Saint by Zoe Dawson

16

Zasha’s chopperlanded not far from Omar’s two. She opened the door and slipped out. Her guys flanked her. “Omar,” she called out.

He slipped between the two vehicles. “Do not call me like your dog,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed. He was sweating and there was blood on his face. “Where is the ATF agent?”

“She got away. That is too bad…for you.”

Several of his men came around the chopper, shot her men and the pilot. Omar stepped forward and grabbed her by the hair. “I’m not taking any more of your orders.”

“What the hell are you doing? We had a deal!”

“The deal is over. Now it’s your time to die,” he said, and her anger magnified.

Someone jumped on his back and started to pummel him It gave Zasha time to pull her weapon and shoot the men who had killed her guys.

Zasha fired at Omar and the bullet impacted his shoulder. Blood splattered the wild girl’s face. He grunted, firing repeatedly, but the girl on his back kept messing with his aim. He wrestled her for a second, reaching back and pulling her over his head. She fell to the ground, and he brought up his gun.

But he wasn’t fast enough. Zasha put two slugs in his gut. He flew back, his gun falling not far from him.

She walked over and crouched down. “You’re going to die slowly and painfully,” Zasha said. Omar tried to speak, his lips working. When he tried to reach for the gun, she kicked it aside. He choked, blood bubbling from his lips. The shoulder hit must have nicked his lung. She leaned in close and said, “I guess it will be sooner than we think.”

Her gaze flicked to the girl. “And who are you?” She rose and walked over to where the teenager lay. She was staring at Omar as if she couldn’t believe he was dead.

“Yasmiin,” the girl murmured. “You killed him.”

Zasha heard movement behind her. She grabbed up the girl and whirled, dragging Yasmiin against her and setting the muzzle of her gun against the girl’s temple.

“Don’t,” Zasha warned when she saw Saint and Aella standing there. Both were a muddy mess.

“Were you the kind souls who took out the rest of Omar’s men for me?” She smirked.

“There’s nowhere for you to go, unless you can fly a helicopter?” Saint said, neither he nor Aella lowering their weapons.

Zasha laughed softly. Darko made sure she was prepared for every contingency. “As a matter of fact. I can.”

“Let Yasmiin go,” Aella demanded. “Take me instead.”

“Aella. No,” Saint said as she set down the gun and held up her hands.

“Please. She’s just a kid.”

“That sounds like a fair deal to me.” Her eyes flicked to Saint and the anguish on the man’s face. “Don’t worry, lover boy. I won’t hurt her as long as I get what I want.”

She pushed the girl away, grabbing Aella and dragging her back toward the chopper.

“Where is Darko?” Zasha yelled.

“Darko isn’t coming,” Fast Lane said from her right.

She whirled and found SEALs emerging from the trees, surrounding her.

* * *

Saint lostanother lifetime when he saw the gun pointed at Aella’s head. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Zasha was taking Aella, and the worst part was that she had offered herself up. He grabbed Yasmiin’s wrist and said, “Get back to the village.”

“No, I want to help Aella,” she cried.

“There’s nothing you can do. Go.”

Yasmiin’s face contorted as tears streamed down her cheeks. Dragon came over, slapped Saint on the arm and grabbed the girl, ushering her back toward the village.

Zasha had been right. He and Aella had taken out the rest of Omar’s men in the forest. Saint could only pray that Fast Lane would get to her before Zasha got Aella in the helo and took off with her.

He met Aella’s eyes, and she looked neither scared nor panicked…she looked pissed. Her gaze never wavered from his, seemed to continue to seek out something in his own. What was she up to? She was so intent, so focused. So trustworthy and steady.

Then Aella performed a slick move that disarmed Zasha in one motion. She threw the gun at Saint’s feet. Aella’s expression was full of payback and the two circled, then clashed. Aella blocked, her leg swinging high and knocking Zasha’s head, sending her staggering. Then she landed in a crouch, ready to spring again.

With her hands up, Aella’s quick movement snapped Zasha’s head back. then landed two sharp, quick punches to her face. Cartilage folded and blood poured. She went down from Aella’s powerful punch.

Zasha screamed and lunged up at Aella from the ground, and they wrestled for just a moment. Zasha must have forgotten that Aella was an MMA champion—hell, she’d seen her fight in Darko’s underground matches in Bosnia. They bucked apart, and Zasha said something he couldn’t hear. In the next moment, she was stumbling back from a jab. Then Aella dropped to her knees, grabbed Zasha around the backs of her knees and flipped her onto her back. Aella used her elbow to stun Zasha, then pushed off her. She stood. It was over.

Aella started walking toward him and Zasha pushed herself up, a knife in her hand. Saint pulled off a shot and the bullet hit her arm. She dropped the knife, clutching the wound.

Saint walked over and said, “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” He grabbed Zasha’s hands and zip-tied them.

“She had a beat down coming. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Hoo-yah!”

Everyone echoed Saint’s call.

He turned as Fast Lane approached him. “I’m glad to see you in one piece, but I told you to stand down.”

“I couldn’t get all the information out before the radio died. I had to protect these people.”

Fast Lane nodded.

“You have Darko?”

“Yes, 2-Stroke collared him. Gave him his own personal ass whooping. He’s already at Lemmonier. Took a bullet to the shoulder. It’s been touch and go.”

Zasha’s head came up and she glared at Fast Lane. “You’re going to pay. I guarantee it.”

“Get her in the chopper.”

Hemingway and Professor dragged her off.

The villagers converged on them. They tried to give Saint a couple of goats for his trouble, but he declined.

Finally, Fast Lane keyed his mic. “Load up,” he said.

Saint climbed into a chopper with Iceman, Preacher, GQ and Kodiak. Aella nodded to Iceman, and he gave her a wide smile.

“That was some fighting, lady.”

“Yeah,” GQ said. “Can you show me some of those moves?”

“I don’t think it’s fighting moves he wants you to show him,” Kodiak said.

Aella chuckled and snuggled up to Saint, laying her head on his shoulder as he slipped his arm around her.

The helo vibrated and rattled as it lifted off, and Saint’s flight back to Lemmonier was much better than his trip into Somalia. Now that Aella had been rescued and they were safe, he remembered that she wanted to talk. He had other ideas in mind once they got back to CLDJ.

Once they cleared land, the Indian Ocean stretched out as far as the eye could see, turquoise and laden with small dots of white.

The chopper got to Djibouti without incident, the city large and gleaming through the windows of the helo. They landed at the airport, and transportation was there to bus them to the base.

They assigned him a cube, and he was bunking in with 2-Stroke. Aella was assigned a single cube. Saint agreed to meet her in the galley once he had been debriefed. He had most of the gear he started the mission with. After showering and changing, they all met up in the command center where they discovered that Darko was still hanging on and Zasha was being treated for her gunshot wound at the hospital under guard.

They had gotten what they’d come for. Aella was safe and sound, part of the takedown of a dangerous, international terrorist. During the debrief they discovered that Zasha had been mining enough uranium for several dirty bombs. It was unsettling that the team they’d sent to the camp hadn’t discovered the raw uranium.

He shuddered to think what her and Darko’s plans had been for the mineral. All he knew was it couldn’t have been good.

Saint navigated the base with his teammates, the four Tier 1 SEALs, and Professor’s team. He and Hemingway were tight and had gotten a cube together when Dragon switched with him.

They got to the galley and Saint, his stomach cramping at the scent of food, grabbed a tray. Aella was sitting at a table, and she waved to him once he’d loaded up his plate.

“Hey, you,” she said when he set down his breakfast.

“Hey back. You look beautiful,” he said. Her hair was clean and gleaming, and she was dressed in jeans, a lemon-yellow top with sunflowers all over it. Her face was devoid of makeup, but Aella didn’t need it to do anything other than enhance her natural loveliness.

“You clean up pretty good yourself,” she said with a quick smile.

The guys sat at tables around them but left them relatively alone. Several of his teammates gave them glances. He knew they were curious, but at this point he had no idea where he and Aella were headed.

He realized he’d been off base about his expectations for the perfect mate. It was no contest in his mind. He wanted this woman in his life and his bed…maybe down the road, they would take the next step, but for right now they had a lot to discuss.

He wasn’t sure it was even going to be possible to work everything out.

He reached out and clasped her hand, holding it, he said, “I want you to be happy, Aella. Please make decisions that will lead you to fulfill your own happiness. Don’t do anything for me.”

She took a heavy breath. “Before we get into all of that, I need to tell you something.”

“All right,” he said, braced for her to change her mind. He hoped she hadn’t, but he would support her in her decision no matter how much he disliked it.

“I am dating someone in DC. His name is David.”

For a moment, he was stunned. It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. “Does this man mean something to you?”

She huffed out a soft breath. “Yes and no. He’s a decent man, flexible, a hard worker, sweet.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

She met his gaze. “Yes, but we weren’t being exclusive, and that doesn’t really matter.”

He took a moment to digest that, and, in the end, didn’t question her sincerity. He took it for what it was—her emotional honesty. They were progressing toward something, but he had no earthly idea what the hell it was at this point. He decided that over-analyzing it would make him and her crazy. All he knew was he was right where he wanted to be. “Why are you telling me this? Do you feel guilty about him?”

“I’m telling you because in addition to going back to DC to sort out my job, there is David to gently let down.”

He took a breath. “You haven’t changed your mind?”

“No. I haven’t. But I have no idea what’s going to happen with my job.”

He set down his fork and pushed away his plate. “You are strong, Aella. I know that if anyone can handle everything as well as you did in Somalia, you can take on the federal government. I have all the respect in the world for you.”

She smiled. “You ready,” she murmured.

“I could use another piece of toast.”

“I want to get you somewhere private and kiss the stuffing out of you.”

“I was kidding about the toast.”

They rose and walked arm and arm to her cube. She punched in her code and when the door opened, he crowded her inside. He smoothed one hand across her hips and up her back, molding her tightly against him. Easing in a tight breath, he brushed a kiss against her ear, then said, his voice gruff and uneven. “Whatever happens, Aella. I’m very glad I met you.” He tucked his head down against hers and drew her hips flush against him. “You are a gem.”

A tremor coursed through her, and Aella dragged her arms free and slipped them around his neck, the shift intimately fusing her body to his. Saint drew an uneven breath and angled her head back, making a low sound as he covered her mouth in a kiss that was raw with desire. She yielded to his deep kiss. Saint slid his hand along her jaw, his callused fingers snagging in the long silky strands of her hair as he altered the angle of her head. She moved against him, and Saint shuddered and tightened his hold, a fever of emotions sluicing through him, knowing that he couldn’t do without her. He’d talked a good game, but when it got down to brass tacks, he was full of bull.

They undressed each other, his hands brushing her soft, smooth skin as she ran her hands over him slowly. He was aching when he lifted her onto the bed, then followed her down, dragging her beneath him. He felt as if his heart would explode, as if his lungs would seize up, if he didn’t get inside her, if he didn’t get as close to her as he could possibly get. She made a small, desperate sound and drew up her knees, urging him forward with urgent hands. Saint clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, burying himself deep inside her, as deep as he could go, claiming her in a heated rush.

He locked his arms around her, a shudder coursing through him, and he ground his teeth together, the sensory onslaught nearly ripping him apart. It wasn’t the sex. It was connecting with her on a primary level, as if they fused into one. Braced against the unbelievable sensations, Saint remained rigid in her arms, waiting for the heated, electrifying rush to ease. Releasing a shaky sigh, he braced his weight on his forearms and bracketed her face in his hands, his heart trapped in his chest as he covered her mouth in a slow, wet softly searching kiss.

Aella sobbed into his mouth, her hands clutching at him, and she lifted her hips, rolling her pelvis hard against him. Saint roughly slid his hand under her head and locked his other arm around her buttocks, working his mouth hungrily against hers as he lifted her higher, then rolled his hips against hers. Aella moaned, and Saint drank it in, his mind blurring with a red haze when Aella countered his thrust, her body moving convulsively beneath him. Aware of how desperately she needed this kind of comfort, Saint dragged his mouth away and gritted his teeth, a fine sheen of sweat dampening his skin as he moved against her, trying to give her the maximum contact, trying to exert the right amount of pressure where she needed it the most, trying to hang on until she came apart in his arms. She made another wild sound, and her counterthrusts turned desperate and erratic, and Saint tightened his hold. His senses on overdrive, he roughly buried his face against her neck and thrust into her, fighting to go the distance, the red haze governing him.

Aella arched stiffly beneath him, and Saint’s face contorted with an agony of pleasure as her body convulsed around him, pulling, pulling at him. Then, with a ragged groan, he went rigid in her arms and let go, emptying himself deep inside her. Holding on to her with gentle strength, he kissed her temple.

Feeling as if he had been turned inside out, he closed his eyes, his pulse choppy and erratic, the feelings in his chest almost too much to handle. She filled him up and made him feel indestructible.

He drew a deep breath and pressed another kiss on the corner of her mouth, his touch slow and comforting as he softly stroked the angle of her jaw with his thumb. Her hair spread beneath her, releasing the sweet, delicate floral scent of her and he inhaled deeply, the satiny length dark and beautiful.

Understanding that she needed something more to ease the emotional rawness, he tipped her head back and brushed a light kiss against her mouth, letting a touch of humor surface.

“I might just go AWOL and stay right here with you,” he murmured against her mouth, taking another slow, savoring taste. “I think I’m down for the count.”

He felt her smile against his mouth as she tightened her arms around his back and slid one hand back and forth across his shoulders. “We have to catch a plane back to the States after I see what I can get out of Zasha regarding the uranium. Backup would be nice.”

Saint grinned, loving her smart mouth. “So, I’m now your sidekick?”

She poked him in the ribs, and he jumped and grabbed her wrist, trapping her hand above her head. His thumb on her pulse, he caressed her wrist, his voice gravelly when he said, “I’d ask if you want to wrestle, but I’m afraid you’d hurt me.”

She gave him a wry smile, idly massaging the base of his spine. “That’s best. I do take wrestling seriously.”

Continuing to stroke her wrist, he lowered his head and slowly traced her bottom lip with his tongue, then he took her mouth again, taking great care to do it well. He released a soft sigh, and she slid her free hand up his torso, finally cupping the back of his head. He deepened the kiss, and Aella yielded fully to his questing tongue. Finally, Saint let go of her wrist and slid his arm under her, holding her with infinite care. After a long, satisfying kiss, he reluctantly drew away, gazing down at her as he caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. He stroked her face, tracing her cheekbones, the arch of her brows. He then gave her another quick kiss and braced himself, abruptly withdrawing from her slick warmth.

She jackknifed against him, and he held her head against his shoulder until she caught her breath, then he rolled onto his back, taking her with him.

Snuggling her head against his shoulder, he drew her long, muscled leg between his. Cradling her hips against him, he ran his hand up her naked back, then tucked his head and kissed her brow.

“You know, it might be a good idea for you to talk to someone when you get home. Don’t try to handle all your emotions about your colleagues, especially Jason, alone. You don’t have to.”

She cuddled close and said in a sleepy voice, “No, the ATF has ways of making you talk. They keep a shrink on standby for headcases.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I know. Relax. I was just kidding you.” There was a pregnant pause. “How many times do you see your own SEAL issued therapist?”

“What? Uh…well—”

“Okay, that would be slim to none.” She caressed his back. “I’m assuming that makes you look weak.”

“It’s not great for the macho rep, no. But if I needed to see someone, I would.”

“That’s good and smart.”

The next thing he knew, she was breathing rhythmically. He on the other hand, stayed awake. He knew Aella was sure about what she wanted to do. But he would keep an open mind until she was in San Diego with him.

* * *

Zasha was wracked with worry.They hadn’t let her see Darko and the urge to touch him, make sure he was still alive battered her.

They operated on her shoulder and removed the bullet, and she was stitched up. Her good arm was handcuffed to the bed rail.

The US was stupid to think she wouldn’t have a contingent plan in place. She was being guarded, but so many men underestimated a woman and what she was capable of.

They were monitoring her and all it took was her to remove her finger from the monitor. The machine beeped, sending out an intermittent signal. The guard opened the door. “Ma’am?” She pretended to sleep. He approached the bed, his voice closer. “Ma’am?” he said louder.

She stayed still until he leaned over her, and she snagged his weapon, shoving it against his heart. “Uncuff me,” she ordered.

“Easy,” he said, reaching for his keys. He unlocked the metal, and she was free. She got out of bed and motioned him over. When he complied, she swung the pistol and hit him hard against the temple and he dropped onto the bed. She covered him up with the sheet and blankets, shoving his finger into the monitor and handcuffing him to the bed.

She slipped out of the room. The hospital was quiet. She found the linen area and grabbed a set of scrubs for herself and one for Darko.

Snagging a stethoscope and a clipboard, she walked up to the front desk. Pretending she was busy until the nurse left, she then went to the computer and looked up Darko’s room. She stole a sedative off one of the trays and when she reached his room, she stabbed the guard with the needle and dragged him into Darko’s room.

Darko was so pale when she touched his face, her heart breaking. “Wake up,” she murmured, slapping his face gently. “We have to get out of here.”

He opened his eyes, and they were glazed. “Zasha,” he whispered. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, I’m here. We’ve got a ride coming and we need to get to the roof. If we miss our window, we’ll be trapped here. Come on.”

She pulled out his IV and unhooked him from his monitor, then turned off the machine. She helped him change into the scrubs and slipped her arm under his shoulder. She left the room and headed for the stairs. The elevators would be too risky.

Entering the stairwell, they started to climb.

Darko was breathing hard, clutching at his chest and grunting by the time they had gone three flights. “I can’t,” he said when they reached the landing. “Set me down.”

She helped him to sit, and he looked at her, his dark eyes solemn. “You made me a promise, Zasha, that you would never let me be taken by them. I need you to take care of that now.”

He reached for the gun and set the muzzle against his forehead.

“Promise me that you’ll stop seeking revenge and live your life.”

She tried to keep emotion from her face. He didn’t understand the love of a parent, the trust you gave them and the inconsolable loss. Darko had eliminated his only family members, estranged from his parents. Alex was his only blood now. But that didn’t mean a thing to Darko. She was bound by blood. She would accomplish this one thing for him. Avenge his death.

“Don’t make me do this. You can make it.”

He shook his head. “You can’t let the Americans take me, Zasha.”

“I know,” she said, resigned to what she had to do. Hatred coiled in her gut for the SEALs who had taken him from her. Now Fast Lane and his whole team had to suffer.

She pulled the trigger, the sound of the gunshot loud in the stairwell.

She choked, tears burning her throat as she struggled with her rage, her grief again, and touched him one last time. She sobbed as she turned away and started climbing the stairs, the sound of heavy boots, pursuing her. She burst out onto the roof and her heart stalled.

The chopper wasn’t there.

But then she heard the whop-whop of the blades, and the small, sleek black chopper came into view. She raced toward it as it landed. A man pulled her inside, and it immediately lifted off. The man turned to her and shouted over the sound of the rotors.

“Where is Darko?”

“He’s gone,” she cried. She swallowed bitter tears and straightened her posture. Now was not the time to mourn. Revenge burned even hotter, and she would see them all pay…she’d see the world pay.

* * *

Saint was standingin the hallway of the hospital with his teammates. Aella was farther down the hall on the phone with her boss.

He could see how pissed Fast Lane was that he’d lost Zasha and Darko. They had found his dead body in the stairwell. Zasha had killed him.

The worse part about this was that they wouldn’t get any answers out of her, and once again she became an extremely dangerous HVT. They would hunt her down.

He turned to see a contingent of MPs coming down the hall. One of them walked up to him. “Are you Petty Officer Zachary Bartholomew?”

He frowned. “Yes.”

“Please put your arms behind your back. You are under arrest for violating Article 91 of the Uniformed Code of Military Justice.”

Aella turned when they were putting the cuffs on his wrists. His career was over, his freedom gone. He’d made the decision to violate a direct order from his superior, and he would do it again.

She dropped the phone, her stricken eyes locking on to him. She was shaking her head, but reality couldn’t be changed as they snapped the cuffs on.

Their relationship had just taken a curve ball, and would there be any future with Aella?