Trinity: Military War Dog (30 page)

Her hair, once wet with snow, now hung stiffly and needled her face.

“See, Meixiang, what you cost those around you?”

Wooden and cold-chapped, her legs at least held her upright. Jianyu had pushed them up the pass and higher into the mountain, higher into the gaping maw of a pending blizzard. “Your idiocy is again showing,” she said in Mandarin. “Taking us into the blizzard—we should be moving away. Nobody is dressed for this, not you, not your men. You’re a fool!”

“Jia,” Toque hissed from the side.

Jianyu’s gaze flicked to the last remaining member of her team.

One pawn left.

And if he didn’t shut up …

Darci whirled and shoved her booted heel into Toque’s face. The impact sent him flying backward. The momentum tilted her world. Her legs tangled over each other. She stumbled. Landed on her knees. To the side though, she saw Toque. He’d landed strangely quiet in a bed of freshly fallen snow with a soft thump. Unconscious.

Maybe they’d leave him there. Then Toque would rouse—hopefully before his body had frozen through—and get to safety.

Two Yanjingshe fighters hauled her upright. She shuffled to a stable footing.

“Pick him up.” Jianyu stalked to her. His eyes, which she once thought held power and beauty, darted over her face.

She had never feared him. Not for her own safety. But today …

He shoved a hand forward—right into her side.

“Augh!” Darci swooned and flopped into the elite guard. Tears squeezed past the agony and escaped her resolution not to be weak. Head hanging, cold, wet hair in her face, she gathered the shattered pieces of her courage. He’d always taken pride in his skills as a fighter. He’d never used them on her though. Times had changed.

“Shoot him.”

She jerked her head up before she realized the mistake.

“Wait.”

Darci closed her eyes.

“He means something to her. Bring him. He may be useful.”

She snorted. “The only thing he’s useful for is annoying me.”

Jianyu’s breath plumed in her face. “Then it appears we have something in common.” He inched forward, then grabbed the back of her neck and jerked her closer. “But I told you once I do not share what is mine.”

         Twenty-One           

S
ir, she is injured and slowing us down. We should leave her.”

Jianyu turned and raised his weapon, aiming at Lieutenant Colonel Tao. “You would question my authority?”

The man’s chin drew up as he swallowed his objections. “Of course not, Colonel.”

Lowering the weapon, Jianyu looked at Meixiang. So beautiful. Her skin like the pale blossom of a lotus flower. Her lips not the rouge color he’d tasted more than once, but blue. And trembling. She would die unless they could find shelter.

She had destroyed his plans by showing up.

Yet created the perfect storm by showing up. He’d need to make a marginal change to his plans, but through her, he could show his father what true power looked like. Not just to his father, but many more. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Millions.

“She will die, Colonel. It’s hypothermia.”

Jianyu jerked to the side. “Huang.”

The captain snapped to the front and stood stiff as a reed with a salute. “We need shelter. And a doctor.”

After a curt bow, the man trotted down the path that wound up the mountain.

“We cannot go farther up. The meeting—”

“Will wait.”

The lieutenant colonel’s disapproval shone through. If he could not master his feelings, Tao would prove not to be as useful as Jianyu hoped.

“The storm is our delay,” Jianyu muttered, so his men would cease their grumblings and accusations, the very ones they thought he could not hear, the ones they whispered when they thought the wind would swallow them.

But they would see … they would all see soon enough.

Bagram AFB, Afghanistan

“We leave first thing in the morning.”

Heath rose from the chair. “What—how?” Did Jibril really expect him to leave at a time like this? When Jia was out there, maybe bleeding out, dying?

Calm and confident, Jibril lifted a shoulder. “It is time.” “We had one more week here.”

“And now we do not. With the storm and the conditions here,” Jibril said as if talking about cookies someone had eaten. “Ghost, it is time for us to go home.”

“No!” Everything in Heath writhed. Coiled. Poised, ready to strike. He turned a circle, looking … for what, he didn’t know. Something to hit? Someone to yell at? Something to change this outcome!

When he looked up, Jibril had closed the distance. “There is a great torment in you, my friend.” Somber green eyes held his. “I am concerned.”

Heath swallowed. “I know.” Shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I know. Since I came back here, I’ve been … rigged.” Ready to blow. He dropped into the chair hard. “I was so sure that coming back would solve everything. I mean, I was scared, sure, but a part of me was convinced I’d find what I’d lost here, or that they’d somehow realize how wrong they were in putting me out.”

Jibril eased into the seat beside him. “And now?”

Heath straightened, elbows on the arms of the chair as he stared at his feet, at Trinity’s snout that stretched over his boot. “Just more questions. More confusion. More doubt. More—” He bit off the word, but it hovered and careened against his yearning for wholeness: failure.

“So, you would say that this trip has been a waste, a failure?”

“No.”
I’m the failure
. “I’ve enjoyed this, enjoyed the times I got to share my story, encourage those who are still here fighting, feeling forgotten, alone.” Heath shoved a hand through his hair as the extra time spent with Jia sped through his mind like a F-16. “I’ve met some great people.”

“The girl …”

Heath looked into a knowing gaze. He smirked, never able to keep a secret from him. “Jia.”

Jibril nodded, his longer-than-normal hair dipping into his eyes. “Chinese.”

“Yeah.” He reclined and stretched out a leg. “But …”

“But?”

With a shrug, Heath sighed. “She was into me, I could tell, but she wasn’t willing to go the mile.” He sat up. “We had lunch, hung out, but there was still a huge emotional mile stretching between us. And now she’s up there in the moun … tains.” Was she even alive?

She needs me
.

Which was the stupidest thought he’d ever had, because he couldn’t even hold it together during one intense situation. “I guess … I just need to know she’s okay.” He stood and paced to the other wall five feet away. They’d been detained per orders of the base commander as soon as they’d stepped onto the base. “It’s stupid.”

Jibril smirked. “Why?”

Heath shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I don’t even know her.” Scratching the scar on the back of his head, he tried to make sense of it. “I mean, we spent like two days together. That’s it.” He grunted and returned to his seat. He probably looked like a loon, pacing. “Besides, she told me it wouldn’t work. Gave me a fake e-mail address.”

“I think,” Jibril said as he folded his arms over his chest, “she did not want you pining over her when there was no realistic reason you would ever see each other again.”

Heath laughed. Hard and short. “Thanks. With friends like you …”

“But you are a warrior, Heath.”

Slouched down till his head rested against the back of the chair, he eyeballed his friend.

“You have been trained, and it has been ingrained in you to fight for what you believe is right.” Jibril smiled. “Every soldier is taught to hold his ground.”

What was he saying? The trap was set, Heath could feel it. And he wasn’t about to step into it.

Trinity sat up and glanced at Heath, her eyebrows bobbing. As if saying, “Ask him what he means. I want to know. This sounds good.”

“Traitor.” Her ears were soft and soothing between his fingers. “Well, go on.” He looked to Jibril. “Spit it out before you bust a gut laughing at me.”

Laughter spilled through the room. “When was the last time you took interest—like this—in a woman?”

“Jibril, didn’t you hear? She cut the tether.”

“I think, like you, she is afraid of what could be.”

Morose—no, morbid thoughts trapped Heath’s mind. “We aren’t even sure … she might be dead.”

“Then why is your heart still fighting?”

A door squeaked open, and a guard thrust Hogan into the room. “Hey!” She scowled and drew her arms back.

Trinity and Heath lunged—Heath to Hogan, to catch her before she did something stupid. And Trinity to protect him.

“Got it,” Heath said to the specialist who’d manhandled her.

The guy’s face flushed. “Sorry, sir. We asked her … she wouldn’t—”

“Understood.” Heath nodded. “We’ll keep her safe here.” When the door closed, Heath turned. “You said a bio break! What was
that
about?”

“Fact finding.”

“You mean snooping.”

“You spell it your way, I’ll spell it my way.” Unrepentant and rebellious, she sauntered to a soda machine. Kicked it. She spun toward them. “I was this”—she pinched her fingers till they were millimeters apart—“close to finding out what was going on.”

All pretense of civility drained from Jibril. “Timbrel, you must stop this.” He went to her. “This organization cannot gain a bad name because you won’t cooperate.”