Hawk (The Quiet Professionals, Book 2) (39 page)

Sergeant Brian dropped against the seat, saying no more.

“Thank you.” Fekiria met the pale blue eyes of the man driving. “It is a long story, but I believe my helicopter was tampered with. I was taken at gunpoint into my chopper and forced to fly into the city. They killed my flight advisor—an
American
Air Force captain whom I admired and respected.”

Sergeant Brian flung around. “Wait. That’s the guy you were with at the hookah bar?”

The heat drained from her face. “He is dead. Please respect his memory.”

He jerked toward her, held her gaze, then yanked forward.

Though she wasn’t sure what that was about, she felt his disapproval keenly. His rejection. His anger. And why it scalded her heart, she didn’t know. She hated him, so arrogant, so…
direct
.

She drove her gaze back to the
nice
soldier. “They threatened me by making me think they were going to bomb the school with the girls.” Fekiria hugged Aadela a little tighter, the thought of the little one nearly dying. “I was so relieved when we veered off but then terrified when I saw the bomb hit that building. I swear I did not know what it hit. Next thing I know, I’m taking fire. The rotors were taken out, and I ejected.”

“So, you were the one we were trailing through the market?” he asked.

Fekiria nodded. “I knew if I could get to the school, Mitra would protect me.” She considered her friend, whose shoulders pressed against hers. Wanting to hide her tears and shame, she buried her face in Aadela’s soft hair, damp from the snow.

“She’s asleep,” Mitra whispered, nodding to the six-year-old.

“So, who hit the school?” Sergeant Brian asked without turning around.

“I’m not sure,” Fekiria answered. “Mitra was hiding from the Taliban, who wanted to kill her and the children.”

“For what?”

Fekiria snorted. “For existing. For wanting to learn.”

Sergeant Brian looked at his friend. “Taliban and Chinese terrorists. Working together?”

“It’s a stretch,” the man mumbled. “But pretty much everything we’ve faced recently is a stretch.”

“Yeah, but we’re talking Plastic-Man stretch here, Eagle.” Sergeant Brian shook his head and looked out the window.

Barreling down the highway in driving snow made it almost impossible to see. But Eagle drove fearlessly. She couldn’t pretend to understand why whoever it was forced her to bomb their building. Was it a coincidence? What were the odds that she’d end up in the car fleeing Kabul with the man who’d worked detail with her cousin’s boyfriend?

Eagle glanced in the rearview mirror. “You’re Double Z’s cousin, right?”

“What does that mean?”

“Sorry.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug as they barreled along the highway. “I mean, Zahrah—she’s your cousin?”

Fekiria nodded.

Eagle glanced at Sergeant Brian. “I don’t know, Hawk. There are some pretty wild coincidences here. Maybe too wild.”

“Right? See what I’m saying?”

“No—you’re implying it’s me, that I did this,” Fekiria snapped.

“Hey, you had motive and you had opportunity.”

“I would never do that. Unlike you, I haven’t been in jail.”

“Hey!” Brian again jerked toward her. “You—” He screwed up his mouth tight. “You got no class, throwing that at me.” Turned back around, muttering.

Guilt and shame slipped a noose around her neck. He was biting his tongue because he’d made a promise, one that had landed him in jail after defending her honor. At least, that’s what he thought it was. Maybe. She hadn’t let herself think about it much. All that mattered was that he’d promised to keep her secret—a secret that no longer seemed important. But he’d kept her secret, hadn’t he? That was why he would not say anything just then, though he seemed ready to yell at her the way her father and brother always had.

And yet, he hadn’t.

The dull lights of the panel cast a strange glow, accenting the shape of his head and shoulders. He was a thick mass of contradictions and…
strength
.

A weight pressed against her hand, and she looked over to find Mitra and Sheevah asleep. A few more minutes and the teen was snoring softly.

“What is the plan?” Fekiria whispered.

“The plan?” Sergeant Brian glanced back at her, a little calmer now. “To stay alive.”

“Can you not give me a straight answer?”

He shook his head and snorted. “You gotta be kidding me! Seriously. The plan is to stay alive.”

Eagle gave a sigh and rolled his eyes. “We’ll drive for an hour, or until we can’t see in front of us,” he said, pointing to the flurries rushing into the windshield. “Hit the next village or town and try to find a place to hole up for the night. If we can, we’ll reestablish contact with our team.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“Long story,” Brian said.

“What is your problem?” Fekiria demanded, tired of his snippy answers and attitude.

“You!
You
are my problem!” He shook his head again. “Every time you’re around, I end up fighting for my life.”

Eagle swatted his shoulder again.

Sergeant Brian raised his hand sharply. “What? It’s true.”

“Go easy. It’s been a hard night for everyone.”

He looked out the window, roughing a hand over his head and neck. He might seem angry. He might be gruff and annoyed with her. But Sergeant Brian would fight to the death to protect them. So would Eagle.

One just might be nicer doing it than the other.

Fekiria rested her head against the back of the seat, watching him. Wondering what made him tick. What type of man he was outside of this war and her country. The monotonous motion of the vehicle and almost whiteout conditions of the storm lulled her to sleep. She felt safe. She was even beginning to warm up.

“Watch out!”

P
op!

Crack! Crunch!

Brian’s head rammed into the passenger window as the car whipped around. Using the vehicle’s support, he braced himself.

But flipping. Tossing. Banging. Crunching.

Pain streaked down his neck. A scream rent the air. He begged God to stop them. Twisting, crunching, flipping.
Are we going to die?

Glass shattered.

Metal crunched. Whipped to the other side. Upside down.

Thud!

Violently, everything stopped. Silence. Deafening. He got his bearings—they were still upside down. Glass glittered on the fresh-fallen snow. An embankment or something had stopped them cold.

“Get out,” Eagle shouted. “It was a trap.”

Brian freed himself from the belt. Dropped to the roof of the car. The little girl was there, dangling unconscious from the seat belt. The woman was on the floor cradling the teen, who cried hard.

Where was Fekiria?

Brian’s gut clenched. His gaze shot to—
missing door
!

He scrambled out the opening, catching his weapon and ruck before leaving the vehicle. “Fekiria!” He clambered to his feet, using the car for balance against his dizziness. “Feki—”

Sparks flew against the belly of the car.
Shots!
Brian dropped to a crouch. Looked out over the snow-blanketed landscape. He waited for more, but none came. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe the spark was a gas leak or something.

But even that couldn’t be verified. As he got his bearings, he realized they’d crossed the road and landed upside down in a ditch. He crawled to the edge and strained to see into the darkening day and through the barrage of snow.

“Fekiria!” A sound carried on the voice of the wind, low and distinct. “Fekiria’s out there,” he said to Eagle. “Can’t tell where.”

The other three were crawling out of the overturned vehicle. Brian guided them to a safe spot, away from the upended sedan, and—if there was gunfire—away from stray bullets. He pointed to the ditch, which gave them cover and safety against the storm. “Stay.” He made motions with his hands but couldn’t tell if they understood. The older girl nodded, so he hoped she did.

“I’ll check across the road,” Eagle said.

“I’ll take the embankment.” Crouch-running along the ditch, he repeatedly called her name. She had to be in some serious pain after being thrown from a car like that. What if she hadn’t survived?

No, don’t go there. Stay positive
.

“Fekiria!” he shouted again, listening into the howling wind.

“Here,” came a faint reply.

Brian rushed forward and found her pushing up onto all fours. He dropped at her side and nudged her into a sitting position. “Are you hurt?”

Hair disheveled and loose around her face, she shook her head. Then quickly held it with a groan.

“That good, huh?”

She scowled, and he saw a trickle of blood on her face.

“Well enough to still hate me.” He chuckled.

“I do not hate you.”

Brian hesitated a fraction. Mostly trying to figure out why that made him so happy. “Good to know.” Really good. “Come on. Let’s get back.” He hooked an arm around her waist and helped her up—but not all the way. “Stay low.” The tire spikes. He’d seen them but not in time. They’d been placed there by someone. And that someone could be taking a bead on them right now.

It surprised him how small she was, her waist thin and her frame light, considering the size of the fight in the woman. He helped her back to the others, and she dropped down. The little girl threw herself forward—not at Fekiria, but at Brian. He caught her, startled.

“Eagle,” Brian shouted as he shifted the small child to his other side. “Found her!”

“Copy,” came a pretty distant shout.

The visibility out here in the storm sucked and played tricks with sight and sound. He thought he saw Eagle coming up from the south, but the way the snow swirled and danced, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just a shadow.

“We’ll have to walk,” he shouted to the girls over the howling wind, “to find shelter once Eagle returns.”

With a nod, Fekiria and the teen huddled together.

“Eagle, hurry up, man!” Brian squinted and strained but didn’t hear a thing. Or see a thing. In his arms, the little one went rigid. Let out a shriek.

A couple dozen feet down the road, a shadow coalesced into a form. Not just a form. A man. With an RPG tube. “Run!” He pushed around, the child in his arms. The women scrambling in front of him.

Seconds felt like an eternity. The snow some demon working against them. Clutching their feet. Slowing progress. They headed down the ditch, but lights swinging—
flashlights
!—shoved them up the embankment. Fekiria scrambled, grunting as she helped the girl climb.

“Go, go, go!”

Halfway up the incline, Brian heard the
thunk
of the grenade.

The powerful fist of the blast punched him into the snowy rock face. Shoving out his hands provided scant protection for the little girl clinging to him better than Velcro. He grunted but kept moving as white-hot fire behind them lit their path.

Ahead, Fekiria and the teen stared backward, eyes wide. The injured woman kept her head down.

“Move!” he shouted, quickly reaching them. “Take her.” He tried to extricate the child—whose arms and legs snapped tight around him again. Once Fekiria pulled the girl free, Brian knelt. Took aim.

He glanced up—saw Fekiria’s stricken expression as she stood over him, watching. “Go!” With a shove, he reacquired the targets.

Two men were running toward the ditch. Brian eased back the trigger once, twice. The men crumpled into the snow.

Brian pivoted, swung the weapon behind him—and froze.

Coming down the road, he spied at least a half-dozen sets of headlights.

Eagle.
Where’s Eagle?
“Eagle! Pops!” He scanned the road but couldn’t see anything. He had to trust the guy knew protocol. Knew to get to safety then rendezvous later. Brian knew the same drill. And he had four innocents whose safety he’d have to ensure as well.

Brian scaled the embankment and nearly cursed when he realized it only afforded a small break—straight across a half-dozen feet and up again, or they’d be exposed once their attackers caught up with them. Go north or south and it was an open plain.

For a second, a crazy, idiotic second, he wondered if the men were still chasing them. That was, until snow poofed up at them. “Keep moving. Up!”

Fekiria frowned but started climbing.

Scaling backward wasn’t entirely 100 percent effective, but it provided cover fire. It also told Brian how high they were going.
Not good, not good
.

But away from the enemy
was
good. High ground best. And the hill would provide cover once they could clear the incline. They’d get away and find shelter somewhere. Maybe find another vehicle to get them back to the team.

“Where?” Fekiria gulped air as she waited around a small outcropping. She moved again, stumbling. Caught and righted herself then continued…stumbling yet again. With the extra load of the girl, she was tiring quickly.

“Just go. Keep moving.” He caught up and lifted the girl from her arms. He tucked her into his jacket, felt her body trembling against his tactical vest. They’d need to find a way to better insulate her against the cold since she wasn’t walking, which kept the rest of them warm and their blood circulating. First, they had to get away from trouble and bullets.