Hawk (The Quiet Professionals, Book 2) (50 page)

She repositioned herself so she could watch him. He hurriedly moved between the phones, trying different pieces with different handsets. After a few minutes of adjusting and working, he pressed a button. Tossed it down with a pinch of his lips. Tried another.

It seemed to go on forever. When he swept the pieces aside and roughed both hands over his face, Fekiria quietly rose. They were all dying up here. Little by little. Brian never gave up. He fought, he pushed, he encouraged them every step of the frozen journey. How did he do it?

It didn’t matter. What did matter was that they needed each other. She couldn’t turn her back on him—Mitra’s death was no one’s fault save the men responsible. She had to do what he did—fight on.

She nodded for Sheevah to stay with Aadela, who still held her aching fingers close to her chest, and joined Brian. “What’s wrong?” She eased into the rickety chair opposite his.

Frustration coated every tense muscle in his face. “My team—they’re targeting my team, and I’m st—” He pinched his lips tight. “I can’t warn them.”

Stuck here?
Was that what he almost said? “An attack?” she asked, surprised. “You know of an attack?”

He turned the laptop toward her. Pointed to a line of code. “He knows who and where Raptor is. He’s played roulette with our lives. Forced us to kill innocents and watch others die while we’re handcuffed.” His jaw muscle popped. “Now, I’ve got this”—he waved his hands toward the equipment then stabbed a finger toward the file on the computer—“and I can’t do
crap
about it.”

“It’s a new threat? Something you can stop?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re up here and they’re down there. No signal or way to communicate.” He sat back, tucking his hands behind his head. “They’re sitting ducks.”

“Then we need to leave.”

“Can’t.” He tossed his hands in a futile gesture. “Even if we left right now…”

“It’s a day’s travel—”

“Not with the children.” Brian looked down, swallowed. Glanced away. “The nearest base is at least a day’s walk, for someone in perfect health. We’re both battling frostbitten fingers and toes. Aadela is barking up a storm, which means she probably has pneumonia and prolonged exposure will kill her, too.”

We’re slowing him down
. “Go without us.”

Brian chortled. “Right. Leave you in the middle of this with no supplies and no way down?” He tucked his hands up under his arms. “No thanks. I’m not living with that on my conscience. We stick it out here and…pray God helps us.”

“But your team—”

“They have techs. Entire teams working—”

“But not this!” She slapped the laptop. “How can you not do anything to save them?”

“Who do I save, Fekiria? You and the girls or the team?” He leaned forward, gray-green eyes sparked with anger. “Tell me—because I can’t make this decision. I won’t live with this. If I leave, you three don’t have me. You don’t have protection or supplies.”

“You can’t stay here.” Desperation and frustration clashed like a tidal wave in her chest. “I can take care of us.” Even saying it she couldn’t convince herself. Or keep the weakness from her voice.

“I’m not leaving you—I promised I wouldn’t, and I’m not breaking that promise.” He grabbed the laptop and phones and moved away from her. Sat on the floor.

How could he do that? How could he make a decision to protect
her
, when she had shown him nothing but hatred, and not go after his team to protect them?

Things had changed. They’d kissed. He’d taken a turn for the worse—by caring for her. “Do not think a kiss means anything to me. I just needed to prove you were weak.”

Without lifting his head, Brian glared up at her through a terse brow. Then went back to work.

She hurried to his side. “You must go. Save them!”

He ignored her. Kept working.

Fekiria turned and stomped to the small kitchen area. He was going to sacrifice his team? For them? She covered her mouth. It was too much…too much…watching Mitra die. Caring for Aadela and Sheevah. Knowing Brian would sacrifice his own life, his own friends, to save—
me?
Knowing they could all die up here.

She had been so horrible for so long. So unsure of what she wanted in life, from people, from herself. “I’m not worth it.” But this—this she knew wasn’t right.

He didn’t answer.

“Your friends, maybe your entire Army, need you, Brian. They’ve been there, they’ve been your brothers—you said so yourself. I am nothing. Where is your loyalty to your country?”

“It’s right here, commanding me to do exactly what I’m doing—protecting those who cannot protect themselves. I’m a sheepdog. It’s what I do.” He never stopped working.

A few minutes later, he smashed one of the phones against the floor several times.

“I cannot live with this decision.”

“It’s not yours to live with.” He swept aside the smashed device and lifted another. Smashed it then gave a shout.

Fekiria drew up short. Fought tears. He had not lost control before. Not like this. He was sacrificing his team. For what?
For me?

No. She had to find a way to convince him to go after his team.

Defeated, she sat in the wobbly chair at the table, glancing at the Bible she still somehow held. She turned the thin pages. Saw the marked pages, notes scribbled in her friend’s delicate style. Was there hope in this world? Was there even the slimmest chance they would come out of this alive?

A deep, thick conviction coursed through Fekiria. One life—hers—against a team and possibly the American military?

A small scrap slid from between the crinkly pages. On it, Mitra had written out Psalm 57:1.
“Have mercy on me, my God, have mercy on me, for in you I take refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.”

Something stirred within her breast as she read the words. It fueled her conviction that she could not let Brian stay here. He must save his team. She glanced toward the curtained window and knew it was still dark out. Night had fallen early, so dawn was still a good ways off. They should rest, then he could set out. Perhaps if she warmed some broth or made some tea—she’d seen some in the pantry, hadn’t she? She’d get him to relax, get him to understand they would be fine. That their fate was not in his hands.

She could not live with their deaths on her conscience. But how could she convince him? He was a warrior. He felt she was his responsibility.

Her gaze again fell on the small, bloodied Bible. Dare she…?

God, if You are real…and true, show me how to convince him. And should he go, protect him. And us
.

Was it selfish to ask for protection, too? She would be out there alone with two children. An image flickered in her mind. Of flying with Captain Ripley. Of flying over the Kush, over this very shanty. Then veering south.
The airport!

Remembering that hardened her resolve. He wouldn’t go out to save his men, so she would make him.

25 February—0115 Hours

Shivering and trembling worked against his efforts to get just one phone up and running. Do that, and he could warn Raptor, assuming he could get a signal—no guarantees up here in the rugged terrain—but he had to warn General Burnett or anyone else he could raise on the phone. Knowing he could never leave the three in this shanty, he would work through the night trying to save his friends.
Can’t give up
. Couldn’t surrender to the gnawing words eating at his confidence: they’d all die here.

His hand twitched, hard. The piece cracked.

Brian cursed. Threw it aside. Stood. Stomped back and forth. Went out into the storm. Let the biting cold chew on his face. On his sorry carcass.
Loser! Failure!

If he was just smarter…

Dad’s right
.

He closed his eyes as the wind gripped his lapels and shook them hard. Then he looked to the heavens—or, rather, where they should be. Because only what seemed like a mile-thick cloud barricaded him into this nightmare. “God! Don’t do this—don’t let them die!”

He wasn’t sure whose life he was pleading for more—the team or the girls.
If there’s a way…please…
please,
show me
.

Light spilled out into the night, pulling him around. Fekiria stood there, huddled against the wind. In her gaze he saw the weight of the responsibility he bore to protect her and see them safely down the mountain. Even if it meant not saving the team. A piece of him died right there, in the snow, as he wrestled with the obvious choice.

Defeated, he trudged back and stepped into the surprising warmth that encircled him. Numb, he looked down into the tear-and dirt-stained face he’d come to love.

Heat spurted through his chest. No, he didn’t mean that. It was just a figure of speech.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the floor. “I warmed some broth. Eat. Rest. I can stand watch. You need to rest.”

“I…can’t.”

“You must, or you are no good to anyone.”

Though he took the cup of broth, he could not even think about resting. Not till they were all back safe and the team had captured that terrorist. Stopped Osiris. Whatever or whoever that was.

Fekiria sat next to him, placing a metal cup near his leg. “That’s a bit of tea I found.”

Brian didn’t want her near him. “Don’t try to change my mind.”

Sitting back against the wall, she leaned against his shoulder. “You think I’m that good?”

“No, just trying to stop you from wasting your breath.” He sipped the broth, savoring the warmth that tingled all the way down his esophagus. “When we get back, I’m drinking a gallon of hot coffee.”

Fekiria laughed softly.

He gave her a look. Why was she all submissive and stuff now? All domestic goddess… “What’re you up to?”

Those soul-probing eyes came to his, wide and startled. “Me?”

His suspicion grew.

She sighed and relaxed—did she realize she was pressed against him? He liked it. Liked having her close. Leaning on him. Not yelling and arguing with him. It was nice.
Too nice
.

Oh, who cared? He had no fight in him for small things. Not tonight. Not with Raptor out there like sitting ducks.

“When Zahrah started dating your captain,” Fekiria said, her voice quiet and soft, “I was so angry with her. Of all the good Afghan men in the country, why did she have to choose an American invader?”

Brian snorted.

“I could not see any good in her dating an American. Families were slaughtered for having any association with Westerners.” Her head rested against his shoulder.

Exhaustive weight pulled at his limbs. His mind. It felt so good to just sit. Listen to her talk. He liked her voice. Like the unique scent of her that—yeah, still made him hungry.

“We had an argument—I told her she had come to change my country, and I was angry. I wanted her to accept me and my people, who were hers, too.” Fekiria yawned.

Good. She was getting tired. He looked at the phones. Once she fell asleep…he’d get back to work on them. He had a good brain, just had to tap the right neurons so he could figure out this tangled digital mess.

“But I realized I did not accept her. I wanted
her
to change.” She sighed. “And you…I wanted you to change, to go away.”

Brian felt a lazy smile tug up his lips. “You told me as much.” That day…after the funeral. She’d given him an earful about how the soldiers were causing too much trouble. How they were drawing the attention of the Taliban. How they needed to go home, stop ruining lives.

“Is this your way of saying you’re into me?” Brian had asked, flirting in a way that only made her angrier
.

“You should leave our country. Leave us alone.”

“Because you can’t sleep at night without dreaming of me?” Getting a rise out of her had made him want to keep teasing her. She had fire in those green eyes, afire he liked
.

“Is this a joke to you? Men and women are being murdered because of you stupid Americans.”

“The only thing that’s a joke is you thinking that’s true.” He hadn’t meant to get terse, but he didn’t deal well with people who spread lies like that. “Even if you tell me to leave
—”

“I just did!”

“I’m not leaving until my mission’s done.”

Then she punched him
.

“You can’t stay here. Save them.”

She shoved him backward, and he landed with a splash in a large puddle. The guys laughed, until he turned and pushed Falcon. The team daddy plopped right into the same puddle…which was now oatmeal
.

Raptor roared at the sight
.

But then he saw the Humvee get stuck in it, too. Then the dog was drowning in it
.

Brian lunged with a shout
.

His forehead rammed into something.

He blinked and found himself staring down the barrel of a silenced weapon.