Raptor 6 (53 page)

Dean nodded and held his stance as Hawk aimed his shoulder lamp into the darkness.

“Stairs.”

Keying his mic, Dean followed Hawk into the underground passage. “Underground passage in the kitchen. Raptor going in.” Behind him, Falcon, Harrier, and Titanis crammed into the space.

Light beams bounced and sparked against dust particles.

A half-dozen doors on either side. Raptor entered the first one. Dean held the tail because of his arm.

Harrier blurred to his right.

Dean swung that way, his mind coalescing the movement with the image his brain snapped. “Stop! U.S. military!” Even as he started that way, Hawk rounded him.

“What’d you see?”

“To the left. Someone ran left.”

They rushed forward. Hawk cleared the corner and moved into the darkness. Dean with him, both with their NVGs and cameras active.

Something swung out at them. Popped Hawk in the head and knocked him to a knee. Dean eased back his trigger at the wielder. In the microscopic second of muzzle flash, he saw someone else dart into another room. He heard the thump of the wielder falling but pressed on.

Three quick strides delivered him into a wide room. He shoved himself to the right and against a wall, pieing.

Through his NVGs, he saw Hawk do the same on the left. As their lines of fire crossed, Dean stilled. Two glowing forms—no, three. A man with a gun to the head of— “Zahrah!” Dean shoved forward with renewed purpose, stalking right as Hawk continued. Flanking the guy. Forcing him to choose one or the other.

The gunman pressed the barrel harder against Zahrah’s temple. “Stay back or she dies.”

“Not going to happen,” Dean shouted in Pashto, recognizing the man’s voice as Kamran. Oh sweet justice! Would God really let him repay this man for the harm he’d done Zahrah? “Release her and the child. Now!”

“Dean,” Zahrah said, her voice clear and focused. She wrapped her arms—were those chains on her?—around Rashid. “I’m ready.”

His heart sped. Ready? It took a second for the understanding to register.

He gave her a nod, then glanced at the kid. “Rashid, is that you, recruit?”

The boy nodded with a whimper.

“You done good, Rashid. Looked out for her just like I asked.” And he prayed—begged God to have Zahrah understand.
“Now!”

Bending at the waist, Zahrah drove her elbow into her captor’s stomach. When she did, it brought Kamran forward, giving Dean a clear head shot.

He fired—just as he saw the weapon pointed at him.

Deafening cracks peppered the stale air.

A strangled cry—from Zahrah!

Dean’s heart stopped as time spun into a deathly slow motion. She pitched forward. Back arched. Eyes wide. She stumbled. He lunged into her path as gunfire exploded. Dean quickly eased her to the ground. “She’s hit!”

Something loomed from the shadow. Dean whipped his weapon that direction. Verified the target in a split second. Fired. Twice.

Kamran Khan spun and raced for the door.

Dean focused on Zahrah. On her gushing wound. “Z, stay with me.”

Her hand covered his, snapping his gaze back to hers. A slow smile came to her face as a sleepy-peaceful expression smoothed out the knot between her eyes.

A stream of bullets flew from Hawk’s M4. “Take that!”

“Heads-up,” came a voice through the coms. “Twenty or more coming your way in two trucks.”

“Take them out,” Riordan’s command crackled through the coms.

Boom-boom!

Walls trembled. Dirt rained down.

“Z, stay with me. I’ll get you out of here.” When she didn’t respond, Dean touched her face. “Z—with me?”

Zahrah blinked. “Rashid,” she breathed, then her eyelids slid shut.

Rashid?
“Hawk—the kid!” Dean checked to make sure she was still breathing—good. He spotted a small form huddled in the corner.

They had to clear out. The enemy knew they’d found her, and they weren’t going to let her go easily. If he lifted her, he could risk permanent injury to her spine if the bullet was close. But if he didn’t—

Dean scooped her into his arms, pushed to his feet. After another nod to Hawk, who had the boy, Dean started for the exit, where Titanis and Falcon waited.

“Raptor coming out with objective plus one. Both wounded. Need medevac,” Falcon said as he led the way, clearing each corner in a swift—but painfully slow to Dean—way.

A shooter appeared at the end of the hall.

Falcon fired but never stopped moving, even to step over the combatant’s now-still form. Up the passage and back into the kitchen. There someone came at Titanis with a knife. The SAS soldier managed to turn the blade into the attacker’s stomach and put him down. Falcon led them out the back door.

Light pushed against Dean’s eyes. He struggled, his arm pounding, as he hurried toward a secure spot where he went to a knee and set Zahrah down. “Z.” Eyes closed, she lay unresponsive. He ripped off his glove and jabbed two fingers against her carotid.

A second large boom detonated from the far side of the compound. Dean covered Zahrah against any falling debris. The gunfights, the shouts, all went silent.

Worrying over the gray pallor seizing Zahrah, Dean keyed his mic as he looked at the sky. “Mockingbird, where are those choppers?”

Camp Marmal, Mazar-e Sharif
02 August—1345 Hours

R
hythmic beeping numbed his mind as Dean sat in the private room. Cold plastic dug into his legs after having occupied the chair for the last three hours. Forearms resting on his knees, he stared at the bed. At Zahrah propped on her side in the bed. Clinging to life.

“Anything?”

Dean glanced to the side. There stood General Peter Zarrick. Zahrah’s father. Haggard but looking a bit better since Raptor returned her to American-held soil. “Nothing. Not yet.”

“Since Nianzu escaped, Burnett and I are concerned they’ll come after her again.”

Dean nodded. He’d had those thoughts countless times. It’s why there were round-the-clock guards. “Figured as much. Ticked we didn’t find Sadri Ali. Those Chinese are slippery thugs.” Dean’s gaze went to Zahrah, lying in the bed. So vulnerable. “If they come after her again …”

“Official word on her injuries will be memory loss and limited loss of cognitive functions.”

It took Dean a second to process the words. “In other words, when Nianzu reads the report, he’ll believe Zahrah useless now.”

“That’s the plan anyway.” General Zarrick nodded as he appraised Dean. “You did real good out there, son. Thank you.”

Surprise drew Dean up.

“Thank you for bringing her back.” He sighed. “But with the way you’re sitting in here, pining over my girl, I guess you’re looking to steal her from me.”

“No, sir.” Dean’s heart thumped against what he immediately knew was a lie. “Well … maybe.”

“I won’t make it easy for you.” Though gruff, the words had a tease to them.

“Wouldn’t expect you to, sir.”

“Good.” He grinned. “Heading down for some java. Want some?”

“No, sir. Thank you.”

Alone with his thoughts, Dean shifted his leg and felt something press against him. His hand stilled over the pocket, remembering the flower bed as he and the team loaded in the chopper. It was silly. Borderline stupid. He’d probably just throw it away.

C’mon, Z. Don’t give up now, not when I realize how much I need you
.

She’d taken a bullet to her back. Almost severed her spinal cord. Docs weren’t sure how much neurological damage there would be. Dean didn’t care. He just wanted her to wake up, set those beautiful eyes on him, and give him that killer smile. Maybe another kiss.

He glanced down.
God, I know You didn’t bring her this far to die on me
. Somehow—yeah, he knew that. What he was supposed to do with this, with the budding feelings that had upended his whole life plan …

He wasn’t even really sure what love was, but he had feeling it was a lot like this mess in his head over Zahrah right now. Terrified he’d screw it up and hurt her. And yet more terrified not to have a chance with her. In his pocket, he wrapped his hand around … a promise. Closed his eyes.
Just a chance
.

A sound drew his attention to her bed. She moved her foot and turned her head.

Dean was on his feet and at her side in a heartbeat. “Zahrah?” She moved her foot!

Beautiful brown eyes latched on to his face. She smiled. “Hey.” Groggy and a bit unfocused, but beautiful.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I got shot.”

“That might be because you did.”

“But we got him, right?”

Dean faltered. “Kamran’s dead. Nianzu has vanished.”

She closed her eyes in a pained way.

“Hey.” Dean touched her head. “The important thing is you’re alive.”

“Yes, that’s a very good thing,” she said. “You came for me.”

He eased closer, leaning over the bed. “I told you I would—and I said I promised not to die. You, on the other hand, I forgot to extract that promise from. You cut it close.”

A small smile then worry crowded into her gray-rimmed eyes. “Rashid?”

“He’s fine—we thought he was shot, but he was thrown into a table corner or something. Big knot on his head, but fine, poor kid.”

She lifted a hand and touched his face. “Dean …”

He felt powerless beneath her touch, the soft whisper of her voice.

“I still love you,” she said, her voice softer. More serious.

Dean wished he could say it back. He wanted to—was a cad for not returning the sentiment. But that was some serious commitment. One that scared the tar out of him. Casted arm over her head on her pillow, Dean bent down. “You picked a very thickheaded guy to feel that way about.”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

He wrapped his hand around hers, eyes less than an inch from hers, and tucked the promise there as he bent down. “Get better so we can talk.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Ah, good morning, Miss Zarrick.” A dark-haired man entered the room. “I’m Doctor Prevost. How are you feeling?”

Heart in her throat, Zahrah felt the delicate bloom on her hand, unable to look at it right now. Unable to bear the disappointment if it wasn’t what she thought it was. Dean still stood to her left, but he’d retreated as the doctor spoke.

“Sore. I’m very sore,” she finally managed to answer.

Dr. Prevost lifted a plastic cup from the tray by her bed. “Here, sip some of this for me.”

Grateful for the water, she wanted nothing more than for the doctor to leave the room. Dean to leave—she didn’t want to look at what he’d tucked into her hand as he leaned over, smelling every bit the hero she’d fallen for months ago.

“I’d like to check your vitals and check your reflexes. Is that okay?”

Dean hedged closer. “I’ll wait outside.” He stepped into the hall and stood against the wall, hands tucked up under his armpits. Two other soldiers joined him.

“Can you move your toes, Miss Zarrick?”

She did, wondering.

“Your legs?”

She shifted her legs out, unable to ease onto her back because of the bullet wound.

“Good, good. With an injury, we want to be sure there isn’t damage to the spinal column or nerves.” He patted her shoulder. “In a few days, you should be okay lying on your back. Anything else hurt?”

Zahrah shook her head and drew her hands closer to her face. “No.” When would he leave?

“Any questions or concerns?”

Just that you won’t ever leave
. “Nothing, I’m good. Tired.” Would that work? Surreptitiously, she took a sniff between her fingers.

“All right, then. I’ll leave you to rest.”

Oh, thank goodness.

“And that’s the most important thing right now—resting so your body can heal itself.”

“Right.”

“You’ve been through a lot, and that can really take its toll on the body and its ability to heal quickly and properly.”

Zahrah groaned at his rambling—but coughed through it. “Sorry.” Dean and the two men walked away from her room, and her heart hitched.

“Maybe more water?”

“No,” she snipped. Then smiled. “Just rest.”

“Very well,” Dr. Prevost said as he scribbled on her chart. “I’ll leave you to rest. If you need anything, just press the button.”