He’d been all over the world, and I’d wanted that for myself.
I took a breath and let it out slowly?—
My eyes flashed open as I heard a creaky metal sound not far away from here. It sounded like a big door was being pushed open.
Just like that, my heart was hammering again.
Please don’t find me.
I pulled up my feet as much as I could in order to take up less space. The pilot was likely going to peer inside, right? The cabin area or whatever it was called was walled off from the cockpit, so I was hoping I could at least stretch out once we were in the air.
Someone was out there. I heard more sounds, a voice and boots against cracked pavement, and then the door to the cockpit opened. I sucked in a breath.American.He was the pilot. He was in contact with someone to report he’d made it to the location. Operator Hyatt, he called himself? Noura’shusband had said, quite dismissively, “They are all former military.”
I went rigid as the door to the cabin was opened.
“Affirmative on the fuel,” he was saying. “Wilco.” The door was shut once more.
Holy crap, someone have mercy on my heart.
Moments later, a screeching, mechanical sound invaded my ears, and I instantly knew it was the canopy above opening. Hope flooded me. He hadn’t spotted me. He was starting the engine. We were about to fly out of here—or whenever the helicopter was ready. I didn’t know how these things worked, despite having hitched a ride several times. My first year as an international aid worker, my team and I had flown in and out of Syria on a similar aircraft, and they were popular because only one pilot was required.
My stomach flipped as the helicopter shook, and then we were off the ground.
A rush of emotions surged through me, tears blurred my vision, a grin took over my face, and I gripped the base of the row of chairs in front of me. I didn’t know if the shit-eating grin was from relief at getting out of here or the sheer excitement of flying incredibly fast. Holy hell, I hadn’t expected this. Operator Hyatt took off as if he were being chased, and maybe he was. Or rather, he might have hostiles guarding the air space.
I rolled forward against the next row since the operator flew pitch-down. My dad had explained it to me at an air show once. Nose down, rotor forward, quick speed ahead.
I couldn’t help it. I let out a hysterical laugh and promptly slapped a hand over my mouth. There was no way Operator Hyatt had heard me, but still.
Six months of hell were over.
CHAPTER 2
James Hyatt
The Hindu Kush. Long time no see, old friend.
“HQ requesting status update, Operator. Over.”
“This is two-zero-four-five-two-one,” I replied. “Do you have your panties in a bunch over there?”
Quinlan’s chuckle came through. “Maybe I’m worried about my friend. You know I hate it when you guys fly blind.”
I wasn’t flying blind. I just wasn’t on the radar. On the off chance someone was picking up our signal, no location would be divulged.
“Approaching safehouse destination in approximately seven minutes,” I confirmed. “Go back to your desk job, buddy. All is well in our old stomping grounds.”
“Roger that. Enjoy your week off the grid. Out.”
He made it sound like I was going on vacation. It was a week of waiting in the mountains before I could pick up three operators in Jalalabad. These days, we couldn’t take a step here without having to wait for the dust to settle before we considered a second move.
A few minutes later, I started my descent.
There was a ridge about half a klick above the lowest point, where my safehouse waited for me. Pure luxury. A single-room stone cabin with a woodstove and a bucket. Two years ago, before an assignment in the middle of winter, we’d been smart enough to add insulation. The finest clay one could find in the area.
I checked the panels as I got closer to the ground. Nine degrees on the nose, landing gear down, a quick prayer for the helipad’s condition, check, check…
I touched down smoothly and reported to HQ that I had landed, and I initiated my safehouse protocol. One check-in daily at noon.
