Sirens filled the air as the police grew nearer. No doubt many of the guests had sent texts and made calls to alert the authorities. But the local police wouldn’t be able to do what he could. He had to make sure Uhuru didn’t become another victim of the terrible violence terrorists inflicted on the innocent.
“On it. Don’t you fucking die up here, you hear me,” Enzo said, then walked briskly back to a group of four other men, relaying the directions.
Julian looked up and saw Mena staring back at him, her dark eyes wide with fear, concern and … love. She stood like an ethereal vision, watching over him as he tried to save this teenager’s life. He needed her to go with the others, not wait for him on the rooftop. He needed to know she was safe.
“Mena,” Julian said.
She took a step toward him, but he held up a hand, warning her not to come any closer.
“I’m not leaving you,” Mena said, her voice unwavering in its determination.
“Yes, you are. When the bodyguards over there start to take the guests out, you need to be the first one out of here,” Julian said.
“I can’t go … not without you,” Mena shook her head.
“You have to. You’re too beautiful, too distracting to me right now.”
Mena laughed. “I can’t believe you’re trying to joke at a moment like this.”
“You trust me?” Julian asked.
The guests were moving now slowly past Uhuru and filing through the French doors, exiting the rooftop.
“Of course I do,” Mena said.
“Then I’ll meet you downstairs,” Julian responded.
Mena took a deep breath, hesitating as the guests continued to exit the courtyard. He needed her to be safe and not wait for him. But would she walk away from him knowing that his life was in danger? If the situation was reversed, he knew there was no way he’d leave her side.
“Please,” Julian whispered.
Mena looked toward the sky, then turned and walked away, blending in with the last of the crowd of other guests leaving the rooftop.
“God bless you, sir! God bless you for saving us,” a man said as he passed Julian and Uhuru.
He wasn’t blessed yet.
As soon as the last guest had cleared the rooftop, Julian brought his attention back to Uhuru. The boy was still, his breathing ragged despite the peaceful look in his eyes trained on the scissors in Julian’s hands.
Reaching for an edge of the fabric, Julian made the first cut.
Chapter Thirteen
Cheers roared into the night as Julian, escorted by a dozen military and police officers, emerged from the loading dock in the alley behind the Tribal Museum and Irungu Center. Many of the guests had remained, standing behind barricades set up by the Nairobi police department. Uhuru trembled uncontrollably in Julian’s embrace. After cutting the fabric strategically, Julian removed the vest without disturbing any of the wires. As he carried the kid down three flights of stairs to the first floor of the Tribal Museum, the military bomb experts rushed past him, heading to the rooftop.
Julian was shocked he’d pulled it off. Memories of the steps he’d watched the Nigerian explosive specialists perform hundreds of times had slammed into his head, guiding his actions. In reality, the truth was his special ops training had kicked in, instinctively, and took over. He’d practiced for years how to handle situations more difficult than this one. The thoughts, the actions, the decisions were as familiar and easy as breathing for him. This time, he’d been able to free a teenage boy from the heinous mission that al-Harakat or some other terrorist faction wanted him to do—killing prominent Nairobi business and social elite.
Two EMTs rushed toward him, extracting Uhuru from his arms. The kid looked back at Julian, relief, and gratitude in his eyes as he was led away. Julian’s shoulders slumped, the weight of the evening crashing over him. He needed to find Mena. She could have died tonight if he hadn’t been on that rooftop. If he hadn’t noticed the signs.
Turning toward the guests crowded behind the police barricade, Julian took a step then stopped. Nine soldiers dressed in olive fatigues converged upon him. Guns pointed in his face, they ushered him toward the loading dock, now empty of the guests and security guards who’d brought them down safely. What the fuck was this about?
“Julian Montgomery,” a male voice boomed from the shadows of the dock.
A knot tensed in the back of Julian’s neck as his mind registered the voice. One from his past. One he’d rather not have to cross paths with again.
“Just a few questions for you if you don’t mind.” The man emerged from the darkness, stepping onto the wet pavement in the alley. Despite the friendliness of his tone, Julian knew it wasn’t a suggestion but a command.
Julian crossed his arms and waited, but said nothing.
