Tactical Deception: Silent Warrior, Book 2 (3 page)

What Holly was calling evil, Mari didn’t think was. Dugar was evil. The men who’d attacked her in her village were evil, but to call laws and punishments evil wasn’t right, was it? It was…what?

Justice? It hadn’t been justice in her case, though.

Was it deserved punishment then? Maybe—

No!
her inner heart shouted. She hadn’t deserved what had happened to her, had she? Yes, she’d been unwise years ago and had foolishly left home unaccompanied to retrieve her necklace. Then men had found her alone and had attacked her.

And yes, last month she had purposely gone to a store she’d never been to before when she’d encountered Dugar. She’d been trying to avoid painful reminders of Neil at the usual grocery store. It hadn’t worked, though. She’d broken down in tears and had rushed for the privacy of her car. That’s when she’d hit Dugar with the glass door, cutting his head. The unbalanced man had flown into a murderous rage and the fallout from that had landed her in Roger’s apartment on post.

Dugar had tried to kill her twice now. And both times Roger had placed himself in harm’s way to save her. He’d gone out of his way to protect her reputation and her sensibilities too, but she couldn’t let that keep happening. Now that she’d healed from her injuries and the danger of losing her baby had passed, she had some hard decisions to make.

She couldn’t endanger Roger again and she couldn’t lose Neil in her growing attraction to Roger. Though Roger slept in a different apartment, she still saw him every day—multiple times a day. Coupling that with sleeping in his bed and it was destroying her peace of mind. It wasn’t his fault, but the more she saw of Roger, the more ghostlike Neil became.

Neil had loved her and she had to do whatever she could to keep his memory alive for their baby. She had to leave.

Holly pulled into Sonic and Mari gladly abandoned her thoughts for food. They ordered the works—double cheeseburgers, chocolate shakes, fries and onion rings—and ate in the car where she could relax. No people boxed her in and only Holly and their teenage female waitress could see her face.

“This meal is going to add ten pounds to my hips.” Holly groaned and grabbed more fries.

“Mine too, but I don’t care.”

“You can afford it. You’re eating for two.”

Mari drew a deep breath. She now needed to provide for two as well. “How did you do it? How did you leave home and make it on your own? I am in awe of American women and their independence. You don’t have to rely upon a man for everything. Not even for protection.”

“It doesn’t come easy, but in America hard work can make it happen. After graduating from high school, I found a job waitressing and moved in with a friend. It didn’t take me long before I realized I didn’t want to do that the rest of my life. Every minute was a struggle to survive. So, I checked out my options and decided to join ROTC. They paid for my education and that led me to where I am today.”

“I need to do that.”

Holly choked on her last fry. “I assume you mean get an education because I can tell you, pregnant and ROTC won’t work. Have you seen your Casualty Assistance Officer yet? He can tell you the specifics, but as Neil’s widow, you’ll receive benefit payments and they’ll pay for your education too.”

“I will have to go see him again. I was…it was shortly after…I lost Neil and I can’t remember anything he said. He gave me papers but they’re all at my house and I can’t go back there yet.” The life that she’d planned with Neil was gone. By booby-trapping her house and stealing Neil’s pride-and-joy car, Dugar had effectively taken away everything else too. All of her belongings, all of the little reminders of her life with Neil weren’t surrounding her as they had in the few weeks after his death. Maybe that was why his memory was growing distant.

Holly reached over and clasped her hand. “Roger is going to get Dugar soon and then you’ll be able to put your life together. Meanwhile, we’d better get back on post. My classes tonight won’t teach themselves. I still don’t understand why you don’t want Roger to know you’re learning to shoot.”

Mari didn’t answer until after they’d cleaned up their mess and were on the road to Fort Bragg. Rules and regulations made target practice on post impossible for her. “He’d never agree to me leaving the safety of the post until Dugar is found and that is taking longer than anyone expected.” More importantly, Roger and his piercing blue gaze would surely realize she was planning to leave. And while she didn’t fear him in any way, she knew him well enough to know that he’d die protecting her. She couldn’t let that happen. Leaving wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the right thing to do before her attraction for Roger invaded more than her dreams—like her heart.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the seat.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Mari snapped her eyes open. Holly had turned the bend and the area leading up to the post’s access control point was a madhouse of camera news crews, police and protesters. Lights flashed from police cars lining the street. Policemen in riot gear were lined up and people crowded every empty space as they punched their fists into the air and waved signs demanding TELL THE TRUTH, MR. PRESIDENT.

Holly slammed on her brakes as one man ran in front of her car, shouting. Instead of passing, the man climbed onto her hood and sat, waving his sign at the world as camera crews converged on them.

“Get off!” Holly shouted at the man as she locked the car doors. He didn’t even look at her, just kept yelling at the other protesters to join him in fighting corruption. Holly beeped her horn for help. The police moved their way, but were powerless as a swarm of protesters came at the car. Within seconds, the car was surrounded. People were on the hood, the roof, the trunk, crowding in on all sides, and the car began to rock crazily.

Mari’s stomach clenched as fear crawled down her spine. The darkness closed in on her with a vengeance, worse than ever before. She wasn’t in a car in America. She was in Afghanistan with men encircling her, pulling off her clothes, screaming at her sin, beating her, hurting her…

Her heart thundered. Her body shook. Her mind screamed for her to escape now, to run. She couldn’t breathe.

She grabbed the door handle and pulled, but it wouldn’t open. She was trapped. She was going to die. “Roger,” she whispered, remembering his solid strength weeks ago as he spoke to her when Dugar had been breaking down the door to kill her.

“Mari! What’s wrong?” Holly’s voice came from far away.

“I can’t breathe. We’re going to die.” Mari stabbed at the power-lock button and jerked on the handle. The door came open. The noise deluged her, left her swimming in a dark, sucking tide that dragged her under.

“Mari, don’t!” Holly caught her arm but she jerked free. She had to escape now. She shoved at the door. The crowd moved back and Mari shot from the car, but there were people everywhere she turned, closing her in even as they moved away from her.

“Neil!” She yelled for help, running and pushing against the crowd. Then she remembered Neil was gone. She’d never hear his voice again. He’d never walk through the door and make her laugh again. He’d never hold her again and the darkness around her grew. She had to reach safety before it claimed her completely. Lights flashed at her from every direction. People yelled at her, angrily shoving their signs at her face. She heard Holly calling to her. But she couldn’t stop. The choking darkness had her by the throat and wouldn’t let her go.

“Roger!” She ran harder, but couldn’t run fast enough to escape. She screamed but couldn’t scream loud enough to be heard. She pushed but couldn’t push hard enough to make the men blocking her way move. They grabbed at her, caught her clothes in their hands, and trapped her in the past that she had kept buried in the dark recesses of her soul.

Chapter Four

Piedmont Park

Atlanta, Georgia

“Listen well, Abdullah, our shots will ring throughout America,” Salaam Meshood murmured to his nephew. The Mark IV scope crowned the sleek Remington 700P Light Tactical Rifle (LTR) and gave real meaning to deadly precision. As much as he despised the
kafirs
and their sins against Allah and Islam, he did admire their weaponry. The ten pounds of lethal metal and stock fit like a baby in his arms, which had given him the idea of just how to invade the heart of the public on such a beautiful summer day.

Innocence didn’t give bliss; it invited slaughter.

He never believed it possible. That after fighting so hard for peace for his countrymen, it would be taken so ruthlessly away.

Salaam let the rage flow through him to his kin. “They came like thieves in the night and stole our lives. Now we come as wolves in sheep’s clothing to take their lives. Eye for an eye.”

“Mullah Meshood is wise,” Abdullah replied. The young man had been raised properly, which made him willing to do anything for their cause. Even die. Few of those trained at the River of Blood Camp would return home. Abdullah knew he might be one of those chosen for the highest honor.

Salaam’s sister, a woman of faith, had been blessed with many sons. Unlike Salaam’s wife, Maisa, who was barren. He wanted more wives, could have four of them, but he did not want the expense of them during this time of war.

“I studied hard, fought harder, and learned from the Taliban leader Mullah Mohammed Omar himself,” Salaam Meshood said, acknowledging the praise as his due.

As a young man, Salaam had been at Mullah Mohammed Omar’s side when the Madrasee Taliban moved into Qandahar and saved Afghanistan from the murdering Mujahideen factions destroying the country and annihilating its citizens. Salaam had been shot several times in battle, but he’d survived. One step at a time the fighters for truth had brought swift justice to the evil and order to the chaos through the Sharia. Punishments and executions had been necessary. He still served Mullah Mohammed Omar, only now in secret. The tenets to gaining power had not changed since the early days.

There was no rule without fear.

There was no victory without war.

There was no war without sacrifice.

There was no life without Allah and the teachings of the great prophet.

His nephew would either live or die according to Allah’s will. And Abdullah’s reward after death would be great. Salaam had brought him to assist with the most important attacks. Today would create the fear. Tomorrow would set the stage. Then victory would follow.

And if Abdullah were to die, his death would not be in vain. The strength of the Taliban would rise again. Once Salaam eliminated the head of the snake that slithered in his homeland and poisoned the minds of the people, the Taliban would rule. Absolute Sharia Law was the only way. All moral corruption had to be stopped before its roots began.

Women had to be hidden from view, their footsteps silenced, and no stranger should hear their voices. Since coming to this place of iniquity he’d been unable to be pure.

Music had to be silenced. It created unrest and gave one nothing but ideas of sin.

Only the pillars of Islam and seeking to fulfill the Qur’an as the Prophet Muhammad ordered should fill the minds of all believers. Unbelievers had to believe or die.

Looking through the rifle sights, Salaam chose his targets.

Trouble as hot and steamy as the South had Corporal Rico Santana wrapped around her little finger as well as every curvy inch from her curly head to her cherry-red-painted toes, which for some reason he wanted to bite—after he licked her all over, that is. He’d never understood fetish impulses before. He did now.

And they were all focused on one woman. Angie Freemont and her…everything. Her feet. Her hands. Her neck. Her legs. Her strawberry-sweet mouth. Every bit of her plagued him at night, during the day, as well as in the twilights and dawns between.

He’d known her for weeks.

He’d known
what
he’d wanted to do with her since the moment he’d seen her.

He hadn’t yet though—an unprecedented celibate-while-dating record that had both his jeans and his control straining at the seams, and there was no end in sight. Not only was Angie completely oblivious to his dilemma as she happily and tirelessly snapped picture after picture, but they were also in the middle of a large group of people for an event she was committed to attending. Being in her company was, and had been, sheer torture—albeit an exquisite one.

He had to be honest, though. He hadn’t pressed too hard to move their relationship to the next level. Partly because he was scared shitless about the strength of his desire for her, and partly because he’d learned over the years that women were all about timing. And that hadn’t been right yet.

Being kidnapped with her and her godchildren, Matt and Mitch Collins, by the terrorist Menendez had thrust him and Angie into a life/death situation that had left them scrambling over what they felt for each other once it was all over. They’d been total strangers but at the same time had grown closer to one another than anyone ever before. At least it was that way for him.

What started as a phone call to see if she was all right after the ordeal had turned into nightly calls. He was a soldier based at Ft. Bragg. She was a nurse and avid photographer who lived in Atlanta. They’d barely dated yet, even though she’d come to see him twice. On both her visits she’d come and taken care of him after surgeries to repair ligament damage in his right arm. Machine gunfire and an explosion on a mission in Lebanon had left him with limited use of his arm. Now he’d come to see her and nothing stood in the way of their being together.