Saint by Zoe Dawson

4

For a second,she couldn’t speak. He lived up to his call name. “Saint.” He was her guardian angel. She hadn’t let herself think about him or the team because there would have been nothing but disappointment if they hadn’t come. But…they had. He had. Guilt twisted like a knife inside her. She should have known better.

He looked good—part of it was his looks, the other part his battle worn, I’ve-been-through-hell-for-you appearance. She couldn’t ignore the cuts, bruises and abrasions on his face or the blood that was caked on his neck, staining his uniform collar. What had he been through for her?

Light from Omar’s bedroom washed over his face, contouring his features with shadows, the square angle of his jaw, harder than she remembered, the straight light lines of his brows, the seriousness of his gaze—and the world’s most amazing mouth.

Saint hadn’t changed, and it was all too easy to look at him and see him in all his naked, heavily muscled glory. Her avenging angel in camo with an unsettling quietness about him—a gorgeous angel, his face more angles than curves, his silky dark brown hair brushing the collar of his shirt, broad through the shoulders, lean and solid.

It was almost surreal that he was here standing in front of her in this godforsaken place. Almost as wonderful as her dreams of being with him were until she woke up.

Next to David. Oh shit! That thought threw cold water on her.

“What are you doing here?”

Saint rushed forward, wrapping his arm around her. He smiled and shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood.” Then he chuckled. “I’m here to rescue you, babe. You’re my HVT.” His West Virginia southern drawl seemed more pronounced, and she had to wonder if it was emotion coloring his voice. It’s how he sounded when he was aroused, forgetting himself. Which gave her too many ideas.

Making love to a stranger, even if he was a Navy SEAL, in Bosnia, she found a woman she hadn’t been acquainted with in a long time. No roles, no lies, or disguises. She had been…free. She experienced that feeling all over again. What was it about him that made her feel as if she could cut all ties and he would be right there to hold her up?

Her only regrets were having to return to reality, realizing her life had a trajectory, and not getting the opportunity to experience more of him. She had refused to explore why he affected her so much. Maybe now she would just have to accept it.

“I can’t believe you found me. Where are the other guys?”

He looked behind him, his body tense beneath his sheltering arm. “Umm, that’s a long story. It’s just me.”

She gave him a very female “men are so dumb” look and he grinned. She was overcome that he had risked his life to come here all alone to get her. But it was crazy. They were surrounded by Omar’s men.

“Aella, this is a great reunion, but we’ve got to move. It won’t be long before Omar is either needed for the coup—”

“Coup? I knew they were up to something,” she ground out.

“They?”

“Zasha and Darko.”

“So, it’s true. They are here?”

She nodded. “Very much so. I tracked them right before they ambushed me and my partner. They had a lot of pretty toys they sold to Omar.”

“Like what?”

“Choppers, weapons, RPGs, grenades. You name it. They’re like Arms R Us.” She sighed. “I think Zasha is still getting intel from someone. She always seems to know what’s going on. I want just five minutes with her. Just five.” Her hands clenched into fists.

Saint looked down at Omar. “I’ll need only five seconds,” he said with an ominous cast to his tone.

“I’ll take a weapon and ammo,” she said, eyeing his sidearm. He pulled it out and then dug for a clip in his vest.

He handed her both with a grin. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“You wouldn’t have a shower and some jasmine body wash in that pack. Would you?”

“No, I had to leave the shower in my other ruck. Sorry.”

“Men and their priorities,” she groused, then smiled at him.

“Let’s get out of here.” He moved with her toward the door. “If we go back across the battlefield, we may be able to avoid the bulk of the troops who are focused on the presidential palace in the heart of the city.”

She pulled back, resisting. He turned his sultry blue eyes on her in a questioning look. “We don’t have time for more conversation.”

“That’s not it,” she said. “I can’t leave without them.”

“Without—” She went out the door, now frantic to get back to the girls. Saint was right on her butt. She stepped over one dead guard in front of the door. She rolled him over. It wasn’t the one with the keys. But when she almost tripped over the second body a little way down the hall, she came up with paydirt. Did that mean they hadn’t made it back to the girls and they were still locked up safe?

“Aella,” Saint hissed, but she ignored him. It would take too much time to explain. She couldn’t leave them behind no matter what it took. Omar’s son would take it out on them—well, maybe all of them except Yasmiin. It was true he wanted her. She’d seen the looks he’d given her. It made her sick to think an almost grown man would force a fifteen-year-old girl to not only have sex with him, but into a marriage she didn’t want, into a life fraught with nothing but danger and death. All she would be to him was a brood mare for more fighters.

Her village was beleaguered too, she thought with despair. Maybe there wasn’t anywhere safe for these precious girls. But Aella was damn sure getting married to Warsame Omar wasn’t good for Yasmiin’s health. At least they had family in the village and people who loved them and assuredly wanted them back. She couldn’t imagine what their parents were going through.

She reached the locked door and unexpectedly, two men entered from the opposite hallway. Saint went into motion, his voice a growl when he said, “Don’t move.” He must have brought up his weapon, shooting both of them with suppressed shots over her shoulder.

Her heart pounding, she rushed to the locked door, inserted the key and threw the door open. All the girls were ready to fight. She could see it in the terrified but determined expressions, in the lines of their small bodies. She was so proud of them.

When they saw her, they called her name and rushed forward in a group of happy, smiling faces filled with hope.

Saint came to the door, his back to her, watching the hall like a hawk.

“What the hell was so dang important that you had—

He turned to look at her and stopped speaking in mid-stream. The girls swarmed her and wrapped their arms around her waist. “I’m not leaving without them,” she said again into his shocked face.

* * *

He focusedon Aella’s face and knew in that instant he would move heaven for her, and if he couldn’t move heaven, he’d raise plenty of hell. Her sassy face brooked no disagreement and with those small, sweet faces, his heart melted. God, it was so good to find her alive, even with this complication…six complications. What the hell was he? Father Goose?

This was a Grade-A, pull out all the stops clusterfuck. It was going to be difficult enough to get the two of them out of here with hundreds of Omar’s fighters, a city—hell, country—in chaos, demolished local forces and neutralized US communications to the outside world, not to mention an ongoing coup to topple the government, and a nefarious plan being played out with two of the most wanted people in the world destabilizing everything.

He sighed, then looked at the girls again.

That explained the school bus sitting outside, and it made his rescue of Aella about one hundred times more difficult. Stealth was out the window. But as soon as he saw the young girls, he was immediately on board.

He said into his comm. “LT, I have the package, and I’ve neutralized the HVT, but there’s a hiccup.”

“Good work. What kind of hiccup?”

“Six kidnapped kids ranging from six to about sixteen.”

“Fifteen,” the tallest girl said. “I’m Yasmiin.”

“Fifteen, sir,” he said after her correction.

“What did you just say?”

“Kidnapped girls, six to fifteen, LT. We can’t leave them behind…Aella refuses to leave them behind. I’m on board with that.”

There was silence on the other end of the radio, then Fast Lane’s weary growl broke the silence. “That sounds like more than a freaking hiccup.” Something was up with him. He sounded whipped and his LT never sounded that way…ever.

“He can’t leave them behind,” Pitbull said. Dragon echoing his words. No surprise there, they had daughters. “Do you need some of us to come back to your location?”

“Not enough time,” Saint responded, looking out the hall window to the school bus. Yeah, stealth was most definitely out.

“That does complicate things. Do you have a plan?”

“One that is big, yellow as hell and not very fast.”

“Oh, Christ, a school bus?” came Fast Lane’s incredulous bark.

“You got it, LT.”

“We have a SUV, and we can come to you. Do the best you can to get on the road out of town and head straight on a parallel to the airport. We’ll meet you halfway.”

“Copy that, LT.”

“We’re getting out of here,” he said.

“You’re seriously thinking we can escape in a school bus?” she said weakly.

He pressed his mouth to her temple, then herded her and the kids toward the exit, moving fast. “We’ve got no choice. That’s the vehicle that can hold us all. Let’s move.”

He urged them faster and when they reached the door to the outside, he held up his hand. It was getting pretty late, and the guards had thinned out. Thank God for sleep and pitch dark. In the distance he could still hear gunfire and mortar shells, but the sounds of battle were far away.

Flipping down his NVGs, he opened the door just a crack and peered out. In the eerie green nothing moved. He hoped the keys to the bus were inside, but if not, he knew how to hotwire a car. A bus couldn’t be any more difficult. Thank God for his misspent youth.

He turned back to Aella. “I’m going to go first. I can see better, and I have the suppressed weapon. He turned his back to her, her mouth set in a grim line and her eyes darting to the kids.

“Saint—”

“I know, babe.” He went to them, and all their eyes focused on him. “I know you’re all scared, but we have to get to that bus. When we get inside, you all take a seat as fast as you can, then duck down so that you’re below the windows. He looked at the girl who said her name was Yasmiin. “Can you carry the little one?”

“Yes.” She reached for the small child. “Get on my back, Uba,” she ordered. The little girl moved forward and climbed on Yasmiin’s back, clinging to her like a limpet.

“Okay, for the rest of you brave girls, set your hand on each other’s shoulders in a line. Don’t let go and keep up. We’ll be moving fast.”

He walked back to Aella who was looking at him like he was Superman. “You bring up the rear. Kill anything that tries to stop us.”

She nodded.

He went back to the front of the line. “Yasmiin, put your hand on my shoulder.” He felt her tentative touch. “Hold on tighter, grip my vest if that is better.”

He felt her hand tighten. With a few steps he moved to the door and felt her follow. He pushed it open and stepped out onto the dusty ground, then walking fast, he started forward. His head moved rapidly scanning the area all around him. When someone moved near the bus, he pulled off a shot and the body dropped. They reached the doors several minutes after leaving the doorway.

The door was open, and he stepped aside, helping Uba down from Yasmiin’s back. They both climbed the metal stairs and the other girls followed, Aella bringing up the rear. “You drive,” he whispered.

She got in behind the wheel and pulled down the visor. Keys dropped into her hands. She held them up in triumph and he smiled. He boarded the bus and surveyed the back and grinned. RPGs—three of them. That was a nice bonus.

There was no way to be quiet. When the engine started it was going to be loud in the compound. They had no choice. Luckily, it seemed their other vehicles were involved in the coup. This would give them a head start. He guessed they had radios, so sending someone in pursuit was a very real threat. He would have to be prepared for that.

“Start her up, but no lights yet,” he said, and the engine turned over. It rumbled in the night. He went to the back and watched, but miraculously, no one paid attention. Aella pulled out of the compound and headed for the road that would lead them out of town and away from this area. Hopefully, they would meet up with Fast Lane and rendezvous with the other SEALs. Together they would head to one of the outlying military bases and get word to US forces in Djibouti.

* * *

Fast Lane hatedto leave so many bodies, both American and Somalian, in the rubble, but they had no choice at this point. Saint, Aella and six children needed their help, and they still had a mission to fulfill.

“What’s the plan, LT?” Pitbull asked.

Before Fast Lane could answer, the Bosnian’s radio crackled to life. “Status,” the voice said in Bosnian.

Fast Lane picked it up and handed it to 2-Stroke. “Tell them we’ve killed the SEALs,” he said. 2-Stroke repeated Fast Lane’s words in Bosnian.

There was a heavy crackling silence as Dragon grinned and fist bumped Hemingway. Fast Lane figured he could buy them some time if Zasha thought they were dead. “What did you say? Repeat that!”

It was Zasha’s voice, and she sounded like she had been woken up. Fast Lane grinned for the first time in this long night. 2-Stroke repeated that they had eliminated them.

“Including Ford Nixon?”

2-Stroke looked at him and Fast Lane nodded. “Da,” 2-Stroke said.

They all heard the almost imperceptible sob and when her voice came back through the radio, it was watery. “Take pictures and bring them with you. You have the coordinates.”

2-Stroke immediately said, “Could you repeat them, ma’am, for accuracy?”

She rattled them off. “Come to see me the moment you arrive.”

2-Stroke smiled and signed off. He went to hand the radio back to Fast Lane and he shook his head. “You keep the radio. You and Dragon head to those coordinates and sit on Zasha and Darko. See if you can find out what they’re up to. The rest of us will take the SUV and go to assist Saint. Any questions?”

“You just want us to watch them, not take kill shots if they present themselves?”

“Not until I say so. I want to know what they’re doing there and who they’re working for. Even Darko doesn’t have that big an interest in Somalia. I believe someone else is the puppet master. Wait for my orders before doing anything. Now get humping. It’ll take you some time to get there on foot. I expect regular reports.” He turned to the guys. “Pony up some of your MREs and ammo for them.”

While the guys were doing that, Fast Lane took one last look at TOC. Soon, he thought. We’ll get you all home very soon. It bothered him that he hadn’t been able to find Rose’s or Solace’s bodies. He wondered if anyone had escaped this massacre.

Once Dragon and 2-Stroke headed off in the other direction, the rest of them piled into the SUV.

Pitbull came up to him. “This isn’t on you, Fast Lane.”

He shook his head. “It’s on Zasha and Darko and whoever is pulling the strings. I’m just one of her many targets. She may not live long enough to regret what she’s done here.”

He nodded. “You okay, man? You’ve been off since we got here.”

He sighed. “My ex-wife Solace Mitchell was one of the casualties. She’s a pilot for the SOARS group.”

Pitbull gripped his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Ford. Truly. I can see she still meant a lot to you.”

His eyes burned and he shoved back the emotion. There was no time for him to grieve, and he wasn’t sure he ever would see an end to that grief. “Thank you. Let’s get moving. Saint needs us.”

“Copy that.”

They piled into the SUV with Pitbull driving. There were still many hours before the sun came up. He wanted to be off the road and heading across country to the military base at Baidoa. There were many more miles for them to go before they could rest.

After about fifteen minutes of driving, the vehicle lurched and there was a terrible explosion. Pitbull wrestled with the steering wheel and nearly missed hitting a tree as it came to an abrupt stop. For a moment, everyone inside was stunned.

Pitbull woke up with a cry as Fast Lane said, “What is it?”

“My leg,” he gasped, his lips compressing into a hard line.

Fast Lane got out of the vehicle and came around to the driver’s side. The door was shredded. He pried it open and saw the blood. Bending down, he inspected the wound.

“How bad, mate?” Dodger asked.

“Bad enough,” Fast Lane said as he noted the short gash in Pitbull’s leg. He couldn’t tell if it was deep. He turned to find Hemingway already ripping out his first aid kit. Moving out of the way, he let the kid get in there.

Fast Lane waited while Hemingway ripped his pant leg and tended to the gash. Pulling out a thread and needle and topical analgesic, Hemingway made quick work of sewing it up. Pitbull leaned back in the seat, remaining still, his face a bit white. Finally, Hemingway bandaged it up. “You’re all set, Pit.” He pulled out a packet. “Here are some antibiotics.” Pitbull dry swallowed them and nodded.

“You good?” Fast Lane asked.

“Ready to rock and roll, LT,” Pitbull said, sliding out of the driver’s seat.

Dodger was on the ground inspecting the damage. When he rose, the look on the man’s face said it all. “The axle’s toast, mate.”

“Dammit,” Mad Max said. “Looks like we’re walking.”

* * *

Warsame Omar frownedat the open door to his father’s current location of operations. He had been to the city, to the presidential palace. The current government, soon to be the past government, was putting up a hell of a fight.

Weary with the waiting, he had come back here to get some rest. He was also cleared to finally take the dark-eyed beauty he had coveted ever since he’d laid eyes on her days ago. The American agent didn’t like his attention, but he didn’t care. Even though she was one of the fiercest fighters he had ever seen, she would be nothing once his father got done with her.

He entered and latched the door behind him. Walking down the hall, he stopped at the open door to the room where they had kept the prisoners. He ran forward and called out, but no one came.

The room was empty and his Yasmiin, his bride, was gone. He growled, his fists clenching.

He ran out of the room toward his father’s quarters, but tripped over something, falling hard to the floor, skinning his hands and knees. He scrambled to his feet only to find that what had tripped him was a body. One of the dead guards. He’d forgotten the man’s name.

Despair and fear in his gut, he got to his father’s open door and the man who lay at the threshold. Another dead guard. Cold dread snaked up his spine. He entered and called out in grief and anger. “Father!”

This was the man who had fought to power, kept Warsame free from hunger and thirst and had provided for all his needs so that he’d never had to suffer the inevitable fate of many of his countrymen.

Axmed Omar, his father was on his back on the floor, a knife in his chest and a bullet hole in his forehead. He closed his father’s eyes and went screaming out into the compound. Rousing several men, he discovered that the school bus that had been parked there was also gone.

Whomever had killed his father and taken his bride was going to pay with their lives. The will of Allah would be satisfied.

His father had been a feared and revered warlord. Warsame’s legacy.

He would make his father proud if Allah willed it.

* * *

Chief Warrant Officer Solace Mitchellpeered through the foliage that draped their hiding place. She, Rose Sinema, two Somali soldiers, Cumar and Tahiil and her seriously wounded crewmate, Sergeant Will Slater hid in to avoid the Bosnian kill squad that had been dogging them so close, she could almost feel their breaths on her neck.

She was trained in escape and evade, and it had served her well so far.

She was aware that the Bosnians had killed everyone on base and now they were after any and all survivors. She didn’t know what this was about, but she could only guess it had to do with Al-Shabaab and their followers. There were several of Al-Shabaab’s terrorists with the Bosnians.

Rose crouched next to her. “We should keep moving.”

“I’m not sure if they’re herding us in the direction they want us to go.”

“Maybe, but I’ve been counting on you being smarter than they are, and so far, you’re doing a great job. Thanks for saving my life, by the way.”

Rose had been pinned down after exiting the main center. They were going to have a beer together in the officer’s area when all hell had broken loose. Solace had just left her quarters when the shelling began. Together they had taken shelter in the rubble and then run once they had discovered her crewmate and the two Somalis.

“You’re welcome.”

Keeping low, thankful for the abundance of the vegetation on this side of the river, she knelt beside Will. He was sweating profusely and the makeshift bandage on his abdomen was soaked in his blood. Her heart sank.

He looked up at her with the knowledge of his death in his eyes. He reached for her hand and clenched it tight. “Tell my mom I fought well. Can you do that for me, ma’am?”

Tears filled her eyes. He was so young and had such a promising career ahead of him. “It’s Solace, not ma’am, and you’ll tell her yourself when you’ve recovered.”

He laughed softly. “Okay.”

She looked around, her stomach clenching hard.

“Where are Cumar and Tahiil?”

“They left shortly after we got here,” Will said. “They know if they are found with Americans, they’ll be executed on the spot. They have the advantage of blending in.”

She couldn’t really blame them, but now they were grounded. Will couldn’t walk and neither she nor Rose could carry him. She got to her feet and smiled at him. “Try to get some sleep.”

She made her way back to Rose, gave her Will’s status and that their two Somali friends had abandoned them.

Rose took the news in stride. She was a consummate professional.

Her stomach growled and Solace rubbed it. Rose glanced over at her. “I wish we’d had time for some dinner before we got hit. I’m starving too.”

“What will happen with the SEALs? There’s no exfil for them.”

“They’re on their own like we are. We can only hope they realize what is happening and get to safety.”

“Are you kidding? Fast Lane is my ex-husband, and I can guarantee you he never runs to safety. If there is danger, bullets flying, bombs exploding and people in harm’s way, he will be running toward it, not away from it.”

“What was I thinking? They’re SEALs. You’re completely right.” Rose gave her a winky-wink look. “So that gorgeous hunk of man is your ex?”

“Yes. That bastard does look good.”

“I’m guessing he was amazing in bed.”

“Really, Rose. We’re being chased down by a group of murderous Bosnians and terrorists who will most decidedly rape us before they kill us, and you want to know if he was good in bed?”

Rose grinned. “I was trying to get your mind off our plight. And…um…yeah. Was he?”

“The best I ever had. I have dreams about how he would fuck me. Raw, powerful, and I swear, he could go all night.”

“Damn…you bitch.”

Solace laughed. “Got your mind in the gutter instead of on the monsters that are after us.”

“Yes.” She fanned herself. “You bitch.”

After another twenty minutes of tense watching, Solace walked back to Will. Her stomach sank as she knelt down and touched his forehead. He opened his eyes. They were glassy and his breathing was labored. “Tell her,” he said as he grasped her collar tightly, then he exhaled, slipping into death. She closed her eyes, swallowing back the pain of losing him. But there was nothing either of them could have done for him. His wound was mortal.

Rose came over, her features fixed in an urgent expression. “Solace—” She looked down at Will and sighed softly. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to go. Now.”

She rose and pushed her grief aside. Moving in different patterns would give them a fighting chance. Both of them were at least armed with a pistol. She could only hear the rush of water, but she knew they were out there hunting them.

“We only have one chance,” Solace said, regret at leaving Will heavy on her.

“Prayer?”

“It couldn’t hurt, but no. We head for the closest Somalia military base.”