Cover of Darkness

by Kaylea Cross

  “You wish to die?”

  I want to live!

  His hand curled around the hilt of the knife. A hiss filled the silence as it left its scabbard. The blade gleamed silver in the stark beam from the flashlight. One side of his mouth kicked up. The promise of death was in his eyes. She tensed. Terror flooded her.

  “Sir?”

  She jerked her gaze to the opening at the man’s voice.

  Tehrazzi paused, but she could still feel his gaze burning her. “What?” he snarled.

  Sucking in short bursts of air, Bryn listened as they spoke in Arabic. Something about weapons. Soldiers. When the other man left, Tehrazzi kept staring at her. His jaw muscles worked. His fingers flexed on the knife.

  He wanted to kill her. It was all over his face. But then he sheathed the blade. She sagged, breath exploding out of her aching lungs. Her muscles quivered.

  “You have been given a short reprieve. You can lay there and think about how my knife will feel on your flesh until I come back to finish this.”

  He snatched up the flashlight and stormed out.

  ****

  Iraqi Desert outside Tikrit

  Through the grimy window, Luke watched Fahdi pull the pickup to a stop in front of the dilapidated hut, then moved into the shadows and sat in the wooden chair he’d set in the corner.

  Fahdi’s family was safe, halfway to Jordan by now to stay with his wife’s relatives. But Fahdi wasn’t safe. Not by a long shot.

  Luke wasn’t stupid. Bryn’s capture was going to give Fahdi enough money to support his family for years to come once they crossed the border to start a new life in Iran. Bastard.

  The truck door opened, then slammed shut a moment later. Fahdi had stopped in Tikrit to strip off his old clothes, shoes and watch and toss them in the garbage, probably paranoid someone had planted tracking devices on him, like Tehrazzi had before. Too bad the dumb bastard hadn’t thought to take off all his jewelry.

  Apparently thinking he’d outsmart everyone by switching vehicles, Fahdi had dumped the last one in Tikrit and stolen the truck from a construction site.

  Luke’s hand tightened on the grip of his pistol. Too bad Fahdi was probably going to live through the coming interrogation.

  Through that tiny window from his seated position, Luke watched him pull a penlight from his pocket to check the door of his temporary home, seeking anything suspicious. Apparently finding everything as it should be, he unlocked it and pushed it open.

  It swung with a creak, and he stood still in the darkness, listening while the musty air moved around the room. With a relieved sigh, he stepped inside and secured the door before flipping on the only light.

  “Fahdi.”

  Stifling a shriek, he whirled around and stumbled backward. “Jesus and Allah…”

  Luke sat in the chair in the corner with a cold expression on his face, Sig-Sauer in his right hand. The safety was off, and a round was chambered. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “H-how did you—”

  Luke rose from the chair, and Fahdi cowered against the door.

  But when Luke came close enough, he merely lifted his free hand and tapped the pendant hanging from the chain around Fahdi’s neck. With his index finger, he flipped it over. “Surprise.”

  Fahdi glanced down at it, eyes widening when he saw the tiny micro-transmitter attached to the back of it.

  “B-but how—” The breath hissed out of his lungs. “Miss Sam? She did this?”

  As Luke stared holes into Fahdi’s face, his informant had his answer. “I suspected you all along.”

  Fahdi opened his mouth to babble an explanation, but Luke caught his wrist and yanked it up hard, stopping just short of snapping the bones. Fahdi whimpered and rose onto his toes to alleviate the pressure. “By the way, Ali sends his regards,” Luke drawled, dropping a chunk of metal onto Fahdi’s palm.

  Fahdi flinched and looked down at the dial of Ali’s watch, singed and blackened from the explosion that had killed him. From the bomb Fahdi had planted. Bits of charred skin still clung to the back of it.

  Fahdi jerked his hand away like the dial was still burning hot, tossing it to the floor. He looked like he wanted to throw up. His eyes bugged out like golf balls.

  “So,” Luke said, shifting the pistol in his grip. Not that he needed it. He could kill Fahdi in any number of ways with his bare hands, and right now he was resisting the impulse to do just that. “Where’s Bryn? Not to mention Tehrazzi and your pal Sam.”

  Fahdi gulped.

  “You gonna tell me what I want to know? Or should I leave you for Tehrazzi to interrogate so you can explain why I’m still alive?”

  A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He nodded frantically. “I-I’ll tell you…”

  Luke pinned him with a merciless gaze. “Then get the fuck to it before I change my mind.”

  ****

  Day 12, Baghdad

  Late night

  Ben rolled his head on his neck to ease the tension in his shoulders and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He pulled out of the airfield, the helo he’d taken back to Baghdad parked on the tarmac in the rearview mirror.

  He’d drawn the short straw and flown back with Fahdi to turn him over to the CIA for further questioning. The asshole was on his way to a secure facility right now. Too bad the U.S. didn’t sanction torture.

  At least they knew Bryn was in a camp outside Basra. Luke and Dec were already down there with Rhys to rendezvous with a SEAL team and plan her extraction. If they got real lucky, they might get Tehrazzi in the bargain.

  Ben was going straight to the TOC to find out if there was any information on the op yet. It still rankled that he hadn’t been able to go along, but they needed someone from the team to monitor the op from the TOC. He’d have loved to be going after Bryn. His guts burned with apprehension about what they might have done to her.

  He believed Luke that she would be kept alive for Tehrazzi. He clung to the hope they weren’t too late.

  His phone beeped from his belt, announcing he’d just received a text message. Probably Rhys. Keeping his eyes on the road, he pulled it out, waiting until he slowed at an intersection to glance at the display. When he saw Sam’s number, he skidded to a stop.

  What the…

  How did Sam know to contact him? He and Davis were the only ones not on the op, and he’d only just arrived back in Baghdad. Who had told her? Where the hell was she?

  He read the message.

  Intel leakd. Op cmpmisd. Abort.

  The blood froze in his veins. “Fuck!”

  Breath sawing in and out, he punched in the number for the TOC and floored the Suburban. Mother of God, what had Sam done?

  When someone came on the line, he ran right over top of them, demanding to speak with the officer in charge. As the general’s voice came through, he blurted, “This is Ben Sinclair—sir, the op has been compromised, recommend emergency action to abort mission. Repeat, abort mission.”

  Racing through the back streets of Baghdad, he prayed he wasn’t too late.

  ****

  Day 13, outside Basra

  Tehrazzi finished his prayer and rose in the darkness. Overhead the stars shone like a thousand lanterns in the ebony sky. The wind was cool against his face. In a few hours, the air would warm and the sun would crest over the hills near the Iranian border.

  He’d calmed himself sufficiently now to deal with Daoud’s daughter. He wasn’t sure yet if he would kill her. She may still be of use to him. He would prefer not taint his soul with the blood of an innocent woman. He would rather leave that to his bodyguard, Assoud. But if he must, he would do it himself, and pray that Allah would understand.

  He hedged. She might be the key to his teacher.

  He approached the blanket serving as a flap on the cave dug into the hillside, swept it back and switched on the flashlight. She lifted her head, squinted in the bright light, but not before he saw the stab of fear in her eyes. It lasted only an instant.
>
  She masked her unease, replaced it with a disdainful expression that made it seem she was looking down her nose at him even though she was tied up and lying on the ground.

  A part of him truly admired her bravery. He’d known many men who hadn’t shown a fraction of that courage when faced with death.

  He waited, staring into her eyes as the tension in her grew. She was wondering if he would kill her now, yet she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. Though she met his gaze, her breaths were choppy. Her shoulders spasmed.

  He drew his hand toward his knife, taking pleasure in the way her eyes tracked the motion. He curled his fingers around the cold hilt. Squeezed. Held the position. Her gaze flew up to his. She managed a glare.

  He almost smiled. Such valor, wasted in a woman’s body. What should he do with her?

  His muscles jerked as his phone went off. Keeping his grip on the knife, he answered, listened as his bodyguard reported in. Assoud detailed the information they’d gotten from the other American woman working for his teacher. He went rigid. He hung up and stared into Daoud’s daughter’s black eyes. Black as the desert night, black as death.

  His death.

  The Americans were planning a surprise attack. His teacher, the man who had created him, the only man he’d ever truly feared, had come at last.

  A wave of fear crashed over him. Took him under, deep inside his subconscious where all his doubts and suspicions slept. It almost suffocated him.

  His teacher would kill him. He must flee. Terror stole his breath, tightened all his muscles until they twitched. The Americans would order an air strike, and blow away the hillside to get him.

  They’d almost done it the night Ghaliya had saved him.

  His heart beat a frantic rhythm beneath his ribs. He’d never escape their aircraft from here.

  His wild gaze refocused on his prisoner, a debilitating weakness taking over. How would he escape? He had to move, now, before it was too late. He’d have to leave his prisoner behind—

  His prisoner.

  He stilled. His mind cleared.

  Daoud’s daughter. Of course.

  The paralyzing fear ebbed. It fell away until calm settled over his racing heart. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing evened. The sweat dried on his clammy skin.

  Allah had sent her to him for this reason. He knew it to the marrow of his bones. She was the answer. His teacher would not risk killing her, not even to get to him. She was too close with his family. Nothing mattered more to his teacher than his wife and son. Killing Daoud’s daughter would hurt them deeply.

  No, his teacher would not sacrifice her life to kill him. While she was here, he would be safe.

  Ironically, she was his only protection now. He had to keep the Americans from getting her.

  He would escape. Take her along to prevent them from shooting him. God had protected him from his teacher before. Why spare his life unless he was meant to live, to serve His higher purpose?

  Yes, he would use her to escape. Mind free, he left her staring after him with wide eyes to arrange safe transport.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Day 13, Desert outside Basra

  A few hours before dawn, Dec crouched in position at the head of his SEAL team, muscles tense as he waited for the green light. They’d inserted by helo, fast-roping into a shallow canyon three klicks from their target near Basra and proceeded on foot to maintain surprise and silence.

  Luke hunkered beside him, scanning through his NVGs, while Rhys was behind with the rest of the team, maintaining the GPS and satellite links with Ben back at the TOC in Baghdad.

  Tehrazzi was reportedly in these hills, over the ridge in a cave where the Air Force had launched a series of DJAMs earlier to destroy a hidden weapons cache. Current intelligence said Tehrazzi felt safe there, that because of the recent air strikes the biggest danger was over.

  It worked to their advantage, because Tehrazzi sure as hell shouldn’t be expecting a team of SEALs to come storming into his camp, on a mission to destroy the cell before Tehrazzi and his followers could reach the Iranian border. That’s what the top brass wanted.

  Dec had a different focus. The most important part of the mission: extract the principal. Again.

  All night he’d been tormented with fears for Bryn’s safety, but now he had to keep his mind on his task. His men’s lives depended on him maintaining his focus. At Luke’s signal, they started forward, keeping low as they picked their way over the rough ground, dropping to their bellies at the top of the ridge.

  Luke indicated he saw three armed guards at the perimeter and Dec relayed the message to the team, murmured it into his mic for HQ. He called everyone into position and gave directions using hand signals: circle around to the east and come in from behind, surrounding the camp.

  Looking into his men’s camouflaged, serious faces, his adrenaline pumped hot, his muscles gathering for the burst of speed. At Luke’s command he took off at a run, passing him as he led his teammates down the slope.

  He landed on the balls of his feet to muffle the sound, his boots hitting the sand with quiet thuds. His quads and hamstrings hummed with power as he sprinted down a rise and into a wash, throwing himself flat and put his riflescope to his eye. As the others fell in beside him, his eyes scanned the horizon for any new threats.

  When everyone came back with an all clear, Dec pushed up and moved them to a protected position behind a group of boulders less than two hundred yards from their target. From here, the scent of smoke from the campfires reached them. Low voices carried on the air. Estimates put fifteen to thirty men down there.

  “LT, sentry at ten o’clock high.”

  Dec’s head swung around and up to his left. Sure enough, a figure stood poised on the rim of a cliff.

  “Four o’clock high.”

  Shit.

  “One o’clock low.”

  Christ. He didn’t like the feel of this at all. They were being surrounded. And if they fired now, they’d give away their position before they made their attack. He glanced back at Luke, whose jaw flexed.

  “Rhys,” he whispered into the radio, loud as he dared, never taking his eyes off the man on the cliff to his left, “request CAS.” Close air support was key here.

  “Roger that.” Rhys called in the request over the radio to the aircraft in the area.

  They’d have to haul ass to gain better cover, and then the Air Force or Navy could pick the sentries off. The trick was getting the timing just right so that Dec and the others were already moving when the jets or gunships rolled in to lay down covering fire.

  Distant shouts shattered the silence, echoing through the warm air. They’d been spotted.

  No way the enemy should have seen them yet. Jesus, had they walked into an ambush?

  “Time’s up,” Luke muttered as more of Tehrazzi’s men scrambled into position above them, hovering like vultures. “Get over there and cover all exit routes. Make sure that bastard doesn’t slip away again.”

  “Go, go!” Dec commanded, tearing out into the open, sprinting for the camp.

  A thump reverberated through his chest. Acting on instinct, he hit the deck and covered his head as the mortar round exploded to his right. The blast rattled his ears as he staggered to his feet and took off again. Another blast, closer this time, two more in rapid succession.

  In the bright flashes he saw his teammates hunkered down and spread out behind him, Tehrazzi’s followers rushing toward them with RPGs and rifles. Dec raised his M4 and squeezed off a few rounds, dropping two of them, arms flinging upwards as they fell. Bullets zinged past, tracers glowing red in the darkness. He flattened himself as deep as he could into the cool sand, fighting to stay in control, his mind racing.

  Please let Bryn still be alive in there.

  Another mortar round exploded close beside him, the impact enough to knock the breath out of him. He struggled up onto his elbows and fired again. When would their air support get here?

  Luk
e dropped down beside him, yelling in his ear. “Gun ships are six minutes out.”

  “Keep moving,” he shouted back, sweeping an arc of fire in front of them. If they could eliminate enough of the enemy to free Bryn, the air support could take care of everything else. Heart bursting, he leapt up and raced onward, picking off men as they came into view.

  More and more streamed out of the cave. Shit, their intel had been way off the mark. If Dec and his team made the attack now, they’d take heavy casualties.

  He fired off another round and looked out at the camp, thinking of Bryn as he gauged the distance. Too much open ground to cross. He swept his gaze over his men, lying flat as they picked off the enemy, then back to the camp.

  He felt like he was being torn in two. He wanted to go now, rescue her, but he had others’ safety to think of. He was responsible for the lives of his men. There were seven of them. One of her.

  A curl of smoke from a campfire across the ridge rose into the air. Bryn was right there, might still be alive. If she was, she’d be terrified. Alone. Cold. Was she praying for him to find her? A picture of her formed, curled tight in a ball, rocking herself, eyes puffy from crying.

  He thought his heart would break. I’m here, baby. Please hold on.

  Rounds whizzed past, thudding into the sand around them. He shot off another controlled burst. They had to move back. Going forward now was suicide.

  His stomach knotted. The decision had already been made for him. He didn’t have a choice. He was an officer. His first responsibility was to his team. Much as it killed him, he had to take his heart out of the equation. Had to take his men to safety. When the air support cleared off some of the enemy, they could make another attempt.

  “Fall back,” he shouted, heart heavy as a rock in his aching chest. He led his team to the relative safety of the cliffs, the spurt of adrenaline propelling him over the last stretch of open ground. The team closed ranks in a semi-circle, firing up at the cliff and around their horizon. Rhys moved in beside him, shouted down at him. “Air support inbound.”