“Mom…” She tried, she really tried, to keep the irritation from her voice. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, as you proved so well.”
Though it hurt, she couldn’t argue with the statement. She had gone alone to Paris, filled with youthful arrogance, massive naïveté, and the complete certainty that nothing bad could happen to her. She had returned home a gravely injured, damaged, and fearful woman.
The blood loss had been horrific, but it had been the pneumonia that had almost taken her life. Every breath had been a struggle. The doctors had worked tirelessly to save her.
She was finally getting herself back together. She had been determined to get well so she could make this meeting.
An abrupt wave of desolation swept through her, and sadness dropped like a boulder onto her shoulders. Her mother was right. He wasn’t coming. Lion was dead. The most wonderful, giving man she’d ever known was no longer alive.
A gust of warm air swept over her, bringing with it the scent of roses. Her head popped up, her eyes searched. She saw no one with pink roses. Spotted no one who looked remotely like Lion. It didn’t matter. Something like optimism washed through her. She refused to accept her mother’s grim assessment. There was no visual proof he was dead. There was still hope.
“Kat.” Her mom’s voice softened. “Come home, darling.”
“I can’t, Mom, I’m sorry. I learned a hard lesson, but I got through it. I’m a grown woman and don’t need to be babied or taken care of.”
“But—”
“You and Dad need to go on that cruise you planned, before all this happened.”
“Don’t be silly. We’re not leaving until you’re completely on your feet.”
That was just more incentive for her to get a hundred percent well. She’d always been an independent person, but since her return she’d become a weak-kneed, jump-at-any-loud-noise, blubbering wimp. That was over. From now on, her family would see the Katarina they’d seen before.
Knowing she wouldn’t convince her mother without full proof that she was fully recovered, she did the only thing she could do—she lied. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a phone consultation with Dr. Jenkins at six.”
“Good. I know she’ll help you confront your denial about that young man.”
Refusing to get back into an argument she wouldn’t win, she hurriedly said, “I love you, Mom. Bye.”
As she pocketed her cell, a new wave of desolation rushed through her like a raging river. It was four hours and seventeen minutes past their meeting time. Even if he had been delayed in traffic, had a flat tire, or a flight delay, he would have been here by now.
She returned the sliced apples to her picnic basket. Standing, she gave one more searching glance around without an ounce of hope. He wasn’t coming. Wherever he was…whatever had kept him away must have been important. But what she absolutely, positively refused to accept was that he was dead. Someway, somehow she would find him. And when she did, she would thank him for saving her life.
She didn’t care how long she had to wait for him, she would never give up on Lion. And in her heart she knew that Lion would never give up on her.
Chapter Six
Eight Years Later
Prizren, Kosovo
Bullets whipped by, pinging into the metal door beside him. Liam waited half a second, peered around the door edge and fired three shots toward the guy hiding behind a stack of wood. At this rate, they’d both soon run out of bullets and would have to go hand-to-hand. That’d be just fine with him. He had enough adrenaline built up inside him to take on three of these creeps without breaking a sweat.
There had to be a better way to earn a living, but ever since he’d rescued his first baby rabbit from the jaws of Toby, their old house cat, he’d been obsessed with protecting the innocent.
Another bullet zipped by his head. Cursing, Liam jerked his head back. That had been a little too close for comfort.
Yeah, there was probably a better way to earn a living, but he couldn’t think of one.
“Hey, Stryker, you copy?”
Glad to hear OZ leader Asher Drake’s voice in his ear, Liam answered, “Yeah, I’m over by the side door. Glad you could make it. Where are you?”
Ash answered, a definite sound of irritation in his tone, “Sorry I’m late. Got caught in a nest of hornets.”
He knew exactly what that meant. Liam had zero tolerance for politics or diplomacy. Asher Drake, on the other hand, was a diplomat extraordinaire, seemingly able to untangle a spider web with intricate ease.
“Don’t tell me we’ve got trouble on that end, too.”
“Not anymore. We’re good. I’m pinned down behind the bulldozer. I spotted Gideon on the other side of the motel. Where are Sean and Xavier stationed?”
“They’re to the left of you, behind the silver semi.”
“Serena and Jazz make it inside okay?”
“They got in there, but I don’t know what’s going on. Comms are down in the building, so we’ll be going in blind.”
“How many men have you counted?”
“I’ve seen five.”
“They’ve got some impressive firepower.”
“Yeah, but they’re beginning to piss me off.”
“I hear that. You got a plan?”
“Yeah. I’m coming to you. Cover me.”
Liam took off. When he’d been on the track team in college, he’d run a 4:40 and thought that was a damn fine accomplishment. Outrunning bullets might not be possible but he was doing his dead-level best. Thankfully his boss, as usual, had his back and was rapid-firing to clear his path.
He dove behind the bulldozer and joined Ash. With no time to spare, Liam took aim at the man he’d been exchanging fire with for the last ten minutes. Having a better vantage point, he fired twice, heard a squeal and then silence. Dead or just winged, he didn’t know. Either way, it’d bought him some time to put his plan into action.
Clicking his earbud, he said, “Xavier, you copy?”
“Yeah,” his friend growled. “What’s the plan?”
“Ash and I are going to hit them head on. You and Sean come at them on both sides.
Xavier responded, “Roger that.”
Sean echoed Xavier’s words.
“Eve and Gideon, you copy?”
OZ operatives Eve Wells and Gideon Wright were a quarter mile away at the top of a hill. Gideon answered in his usual quiet tone, “Right here.”
“Either of you got a good line of sight?”
“I do,” Eve answered.
“Mine’s crap,” Gideon said.
“Okay, Eve, take out the stragglers or any surprises. Gideon, head our way.”
“Roger that,” Gideon answered.
“I’m on it,” Eve said.
“Okay, on my count, let’s go. Three, two, one!”
They were shooting before they left cover. Hearing the gunfire from either side he knew Gideon and Xavier were doing the same. Reaching the door to the motel lobby, Liam went on one side, Ash landed on the other. Giving him a nod, Ash fired three shots through the door, and then Liam made a mad dash inside. Two men lay near the entrance. Keeping his gun at the ready, he kicked their guns out of the way and kept going. Ash would make sure they were out of commission, one way or the other.
“Serena, you copy?”
“Yes! Good to hear your voice. We’re secure.”
“Where are you?”
“Last room on the left, south side of the building.”
“How many do you have?”
“Nine women, three children, two young men.”
“Good work. Keep them there until I give the all clear.”
“Roger that.”
“Xavier, you guys make out okay?”
“We’re good. Took care of two of them.”
“Excellent. Let’s clear this dump of any remaining vermin.”
It took all his discipline not to hurry through the process. Ensuring the motel had indeed
been cleared of all traffickers was the priority. When he was sure, then he’d take the opportunity to check on the victims.
Still on alert, he took a step through a door. He spotted the trip wire a half second too late. His ears barely registered a boom before rancid smoke filled the room. Liam jumped back, hacking and coughing. Dammit, somebody had booby-trapped the door. His nose and lungs burning like fire, he ran outside.
Coughing like he was hacking up a lung, Liam fought for every breath. What the hell had that been?
A hand slapped him on the back. He looked up to see Ash holding out a bottle of water. Grabbing it, Liam took a long gulp and then poured the rest over his face. The relief was instantaneous.
“You okay?”
His voice raspy from coughing, he said, “I will be. Stupid mistake. Hit a trip wire.”
“Yeah. We found three more. Nothing dangerous. Just a smoke bomb. Probably set to keep anyone from escaping. Didn’t think to look for them until you tripped over one. So thanks for that.”
In between coughs, he threw Ash a crooked grin. “Anything—” cough, cough—
“to help the cause.”
“Building’s clear. Relief workers are here to transport the victims. They’re gathered at the back. You’ll want to see them first.”
“Have you seen them?”
“Not yet.”
Accepting another water bottle from Ash, Liam took several more swallows and felt halfway human again. Although his eyes were still swimming with tears and his throat felt as though he’d smoked a carton of cigarettes in one sitting, he knew he was lucky that was all the damage he’d incurred. Stupid of him, because it could’ve been a lot worse.
“Serena and Jazz, we’re coming your way.”
“Good,” Jazz answered, her relief evident. “They’re about to load them onto the bus.”
As he headed around to the back of the building where the victims were being helped, he couldn’t help but appreciate his OZ partners. Not one of them believed he’d ever find who he was looking for, but they were always willing to go the extra mile for him.
With every step he took, he felt as if this time…this time would be different. This time he would finally find her.
He rounded a corner and took in the scene. Two large vans, doors open, were parked parallel to the motel. Several aid workers milled around. The victims were easy to spot. Not because of their lack of clothing or anything materialistic. It was the expressions on their faces. The desolation in their eyes. Yes, they had been rescued and life could begin again for them, but it would take years, even a lifetime, to overcome what they’d been through.
Liam entered the area slowly, not wanting to alarm anyone. The aid workers were easy to spot, too—calmness in the midst of chaos, compassion in their eyes.
As relieved as he was that this had been another successful rescue, he couldn’t deny the normal disappointment. He should be used to it by now. She wasn’t here. None of the women fit Cat’s description. And in the deepest, darkest part of his soul, he knew none of them ever would.
How many times had this very same scenario occurred? How many times would he experience the same crushing disappointment before he finally accepted the truth?
He didn’t know—he knew only that he couldn’t give up. Not yet.
The scene one he’d seen all too often, he turned to leave. He’d done his job. People were rescued, lives were saved. The traffickers would be picked up by local authorities and hopefully never released. He would have to be happy with that.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one anomaly. A young woman stood several yards away from everyone. Instead of offering aid to the victims, she was speaking into what looked like a handheld recorder. Every minute or so, she’d jot something on a notepad and then would occasionally wipe her eyes of what he assumed were tears.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, watching. As if she knew she was being watched, she jerked her head up and met his gaze for a brief, electrifying moment. Her eyes, a blend of light blue and electric gray, mesmerized.
She gave him an odd, cautious look and then went back to taking notes.
He was so distracted he didn’t even notice that Eve had come to stand beside him until she said, “Damn fine work and I didn’t even fire a shot.”
“Glad you were there to back us up.”
She winced at his raspy voice. “You sound like a geriatric bullfrog. Heard you got gassed.”
“Yeah, something like that. Some kind of modified smoke grenade. Burned like hell.”
“You need to get that checked out. You sound awful.”
“Yeah, I will.” He coughed and tried to clear his throat without much success. “Stupid of me.”
“We’ve all done the stupid.”
He nodded toward the group of workers. “You’ve worked with this relief agency before?”
“Yes, a couple of times. They’re one of the finest on the planet.”
He directed his gaze to the young woman talking on her recorder. “Know who she is?”
“No. Must be new. I recognize everyone else.” She sent him a speculative look. “Any particular reason you want to know?”
“Just wondering. She doesn’t appear to be part of the group. She’s been taking notes and talking into that recorder for a while.”
“I’ll find out.”
Liam thought about stopping her. It wasn’t as if it mattered who she was. He didn’t do long-distance relationships. The aid team was based in Kosovo. He lived in the US. It would never work.
Despite telling himself that, he watched in anticipation as Eve spoke with one of the aid workers. She was back within a minute.
“She’s not with the relief group. She’s making a documentary about human trafficking. Want an introduction?”
Shaking his head, Liam headed toward the woman. Stopping for a moment to consider his appearance never entered his mind.
When he was about five feet from her, she jerked her head up again, like a wild animal sensing danger. Her wariness intrigued him even more.
He stopped in front of her, opened his mouth, but nothing other than a croak emerged. He cleared his throat and tried again. Nothing.
What the hell?
* * *
Aubrey looked up at the wild-haired, red-eyed stranger. He wore fatigues and was heavily armed, so she knew he was one of the people who’d rescued the human trafficking victims. He was tall, maybe about six-two, had dark brown hair that looked both wild and dirty. His face was covered with some kind of ash or soot.
Though his demeanor wasn’t threatening in the least, she couldn’t help but take a step back. There was something about him that felt oddly familiar. It was both exciting and alarming.
She hadn’t known what to expect when he opened his mouth to speak, but it certainly hadn’t been silence. He appeared to be struggling for words.
Compassion overriding her fear, she stepped forward and touched his arm in concern. “Are you okay?”
When he shook his head and gestured to his throat, she understood that, for whatever reason, he couldn’t speak.
“Do you need some help?” She glanced around for a doctor or medic who might be able to assist him.
His expression one of both exasperation and frustration, the man shook his head. He turned to look behind him, and seconds later, another man came to stand beside him.
About the same size, this man had coal-black hair and startling silver eyes that twinkled with amusement. He gave Aubrey a charming smile and said, “Forgive my friend. He’s a bit shy until you get to know him.”
The disheveled man gave his friend a narrow-eyed glare and the man hurriedly added, “He had an encounter with a smoke bomb and can’t speak right now.”
“Oh…I’m sorry about your voice.” She flashed a smile at both men. “You were involved in the rescue?”
“Yes,” the silver-eyed man said.
“You probably get told this all the time, but I just want to s
ay thank you for what you do.”
The dark-haired man shrugged. “Glad we can do something.” He glanced at the silent man beside him. “If he could talk, he’d probably say something charming, like, ‘Who are you?’ And, ‘Why are you here?’”
“My name is Aubrey Starr. I’m a documentary filmmaker. Human trafficking, the horror and devastation it causes, is something I became interested in years ago. I don’t think people understand how virulent it is and how it encompasses every aspect of our lives. I—”
She caught her breath. She was about to go on a tirade but these men knew more about the horror of human trafficking than she ever would. They’d been in the trenches saving lives. She was just a filmmaker.
“What you do is important,” the silver-eyed stranger said. “The public needs to know.”
She had a ton of questions she wanted to ask. On the verge of developing a mental list of all the things she wanted to know, she shifted gears when one of the aid workers called out to her, “Aubrey, we’re ready.”
“That’s my cue.” She flashed a smile at both men. “Nice talking to you.” She sent a sympathetic smile to the mute man. “I hope your voice comes back soon.”
She walked toward the bus, but when she heard a loud guffaw, she turned back to see that the man who couldn’t speak had given his friend a rude hand gesture and stalked away.
Smiling, Aubrey stepped up onto the bus. She wished she’d been able to spend more time with them. Not only would it be fascinating to get insight into the ins and outs of a rescue operation, the zing of attraction she’d felt had been exhilarating.
The moment she got inside, she lost her smile. This was the reason she was here, the reason she’d become obsessed with telling their stories. The faces of the lost, the forgotten.
She’d fought hard to get here, to be taken seriously. Getting distracted, no matter the reason, couldn’t happen. She was on a quest. Nothing could get in her way, not even a wild-haired, red-eyed man who’d lost his voice and risked his life to save others. Someday maybe…but not yet.
Chapter Seven
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