WAR: Disruption (7 page)

Right. He didn’t want or need her company. It was time to get on with her life. Still, a lump formed in her throat as she said, “Good-bye, Max Lansing. I hope things work out for you.” Turning on her heel, she walked down the road, feeling the weight of Max’s gaze. She didn’t understand this sadness at leaving him. She barely knew him. He was dangerous. He was probably the reason Crystal and the others had been killed. And yet, whether he was a spy or someone on the wrong side of the law, he’d saved her life. He’d been nothing but kind to her. More, he’d been a symbol of strength and security in the midst of the frightening chaos of the past twenty-four hours.

Keeping her back straight, she approached the gate, making sure she didn’t limp. Her thin tennis shoes had long ago rubbed off the skin on her heels, but she was accustomed to ignoring physical pain. Forgetting Max? For some reason she thought that would be much, much harder.

She reached the gate and found that the guard box on the other side was empty. That was strange. She pushed on the gate, but it was locked. “Hello?” She rattled the gate. “Hello?”

Noticing a buzzer set into the wall, she pressed it over and over again, resisting the urge to look back down the street to see if Max had left.

Finally, a local man wearing a tunic and slacks hurried toward her across the courtyard. “What do you want?” he called out. “We’re closed.”

“I—” She glanced up at the sign. “Isn’t this the United States embassy?”

“Yes, yes.”

She gave him a puzzled glance. “I’m an American. My tour group was attacked by rebels and I need help getting out of the country.”

The man drew close enough for her to see that he had gray hair interspersed with his dark curls. “I’m sorry, child. Your ambassador withdrew all the staff yesterday at the request of our president.”

“What?” She gripped the bars. “You mean everyone is gone? But—”

The man shrugged. “Without foreigners in the capital, the rebels have less reason to attack us.”

“But what am I going to do?”

“I suggest you go to the airport. There should be one more flight out today, but you best hurry. Once night falls there will be no more flights until curfew is lifted in the morning.”

Emily couldn’t help it. She turned her head to check down the street. To her relief, the truck still sat where she’d left it. She sighed. “Okay then, which way is the airport?”

The man gave her directions. After she’d repeated them back, she thanked him.

“God be with you, child,” he said, then walked back toward the main building.

Emily stood rooted in place, unable to fight back her disappointment. Trying hard to battle tears now that the promise of safety had once again been shattered. God, she couldn’t wait to get out of this country. Get back to her normal, boring world. Even if she still didn’t know what to do with her life, at least she wouldn’t be in constant danger.

She blew out a breath. Well, there was no use in wallowing in pity. She just had to hope that Max would be willing to help her a little longer.

“What’s up?” he asked when she returned to the truck.

She explained. “I’m sorry. I know you have other things to do, but would you please give me a ride to the airport?”

“Of course.”

She hadn’t realized how much she’d feared that Max would reject her until her shoulders sagged.

“Hey,” Max said. “I’m not going to just abandon you, okay? I promise I won’t leave until you’re safe.”

“Thank you.” She stowed her pack then climbed into the passenger seat.

EMILY DASHED UP to the line of scared, angry foreigners waiting on the tarmac just as the last flight of the day taxied toward the end of the runway. Her stomach sank and her fists clenched—she’d been so close to being free of this horrible place—but she refused to give in to emotion in front of all these strangers.

“You can’t just leave us here!” the man next to her shouted to the male airline representative who indicated that the crowd should return to the terminal. The man’s wife briefly met Emily’s gaze with frightened eyes before she bent down to comfort their two young children. The young woman’s fear struck a chord inside Emily, threatening to destroy her façade of calm.

No. She wouldn’t panic. Max had promised to stay until she was safe. He’d help her figure out her next step. Protect her.

“I’m sorry,” the airline representative said, adjusting his tie. “Come back in the morning and try your luck then.”

“No. I waited hours to get this far,” the man replied. “We’re not leaving. We’re going to stay right here so that my family and I are first on the plane tomorrow.”

The airline representative shook his head. “No one is allowed to stay. There’s a curfew. You have to go away.”

“Screw your curfew!” The man took a threatening step forward.

Taking their cue from him, other people surged toward the airline representative. “We want to go home!”

The airline representative bolted toward the stairs leading into the terminal as security vehicles sped toward the crowd with sirens blaring. Wanting no part of a fight, Emily turned away, moving against the tide of angry people. She was jostled and shoved so hard she barely managed to keep her balance. The fear that she might go down under the mob threatened to bring on a full-blown panic attack. She tried to suck in air, but it felt as if iron hands had seized her lungs. Oh God, if she panicked now, she might fall and be trampled to death. She might—

Strong hands clasped her arms and pulled her free. She found herself pressed against a familiar chest covered in a sweaty, dirty t-shirt. “C’mon, Em,” Max said. “Let’s get out of here before this turns nasty.”

Emily briefly let herself enjoy the sense of safety of being in Max’s arms, then pushed away as her panic receded. “So now what?” She bit her lip. “I don’t have money to pay for a hotel. The tour company took care of the big expenses, so we were told to just bring a little spending cash.”

He escorted her through the nearly empty terminal. “Never mind, a hotel isn’t safe.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

He stopped and looked down at her. “Do you trust me?”

“Sure.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he didn’t quite believe her. Then he gently removed her hand from her scars. The protective gesture was so instinctive, she hadn’t even realized that she’d covered them.

He didn’t release her hand and the warmth of his touch slid up her arm and chased away the chill of panic she’d felt out on the tarmac. The muted shouting from the angry crowd faded as she stared into his eyes.

“Don’t hide, Emily. Particularly not from me.”

Her whole body stilled. Not in fear, but with the sense that something had just changed between them. “Do you have a plan?” she finally found the breath to ask, breaking the weird tension.

Some deep emotion passed over his face, gone before she could fully identify it. “We’re going to find someplace quiet, then I’ll call for help.” His smile was strained. “Don’t worry, I’ll find us a safe place to spend the night. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be on the first flight home.”

HALF AN HOUR later, Max glanced back to where Emily waited inside the truck in the deepening twilight. He’d navigated away from the airport without incident, then driven along the coastal road until he’d found this quiet strip of beach where his satellite phone’s antenna would have an unobstructed view of the sky. Thankfully, Emily hadn’t protested when he told her to stay put. He needed privacy for what he was about to do.

He stared at the phone in his hands as if it had fangs. Such a simple thing, making a phone call. There’d been a time when he wouldn’t have hesitated to do this. When Kris and the others had been as close to him as brothers. When he’d known without a doubt that his teammates had his back and vice versa.

That was before everything at Unit 3 had deteriorated. Before Kris and the others had one by one given up fighting against the inept, hostile leadership and struck out on their own. Before Max had discovered proof that their suspicions were correct, that Dietrich was alive and someone in the U.S. military didn’t want him found. Before Max had quit and been branded a rogue for going after Dietrich.

His fingers started to lose feeling from clutching the phone so hard and he eased back on his grip. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to risk Kris and the others being hit by the political shit that was going to fly when Max took Dietrich down.

But Max didn’t know this city. He didn’t have any contacts here. Didn’t have any place he knew was safe to keep Emily until tomorrow’s flight.

Kris would know. He and half a dozen of Max’s former Unit 3 teammates had formed their own private special operations group. They’d originally been based in the U.S., but had relocated to West Africa about a year ago, joining forces with an infant counterinsurgency movement calling itself the West African Rangers, or WAR. Kris had been after Max for months to join them.

Max kept saying no. And would continue to say no until he’d put Dietrich away. If he survived the confrontation with Dietrich and if he wasn’t taken down by the traitor within the military, only then would Max consider joining his old team.

Which was why making this call was so damn hard. He didn’t want to field the usual questions. To deal with the regret that always hit him, making him wish he could say yes. Because he missed the camaraderie. Missed knowing that if he failed, others would step in to finish the job.

His eyes cut over to the truck. He had to suck it up. Emily needed help.

Taking a deep breath, he dialed.

“Montgomery Enterprises,” Kristoff said, giving the name of his front company.

“Hey, Kris, it’s me. Ah…Max.”

“Max, you motherfucker, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. Or have we degenerated to the point where you’re ignoring my calls?”

Max winced at the bite behind his friend’s words. Yeah, now that he thought about it, he had been particularly rude during his last refusal. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I was…indisposed. This is my backup phone.” Christ. How hard would it be to admit that he’d been captured? Yet he couldn’t say the words. Didn’t want Kris’s pity.

Not allowing his friend to comment, he rushed on, “I’m in New Accra, trying to get an American girl out of the country, but the last flight of the day was full. We need a safe place to spend the night.”

Kris huffed out a breath. “You surprise me, Max. I thought nothing mattered but your hunt for Dietrich.”

“I’m not a complete bastard,” Max muttered.

“No, you’re too much the white knight. Which is why you’ve been turning me down all these months, Mr. I’ll-Go-It-Alone-To-Protect-You.”

Max rubbed between his eyes, feeling a headache starting. “Can we forget all that for the moment? The girl’s tour group was attacked and she’s the only survivor. I just need a safe place for us to spend the night.”

“A safe place and some medical treatment for you, am I right?”

“Kris,” Max warned.

“Am. I. Right.”

Max sighed. “Yes, damn you. How’d you know?”

“We were partners for six years. I know what you mean when you use a word like ‘indisposed’ for Christ’s sake. Besides, don’t you think I know how you sound when you’re at the end of your reserves? Wouldn’t you recognize the same if it were me?”

He was right, but Max wasn’t going to admit it. Because if he did, he’d be closer to giving in and saying yes to the job offer. “So, a safe house?”

There was a hint of disappointment in his voice when Kris responded. “I’ll give you an address, but I need a promise from you first.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? A woman’s life is on the line here.”

“Max, you and I both know that you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her alive. Finding a safe house is just the easiest option.”

“Easy my ass,” Max muttered, earning a chuckle from Kris. “So what’s this promise?”

“I’ve got a mission that’s right up your alley.”

“Kris—”

“Max, trust me. You’re gonna want to hear this. It involves Dietrich.”

“Son of a bitch, Kris. Don’t mess with me.”

“I swear this is real. Accept the mission and I’ll give you the address.”

“Give me details.”

“Uh-uh. If you agree, I’ll fill you in once you reach the safe house. Do we have a deal?”

Bottom line, did he trust Kris? Always. He blew out a breath. “Yeah, deal.”

“Excellent. I’ll call you back in five.”

Max stared at the phone after Kris disconnected. Well, that had been…interesting. Dammit, what did Kris expect from him? Two excellent commanders had been killed when separate operations had gone horribly wrong at the last minute. A number of men had been injured. All because someone kept tipping Dietrich off.

Someone with that type of power could ruin Kris and his new team. Better that only Max have his career ruined.

The phone rang. Kris rattled off the address and the security code, then hung up before Max could thank him.

Emily was dozing with her head back against the seat when he returned to the truck. Damn, but he admired her ability to sleep any place, any time. He’d once been able to do that, having been trained to take cat naps when he could. But since he’d been hunting Dietrich, it seemed that every time he closed his eyes he ended up in the middle of a nightmare.

When Max opened the truck’s door, Emily blinked sleepily at him and his body stirred. Christ. Not now. He had too much to deal with to add a sudden attraction to Emily.

Yet although she wasn’t his usual type—he preferred sturdy, outdoorsy women rather than fragile city dwellers—he had to admit that her hazel, almond shaped eyes and delicate face were stunning, even covered with red dust and sweat.

She gave him a puzzled smile and he caught his breath. Her wide, bold mouth changed her face from dainty and prim into one with character, hinting at her surprising stubborn streak. Her mouth revealed the strength behind her fragile appearance. A strength only reinforced by the melted skin that ran down her neck and disappeared beneath the collar of her shirt. Anyone who’d survived that kind of damage had grit. And courage.

“Max?”