Heroes In Uniform (47 page)

But there was nothing more he could do for the time being. He’d taken up enough of Jackson’s time and the guy needed to sleep. “Well.” Wade pulled a hand free of his pocket as he stepped close to the bed. “Good to see you on the road to recovery. All the best to you and Maya. Say hi to her for me when you see her.”

Jackson shook his hand, held his gaze. “I will. Take care, man.”

Wade was at the door when the PJ’s voice stopped him. “Hey.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jackson.

Jackson nodded once, a show of respect. “Thanks for everything you did for us. Not that it probably means much to you now, but I know how much you sacrificed to get us all out of there, and I want you to know I appreciate it. All three of us owe you our lives. Make sure you keep that in mind when you get back stateside.”

Jackson had correctly guessed that transitioning into life back home in the States wasn’t going to be easy for Wade. Not knowing what to say to that, he inclined his head and left. When he turned the corner in the hallway, he spotted Erin standing at the nurse’s station, doing paperwork. She looked up and met his gaze, her pen halting in the middle of whatever she was writing on the chart. “He still doing okay?” she asked, all traces of hostility and suspicion gone.

“Fine.” She was a pretty little thing, especially now that she wasn’t scowling at him. Her chocolate-brown hair was pulled up into a tidy bun at the back of her neck, and her bright green gaze met his unflinchingly, which was a shock in itself. Aside from Maya, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had looked him dead in the eye like this, but he was pretty sure it must have been before he’d gone undercover. Muslim women were forbidden from making eye contact with men outside their family. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until now.

His gaze trailed lower, to the smattering of freckles that marched over the bridge of her nose and spilled across her cheeks. Even disguised beneath those shapeless green hospital scrubs he could make out the shapely curves of her body. Curves that would fill a man’s hands as he stroked them over her naked skin.

Christ, it had been a fucking long time since he’d done that, too. He jerked his attention away from the swell of her breasts, but not before he saw the nametag on her chest.
Kelly
. Lieutenant Erin Kelly, he mused. Parents must be Irish or something.

She straightened, looking at him expectantly, and he realized he was standing there staring at her like a total fucking moron. But after living for so long in what amounted to the Stone Age and having little to no contact with women the whole time, being at Bagram was proving to be one hell of a culture shock. Meeting a hot, confident woman like her on his first day back was yet another surprise.
Stop staring and say something polite.
“You have a good day, Lieutenant.”

“You too, Mr…” She raised her eyebrows in question.

“Sandberg.”

She nodded, gave him a pleased smile that made an adorable dimple appear in her left cheek. “Mr. Sandberg. See you later.”

He nodded and walked toward the exit, fully aware that he’d never see her again. Because by this time tomorrow he’d be halfway to Kabul, where he’d catch a flight back to civilization.

He should be feeling excitement or even relief at the prospect of finally going home after all this time overseas. Except all he felt was an increasingly familiar sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know where the hell home was anymore.

Danger Close: Chapter Two

Rahim sat very still on his pallet in the main room of the elder’s mud brick house as the doctor they’d brought in from Pakistan checked the wounds in his left arm. One bullet had passed right through the back of his upper arm; another had pierced the flesh of his shoulder before the ballistic vest had stopped it from plowing into his chest. The left side of his ribs were bruised all to hell, making breathing painful. A cough or a sneeze made him break into a sweat. If not for the Kevlar barrier over his torso that he never went anywhere without, he would have died on that battlefield two days ago.

“You’re not going to be able to do much with this arm for the next week at least,” the doctor told him in Urdu as he injected him in the hip with another dose of antibiotics. His third, and still the fever raged as his body tried to kill the infection.

Rahim suppressed a shiver, aware of how hot his face was, of how badly his skin hurt and his bones ached. All he wanted was to sleep, but he couldn’t afford to rest now. And probably not for the foreseeable future, either. He’d have to leave this place soon. The pressure was on. “Will I need more antibiotics?”

“Yes, but I can give them to you in pill form if you need to travel.”

“Good. I won’t be here much longer.” Even here surrounded by friends and supporters in the remotest part of the Hindu Kush Mountains, he knew he couldn’t let his guard down. Not when he’d just been betrayed by the man he’d trusted more than anyone else since he’d joined the mujahedin and became a soldier of Islam rather than a brainwashed pawn of Uncle Sam’s. Loyalty in this region shifted as quickly as the winds did, and Rahim knew that only too well.

He was still reeling from the blow. He’d suspected there was a mole leaking intel to the Americans, but he’d never for a moment considered it might have been Jihad. Youssef had vouched for him as a reliable informant for the Pakistani ISI. Whatever his real name was, Jihad had played his part to perfection.

The doctor finished and Rahim nodded his thanks. One of the villagers escorted the man outside as Rahim struggled back into his clothing and put a new vest back on beneath his tunic. By the time he was finished he was covered in a film of sweat and the pain in his arm had his stomach churning. The burn of betrayal stung far worse.

He’d made a grave mistake in placing all his trust in a man who’d in reality been a spook for the CIA. But Jihad had served him so faithfully over the past three years, the last two as his second-in-command. It was incredible, actually. The man had never once slipped up. Ever. Not even to accidentally slip into English when he’d overheard Rahim speaking it. No, nothing about him had ever given Rahim a single moment’s suspicion or pause. He planned to rectify that mistake and avenge that humiliation by whatever means necessary.

And yet, although they were now on opposing sides of this war, Rahim couldn’t help but admire the man’s dedication to his cause, all the sacrifices he’d made to give up his old life and transform himself into Jihad so seamlessly. Having guarded Rahim’s life with his own for the past three years, Jihad was now his most dangerous threat.

Rising from the pallet, he swayed a moment and wiped the cooling sweat off his face with his sleeve before calling to the man waiting outside. “Safir.”

A moment later the heavy rug covering the doorway shifted and the twenty-year-old stood in front of him, his dark eyes scanning Rahim’s new bandages. “Shall I assemble the men?”

“Not yet. What did you find out on the phone call?”

Safir stepped away from the door and walked into the center of the room to face him. He had finished school in Islamabad before rejoining his family in the tribal region. Rahim had known the family for more than three years and owed them a great debt. Of all his remaining followers, Safir was the only one whose loyalty he didn’t question, though he’d never fully trust anyone again. Lessons learned the hard way tended to stick in a man’s head. “Our contact got a call from an American source less than an hour ago. Very reliable.”

Rahim paused in the act of sliding his sidearm into the holster at the small of his back. “What did he say?” They’d been looking for information about Jihad. Who he really was, where to find him. Fortunately, Jihad’s betrayal had pissed off a lot of the locals, who in turn were more than willing to pass on the information they heard.

“He gave a name and a possible location.”

Rahim’s fingers tightened around the grip of the pistol. “Who is he?” It enraged him even more to think of the name that traitor had taken. Jihad. Must have loved the irony of that, the bastard.

“Wade Sandberg.”

Rahim stared at him as the name registered. A Jew? A fucking American
Jew
had done this to
him
, a devout Muslim and soldier of Allah? Not only betrayed him, but helped the U.S. Sec Def and the others escape and compromise every operation he’d had in the planning stages? A wave of rage rushed through his bloodstream, so strong it stole his breath.

When he calmed enough to be able to pull in a rough breath, his mind was already racing. The only saving grace about this entire catastrophe was that even Jihad hadn’t known the exact details of the last operation Rahim had been working on. He could still go ahead with it once he made a few last minute changes, but he’d have to move the timeline up considerably. “What’s the location?”

“The American said Sandberg is flying out of Kabul International late tomorrow morning. Apparently he’s at Bagram right now.”

“He’s flying out on a commercial flight?” That didn’t make any sense, given that he had to know Rahim would be hunting for him. “Did the contact say how he was getting to Kabul?”

“No, but if he couldn’t get a military flight, he might be driving there.”

Rahim frowned. Maybe Sandberg and the CIA weren’t expecting him to be a threat now that he was wounded and in hiding. But not on the run, he reminded himself vehemently. He would never
run
like a cowardly dog, not from anything or anyone. “And the American just offered up all this information, why?” If this so-called “source” wasn’t just feeding them false information or trying to lead him into a trap, that is. Rahim was far more wary today than he had been even a few days ago, and he wasn’t about to do anything stupid. He could act from out here in the middle of nowhere without placing himself in direct danger and do what he could to avoid enemy drones and satellites out looking for him.

Safir shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s worth checking into, don’t you think?”

Oh yeah, very worth it. He gestured impatiently with his right hand, determined to ignore the pain and fatigue pulling at him. “Bring the senior commanders in. I need to coordinate everything immediately.” Starting with placing people at the Kabul airport and the checkpoints on the roads leading from Bagram to Kabul by morning.

If Rahim’s wish came true, the only way Wade Sandberg would be leaving Afghanistan was in a pine box.

* * *

Erin woke with a start when the alarm on her phone buzzed in her hand. She’d fallen asleep holding it again. Stifling a groan as she rolled over in her bunk, she smiled as her sleepy brain realized what day it was. In a few hours she was going home.

Sitting up, she took a look around. The other four bunks in the B-hut were empty. Maya was now in Qatar, of course. Devon had long since been back in Washington State recovering from injuries sustained during a medevac mission gone terribly wrong, Ace was no doubt out hunting in her gunship again, and Honor was—

The door to the hut swung open to reveal the woman in question standing there. The aviation maintenance sergeant’s cheeks were pink and she was breathing hard as though she’d run all the way here from the hangar. She was still dressed in her grease-stained utilities, and strands of her strawberry-blond hair had come loose from her tidy bun. Her pale blue eyes held an almost frantic light as she met Erin’s gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Erin demanded.

Honor stepped inside and shut the door behind her. “I just came from the hangar. They flew a damaged Chinook in from Kandahar this morning. It had bullet holes all over it. There were bloodstains in the back all over the deck, and on the pilot-commander’s seat. I know it was Liam’s bird, and no one’s telling me anything.”

Oh, shit
. Erin pushed the covers off her and stood up. As a pilot with the Army’s elite Night Stalkers, Liam often flew the kinds of dangerous missions like the one to extract Maya, Jackson and the Sec Def yesterday. No surprise that Honor had seen the damage and put two and two together on her own. “Are you—”

“Have you seen him?”

Erin shook her head. “No, but—”

“Have you heard anything?” Her face was pinched.

Hating to see her so upset, Erin waved her over. “Come here.”

Honor tightened her jaw but did as she said, stopping a foot from Erin. The smell of oil and hydraulic fluid drifted in the air between them. “Just tell me.”

Erin set an arm around Honor’s tense shoulders and drew her down to sit stiffly beside her on the edge of the bunk. She understood how tough this was. Three years ago she’d gotten the call that her boyfriend David was KIA and it had been devastating. “I didn’t see him personally but I know he was admitted to the hospital in Kandahar yesterday and that his injuries were minor. He was treated and released after a couple hours.”

At that Honor turned her head to stare directly into Erin’s eyes. A don’t-you-dare-bullshit-me look, capped off by a sheen of tears that made Erin’s heart clench in sympathy. “You’re
sure
?”

“I’m sure.” She squeezed Honor’s shoulder, rubbed her palm over it in a show of comfort. “He’s okay.”

Honor swallowed and looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “Okay as in he’s well enough to still be on active duty? Or okay as in he’ll be fine once he recovers from whatever happened to him?”

“I’d say the first, but maybe only a few days if it’s the second.”

Honor searched her eyes again for a moment, as if she was trying to decide whether Erin was telling her the truth or just giving her a bullshit story to calm her down. She must have decided Erin was being real, because at last she dropped her face into her hands and took several slow, shaky breaths. Erin rubbed a soothing hand over her friend’s back, not knowing what else to say. At least Honor knew Liam was all right.

She knew they’d been engaged until a few months ago, before Honor had come here on her most recent tour, but that was all. It was clear Honor still cared very much for him despite the breakup. What the hell had happened to make them split when it was so obvious that Honor wasn’t over him?