Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (40 page)

“An accident,” Dean put in, nodding to Sal.

“I–Is he okay?” Her voice tremored.

“No,” Sal said, looking down. Then back to her. “He… died.” They couldn’t tell her much because of security and protocols. And because they didn’t have much to go on. They hadn’t even recovered his body yet.

A shaking hand went to her mouth. Brown eyes glossed beneath tears. She shook her head. “No.” Tears spilled over her cheeks. “No!” Her shoulders shook. “
No!
He’s strong. He doesn’t quit. Don’t you tell me he’s dead!” She punched to her feet.

Sal rose with her, miserable. “I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t true. He—”

“No!” Fekiria pushed against him. “Get back.” She waved her hands. Then clapped a hand over her mouth. Looked pale as if she’d vomit. But she gulped, lifted her chin. Pushed him again. “No, it’s not right!” She thumped his chest with a fist. “He’s a fighter! He’s—”

Sal wrapped his arms around her. She crumpled against his chest, sobbing. “I’m sorry.” He held her like she was a fragile cup. “I’m so sorry.”

Zahrah was there and pulled her cousin into her arms then lowered her to the sofa.

“No!” Fekiria shoved Double Z back, stumbling toward the door. She held out a hand, again looking like she’d be sick. Then she darted to a room and slammed the door, her sobs carrying like agonizing howls.

Numb himself, Sal stood there. He hadn’t even told her how he died. That it’d been his fault. He shifted and noticed Dean holding Zahrah, who cried as well.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “I couldn’t tell you until you were here for security reasons.”

Alone and guilty, you miserable creature
. Sal stalked to the door. Yanked it open and threw himself down the steps. At the vehicle, he threw his fist into the door. Once. Twice. He gripped the hood and wished he could dig his fingers through it. Dig through until he could find some ounce of hope that his life wasn’t completely and utterly cursed.

Dean cupped Zahrah’s face in his hands. He thumbed away her tears. “Hey.”

She looked at him, blinking away more tears, their moment suffocated by the gut-wrenching sobs of her cousin.

“Look, I know—it’s an awful time, but I have to do this.” He reached into his pocket, sensing an urgency. That any day someone could deliver news to her about his demise. He held out the box. “I wanted a romantic dinner and time alone, but—”

Zahrah’s tears burst anew.

Was he wrong to do this? He glanced to the door of Fekiria’s bedroom.

Warm hands held his, wrapping around the box.

“I want to marry you, Z. I don’t care when, but I want you to wear this. I want you to know there is no doubt I want to marry you. This world is so messed up, and we can’t know when our lives will end—but if I ever leave before… I want you to know how much I felt. How much I wanted with you.” He opened the box, revealing the sapphire-and-diamond engagement ring. “Will you?”

Zahrah’s eyes were slits as she cried, still holding a hand over her mouth as she nodded.

Dean slid the ring on her finger. Pulled her close. Tight. “Losing Brian made me see how much time I’ve already lost. I don’t want to waste any more.” He kissed the top of her head. Then kissed her. “I love you, Zahrah.”

CHAPTER 36

Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
8 April—0830 Hours

A
ccording to records, Cassie had been missing for approximately eighteen hours. Reports had come from a village north of the base about an attack against a female journalist. Sal couldn’t detach his mind from Fekiria’s reaction. How else had he expected it to go? But nothing could’ve prepared him for the rawness of it.

Ashamed as he was to say it, he didn’t even feel that level of loss when Vida died. Regret, yes. Guilt—heckuva lot. But all-out grief? No. He’d mourned her. They’d been together for years, but more like friends.

Truth was, he was experiencing more grief right now, thinking of Cassie. Wondering what happened to her. Feeling as if his chest had been ripped open, knowing full well what jihadists and terrorists did to captured American females.

“There aren’t any female journalists in the region,” Dean said. “At least, none on record.”

“It’s possible,” Titanis began slowly, “that these villagers thought Walker was a journalist.”

Sal sat. Listened. Worked through the churning ache in his chest. He threaded his fingers and squeezed them, turning, rubbing. Fighting hands that had warred on behalf of innocents for years. But now he couldn’t do a thing for Cassie. Yeah, he’d given her heck for the situation at the Towers. For lying to Dean. But he didn’t mean it.

He wasn’t sure what he meant. What he wanted.

No, that wasn’t true. He knew what he wanted. And it scared him.

He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he wouldn’t mind a chance to see if he could fix things with Cassie. Even though he’d thrown her own desire to fix things back in her face.

Why?

Didn’t make sense. She was right there. Willing and open to him.

And Mila—man. Every time he thought her name, he saw Fariz’s bloodied, dying little sister.

“Sal?”

He looked up, surprised to find the team’s eyes on him. He straightened. “Sorry?” Planted a hand on his leg. Played off that he’d been distracted.

“Want to go out and recon?”

“Recon?” He straightened. “Cassie’s missing and you want to recon?”

Titanis grinned. “Yeah.”

But then… everyone was grinning. What’d he miss?

“Thought we should check out some villages. Do what Ramsey ordered—play nice with the locals. See if they’re okay on supplies.”

“See if they need a brute squad,” Schmidt said.

They wanted to sit in a field and converse with locals while Cassie was God-knows-where. Whoever had snatched her probably holed up in some—wait. Out there. “Yeah.” His brain finally caught on. “We should check some villages. Make sure they’re okay.”

After the way Ramsey had breathed down their necks, and with them on the verge of busting his infidelity and collusion with an enemy into the open, they needed a wide birth around the brigadier. “I’m more than ready to get out of here and stop sitting on our thumbs.”

“Hooah!”

The heat annoyed him almost as much as trouncing in the Humvee for three hours over unfriendly roads and with men who chatted—which required a hefty amount of shouting over the din of the vehicle—and taunted Dean for finally proposing to Double Z. But right now, Sal figured pretty much everything would annoy him. Cassie was missing, and somehow, that tormented him.

Probably because he knew he’d treated her wrong. He’d placed blame on her that belonged right on his own shoulders.

“Heads up,” Dean shouted over his shoulder. “Village is less than two klicks north. Five mikes.”

The men donned their helmets, double-checked their weapons, and tightened up the loose camaraderie that’d existed for the last few hours. Sal bounced his legs, anxious to get out there and track down any sight of Cassie.

Dean headed into the village and Riordan’s team pulled up the rear.

“Nice and easy,” Dean said before he pushed open the door.

“I’ll just take a stroll.” Sal climbed out, patted his brain bowl, then drew his weapon around in front and held on as he walked a circle around both vehicles. Watching how the locals reacted to their presence should tell them a lot. Nervous was one thing. Silent was another—indicated defiance. And trouble. Clamoring would tell them the people were angry about something and needed help.

His boots crunched over the rocky road as he paced.

“Ghost town,” Harrier muttered as he sidled up.

Sal nodded. “Too quiet.” None of the people had come out, though he knew plenty were here. A ball rolled along a side alley though there was no wind. Where was the kid who’d been playing with it before they rolled in?

“Eagle,” Sal subvocalized as he made his way back toward the Humvee. “What’re you seeing? Where is everyone?”

Dean’s expression mirrored the unease roiling through Sal.

“Thermals show a full house—but that’s it. They’re all inside.”

“Let’s round ’em up,” Riordan said as he trudged over.

Sal nodded.

“Ok—”

An expletive shot from the coms.

Sal stopped, listening. “Eagle?” He shared a look with Dean that said this was bad. Eagle was the strongest Christian he’d known. For him to curse, things had to be bad. Sal pivoted, stalked back down the road, weapon up and ready, as he looked toward the mound Eagle had set up on. “Eagle! What’s going on?”

“I didn’t see them. Have no idea”—
huff, pant
—“where they came from. Or”—
pant, pant huff-
—“Augh! They’ve got me.” The words sounded grimaced.

Sal knew a painful truth in that second. Eagle had run not only to save his life, but to buy time to tell the team they were in trouble. No sooner had Sal made it to the last hut than he saw it. Air trapped in his lungs. He stared at the line of SUVs barreling at them from the north side of the village. Were there more? Either way, Raptor was in trouble.

“Incoming!” Sal spun back and sprinted toward the vehicles—and running with all his gear proved as difficult as trying to run in water. “Three SUVs headed our way.”

The team scrambled and took up defensive positions, avoiding the vehicles that could become boiling cauldrons if hit with an RPG or an IED.

Sal threw himself around the corner. Past Dean, who knelt with his weapon trained out. He whipped around and went to a knee, covering Dean’s six.

“This smell like an ambush to anyone else?” Riordan shouted. “Thinking they grabbed your girl, Falcon, because they knew we’d come after them.”

Your girl
. He wouldn’t dignify that with a response. Because he wasn’t sure if he liked it or resented it.

“Well, lookee here,” Harrier said. “Suddenly the locals come out to play.”

True enough, a half-dozen men and boys peeked out the door. They were talking and pointing. Nodding. “They know something.” Sal shimmied closer, wanting to hear.

“Yeah, like we’re all about to get blown sky-high.”

But the locals didn’t look afraid. They seemed… curious.

One of the men said something about a girl. That made Sal’s pulse surge. They were in the right place then! But then he said something about “same one.”

“What’re they saying?” Riordan asked.

“Not sure,” Sal shouted. “Said something about a girl and the same one. But I can’t hear or make out the rest.”

“Sounds like we’re in the right place, then,” Titanis said.

“Right place, wrong time?” Harrier asked.

The vehicles lurched into the U-shaped village and swung their big black SUVs around. And not just the three he’d seen, but five. Before they came to a full stop, men were falling out, weapons up, faces dark with forbidding intent. Shouting, they rushed toward the team.

“Get down, get down!”

The men wore keffiyehs and standard dirtied tunics. There had to be twenty or twenty-five. Outnumbered and outgunned, Raptor hesitated. Looked to Dean, who waved for them to cooperate.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Schmidt muttered.

“Easy,” Dean said.

Sal tensed as two men came toward him. His nature was to resist. Fight these terrorists off with everything in him. But he saw something in Dean’s expression that restrained him.