Page 13 of North

He shifted in the cramped seat, his legs too long even for first class. Six-plus hours since Chloe’s call about the train crash, and he was still hours away.

A flight attendant ghosted past, checking seat belts in the dim cabin. Most passengers slept, their reading lights dark dots in the ceiling.

North couldn’t sleep. Shouldn’t sleep. But the hum of the engines, the darkness pressing against the window, pulled at him, dragging him into slumber. Dragging him back. Back to another night, another rescue…

The Nigerian air pressed hot and thick against his skin as he crouched in the darkness. Sweat trickled down his back under his tactical vest, and his night-vision goggles caught every movement in the terrorist camp.

His buddy Jake crouched beside him, Ham’s voice in their earpieces as they waited for the order to execute. But North’s attention fixed on the massive tamarind tree where the three female hostages huddled.

Where she huddled.

Even with her head covered by a hijab, he knew her. Selah. He’d watched her deliver food to the wounded guards from their convoy, seen the way she’d leaned toward the injured man earlier, probably whispering words of comfort. Always taking care of others, even now.

The team had shown up two days ago, watched the encampment, the thugs inside who spent time harassing a young guard, smoking and drinking.

“There are two separate camps. One for the soldiers, the other for the captives. Our ladies are kept under the tree. The others are about twenty feet away, out in the open.”

The others—his buddy Fraser, a former Delta operator named Colt Kingston, who seemed to be constantly trying to antagonize the guards, an interpreter from the refugee camp, and Dr. Hanson, the focus of the envoy’s tour-gone-south.

For two days, North had made camp on his belly in the dust while insects climbed over him, as the heat baked dirt into his pores, as he sweated under his ghillie suit.

Now, finally, Ham, the team leader, was ready for them to make their move.

“I need you and North on the extraction of Selah and the other women.” Ham’s voice crackled in his ear, talking to his teammate Ranger. “While Skeet and Jake cause trouble in the big camp, you grab the ladies and meet us at point Charlie.”

Ranger affirmed with a noise into his comms.

“Affirm.” The word burned in North’s throat. He’d been standing by for two days, knowing she was here, waiting for this moment. Trying to figure out why he’d let her go over six months ago. Of course, back then, he hadn’t known where he’d fit into her plans.

So off to Africa she’d gone.

And here he was, months later, following because she was in over her head.

In the darkness, crawling up to the camp, Ranger said quietly, “You got me, North?”

“Yep.” He’d already spotted Ranger moving in the grasses. The odor of burning rubber and creosote soured the air. Move fast, Range.

“Ready,” Ranger finally said.

And Ham’s voice burst into North’s ear. “Execute, execute, execute.”

Ranger took off, and North tracked him, his eye on the guards.

He watched as a guard went down silently, Jake’s knife finding its mark. The second guard turned, but North pulled off his shot.

Neutralized.

Ranger had reached the tamarind tree.

Shots cracked through the night. The camp erupted in chaos as the team engaged the terrorists on the far side.

North imagined Ranger showing his patch, identifying himself, imagined Selah’s beautiful blue eyes widening⁠—

Run, sweetheart.

As if hearing his thoughts, the group emerged from under the massive tamarind tree, fleeing across the grass to a mostly forested area populated with jackalberry trees.

He watched their six as they ran in their cumbersome abayas. One of the women went down—Ranger didn’t see her.