Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (38 page)

Phone. She had to find her phone and call for help. She spotted it on the floorboard and grabbed for it. When she swiped her thumb across the surface—the thing flung free. Dropped.

Thud. Thud!

Cassie jumped.

A man stood at the driver’s window, armed. Heavily. And the man had more muscle than Sal and Titanis combined. “Move!” He swept his arm forward. “Drive.”

Cassie groped for the phone, staring ahead. Ignoring the man’s broken English orders. It was stupid, but she felt safe in here. At least safe enough to make a call. To get help.

Right. You’re three hours from the base and you think they’ll magically appear?

Still, phone in hand, she managed to hit a button. Heard a tinny ring of the phone through the speaker. She had no idea which person she’d autoselected and she didn’t care.

Thud-thud. Thud!

“Move!”

A Hummer tapped her rear bumper, forcing her car ahead a foot. Cassie’s foot slipped from the brake and the car lurched forward.

The man outside her door, banged heavily on the roof. “Move move move!”

A voice squawked through her phone. She lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”

“… leave a message and I’ll
—”

Cassie groaned at the sound of her own voice. She’d called her own desk! She hit the E
ND
button then tried another number.

The Hummer revved behind her then another bump.

Cassie yelped, losing her phone. She gripped the wheel.

Her window cracked. She screamed and ducked, but when she looked up, she saw the bullet hole. Eyes wide, she looked to the man.

He jogged back to one of the SUVs, waving her on. “Hurry! Move!”

Even as she accelerated, the first two black Suburbans slid in front of her, completely encasing her vehicle. The more she accelerated, the more they accelerated, until she glanced down and eyed her speedometer. Sixty! Where were they taking her? And why?

Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
7 April—1620 Hours

Arms folded, Sal stood at the foot of the gurney watching the little girl breathe. Fighting for her life. Muznah—that was her name, according to her much-older brother, Fariz, who went with Dean to answer questions. They had to keep Fariz off the radar before Ramsey got wind of him and the little girl.

Which was good. Because Sal was sure he’d put his fist through the guy’s face if he saw him. What kind of sicko convinces his paramour to murder their children if people start asking questions?

One with something to hide.

Muznah whimpered in her sleep, the pain probably overwhelming. The mattress seemed to swallow her frail form as Sal reached for her hand. Black hair spilled across her shoulders and pillow. Tubes snaked in and out of her body. First operation had gone well, but the doc said another was scheduled later today, once her body had built up its strength and blood supply.

Mila. He didn’t know a thing about her. Not her favorite color. Not her favorite ice cream flavor… nothing. Did she even like ice cream?

“You okay?”

Sal flinched and looked to the side where Dean stood in the curtained doorway to the medical bay holding the girl. “Yeah, fine. Just wanted to check in on her.”

“Doc says you’ve been here since dinner.”

“After,” Sal tossed to the side. “Ate, showered, then came here.”

Dean sauntered in, glancing down at Muznah. “Fariz said Ramsey met his mother in Iraq.”

“The kid’s eighteen. That had to have been Ramsey’s first deployment. Not much happened before OEF/OIF.”

Dean nodded. “It was. Apparently, they wrote letters. When he got deployed and assigned here, he brought them over. Resumed their affair.”

“Explains the age gap between Fariz and these,” Sal said, nodding to the bed. “He must have had something really big to hide to convince her to kill them.”

“My thoughts exactly, but Fariz shut down when I opened that conversation.”

Dean sighed. “Hits a bit close to home, doesn’t it?”

Once again, Sal looked at Dean, who cocked his head toward the exit. “Let’s talk.”

Though his gut coiled and he knew this was the day of reckoning, Sal said nothing as he followed Dean out into the arid evening. Lights hadn’t come on, but the calm of night was already settling in around camp.

Dean turned and faced him. “When you sought me out before we told you about this family, you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about.”

With a nod, Sal folded his arms. “I did. Do.”

“Let’s get it in the open then.”

Another nod from Sal, this one to convince himself to talk. To get it off his chest. Come clean. “Not sure if it’s the right time, considering what we’re facing—”

“It’s always the right time for the truth.”

“I’d agree with you on most days.” Sal grinned but didn’t feel it. “You’ve been on my case about what’s eating me. You were right—something is eating me. My girlfriend died over here.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Sal—that’s in your record.”

“It is?”

“But that was four years ago.”

He bobbed his head. “Yeah, but two years ago, her brother Mario died out here, too. They followed me into the Army. Vida came so we could be together. Her family was poor, so was mine. We had a plan to graduate then join up. I was two years older but did it. But… by the time she signed up…”

“Things had changed?”

“She and I were a habit,” Sal admitted with a shrug. “It’s awful to hear myself say it, but it’s true. We dated through high school. I’d made so many promises to her about getting married, and she desperately wanted out of her family and New York City, that by the time I realized I didn’t love her in that way, I felt obligated to her.

“I met Walker when we were assigned to Huachuca for training. I’d never felt that way about anyone. Things got pretty serious, hot and heavy… but when Vida got assigned there, I broke it off. Had to keep that promise.”

“Did you know about your daughter then?”

Sal scowled. Stepped back. “How—?” How did he know about that when Sal just learned about Mila himself?

Dean handed over a paper. “Walker had this notarized this morning. When did you find out about Mila?”

“A week ago, maybe two. She never told me.”

“How could you not know?”

“I refused to talk to her after Vida died. Cassie arranged to have Vida PCSed to Helmand, knowing it was the most dangerous. When Vida died, I blamed Cassie.”

“Because you couldn’t handle the guilt?”

Swallowing hurt. Sal nodded. “If I hadn’t slept with Walker… Vida would never have gone to Helmand.”

“You don’t know that.” Dean tapped the paper. “She’s giving you POA over Mila.”

“Why?”

“That’s what I wanted to know, but I can’t find her.”

Sal shrugged. “She’s probably working.”

“After mailing the official documents and a box with the entire contents of her locker, she left the base four hours ago.”

Something about those words, Cassie’s movements in the preceding hours left a hollow feeling in his chest. Granting him POA over Mila. Packing and sending her stuff home. Getting fired but leaving the base anyway. “Crap.”

“And it gets worse. I called Phelps to find out what was going on. He said he’d told her he was bringing her back. Basically yanked and tanked her.”

His pulse thrummed. “You said she left the base. What’d she put on the exit log?”

“‘Offsite meeting.’”

“Check her logs,” Sal said. “Phone and e-mail.” It felt as if someone ripped his heart out of his chest.

“Phone goes to voice mail. I can get someone to pull her last dialed number.”

“Good. Do it.”

“What do you know that I don’t?”

Sal had to face the truth. “We had a fight. She said she wanted to fix things, but I was too mad at her for lying to you.”

“Lying to me?” Dean frowned. “About what?”

Tugging up his sleeve, Sal exposed the marks.

A storm rushed into Dean’s face.

“This is how I’ve been coping.”

“That looks like
not coping
in my book. That’s enough for me to rec a psych eval, to send your butt home.”

“It’s kept my head in the game. But this”—he thumbed the large one that now held eight stitches—
“
this
is why Hawk died. Because it ripped and made it impossible to maintain a grip. Cassie saw it and tried to help. But it was too late.
I
killed Hawk.”

Dean shook a finger at him. “We’ll deal with this later—I promise. But right now, we have to find Walker.”

Darkness swam, coiling and spinning. Disorienting. Submerging. He pushed upward, swimming toward the surface. Toward the light.

Gotta get out of here
.

The effort was brutal. Agony rushed over with every move of his limbs. Every contraction of his lung and heart. Searing pain like fire spread across his chest. Thin air repressed him. Suffocated him.

Yes. Suffocating. He couldn’t breathe.

Can’t breathe
.

He focused every muscle on dragging in a breath. But it resisted. Fought him as hard as an insurgent. His pulse screeched in his ears.

“Augh!” He arched his back. Balled his fists, demanding air.

“Rest,” came a firm, gentle voice.

Can’t… breathe… Help!

The world condensed, sliding in to a pinprick. Then vanished.

CHAPTER 34

Kabul, Afghanistan
7 April—1705 Hours

W
ith her close-up-and-personal escort navigating and determining Cassie’s movements, she lost all sense of direction and bearing. Except she knew with the sun falling into shadows behind and to the left that she was headed north. At least for a little while. Then they’d banked right. Buildings whipped past, rushing her through a city. Every now and then she saw blurs of people. But nothing to guide her as to where they were taking her.

What happens if I run out of gas?

Even as the thought hit her, the light blinked out.

Cassie resisted the urge to hit the brake and get rear-ended. Instead she let them deliver her into an underground parking structure where the lead vehicles slowed, forcing her to do the same until they came to a stop.

The man who’d yelled at her in the village to get going hopped out of the black SUV and came toward her. He rapped on the window.

Cassie rolled it down.

“Out,” he growled, flicking his wrist and motioning her out of the car.

Gathering what little courage she had left, Cassie shut off the engine, unlocked the door, and reached for her purse. She climbed out, clutching the purse to her chest.

Tall and fierce, the man hooked her arm, shouting in Arabic to the others as he hauled her around the cluster of vehicles to a wide steel door. An elevator. He slid a card in then pressed his thumb against a pad. A light flickered and a camera behind a shiny black dome whirred.

Unsettled, Cassie frowned at the man.

When the door slid back, he tugged her into the elevator. Two men followed, silent and stiff.

This was usually where the woman tells them she doesn’t know what they want or why they’d kidnapped her. But this wasn’t the movies. And Cassie did have something they wanted. As an intelligence officer, they could pry a lot from her thick head.