Saint by Zoe Dawson
5
“Where exactly are we going?”Aella asked, everything feeling so surreal, especially since now she felt safe, safe with Zach.
He slid his weapon down and came to the front of the bus. Crouching down, he pulled a map out of the inside of his vest. “We’ll rendezvous with Fast Lane and the team, then head north to the closest Somali military base…Baidoa, maybe. We have no idea what’s been overrun.”
“That base is close to our village,” Yasmiin piped up from the back.
“We could deliver the girls back to their families,” Aella said.
He nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. We’ll see what Fast Lane says when we meet up with the team.” He tucked the map back inside his vest. “Keep following this road.”
The road was so dark, only the headlights illuminating how rough and dusty it was. “How did you find me?” she asked, giving him a brief glance.
“GPS, guesswork, and blind luck,” he said. He reached out and clasped her forearm. This close to him, his touch made her body jump with memory.
“Did guesswork lead to those cuts and bruises on your face?”
His brows knit tightly. “Yeah,” he sighed. “We found your last location and it was booby trapped. We were caught somewhat by surprise.”
“Is that where blind luck came into play?”
“That and the fact that I found you at all.” His voice dropped a gruff octave and her heart tightened as his sultry blue gaze slid to hers.
“Are you okay? You’ve got some cuts and bruises of your own.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t. Not with Saint so close to her. “He made me fight…for my virtue. I held my own until the last bout. He gave me no time to rest and an unending number of fresh, young opponents. I lost.”
Was Saint’s being here, being the one to rescue her some twist of fate?
“Is that why you were in his rooms? He was claiming his prize.”
“He wishes. No, I was there to sink that knife in his chest and get these girls out of his clutches. He had intentions of marrying them off to his people. Yasmiin was promised to his son.”
“That son of bitch,” Saint said below his breath. “The little one can’t be more than six.”
“She is six. But Omar didn’t care. She would have been enslaved as a child bride as soon as she was breeding age.” She swerved to miss a pothole, and when Saint lost his balance, she grabbed onto his vest, then righted the bus. “Breeding sons to fight and maintain his empire was all he cared about.” She gave him a concerned look, wondering at the amount of blood on his neck and on his collar.
“And you? What was he going to do with you after—”
“Probably kill me.” She had to interrupt him. The reality of what Omar planned made her sick and the thought of it made her hands clasp the wheel tighter. A strange, heavy feeling unfolded in her chest, making her suddenly restless. “I don’t know for sure. But I was determined he wasn’t going to get the chance.” She tried to relax her hands and shoulders and will away the heaviness inside her. She didn’t know why she felt suddenly so exposed. Especially when Saint made her feel so safe.
And now there was a complication between them… She rolled her eyes at the thought. More than one, but a new wrinkle. David was in the picture. Rock solid, steady, dependable, a man who was flexible not only in his career, but in his life. He was up for adventure, and she was sure that if she had to pick up and leave DC, he would go with her.
He had assuaged her broken heart. It had been awful, so emotionally devastating when Saint left her at Walter Reed, especially when she wanted to call him back. But that was her heart talking, her head was more pragmatic.
There had been at least a thousand times when she’d wanted to call him, even after she’d met David. That urge never went away. But she consoled herself with the knowledge that she had done the right thing.
But here he was, fighting, risking his life to find her, to rescue her.
“You’re one of the strongest women I have ever met,” he said, his gaze was level and reassuring.
What they had shared in Bosnia was a fling. It’s what she had thought at the time. But now, months later, she realized that she had kept her own feelings buried. They had become intimate. She didn’t know how it had affected Saint, but it had left her feeling oddly exposed again. She didn’t have a clue how she was going to handle it—not a clue.
All she knew was that she wanted Zasha and Darko in custody or dead. Those were the two choices, because they had been the masterminds of this coup, or definitely had been part of the planning. She should have seen it more clearly, but she’d been caught up in apprehending them.
“One? Not the strongest?”
A glint appeared, and the lines around his eyes creased as a smile worked one corner of his mouth. “My mom was pretty tough. Still is. With four kids including one hell-raising son, she had her hands full.”
Aella gave him a wry look. “Okay, I can defer to your mom. I’ve seen you in action.”
That glint in his eyes intensifying, he chuckled. “You sure have, and it was all kinds of fun.”
Aella gave him a narrow, chastising look. “You better behave. We aren’t exactly on a date.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he gave her a slow, lazy grin. He reached behind her, his arm dropping onto her shoulders. The warmth and weight of that touch set off such a commotion in her middle, it was hard to catch her breath, and she shivered.
He tightened his grip, hugging her to him. If he kept this up, he would have to drive.
Man, he was so warm, safe, and solid. She eased in a deep breath. He removed his arm but set his hand on the silver handhold that was close to her thigh. Aella focused on driving, breathing in and out, a new rush of heat surging through her. More than anything, she wanted to stop the bus and turn into his arms. Just for a moment.
He mesmerized her, along with that sizzle that was always present when he was near or far from her. She recognized that sensation she had experienced in Bosnia—one she hadn’t had since, not with any man.
He rose from his knees, heaving a sigh. “I’m going to check our six. Doesn’t look like anyone is following.”
He gave her one dark look, and her pulse pumped a little faster in her throat.
He ran his finger along her forearm. “Keep to the road,” he said huskily.
That single soft touch only made her want more. She smiled up at him. “I will.”
With her heart pounding, she watched in the rearview as he walked to the back of the bus.
With all the willpower she possessed, chastising herself for being stupid, she focused on the road, checking the mirrors on either side for any telltale headlights, but there was nothing but a pitch-black nothingness behind them.
She worked at trying to disconnect from the unsatisfied ache lying thick and heavy in her. But she couldn’t disconnect. No matter how hard she tried. She gripped the wheel, feeling shaky and out of control—not a good state of mind when the lives of six kids, hers and the man who had rescued them hanging in the balance. Her insides crawling with emptiness, she pushed those feelings aside.
This was just a moment out of time. Soon they would be parted again with thousands of miles between them. There was no future for her and Saint. There were only the memories of what she’d had with him to hang onto.
Her reality was David, DC and the ATF, working toward the next step in her career just like she’d planned.
Saint came back to the front and sat in the seat diagonally from her. She was disappointed he wasn’t close, but only for a moment before she got her wits about her.
He straightened. “Go ahead, LT.”
He listened for a moment and grimaced. “Anyone hurt?” After another pause, he said, “Damn.” He ran his hand over his face. “Who stitched him up?” He shook his head and grinned. “Good thing chicks dig scars.”
He chuckled and she remembered how much she loved his laugh.
“We’ll see you when we see you.”
She turned to look at him. “Everything all right?”
“The team got slowed down. They hit an IED and blew the axel on the SUV. They’re on foot and Pit is injured.” He held up his hand. “Not bad. Gash on the thigh, but it’s painful for him to walk. He’s a trooper, though.”
She looked down at the gas tank. It was half full. “Hopefully we don’t run out of gas before we get to them.”
“How much?”
“Half.”
“Ah, okay. I didn’t look when we boarded. Was too busy.”
“Well, the base isn’t much further I think.”
“It’s so dark, it’s hard to figure out where we are. We don’t have the lights of the city to guide us.”
“It would be nice if we had the moon at least. I hope it doesn’t rain.” She bit her lip and looked up at the sky, but again there was nothing but darkness. “Did you see Zasha and Darko at all?”
“The team has a bead on them. They’re up to something. He said he sent Dragon and 2-Stroke to find them and keep an eye on them.”
“Good. Then we’ll know where to go after we make the military base.”
His expression went still. Without saying anything, he studied her a moment, his gaze narrowing, his tone noncommittal. “Don’t you think it would be a better idea for you to go back to DC and let us handle them from here?” She stiffened. He watched her with an intent, steady look, as if assessing her state of mind. His voice was quiet and low when he said, “You got beat up and almost— I think it would be better if you bailed.”
She was about to blow up and tell him he was out of his mind if he thought she was going to run back to the States with her tail between her legs. Zasha and Darko were going to pay for their crimes, and she was going to be there when they were either apprehended or killed. It was her duty, but then she saw it for just a moment before he was able to mask it. His fear…for her.
Aella could handle that kind of concern. Barely. But her anger dissipated. It was too much. Her breath jammed up in her chest. And all those feelings she’d tried to hold at bay came rushing through her, sending a fountain of need surging inside her. As if trapped by his gaze, she stared back at him, unable to break away—not really wanting to. She was so lost in his eyes, in the pulse-racing weakness.
She hit a terrible bump, and everyone was momentarily suspended above their seats. The spell was shattered, and she tore her eyes from him and focused once again on the road.
When she had the bus under control, she looked back at him in the rearview. He gave her a steady stare.
Her heart pounding and her pulse thundering in her ears, she weakly rested her head against the seat. She felt as if she had too much blood in her body. Too much heat. Too heavy a response. She tightened her hands on the wheel, trying to bring her body under control. This was not supposed to happen—not all these primitive feelings, not this fever of need. She’d always considered herself a controlling person, hardly given into weaknesses. But she had a weakness now—hot, pumping weakness that made her whole body throb. This had all started out as a simple rescue mission—Saint rescuing her—but suddenly, it had gone way beyond that. Never had she wanted anything the way she wanted him.
“I appreciate your concern, Zach. But there is no way I am going anywhere except after Zasha and Darko. They have a lot to answer for in the death of many ATF agents.”
She moved her eyes to the road and off him. For the rest of this journey, it was best if she kept her mind on the road, getting to the rest of his team and finally locking down Zasha and Darko.
Everything in her froze. There was a pinprick of light behind them. “Saint…someone’s behind us.”
He immediately rose and headed toward the back of the bus. She glanced at the road and the side view mirrors almost constantly, but the light only got larger and closer.
She already had the vehicle going as fast as she dared on these dark, uncertain roads.
“Dammit! It’s a chopper and I’m going to guess it’s not friendly.”
Warsame! He was after them for murdering his father. He was the only one who had command of a helicopter.
“It’s Omar’s son! He must have sent them after us.”
“Keep driving. Don’t stop for anything.” He knelt down and picked up something off the floor of the bus, then smashed the window in the emergency door with the butt of his pistol, clearing the glass. “Girls get down and stay down!”
He went to one knee and brought something up to his shoulder. Then there was a whoosh of air and several seconds later the chopper exploded into a bright fireball in the sky.
Even as she cheered, her heart sank. There was another light.
“There’s another one!” she shouted.
“I see it,” was his tense response.
But this time he didn’t have a moment to spare to grab another RPG launcher. The chopper fired and hit the bus, jerking control of the wheel out of her hands. The percussion shattered the windows. The explosion spun the vehicle toward the side of the road, knocking it onto its side, sending her and the screaming children against the opposite intact glass. Below her, the metal windows chewed up vegetation as the bus careened out of control. Glass rained down on them.
The bus hit something, the front crumpling as it was pushed into another direction. Before she knew what was happening, Saint was there, pulling her from the seat.
“Get to the back,” he shouted.
Her body protesting, her muscles sore and her skin sensitive, she climbed over the seats until she reached the girls. They huddled around her.
They heard the chopper circle overhead and then bank for another pass. “We’ve got to get out!” she yelled.
Just as they were about to move, the bus teetered forward.
“Move to the back,” Saint shouted. There’s a sheer drop off. If you unbalance the bus, we’re going over.”
* * *
Naval Support Activity Bahrain
NCIS Middle East Field Office
Juffair Bahrain
Special Agent Nora Everly slipped into the data center. She approached Rick Erich’s desk. “Do you have those satellite photos I asked for?”
“Sure,” he said, reaching for a folder on his station, knocking other images to the floor.
“Way to go, oaf,” she said, and he let out a good-natured laugh.
She bent down and scooped the photos up into her hands, but something bright caught her eye and she looked closer. Her mouth went dry, her heart jumping. “Have you had a chance to look at these?” she asked.
“No, I just came back from my break. What’s up?” He turned to look at her and his features tightened. “Damn, Nora. What do you see?”
“This looks like…like the special operations base in Somalia is being attacked.”
“What? Let me see those.”
The minute he looked at the images, his face went white. “You’re right. Some shit is going down there. Alert the boss.”
Nora sat in the chair across from her boss’s desk as he tried to make JSOC understand they had a disaster playing out in Somalia. The images from the satellite had been horrific and clear. People…Somali troops and Americans were dying on the ground there.
They had tried to raise the base from their end, but no dice.
“How much longer,” she asked, looking at her watch. “It’s been thirty minutes.”
The phone rang and her heart raced.
When he answered, he nodded his head, then said in relief. “Good luck, sir.”
* * *
Thebephatswa Air Base
Botswana, Africa
Kit “Iceman” Snow had just gotten into his bunk when his cell chimed, along with the phones of the other three men from his unit who were in Botswana to protect a team of Hot Shot firefighters training Botswana’s force on how to fight fires. He sat up and checked his screen. The other guys, Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael, Remington “GQ” Nash, and Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta all started to move when they saw the message. They were wanted in the briefing room a-sap.
“Let’s move, boys.”
Ten minutes later they entered, and their CIA liaison, unit liaison and commanding officer were standing in the front of the room. “Take a seat, gents. This is going to move fast.” He pulled up some satellite photos on the screen. “This is the special forces base at the Somalia airport.”
“Damn,” GQ said. His sandy hair always looked perfect whether he was standing in the wind or after wearing a helmet for countless hours. He was the pretty boy of the group, and no one let him forget it. “What the hell is happening there?”
“We don’t know. We can’t raise the base or…anyone for that matter. Not even the presidential palace, which also looks under siege. We’re going to drop you into the area. Your mission is to find and assist the SEAL team already on the ground.”
“Their LT?”
“Ford ‘Fast Lane’ Nixon,” his CO said. Kit swore to himself. That was the squad Neo “2-Stroke” Teller was in. The brother of their former leader, Dean “Striker” Teller.
“When do we go?”
“Now. There’s a perfectly good plane waiting on the runway for you.”
* * *
Entebbe UPDF Air Force Base
Entebbe, Uganda
Milo “Professor” Prescott was the last man to step foot off the C130. He and his team were here to train Ugandan special forces in the newest counterterrorism procedures for recovering an aircraft taken by terrorists. It had been a long flight and even though he’d gotten some shut eye on the plane, his system was fucked from constantly crossing the globe.
“Hey, do you think there’s somewhere around here where we could get some chow and a drink?” Zephirin “Gator” LaBauve asked.
“Doubt it,” their LT Adrian “Rock” Lane said. “Besides the time difference, we have to report at 0600. Don’t get any rowdy ideas.”
“Aw, Rock, you’re no fun,” Sam “Buck” Buckard drawled in his thick Texas accent, leaning on their very large teammate, Native American Dakota “Bear” Locklear.
“Yeah,” Gator chimed in. “Laissez les bons temps rouler! Let the good times roll.”
“Not tonight guys,” Rock said.
His other teammates, Callen “Blitz” Berenger, Mateo “Zorro” Martinez, and Andrew “D-Day” Nolan, all turned to give Gator sympathetic looks.
“LT has spoken,” Professor said.
When they were almost to the barracks, Rock’s phone chimed. He looked down at his phone and said, “Change of plans, guys. We’re going to Somalia. Fast Lane’s team needs us.”
“Somalia?”
“Mogadishu, our brothers are in trouble.”
“Fuck,” Gator said. “I’m sure there aren’t going to be any places where we can get chow and a drink in freaking Mogadishu.”
“Amen to that, brother,” Buck said, “But those guys are going to owe us.”
That put a grin on Gator’s face.
Professor wasn’t smiling. His BUD/S brother was on that team, and if anything happened to him, there was going to be hell to pay.