Edge of Courage (Edge Security Series Book 5) (13 page)

She’d killed a kid.

She thrust that thought aside and ran with Dylan down street after street, sticking to alleyways. She stopped him at one point.

“We have another job tonight,” she said, panting silently. Dylan looked barely winded, damn him.

He frowned.

“The lover’s boy. We get him out.”

Dylan nodded. “I’m in. You know where?”

“I’ve followed the lover home before.”

“Lead on.”

She took off and he followed.

D
ylan watched
Sarah climb up the stairs from the basement. The boy, Waqar, who slept down there, hadn’t wanted anything to do with Dylan. He hadn’t spoken or even made any type of sound, but he’d made his feelings known when Dylan had tried to carry him out of the house where he’d been held captive. Sarah had been able to calm his frantic rocking enough to explain she was there to help.

She showed a side of herself to the boy that she rarely showed others. The compassionate, nurturing side. It was the part of her that came out in her cooking and baking, and with Jalila. He suspected it was the part fostered by the woman Abuela that she’d mentioned. He wanted to know more about this side of Sarah.

Getting the boy out had been an easy snatch from an empty house in the dead of night. The lover had no security, keeping the boy in a locked room, another captured Yazidi
sabaya
, though a secret one. Sarah carried him on her back for the journey back to her place.

Seeing Jalila’s smile of welcome in the basement room seemed to ease the boy’s mind. Dylan decided to sleep upstairs. He’d rather the kids be safe and secure downstairs. The boy certainly needed to feel safe. His gut twisted at the thought of what he’d been through. Besides, Dylan wanted to be closer to Sarah if anything went down. He was through with hiding in the basement.

And it was time to have a little chat about teamwork. Sarah wasn’t going to get out of it.

“We need to go over the plan to get them out of here. They both have to leave ASAP,” Dylan said.

Sarah’s lips compressed before she pushed by him. She took the kettle and put some water on to boil. He was not going to let her ignore him. Not tonight.

“You need to start talking to me,” Dylan said. “I’m done with being the lackey you push around. I’m not Rakin. Tell me your plans for that boy.”

She took a cup and slammed it on the counter. “Don’t order me around.”

Dammit, how was she turning this back on him? Anger seeped through him. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

“What are you talking about?”

He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his voice lowered. He had to think of the kids. “You’re not a team player. I’m here to help and yet you don’t ask for advice or help. Hell, you don’t even tell me what the plan is, or what to fucking expect. Who the fuck trained you and why the hell are you even in E.D.G.E.?”

“Bastard,” she said, her voice low. “I’m in E.D.G.E. because I’m a competent operator, but I work alone. Rakin is here to help with my cover and to pass the intelligence on to his government. But he doesn’t plan the missions; I do. I’m just working like I usually do. I never asked to babysit you. I don’t need your help.”

His temperature spiked. “Babysit me?” he said, knowing a dangerous edge crept into his voice. He moved closer. “Oh, sugar, if I hadn’t been there tonight, you would have been caught. You froze after killing that guard.”

She whirled away from him and he knew he’d struck a nerve.

“What happened out there, Sarah?”

“Nothing.” She poured hot water into the cup and dug a tea bag out from a cupboard. Her movements were stiff and jerky, and held nothing of her usual grace.

“Liar,” he said, wondering why he bothered to push her. But for better or for worse, she was his partner in this hellhole.

And he still remembered their time together. Still wished for it back. He was an idiot.

“Talk to me,” he said. “It’s how teammates work together.”

She gripped the counter, still not turning to him, but her white knuckles told him he was getting to her.

“Tell me what made you freeze.” He kept his voice low, almost soothing. As if she were a traumatized child, like the boy downstairs. “Why did killing that guard upset you?”

Her head bowed forward and her shoulders slumped. “He was a child,” she whispered. “This place…it’s turning me into a monster.”

Dylan moved closer but didn’t touch her. Yet. “No, he was a soldier. A young one, but still a soldier.”

“One who maybe didn’t have a choice about being a soldier. You know how these fanatics brainwash the young.”

The way she stood so tense reminded him of someone close to shattering. It struck him that he didn’t want to see Sarah break. He couldn’t absolve her guilt at killing the teenager, but perhaps he could help her understand it. He turned and leaned back against the counter, deliberately slouching his body in a relaxed position. He stood close, but didn’t touch her.

“You remember the op in Nigeria,” he said. “We rescued those schoolgirls.”

Her gaze flicked up to his face once before settling on the countertop. But the way her fingers flexed on the counter, he knew she heard his words.

“No one told me that some of the insurgents holding them would be so young.” He stared at the wall as memories from that day played through his mind. “In the course of the rescue, I had to kill a number of them. But one in particular sticks in my mind.”

Sarah focused on him. “Was he young?”

“A teenager. But what those so-called soldiers had done to those girls.” He shook his head. “Teenager or not, brainwashed or not, he couldn’t be allowed to get in the way of the rescue. And I sure as hell wasn’t leaving him or his AK-47 behind me to kill me or one of my teammates.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not sure this story is helping me, or just letting me know that you’re also a monster.”

He straightened. God, this woman frustrated the shit out of him, but he could see the insecurity in her eyes, and it pulled at him to help her. “What it’s supposed to do is tell you that you’re not alone. In this job, we have to make tough calls. The soldier tonight was a guard for the headquarters. Do you think they let just anyone do that? No. Only those who have proved their loyalty somehow. And how do you think he did that?”

She didn’t look convinced, so Dylan gripped her arms. “That soldier—”

“Kid.”

“
Soldier
.” He gave her the littlest shake. “He would have killed us if you hadn’t acted so quickly.”

Her head bowed and a breath shuddered out of her.

He released her arms and tilted her chin up with a finger. “You are not a monster.”

Her eyes pleaded with him. “How can you possibly know? You don’t know me.”

“I know you,” he said. “You’re brave, smart, independent, and way too sarcastic. Jalila and Waqar are alive and safe because of you, and I know those aren’t the only two you’ve rescued.”

She started to shake her head, as if to deny his words, so he slid his hand from her chin, along her cheek and into her lustrous dark hair, silk against his callused fingers.

“I do know you,” he whispered again. “I’ve seen you fight for what’s right. I’ve seen how it pains you to lie to your friend, Amirah.”

His other hand trailed down her neck, lingering on the pulse beating wildly beneath her skin. “I know how much you love to laugh and how few opportunities you get.”

Her lips parted and he realized just how close he stood. Her dark eyes entranced him. “I do know you,” he murmured and because he could no longer resist, he kissed her.

S
arah sank
into the warmth and comfort of Dylan’s kiss. It offered her something, if only she had the courage to reach for it. Something she barely acknowledged she wanted—no, needed.

Then his arms pulled her tight to his hard body and the offer, though still there, took a backseat to the heat that surged through her, setting her skin aflame. Blood rushed in her ears as she opened her mouth under his. Her thoughts scattered.

He lifted her onto the counter and stood between her legs.

Her fingers dug into his hair, holding him close for her kiss. An urgency filled her, driving her to be closer. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You’re killing me, Sarah,” he whispered against her neck, nibbling and licking a path to her ear.

Her core clenched and she moaned.

He pulled back. “I want you.”

It was a statement but also a question. She wanted him too, desperately, but should she let him get that close again? Could she handle the aftermath?

“Stop thinking so much.” He kissed her lips gently, worshipping them with his, but he didn’t touch her otherwise, leaving her to make the decision.

The muscles of his shoulders and back tensed under her roaming hands. All his power contained, held back while he touched her with a butterfly’s caress. All that power waiting to be unleashed.

By her.

“Yes,” she whispered on a breath.

The effect of that one word was electric, rocketing through him and back to her. He groaned and deepened the kiss, lifting her off the counter. His big hands cupped her bottom as she wrapped her legs tight around him and he walked them to her bedroom.

Their clothes disappeared while he worshiped her with his mouth, his hands. That was the only word for the careful caresses, the trailing of fingertips, the hot breath fanning her sensitive skin. Her lips, her neck, and down to her breasts.

Skin to skin, he lay next to her on the bed, using one hand to touch her. “You are beautiful, Sarah.” His voice was deep and rough, sending a shiver through her.

He took a nipple in his mouth and she arched with the pleasure, his fingers brushing over the other peak. Just enough to send heat searing through her and to make her want more.

“Stop teasing, Dylan,” she growled. Sex between them was usually explosive, never slow and lavish like this.

He chuckled, his eyes holding a dangerous delight. He plucked one of her nipples, making her arch again. “Is that what I’m doing?”

She pushed his shoulder, putting her weight behind the movement, flipping him onto his back before she straddled him.

“Such a wild ride,” he murmured, his smile so sexy and all for her.

“My turn.” She ran her hands over his sculpted chest. She could do that forever—his hot skin, hard muscles.

He drew in a ragged breath under her touch.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and rubbed herself against his hardness, watching his face as his jaw clenched and his eyes glittered. His hands cupped her breasts; no longer content to tease, they took and tormented. She panted and rubbed her slick core against him again, closing her eyes as her pleasure mounted higher.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He flipped her back underneath him. “We’re going together.”

A laugh escaped her. “Try to keep up.”

“You should laugh more often.” He settled between her legs and she had to stifle a groan when he stroked against her.

She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to laugh while we have sex?”

“Tease.” He grinned and then plunged inside her.

All joking between them died when he started to move, slow and sure. The intensity gripped her and her heart thundered with each thrust.

Dylan’s piercing blue gaze captured hers as they moved together, climbing higher. He wouldn’t let her look away. Her heart cracked and fear sliced through her: fear of what he would see, fear of rejection. She closed her eyes and focused on the pleasure, riding it, losing herself.

“Open your eyes, Sarah,” he demanded, slowing his pace even more.

She hesitated.

“Look at me.” His voice was low and rough. “Don’t hide from me.”

She opened her eyes and his gaze captured hers again. She half expected a quirky smile from him, something to defuse the tenseness of the moment. But he didn’t. He moved even slower, gliding in and out, holding her captive. Her hands gripped his shoulders.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

She opened her mouth but no words came out. She felt open and too exposed.

He stopped and she whimpered. He nipped her bottom lip. “Do you trust me?” He thrust deep into her and pleasure streaked through her.

“I…I trust you,” she whispered, unable to break his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me, Sarah,” he said raggedly. “Not here. Not now.” His gaze seared her.

It wasn’t a lie. She swallowed hard and forced the words out. Her heart cracked a little more. “I trust you.”

He increased his pace. “Say it again,” he said, his voice a rough caress.

“I trust you.” Pleasure opened her to him, letting him see everything. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

He plunged deep, faster still.

He didn’t ask again, but the words came anyway. “I trust you.”

Then they climbed too high for words, his gaze never releasing her. Not until the very peak when the orgasm flung them off and she lost herself in the pleasure.

S
arah woke
with a delicious warmth cradling her back. Contentment eased through her and she marveled at the feeling. There was an indescribable luxury to it, one she hadn’t felt often. She snuggled closer to the warmth, her muscles loose and languid.

Safe. She felt safe.

She stilled for a second in wonder; even her breath stalled. The feeling of safety dissipated with her growing awareness and some part of her mourned the loss.

She opened her eyes.

Dylan lay behind her. His arm, heavy with muscle, curled around her and his large, rough hand cupped one breast.

Images from the night before brought heat to her cheeks. She lay on her side in bed with Dylan cradling her. She clenched her jaw. Dammit. She’d done it again: She’d let him past her defenses. With any other man she could have sex, enjoy it and move on. Each time she slept with Dylan seemed to create bigger cracks in her armor, letting him closer to the real heart of her.

Soon he would discover she had no heart. She was hollow inside, unable to have a real connection. She’d never learned how. She was a façade, not a real person. If she let him in and he found nothing inside her, nothing to keep a relationship going, then he’d leave.

And that would shatter her.

No. It was best if what was between them stayed as just sex.

She slid out from under his arm. He woke and she looked away from that bluer than the sky gaze. “I’ll start breakfast.” She grabbed her robe hanging from the bedroom door and slid the cool fabric over her arms.

He rolled over onto his back, letting the sheet fall to his waist and revealing a chest meant for a woman’s hands. Layers of muscle, built up from rigorous training, suggested pure strength but belied the agility and speed of his lean frame.

A slow, sexy grin built on his face. She was staring.

Her face heated and she yanked open the door.

“You can’t pretend, you know,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” She refused to look at him again.

“You can’t pretend this never happened, Sarah. It did and it will again. That’s just what’s between us. Why are you fighting it?”

She forced her voice to come out evenly. “You’re mistaken. I’m not fighting it. We have great chemistry. But that’s all we have.”

She strode to the bathroom and shut herself in. Her heart beat a hard rhythm in her chest. She washed her face with water, cooling the heat of her skin. Then she pulled a brush out and pulled it through her dark hair as she watched herself in the mirror.

Dylan wanted to know the real her. He wanted in. But who she really was, no one liked or wanted. No one else had stuck around once they’d known her. She’d entered the foster system for good at age ten when her mother had overdosed. Scared and alone, she’d learned how fast families sent her back when she wasn’t the perfect little girl that they’d wanted.

Most of the foster families hadn’t kept her for more than a year before giving her back. She’d acted out too often; she couldn’t be controlled, they’d said. She talked back, destroyed things. All she knew was a black rage had burned inside her in those early years, spurring her to fight anyone who tried to get close.

The older she got, the more she could control the rage, but it didn’t matter anymore. She’d learned to keep to herself. She wasn’t special enough to keep anyone’s attention for long, so it was better to save herself the heartache of trying to get close to someone.

She stared into her own dark eyes. Who was she? She knew she was doing some good here in Mosul, but lately it felt like she was twisting and tainting her soul in order to achieve that little bit of good. If she stayed here, would she lose her soul, give in to her rage and become a monster for real?

She tightened her robe and lifted her chin. She had a mission. Her real mission. Not one assigned to her, but one that she’d taken on. She was here to rescue the women and girls, the
sabaya
, from their plight. She was helping those who had no choice in their lives.

She would do this last task for E.D.G.E. She would see that Dylan made the exfil, but then she would stay. Here she could make a real difference. She would pretend to be a boy, as she had in Syria. She would oversee her network. Amirah and her husband would help her. She’d make them. Even if she had to turn into a monster to do it.

She went to the kitchen to start the coffee. Today they needed to get the boy into the network to smuggle him out of Mosul. They also had to come up with a plan to grab Besma. And they had to figure out how to get Dylan out of the city and to his exfil location.

The smell of coffee soon scented the air. She poured herself a mug and sat at the kitchen table, enjoying the moment of quiet.

Someone pounded on the front door. Her stomach lurched. What now? She jumped to her feet and went to the window.

“Who is it?” Dylan stood in the bedroom doorway, wearing only loose black pants and holding his pistol.

She pulled the curtain aside. “Shit. It’s the same three ISIS soldiers from before. And freaking Ahmed. That asshole brought them back.”

She turned back to Dylan. “Hide. I’ll handle this.” Even as she spoke, she threw on the
abaya
and veil hanging by the door.

They pounded again on the door.

“Coming,” she called in Arabic. She took a deep breath and released it, trying to get rid of the tension building in her.
She was a modest widow who lived with her brother.
She opened the door.

“
As-salamu alaykum
.” She kept her eyes lowered.

The main soldier with a long but neatly trimmed beard replied. “
Wa-alaikum salaam
, sister,” he said. “I am Hisham. We met yesterday. I am sorry to disturb you, but we need to speak with your brother.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s not here,” she said, thinking fast. “He left to get some supplies. I expect him back in another day or two.”

“See?” Ahmed said from behind the soldiers. “I told you he’s not been around.” Ahmed’s eyes glinted with satisfied malice. “And I’ve heard male voices coming from her apartment. She is a whore and must be punished.”

Sarah took a step back, her heart thudding hard. “I have done nothing. Ahmed is wrong.”

Hisham nodded. “Then you won’t mind if we look through your apartment, since you have nothing to hide.”

Shit. This was not good. She began to calculate how to kill the soldier in front of her and then Ahmed. She had no weapon close at hand.

Fuck, why hadn’t she slipped a gun under her
abaya
?

Too late now. Her hands clenched and her heart rate steadied as her training took over. She’d have to hit the lead soldier first. He had only a pistol holstered at his waist, but she could kick him in the knee, then strike his throat before grabbing the gun. She’d shoot Ahmed next, because the coward would run rather than stay and fight. She’d leave the other two to Dylan, certain he could take them.

The leader stepped forward, forcing her back, which she allowed. She bowed her head in supposed submission as his two men entered the apartment. She needed them inside, where no one could see what was about to happen.

Sarah maneuvered herself so she stood within kicking distance of Hisham. The two soldiers went to the first bedroom, but before they could enter, Dylan stepped out of the main one.

Dressed in black, he no longer held his gun, but a ferocious scowl made him look threatening. He stopped and yelled something at the men, waving his arms at the same time.

A spike of adrenaline rushed through her. She froze, no longer sure whether she was supposed to attack or not. She tensed, waiting for a sign from Dylan.

What the hell? He was yelling in Russian. And slipping into Chechen as well. She didn’t know Chechen, but could understand Russian.

“
Otvali ot moei zheni,
” he snapped at the leader in Russian.

She frowned.
Get away from his wife?

The man seemed to know Russian and moved away from Sarah. Then it hit her. Dylan had said wife. Her eyes widened. Wife?

“Calm down, my friend. You are married to this woman?” the leader asked in Russian.

“
Da
,” Dylan answered, nodding.

Hisham frowned. “Who are you? When did you arrive? I was here only yesterday and this woman proclaimed herself a widow. When did you get married?”

“I arranged the
mehr
with her brother by contract. I arrived yesterday and we performed the
nikah
last night. Her brother left afterwards to give us privacy.”

Hisham studied Dylan, who crossed his arms and waited with an overtly arrogant attitude. Sarah stayed close enough to Hisham to strike out if necessary, but otherwise kept her peace.

“You’re Russian,” he said.

Dylan shook his head. “Chechen. My brother-in-law convinced me to come fight for the true caliphate.”

Hisham nodded. “We welcome all true believers. What is your name?”

“Dalkhan Zakayev,” Dylan said without hesitation.

“Have you fought before, Dalkhan?”

Dylan nodded. “For the Chechen army.”

Hisham’s eyes widened. “A soldier? That is very useful. I am sorry to disturb you on the morning after your wedding, but my commander needs to meet you.” He stepped toward the door. “Please come with us.”

Sarah sucked in a silent breath. They were taking Dylan away.

“Let me get my boots.” He turned back to the bedroom.

Sarah took a chance and followed, keeping her head down. She entered the room to find Dylan lacing up Rakin’s boots, since Dylan’s were American-made combat boots.

“What the hell, Dalkhan?” Sarah whisper-hissed at him. “Why did you mention you were a soldier? Maybe you should have told them you were a pilot too? Why did you even come out? Why not try for the window?”

He stamped into the one boot. “If I had run,” he said, “you would be dragged out into the street and stoned as a woman of loose morals, or married to the asshole neighbor.”

“I would have handled it.”

He snorted.

“Why did you tell them you’re a soldier? They’ll insist you fight with them.”

“Jesus Christ, Sarah. Give me some credit. I have more value to them as a trained soldier. As a man with no skills, I would be easy to interrogate or kill. This way I’ll at least stay alive until the exfil.”

Didn’t the man understand what he’d done? Who he was dealing with? She put her hands on her hips. “Except now you’re going to headquarters.”

He stood. “It’s nice to know you’re worried about me.”

Is that what the black pit inside her was? Worry? It felt more like the first time she’d been captured by the enemy. Gut-twisting fear. She shook her head, her throat tight. “Just don’t die.”

His lips crushed hers in a short, hard kiss. Awareness jolted through her. Then he lifted his head, his gaze steely, and strode out of the room. A moment later he was gone, and two of the soldiers with him. The third took up a post outside the front door—to protect her, he said.

Or to make sure she didn’t leave.

O
utside
, the leader waved Dylan to the passenger side of a waiting Jeep, while he slid behind the wheel. His underling sat in the backseat, with his Makarov PM pistol aimed at Dylan’s head.

“My name is Hisham,” he said in Russian, before he glanced back at his friend. “Don’t mind Sa’id. It’s solely a precaution. Until we know for sure you’re who you say you are.”

“Do you have many people posing as Chechen fighters wanting to fight for the caliphate?” Dylan asked.

Hisham narrowed his eyes at Dylan. “You would be surprised. Who was your commander in the army?”

Dylan supplied a name that fit with his persona. Thankfully, he’d done some covert work with the Chechens in the previous year. He hoped he knew enough to get by an interrogation, because no matter what he’d told Sarah, he was certain he was going to be interrogated. The only question was how much pain they would use when they asked their questions. He clenched his jaw, not quite able to dismiss the images of torture his mind dragged out for him to see.

But at least he’d gotten these guys away from Sarah. There was only one guard left and she could handle him easily. If things went south for him here, then she could get out. Her cover wasn’t blown.

Yet.

“When did you decide to get married?”

“Sarah’s brother wrote to me and told me his sister needed a husband,” he answered.

“Where did you meet her brother?”

“When he traveled to Syria.”

“What were you doing in Syria?”

“I was there to train in one of the camps.”

“Which one?”

He supplied a name of a large, well-known camp and hoped they didn’t keep great records. Hisham lobbed questions at him all the way to the headquarters. Dylan kept the answers simple and concise, so that no matter how many times Hisham asked the same question, he wouldn’t hesitate with the answer.

By the time they’d parked in the lot behind the HQ, he felt secure in his story. All Hisham had done was cement his cover in place.

“Don’t worry, Dalkhan,” Hisham said. “My commander would just like to meet you, and then we’ll let you get back to your lovely bride.”

“
Shukraan
,” Dylan said, thanking him.

“Ah, is your wife teaching you our language?” he replied in Russian.

“Yes. She’s told me that I must learn. I figure if I’m going to spend any time here then I need to.”

“Smart man,” Hisham said.

He led him to an office on the first floor of the headquarters building, past men wearing either the black outfits of soldiers or the white or black
dishdashas
of holy men. He only saw two women walking the hall, completely veiled. They held short whips in their gloved hands, and wore headbands securing their veils with Arabic script written on them. Members of the al-Khansa
Brigade. He consciously ignored them as he strode by, making them move out of his way, as any good ISIS soldier would do.

The office Hisham led him to was empty. It held a single folding chair in front of a metal desk. “My commander will be in to see you shortly to process you. I will drive you back when you’re done here.” He left then, shutting the door behind him.