“The only award anybody’s tryin’ for here is Asshole of the Year,” Romano muttered.
Dec chewed on that for a while, which was why it took him another couple of miles until he realized exactly what the princess had said.
That she’d missed him. Or that she’d thought she’d missed him.
A jolt of elation shot through his blood—until he realized that no matter what she’d said, it didn’t change the facts.
She’d left him. No note. No nothing. And the next time he saw her, at that wedding, all fancied up in silk and jewels, bodyguards watching out for her, a big chauffeured Mercedes waiting in the driveway, he’d understood the reason.
He had never been what she wanted.
Fine.
She’d never been what he wanted either.
She was a woman who would expect—what did they call it? Commitment. Well, he wasn’t into commitment. He liked his life the way it was. He had the world’s best job, a place on the beach, enough hot women to keep him busy 24/7.
Give that up?
Hell, no.
And, come to think of it, she wouldn’t have wanted commitment. The woman he’d believed her to be would have wanted it, but she wasn’t that woman. She was a princess, meaning she really never would have wanted a man like him at all…
“Dec?”
Dec looked up. Chay had fallen in alongside him.
“Yeah,” Dec said, “okay, I know I’m being a little hard on her, but—”
“Something’s not right,” Chay said. “I can feel it.”
Dec felt the hair rise on the back of his neck.
Chay was part Sioux. He was the best tracker in any of the units and he had what they all referred to as this sensing thing. He’d get a feeling—somebody was watching them, somebody was hiding up ahead. At first, they’d teased him about it. And he’d laughed and said things like yeah, if only he’d been on the plains with Custer…
But damned if he wasn’t right seventy, eighty percent of the time. After a while, they’d all learned to take him seriously.
Dec gave him a sideward glance.
“You think they’re behind us? I checked a few minutes ago and—”
“So did I. Nothing.”
“Ahead of us, then,” Dec said in a low voice.
“Yeah. Somebody’s out there. And the closer we get to the extraction site, the more I feel it.”
Dec nodded. Soon the land would open up, but the forest would still press in on either side.
Just right for an ambush.
“Move up to the front of the line,” he said. “Tell everybody to fall back.”
Seconds later, STUD One and its three rescued hostages were gathered around him.
“Okay,” Dec said quietly. “We’re no more than ten minutes from where the Black Hawk will pick us up.” He paused. “It’s possible we’re no longer alone.”
The ambassador took his wife’s hand. “You mean we’re being followed?”
“I mean that these mountains are home to these bandits. They know every trail, every pass, every switchback. It’s possible they went around us, that they’re waiting for us somewhere ahead. They have to figure we’re getting out by helicopter and there are only a couple of places where a bird could land, Maybe they guessed which we’re using—and guessed right.”
He looked at the faces of those grouped around him.
The men of STUD One looked resolute. They were tough, battle-hardened, and fighting their way out would not come as anything new.
The ambassador looked worn. His wife’s expression was still a blank.
No surprises so far—until he got to Annie.
Her expression was not one of fear, it was of unwavering determination. Flattened mouth. Narrowed eyes. She looked like a woman who’d come to a conclusion…
But about what?
“Princess? You have something to say?”
She looked at him. Hesitated. Shook her head.
“Okay.” Dec cleared his throat and focused his attention on the three hostages. “We’re going to do these last few minutes as quickly as possible. We’re also going to change formation. You three will stay together with us clustered around you.” He checked his watch. “We should get to the extraction site just as the Black Hawk touches down. You’ll run for it. Run, not walk. Mr. Ambassador, Lieutenant Olivieri will carry your wife. None of you are to turn back to check what’s happening behind you. You’ll make for the ’copter, grab the hands of those waiting to pull you on board, and that’s it. Any questions?” Nobody spoke. Dec nodded. “Fine. In that case—”
“Lieutenant?”
“What is it, Princess?”
“Actually, I do have a question. It’s the same one I asked before. Where will the helicopter take us?”
Dec’s mouth thinned. “The big question for you, obviously.”
“Do you know or don’t you, Lieutenant? Where will they take us? Where will they take me?”
Lieutenant. Is that who he was to her? Yes. Damn right. He was Special Ops and she was his mission.
“We’re dealing with a COM blackout,” he said brusquely. “A communications blackout for the next…” Dec glanced at his watch. “…for the next eight minutes. Once I make contact, I’ll ask.”
The look on her face changed. It wasn’t that she no longer looked resolute, it was only that she looked…different.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Dec flashed a cool smile. “Nothing to thank me for, Your Highness. We live to serve.”
They moved out. The ambassador was doing his best, but his pace was flagging. His wife was stumbling along between Chay and Aidan.
The princess was still matching his men’s pace.
Why not?
A bride wouldn’t want to be late to her wedding.
At the six minute mark, Dec dug out his dug his satphone. He, Black and Andy Stein had agreed not to use it until the last minutes for fear of being tracked. Now, those last minutes were fast approaching.
Dec punched a button. The response, though marred by static, was immediate.
“Recovery One, what is your situation? Over.”
“Recovery Base, we are five minutes out. Over.”
“Recovery One, pickup coming in early. ETA four minutes.”
Dec grunted. Assuming Olivieri was right and they were walking into a welcoming party, the sooner the better.
“We can be there in four, Recovery Base.”
“Do so. We want to make this a quickie.”
The Black Hawk would kiss the grass, they’d all scramble onboard, and the helicopter would take off.
“Understood, Recovery Base. Okay. Ove—”
An elbow dug into his ribs. The princess. They were moving fast, damn near running. She looked exhausted, and, despite the poncho, soaked from head to toe, but she hadn’t forgotten what she’d asked him to find out.
Dec rolled his eyes. “Recovery Base. What is the drop-off location for our packages? I have been asked for an answer. Over.”
There was a squawk of static. A pause. Then the COM guy was back.
“Recovery One. Mr. and Mrs. Dapper Dan will take a sea voyage.”
Dec nodded. The ambassador and his wife would be landed on the Harry S. Truman, a super-carrier in the Persian Gulf.
“And the third package? Over.”
“Drop off point is in the Q. Home Sweet Home. Any more questions? Over.”
The Q. Meaning Qaram. Dec nodded. That would make the princess happy.
“No,” he said, “no more questions, Recovery Base. Over.”
“Recovery One? Good luck.”
Dec disconnected. Annie tugged on his sleeve.
“Where?” she gasped.
“Wait a second.” He narrowed his eyes, peered through the rain. Yes. There it was, dead ahead. An open stretch of meadow. And the whomp-whomp of a Black Hawk coming in, visible now against the rainy sky.
Five hundred yards.
Four hundred.
“Okay,” Dec yelled. “Move. Move. Move.”
“Declan. Please. Tell me. Where will they take me?”
The woman was certifiable. They were running at top speed, darkly ominous woods all around them, and she was still worried about her destination?
“Qaram,” he said, “Safe and sound.”
She stumbled to a stop. “No!”
Dec grabbed her arm and hauled her along with him. “Jesus,” he growled, “keep moving. What do you mean, no? You’ll be a couple of days late for your wedding, sure, but—”
“Don’t let them take me back to Qaram! Or to Tharsalonia! Please! I’m begging you, Declan. I can’t go back. I won’t go back. I—”
The world exploded.
Gunfire spat from the woods to the east.
The men of STUD One spun in that direction and began returning fire. Screams and shouts and the roar of small arms fire filled the air.
“Go,” Dec shouted. “Go. Go. Go. Get the hostages out of here. Go!”
Romano grabbed the ambassador by the arm and raced for the helicopter. Olivieri tossed the ambassador’s wife over his shoulder and did the same. Sullivan, Spanos and Maguire ran backwards so they could provide covering fire.
“Run,” Dec yelled at Annie as he fired into the trees.
She didn’t move.
“Annie! Did you hear me? Run!”
She shook her head. “I’m not going back.”
She wasn’t going back? What in hell? Was she crazy?
Maybe the world had gone crazy, because even as he tried to process that, a horseman, fuck, a horseman came galloping out of the woods
Dec took aim, shot the guy out of his saddle and spun Annie in the direction of the Black Hawk.
“Move,” he roared. “Goddammit, woman—”
“I’ll be a prisoner again.”
“What?”
“My uncle sold me to the king of Tharsalonia. I won’t go back, Declan! I’d sooner die here than go back.”
Jesus Christ, what in hell was she talking about?
Maybe he hadn’t heard her right. Between the whomp-whomp of the rotors, the roar of the Kalashnikovs and the bark of the HK MP7s…
But, yes, he must have heard her right, because she was refusing to move, turning them both into easy targets for the rounds of hot ammo flying at them. That they hadn’t been hit already was some kind of miracle.
“Sanchez!”
The shout came from the helicopter. Romano was leaning out the open door, gesturing, yelling, urging Dec and Annie to run to the bird.
“I can’t go back,” Annie sobbed. “Please. Just leave me here. Leave me. Save yourself, Declan, but leave me!”
The Black Hawk was starting to rise.
They were almost out of time.
Dec knew that in the seconds that were left he could grab Annie, dump her over his shoulder, race for the ’copter and figure out what to do with her later.
Except, there would be no later.
Their first stop would be the closest one.
Qaram.
Another rider was thundering towards them. Dec fired. The guy tumbled from his saddle. The horse, reins dangling, kept coming.
“Son of a bitch!” Dec snarled.
He stepped into the path of the terrified horse. It shied away, but he grabbed for the reins, snagged them and swung into the saddle.
“Annie!”
He yelled her name, leaned over, his arm extended towards her. She grabbed his hand. He hoisted her up behind him.
The last thing he saw as they galloped for the trees was the Black Hawk gaining altitude as it rose over the meadow.
CHAPTER FIVE
They made it into the forest.
The trees were tall, their trunks massive. There wasn’t lots of space between them. Moving as fast as they were that could have been a problem, but the horse seemed to know the place and threaded his way through without any encouragement.
That was good.
Even better was the amount of fire the Black Hawk was putting down.
Dec knew that it couldn’t stay on the scene much longer and there was no way of knowing how many bandits were in pursuit, but the helicopter would take out a lot of them out.
He hoped.
The horse was big, fast and smart. It gave Dec all the speed he asked, but he knew there was a limit to how long and how far he could make such demands of the animal before it faltered.
You didn’t grow up on the New Mexican desert without knowing something about horses.
Annie’s arms were wrapped around his waist. She was leaning into him. He had the feeling she knew horses, too, and that was a damned good thing considering that they were all but flying.
“Ahead of us,” Annie gasped in his ear. “Some kind of trail…”
Dec saw it. To their right, a narrow opening that wound down through the trees, probably into a valley.
To their left, the land rose higher and higher. There was no discernible trail.
The sounds of gunfire, of the helicopter, had faded. Dec risked a quick look over his shoulder. Nobody behind them…yet.
The trail leading downhill was coming up fast.
Taking it was the logical choice. Heading further up the mountain would be crazy. The climb was going to be rough. There was no trail. And there was no promise of what they’d find at the top.
But every instinct Dec possessed told him that logic had no place in what was rapidly becoming a puzzle as complex as any he’d ever experienced.
Dec slowed the horse. Took one last glance at the downhill trail.
Then he touched the horse’s flanks lightly with his boot heels and turned the animal uphill.
* * *
They rode for hours, the horse picking its way between trees, its pace quickening whenever the trees thinned out and the land flattened, but then the land would rise again and the horse would slow. The uphill portions were steep, plus the animal was carrying two riders.
The rain stopped.
That, at least, improved things.
They took a short break. Annie took off the poncho and shook it out. Dec put it back in his pack. They gulped down water—the horse drank from Dec’s cupped hands—and then they got moving again.
They hadn’t heard gunfire in a very long time. Still, Dec wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and whoever it was who’d attacked them back at the rendezvous point.
Who had turned into the million-dollar question.
Was it the men who’d kidnapped her? That made sense, but the terrorists led by Altair Amjad were just as likely suspects. And what about the king she’d been on her way to marry, or her own uncle, the man she said had held her prisoner and sold her to the king?
And, really, now that he thought about it, what did it matter?
There were people who wanted to capture Annie and kill him, and no way was he going to let either thing happen. And, yeah, he was back to thinking of her as Annie. It didn’t take a genius to know that she’d left her other identity in that clearing where the Black Hawk had landed and then lifted off without them on board.
Jesus, what a mess.
They were on unknown terrain with who knew how many enemies on their asses. And, man, he didn’t want to think about what had to be happening back at Camp Condor. By now, Black would know what had gone down. He’d be running in circles trying to figure out why the fuck Dec had taken off with the woman he’d been charged with rescuing instead of getting her safely on that helicopter.
It was entirely possible that he’d go home to a court-martial. Assuming he managed to get home and right about now, the odds on that weren’t looking so great.
The horse slowed its pace.
Dec let it.
Another hour passed. The horse stumbled, then recovered its footing, but Dec knew it couldn’t go much further.
He drew back on the reins.
He felt Annie sit up straight behi
nd him. Crazy, but even with everything around them going to shit, he hated losing the feel of her breasts and belly warm against his back.
“Are we stopping?”
He nodded. “We need to give this guy a break.”
Annie swung her leg over the horse’s rump and jumped lightly to the ground. Dec did the same, then patted the animal’s glossy flank as it blew out a long breath.
“I know just how you feel, pal. It’s been a rough day.”
Annie peered through the trees. “How much further to the top?”
“Good question.” Dec dumped his pack and his rifle against a tree, dug his binoculars out, hung them around his neck, reached for a low branch and climbed until he had a clear view of what lay ahead.
At first, all he saw was more forest. Then he began to see a change. The land flattened into what appeared to be a sea of grass and beyond it…
More mountain.
No road. No houses. Nothing—until a slow scan with the binoculars showed him a craggy outcropping of rock and what looked like a pond.
Excellent. A rock wall at their backs would offer some protection from the cold and from predators, including the human kind, and they’d have water to refill their bags. Aside from finding a village, it was more than he’d hoped for.
“Did you see anything?” Annie asked when he reached the ground.
“Our camp for the night.”
He took water and energy bars from his pack. He had a couple of MREs but he figured on saving them for supper.
They each had some water and he gave the horse another drink. Then they unwrapped the bars and bit into them.
“Mmm,” Annie said.
Dec laughed. “I’ve heard people say lots of things about energy bars, but ‘mmm’ isn’t one of them.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe I lucked out.” She took another bite. “For instance, this particular bar is—let’s see. Vanilla with fudge.”
“Vanilla with fudge, huh?”
“You mean,” she said, with wide-eyed innocence, “yours isn’t?”
He knew damn well hers tasted exactly like his—a combination of oats, raisins, sticky stuff that approximated caramel, and little black dots that were either seeds or best left as a mystery.
“No way,” he said solemnly. “Mine is strawberry.”
Renegade: Special Tactical Units Devision (STUD) Book 3 Page 6
