Ignited (Titanium Security Series) (36 page)
She stared up at him with surprised, tear-bright eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” He was done for, he knew it, and was glad he’d admitted it. Hunter leaned down and kissed her, swallowed a groan of relief when she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Someone honked the SUV’s horn.
Hunter pulled away and forced a smile, the pain of his wounds all but forgotten for the moment. “Go with Tom. Right now I need you safe so I can finish this. Tomorrow night when I go to sleep I want to know you’re home safe and sound with your family. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
She didn’t fully believe him, he could tell by the dread lurking in her eyes. He shook his head, tried once more to reassure her. “You gotta trust me again this one last time, baby. Please just trust me. I won’t let you down, I swear.”
Before she could answer the SUV’s horn blared again, and Hunter bit back a curse as he turned away and looked at Tom, waiting by his rental. “You take care of her.”
He nodded, face solemn. “You know it, brother.”
With that Hunter headed straight for the SUV, too chicken shit to look back and see the tears in Khalia’s eyes.
****
Near the back of the city bus, Youssef fumbled in his pocket and dug out the last of the Pepto Bismol tablets he’d snagged from the office medicine cabinet. The chalky-sweet things made him gag but at least if he threw up again he’d actually have something in his stomach this time. His throat felt like it had second degree burns in it from all the bile he’d retched up throughout the morning at work.
Rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs, he stared out the grimy window and went over his plan once more. Flying was too great a risk now, and he couldn’t buy anything that required ID, credit or debit card. The small amount of cash he had on him wasn’t going to last long and he knew better than to show up at his parents’ home for help. They didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess any farther, and Youssef knew they were already being watched by the man who’d threatened him, and probably other agencies as well.
The cell leader in Peshawar was pleased with Youssef’s work in this operation, and he was hopeful the man would help him get over the border into Pakistan. If he could make it to Peshawar and find some TTP members, from there he could slip over the border into Afghanistan and wait in a safe house until he came up with a long term plan. Because as of this morning, life as he’d known it was over for good. If he stayed, the man from the warehouse would kill him. His only option was to run.
He heard the sirens approach behind them and felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. His face, palms and back were slick with the cold sweat of fear, his heart racing so fast he felt dizzy. A glance out the window showed two police vehicles racing up behind the bus. Every muscle in his body drew taut, an innate response to the futility of his situation.
But the vehicles didn’t pull up beside the bus. They passed it and sped onward, the blare of their sirens eventually fading into nothing. Youssef sagged against the seat and closed his eyes with a silent prayer of thanks.
A few moments later, the bus slammed on its brakes.
Youssef barely threw a hand out in time to stop his face from crashing into the back of the seat in front of him. The vehicle skidded and lurched, came to a violent stop there in the middle of the road. All around him people were chattering, craning their necks toward the driver and then outside to see what was the matter. A second after that, someone pounded on the front door.
A bone-chilling flash of fear ripped through him.
The door opened and a group of men boarded the bus. The first one was a big man with a reddish skull trim. Two full sleeves of tattoos showed below the cuffs of his T-shirt, which was stretched taut across the defined muscles in his arms and chest. He was right in the driver’s face, and though Youssef couldn’t hear what was being said, the driver had his hands up and was leaning away as though to show he was no threat and wasn’t about to put up a fight. Passengers were beginning to move to the rear, watching everything unfold with uneasy expressions.
Trapped at the back, Youssef had nowhere to go.
Two more men came aboard, one with darker skin and a slightly shorter one with black hair. All were armed with pistols. They did a visual sweep of the bus. Unable to look away, Youssef slowly sank down in his seat to try and avoid detection.
The first man’s gaze traveled over the passengers at the back of the bus and landed on him. Stopped. Held. He murmured something to the darker-skinned man behind him, who immediately pinned him with startling hazel eyes. Youssef didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe, convinced this was a nightmare and wasn’t really happening at all. It was too surreal. There was no way they could have found him. Not this soon.
The thought had barely formed when a fourth man stepped aboard the bus. Taller than the last, with short dark hair, and made of solid muscle. He strode down the aisle with a pronounced limp and a bandaged upper arm that did nothing to detract from his menacing appearance. This man had done hard time in the military, and he meant business. His gaze locked onto Youssef and he saw the fire burning in the other man’s light brown eyes.
Victory. And vengeance.
Instinct drove Youssef to leap up and dive for the lock on the emergency window. His right knee landed on the lap of the lady cowering beside him. He barely heard her cry of pain, didn’t even feel the blows as she struck out at him. His hands clawed at the release latch, managed to slide it open. He shoved it free and had his head stuck out of it when he heard the shout behind him.
Powerful hands grabbed his waist. He cried out and lashed back with both feet, the soles of his shoes hitting an unforgiving wall of muscle. In the blink of an eye he was yanked backward through the window and slammed to his back on the aisle floor. The air rushed out of his lungs and spots of light danced when his head smacked into the floor. A hard weight landed on him, flipped him over then seized his wrists and wrenched them up and back, the brute force of it nearly snapping the bones.
With a scream of terror and pain, Youssef arched up against his assailant, but it was like trying to move a bulldozer. His lungs seized once more when he found himself staring up into that hard, livid face.
“Who are you?” the man growled, the muscles in his jaw so tight they stood out in sharp relief.
Don’t answer. Don’t answer.
A vicious jerk on his arms, sending a sharp stab of pain into his shoulder sockets. “Who
are
you?”
“No one!” he cried, certain his arms were going to be ripped free. “I’m no one!”
The man sat back slightly, but didn’t ease up on his grip as he spoke to the man behind him, the redhead with the skull trim. “Search him.”
The big American wasted no time in frisking him, coming up with the empty packet of tablets and his wallet. Youssef closed his eyes but couldn’t bear being both blind
and
helpless. He looked up in time to see the man reading his driver’s license and show it to the brutish dark-haired man who pinned him. Then he held up something small and flat, like a watch battery, and Youssef recognized what it was.
Faatin.
That bitch had somehow planted a tracking device in his wallet for these men when he hadn’t been looking. Probably while he was in the men’s room, throwing up. Fear and helplessness washed through him.
His captor glanced at the license, his expression becoming even more frightening in its triumph as he turned that angry glare back on him. “Youssef Khan,” he murmured in a silky tone that made Youssef’s skin crawl and gave a tsking sound. “You’ve been a very bad boy.”
Had he really feared dying this morning in that warehouse? As they unceremoniously hauled him to his feet and shoved him toward the bus’s door, Youssef had a feeling he would soon wish he was already dead.
“Khalia.” A hand waved in front of her face. “Hello?”
She looked away from the Emirates 767 parked at the gate waiting to take them to London and turned to blink up at Tom. “Sorry?”
He didn’t comment on her spacing out, just gestured across the gate lounge toward the snack shops where a few vendors were open to cater to the tourists who weren’t observing the Ramadan fasting. “I asked if you want something to eat before they start boarding us.”
“No thanks.” Ick, the last thing she felt like doing right now was eating. She glanced at her watch. They were due to board in another few minutes. Tom as well, since he was coming with her and Ray all the way back to Chicago. He’d told her he meant to see her home safely, and she wasn’t going to argue because the truth was she felt better with him there. God knew she needed the mental support Tom’s protection gave her.
She covered another dry cough with one hand, winced as it pulled at the stitches in her upper back. There wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t feel bruised or battered, and she was more exhausted than she’d ever imagined humanly possible. Both emotionally and physically, she was fried. On the way here Tom had informed her that the Swat Valley school was closed until further notice while authorities ensured the area was secure enough for the girls to return to class.
The icing on this spectacular disaster of a trip.
She needed a day straight of sleep but every time she closed her eyes, some horrific image flashed through her head. An explosion, or gunfire, or seeing those bodies in the stairwell. As soon as they’d reached the airport she’d been hustled to a private room with a shower to clean up while Tom and his crew stood guard outside. Even scrubbed and wearing new clothes she couldn’t get the acrid reek of smoke out of her nose.
“I know you don’t feel like it right now, but you should try to eat something. Then when we get on board you can just sleep all the way to London,” Ray said beside her. He’d stuck to her side from the moment she’d arrived at the airport and found him waiting with more security personnel at the terminal. No less than eight of them now stood around the perimeter of the gate lounge to ensure their safety. They were all armed, a mix of Pakistani and foreign contractors working for Tom. All of them combined didn’t make her feel even half as safe as Hunter did.
At the thought of him, that awful tightness took hold in her throat, a raw ache that signaled she was close to tears again. Shifting her gaze back to the window before anyone could see the moisture in her eyes, she stared out at the plane and the baking tarmac beyond it, not focusing on anything, lost in her own head. She still couldn’t believe Hunter had limped out of the hospital against medical advice with two barely closed bullet wounds and God knew how many shrapnel wounds, and gone to chase down a suspect.
Okay, yes she could. Didn’t mean she had to understand or like it though.
Swallowing hard, she thought about the two most important things he’d said at the entrance of the emergency room. He’d told her he loved her, which still shocked her as much as it thrilled her. When he hadn’t said it back to her right away, she was sure he wasn’t going to. It clearly hadn’t been easy for him to say, but he had. And then he’d said the most telling thing of all.
I wouldn’t be good enough for you if I left the rest of the guys to take care of this without me.
When she boiled it all down, that was the very essence of Hunter, wasn’t it? It was what formed his core, and what distinguished him from any other man she’d met. And he believed in that code of brotherhood so strongly that he would willingly die for any one of his teammates if necessary. The same way he would die to protect her.
She sighed and covered another cough. That sense of loyalty and honor was a big part of why she’d fallen in love with him. Much as she was worried about him, when it came down to it she wouldn’t change that part of him for anything.
The gate agent’s voice broke into her thoughts as she announced the pre-boarding call. People all around her began to gather up their belongings and get in line.
Time’s up.
The vise around her heart cinched a little tighter.