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Just as bullets pocked the ground at her feet.
Chapter 8
Jose hooked his arm around Stella’s waist and slammed them both against the wall. Gunfire popped from the other side of the building and damn it, he could use some professional distance right now. Even knowing she was a trained agent didn’t stop him from wanting to wrap himself around her and insulate her from danger.
But he also had a duty to protect their base, the best way to keep her safe. He whipped his weapon from the holster. A klaxon wailed, waning and increasing, pulsing through the organized chaos. People on foot raced for cover while the armored trucks squealed to a halt as personnel inside went into attack mode.
No enemy forces were in sight. Gunfire and mortars all came from outside the fence in distant tree lines and from behind three crappy trucks. Security forces in the watchtowers returned fire. The too damn familiar sounds of battle swelled.
A whistle sounded, the distinct piercing wail of a…
“Incoming!” he shouted, hooking an arm around Stella’s waist a second before the rocket-launched grenade exploded twenty yards away. Concrete spewed into the air like volcanic ash. He tucked Stella closer, debris stoning his back. Even with his body on high alert, still he couldn’t help but catch the scent of her hair, the softness of her body.
Damn it, she distracted him, made him weak when he needed to be strong more than ever.
She wriggled in his arms and yelled, “We need to find better cover.”
“Roger,” he answered, already scanning for the closest door, assessing to see if it would be locked or open.
Fine-tuning his ears, he listened for the direction of the attacking fire. “Stella, the battle’s winding down.”
“Or they’re reloading.”
Still, the gunfire diminished, becoming more sporadic by the minute. As quickly as the attack began, it was over. Two of the rusted out trucks beyond the gate now were in flames. The third truck raced away, spewing a cloud of camouflaging dust in its wake.
The siren wailed in the aftermath, and shouts from within the base grew louder along with the echo of something else… Something unexpected. Barking? He peered around the corner and a big-eared mutt streaked out into the open road.
Three airmen sprinted after the blur of reddish brown dog. Shouts of, “Pumpkin, Pumpkin, stop, sit. Come on… Damn it…” made it clear the pooch wasn’t new to the neighborhood.>Walking away wasn’t an option anymore.
***
Ajaya shuffle-walked beside his two “guards” and tried like hell not to wet himself. He wanted to run away into the dark night and just disappear, except there was no place to hide even if he could get past the fences and captors.
He could only stick by the two agents leading him to his quarters—if that was really where they were taking him. He understood too well about prison cells and torture chambers.
He was so damn scared and tired. It had been a dangerous move climbing onto that helicopter. But at that moment he had been more afraid of the people chasing him than the aircraft he had run toward. All he had been able to think about was leaving, flying as far away as possible. He’d been terrified one of the hostages would recognize him and accuse him of horrible things. God, how he envied them being able to leave. Even now, he could see some of the hostages in the distance loading up on a plane to go.
He prayed the interrogators believed him when he said he wanted to get away. That much was true. He had even offered up the information about the pattern in the cloth to make them trust he told the truth.
But it was so scary figuring out how much to say without getting himself in trouble if the others took him back.
Keeping pace with his silent guards into the dimly lit night, he resisted the urge to ask them where they were going. To beg them to help him escape to… Where? He had nowhere to go. He just wanted to be alone and safe for one night. Just one night to sleep with a full stomach and no fears.
“Sir, where are you taking me?” he asked the one who had been called Mr. Smith. The fact that he had not been passed over to people in uniform frightened him. He should not warrant this level of attention.
“As I told you earlier, we are escorting you to a room.” Mr. Smith walked soundlessly. The guy was downright creepy with his dark suit and black hole eyes that didn’t have any emotion. “There will be a guard outside your door—for your protection too—until we check out your story.”
“Why would I lie?” He sounded desperate, he knew, but maybe that was good.
“Because you have been identified as one of the kidnappers.”
“I am just a kid.” A kid who felt a million years old.
“All the more reason for us to look out for your safety as well.” Mr. Smith’s jacket parted to reveal a gun.
The other man, Mr. Brown, stopped outside a concrete block building. “Let’s get the kid a Happy Meal and tuck him into his race car bed. I’m beat.”
Beat? Ajaya flinched back, pressing his spine against the warm wall.
