the right answer. It was devastating to see just how comprehensively her feisty spirit had been broken, and it was all he could do not to give way to sobs fuelled by a combination of relief and fury. He would concentrate on the relief, and on ensuring Cantara got the best possible care to aid her recovery, however complete it turned out to be. Revenge could come later. It was too late to revenge themselves against Salim. The selfish bastard had deprived them of that pleasure. But they could and would redouble their efforts to find the traitor, Levi. No rock would be left unturned.
EMTs bounded on the plane.
“We need to get her onto a gurney,” one of them said.
At the sound of his voice, Cantara emerged from her near catatonic state and became very agitated. Her blank eyes blazed with fear and she tried to back away from the man’s voice. Still strapped into her seat, she couldn’t move.
“She’s petrified of men,” the female nurse who had accompanied her told Raoul. “You two are the only ones she hasn’t shied away from.”
“She’ll be all right with us,” the same EMT said.
“Not a chance,” Raoul replied, scowling as he tried not to think about what Salim and God alone knew who else had put her through to reduce her to such a wretched state. He leaned over to unfasten Cantara’s seat belt, moving slowly, being as unthreatening as he could. “Come on, darlin’. I’m gonna get us out of here. Will you let me do that?”
He waited for a response, wondering if his words had even registered with her. Eve
ntually he was rewarded with an uncertain nod. Raoul wrapped one arm around her bony shoulders and slid the other beneath her butt, sweeping her effortlessly into his arms. Just by looking at her, he had been able to see how much weight she’d lost. Picking her up, feeling her bones protruding through her flesh, looking at her gaunt, sunken cheeks, was graphic confirmation of just how deprived of basic sustenance she had been. Salim sure had a strange way of showing his supposed love for her. Raoul wasn’t ready yet to think of what other indignities she had been forced to endure.
He expected her to struggle against him when he lifted her from her seat. Instead she sighed, closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder. Raoul couldn’t tell if she was relieved, or wearily resigned, but he could feel her heart beating way too fast as her fragile body pressed against his chest. He shared a worried glance with Zeke as all the other people crowding onto the plane shuffled in the confined space to get out of his way.
With Zeke holding Cantara’s hand and whispering comforting words to her in his native Arapaho, Raoul carried her down the steps and back onto American soil for the first time in over three years.
“We have the wagon here,” the EMT said, pointing to the waiting ambulance.
“No need.”
“You can’t walk…”
This guy was starting to irritate the fuck out of Raoul. He dealt him a look that discouraged further argument as he and Zeke set out to walk the short distance to the administrative building. Cantara had been cooped up in way too many confined spaces recently. She needed to breathe fresh air, and to…well, to something. Hell if Raoul knew what. Her listless state was killing him and he would never stop blaming himself for screwing up the operation that had seen Cantara captured. He should have listened to his gut and known it was a set-up. Except Cantara would have been taken even if he had. Once they’d left the Israeli compound there was nothing he could have done to change anything, thanks to that groveling coward, Levi. They already had Cantara and were on to Raoul and Zeke. It was all such a fucking mess, but he and Zeke had been too busy wallowing in self-pity to go looking for answers. If they had, then perhaps—no, don’t go there. He glanced down at Cantara, thanking a God he no longer believed in for restoring her to them alive—in body, at any rate. For now she was his first, his only, priority.
