Model Soldier (19 page)

“So, what does this all mean for us, Hawk? What do we do? Tell us what to do, sugar.” Kerri’s unquestioning faith in him put even more pressure on the already overwhelming situation.

Hawk had been prepared for almost every scenario in training and in battle, but he was experienced in leading a squad of skilled professional soldiers, not a laughably diverse group of untrained civilians.

“We stay here and sit tight for now.” He didn’t want to say it but he didn’t know what else to do without putting them all in jeopardy. Here, at least he had some semblance of control. If the insurgents came through the door he had his pistol and knew Tony had some firepower hidden on his person. That made two pistols to at least defend the women with.

If their attackers chose to blow the building instead…Hawk decided not to think about that right now, hoping the baddies were more occupied with freeing the prisoners, possibly five hundred of them if the facility was at full capacity.
Shit.
Maybe he should risk a run for the bunker with them all.

Catching Emily’s gaze, he saw hate and anger in her eyes before she looked away again.
One problem at a time
, he thought. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her if he didn’t keep her alive first.

“If only we had some weapons,” Jai lamented.

Hawk shook his head to disagree. “No. Weapons in the hands of the untrained are worse than no weapons at all.”

Jai smiled. “Four years ROTC in college. One tour in the sandbox courtesy of the Army and two more years embedded as an AP photographer in Kandahar. That enough training for you?”

Well, damn. That’s what he got for judging a book by its cover. Hawk nodded. “Yeah, it’s enough, but we still don’t have any weapons.”

“I have a weapon and I know how to use it,” Tony said succinctly.

And how he had smuggled that on base Hawk didn’t even want to imagine.

“I know, Tony, and I’m glad for that at least. But that six-shooter you’re not hiding so effectively in that shoulder-holster under your jacket doesn’t have enough range or firepower to do us much good against what those guys have out there.”

“I have a phone.” Emily spoke for the first time since the explosion.

“You have signal? I haven’t been able to get shit out here,” Tony exclaimed, holding up his own phone.

“Satellite phone,” Jai answered Tony’s question for her.

This whole thing was too surreal, discussing cell phone signal in the middle of an attack on a supposedly secure base.

Hawk laughed. “Well that’s great. And who are you gonna call, Emily?”

“My boss,” she answered with unmistakable attitude.

She was being deliberately evasive because she was angry with him, for what he would love to know.

“Emily. Please. This is not the time…”

She interrupted his lecture. “Task Force Zeta. My boss Katie is engaged to BB Dalton, a Special Operative from Task Force Zeta.”

Hawk never thought he’d be happy to hear that name mentioned again but actually, he was...or would be if they were even on the same continent. “Dalton and his boys are too far away to do us any good, Emily. From the States to here is…”

She shook her head violently. “No, they’re not. Katie mentioned they’re at some training thing in Islamabad this week. Islamabad’s not too far, is it?”

Hawk could have hugged her for that piece of information, if he thought she wouldn’t slug him. He laughed. “No, that’s not too far.”

“Call her, Em. Call now,” Jai said.

Emily whipped out the phone and dialed with visibly shaking hands. “Katie. I need you to get a hold of BB right away…”

The entire process probably took barely five minutes, but moving in slow motion the way things often did in times of crisis, it seemed more like an hour between the time Emily had quickly told her boss about the situation and when her phone rang again.

She fumbled to pick it up off the desk.

“BB?” Emily’s voice broke on a sob when she answered.

Hawk stood and walked to stand nearer Emily as Dalton spoke to her through the satellite phone. With tears glistening in her eyes, she nodded a few times at what he said, then held the phone up to Hawk. “He wants to talk to you.”

Taking a deep steadying breath, Hawk held the phone up to his ear. “Dalton, it’s Hawk.”

“Oh, brother, am I glad you’re there. Jimmy’s on the line with CentCom now. We’ve been briefed as to the conditions there and I have to be honest with you, they’re not good.”

No shit
. “Yeah. I had kinda guessed that.”

“What’s your situation? Are you secure?”

“I’ve got five civilians holed up with me in a wood-constructed office building located in the center of the base and we’ve got nothing but two pistols among us.”

Jai cleared his throat and Hawk amended his statement, “One of the civilians is former military, another is hired muscle and knows his way around a gun, two more are women and one’s an Australian reporter.”

“Cameraman, mate, not a reporter, and I did some time in the Australian military myself,” the Aussie corrected him.

Hawk rolled his eyes. Suddenly everybody was a warrior.

He heard Dalton speaking to someone on his end of the line, then he was back. “Matt says he traced the signal from your satellite phone. He’s pinpointed your precise location within the base on the GPS. Wait for us there. We’re already in the air on our way to you.”

So Zeta knew where they were. Great. But what the hell they thought they were going to do once they got there, Hawk couldn’t even begin to guess.

“Roger that, Dalton. You got any suggestions for the meantime?”

“Just don’t move from your present position until you hear from me,” Dalton instructed.

Hawk raised a brow. All of Task Force Zeta’s super secret training, all of their science fiction-worthy state of the art implants, and that was the best advice Dalton could give them?

“Great. Thanks,” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry, Hawk. I’ll get back to you. We’ll have more specifics soon. Keep the phone nearby, okay? I’ll call you back.”

“Copy that. Hawk out.”

Dalton disconnected the call, leaving Hawk staring down at the black object in his hand. His fingers itched for his rifle, but instead, he was forced to depend on a damn cell phone and Pretty Boy Dalton and the Zetas to save him.

Hawk was not a happy man.

“What’d they say?” the Aussie asked, standing close now.

“To sit tight,” he relayed with a frustrated sigh.

“I’m not too good at sitting around doing nothing, mate,” the man informed him.

Fists clenched, Hawk’s face felt as if it had turned to stone as he asked in a low voice, “And you think I am?”

Kerri stepped between the two and turned to Hawk, laying a hand lightly on his forearm. “Listen, sugar. We know you’re doing the best you can. If whoever was on that phone told you to sit tight, then we sit tight.”

Hawk heard an irritated huff come from the corner of the office Emily had sequestered herself in since handing him the phone.

What the hell had he done to deserve this? One inexplicably angry and obviously jealous woman, a loose-cannon cameraman, a hung-over, useless and at the moment MIA team leader and, lest he forget, a terrorist bombing and breached prison facility.

So much for his simple modeling assignment…

A camera flash brought him out of his reverie. Turning towards Rasta-photographer, Hawk frowned. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

Camera still in hand, the man flashed him brilliant white teeth. “Recording this moment for posterity and possibly winning me some photo awards. People love pictures of this kind of shit.”

Hawk growled and was about to tell him what he thought about that when the cell phone rang again.

He grabbed it. “Yeah.”

“Hawk, it’s Dalton. Listen close. We’re here. This is what I need you to do. Do not move from that building for any reason. No matter what. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah. What’s the plan?”

“Can’t tell you that. This isn’t a secure line. You’re gonna have to trust us, Hawk.”

Trust Dalton? With Emily’s life and that of four other civilians currently in his care? Not a situation Hawk wanted to be in, but it looked as if he had no other choice.

“Dalton?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t screw up, or I’ll have to kill you.”

Hawk heard his laughter through the static on the line. “Zeta doesn’t screw up, Hawk. You of all people should know that.”

And if Pretty Boy thought that Hawk had forgotten that they were all there in Bagram and in this mess because of that stupid bet made in a moment of insanity in the Alps, he was dead wrong. Hawk only hoped they all lived to regret the decision he made in those mountains some more tomorrow.

“Okay, Hawk, I gotta go. We’re ready to roll. Get the civilians under as much cover as possible and away from the windows but do not exit that building,” Dalton reiterated over the sound of the helo in which Zeta had ridden to their rescue.

“Roger that.” Disconnecting the call, Hawk glanced around the room at all of the people depending on him.

Commanding a group of soldiers was one thing. Hawk could be certain then that his orders would be followed. Now, he could only hope, and he really hated hoping…

Pushing doubts aside, Hawk sprang into action.

“I need the men to pair off and each grab a desk. Move them to the back of the room away from the window.” He grabbed the end of one desk himself as Tony quickly moved to take the other side. The two photographers did the same with another piece of furniture.

That done, Hawk ordered, “Everybody, take cover under the desks and do not move, no matter what.” He looked specifically at Emily when he added, “Do you hear me?”

Eyes wide, she nodded and started to move just as Hawk detected the sound of Army Black Hawks in the air.

“Move it. Now. Quick!”

Pinning Emily beneath the leg hole of one desk with his own body, Hawk heard the helicopters open fire as the good guys—at least he really hoped it was the good guys— blasted their own base.

No wonder Pretty Boy wanted them inside. Hawk shook his head at the risky maneuver. As Emily trembled beneath him, Hawk tucked her head beneath his chin and mumbled against her hair, “Hell of a fucking plan, Dalton.”

Then he added silently,
I hope to god it works.

Chapter Seventeen

From beneath Hawk’s bulk, Emily heard the surreal noises coming from outside. The kinds of sounds she’d only heard before when she’d fallen asleep with the television on and woken up in the middle of a late-night showing of an old war movie. Explosions, rapid gunfire, whistling things shooting through the air followed by more explosions, all against the constant whir of helicopters above.

Even after all this time, months later, the memories still did not fade. The dreams, nightmares really, didn’t stop either, nor did they let her sleep undisturbed, not for even one night.

The dream always started the same. Emily making her way to the USO tent to check her email just after sunrise. Her catching a glimpse of Hawk, buttoning his stupid blouse while sneaking out of Kerri’s tent. The realization of what must have happened between them followed by the feeling of nausea.

Then the scene fast forwarded to Emily taking shelter beneath the desk, cradled in Hawk’s arms while, over the clamor outside, he whispered to her that everything would be alright. Even as angry as she was with Hawk, feeling his strength, the heat of his body against hers, she almost believed him.

When Emily heard BB’s voice outside she knew everything would be all right as two black clad figures broke through the office door, yelling the entire time to Hawk not to shoot, that they were the good guys. Against all odds, they were being rescued.

Emily had somehow fought her way from beneath Hawk and run at BB, crashing into him hard with a hug that would have toppled a smaller man.

In the blur of shouted instructions and running that followed, before she could even begin to grasp what had happened, Emily found herself thrust into a helicopter and in the air, flying away from the melee. While the Black Hawks above kept the men who’d attacked the base occupied, BB and his team had whisked Emily and the rest of their small group away, minus Hawk.

Hawk wasn’t with them on the helicopter, nor did he arrive later while they waited in the relative safety of the airport in Kabul for word of the situation at Bagram. Unfortunately, Kerri London was there, and that was enough to remind Emily exactly why she shouldn’t care if Hawk lived or died. Even more unfortunate was the fact that Emily did still care and she hated that.

Glancing at her bedside clock now, she wasn’t at all surprised to see it read four thirty. Why did the stupid dream always seem to come at the same time each morning? For once, she’d like to sleep at least until five thirty. Six thirty would be even better.

With a sigh, she swung her pajama-clad legs from beneath the warmth of her sheets and stumbled blindly toward the kitchen and the coffee pot. She’d long since learned to set up the coffee maker the night before since the pre-dawn awakenings had become her norm.