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A handful of men rushed by the gate with weapons drawn, heading toward the west, the direction the helo had disappeared. Ahmed and the other guard returned to the gate, stepping outside to question the leader of the small group.
Omari turned his head for only a few seconds, but that was all Luke needed. He launched himself across the few feet that separated them, grabbed him from behind and applied just enough pressure to snap the bones in his neck before the commander could make a sound. When Luke let him go, his lifeless body slid to the ground. Seizing the Russian Makarov pistol the dead man had dropped, Luke opened fire on the two guards, while the group of men scurried for cover.
The heavily guarded gate was his only way out.Luke was as good as dead if he stayed where he was, so he might as well get in the game. Bending low, he raced a zigzag path toward the opening, ignoring the pain in his extremities from the cruel tortures he’d endured. He was counting on the notoriously poor marksmanship of the local recruits with the Russian-made AK-47. Three men outside the gate went down under his offensive, including Ahmed, before the pistol Luke continuously fired ran out of ammunition. He shrugged off a twinge of regret that Ian’s murderer had gone down so easily. A slow, painful death would have been Luke’s first choice.
The men crowding around the outside of the gate fired wildly in his direction, but Luke kept moving forward. An instant later, something slammed into his chest, stealing his breath and stopping him in midstride. Unable to move or even breathe, he hung there for a split second, while time stood still. His gaze locked on his goal, a mere half-dozen feet ahead, and he staggered backward, his efforts to stay on his feet ineffectual, until he sprawled in the dirt of his prison yard.
Damn! Get up! Pull it together!He tried to position his legs to stand, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Then the first wave of pain seared his nerve endings. He couldn’t catch his breath. He’d been hit.Those lousy desert rats got in a lucky shot!The taste of blood filled his mouth. Panic seized him, but he refused to give it more than a few seconds.New objective—stay alive.Failure is not an option.The SEAL mantra had been drilled into him again and again during his training until it automatically followedfuck thisin his vocabulary. One corner of his mouth curved upward in a half-assed grin, and he managed to draw a partial breath.
His gaze focused on the light at the top of the gate, he moved his hand upward toward the source of the pain, stopping when he felt the warm, sticky liquid that coated his shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut and struggled until another breath temporarily took away the ache in his lungs.Failure is not an option.
It sounded like a full-fledged war was being waged just outside his containment area. Every bit of his training demanded he get up and fight, but he needed a little more time to rest.
“Stay down!” someone yelled from not too far away in a pretty good imitation of English.
Who are they talking to? Does somebody need help? In a minute, I’ll be strong enough to get back in the fight.Failure is not an option.
A sound close by forced Luke’s eyes open, and he looked in to the gloating face of the remaining guard. Blood seeped from at least two wounds in his torso, but still he aimed his rifle at Luke. When the sound of the shot reverberated across the open desert, Luke’s body jumped in anticipation of the slug tearing through his flesh. Instead, blood ran down the officer’s chin, and he did a face-plant in the sand beside Luke.
Then there were people all around him, everyone talking at the same time—inEnglish!
“Damn fine shot, Davis! Now, let’s get our friends and get the hell out of here before reinforcements roll in.” An American soldier, dressed in full battle gear, stood over Luke and talked into a small radio.
More unfamiliar faces appeared behind the first man, each yapping about something that seemed insignificant from Luke’s position. He wanted to shout at them to shut up, but apparently there was no longer a connection between his brain and his mouth.Not that there ever was much of one. Oh, great—now I get my sense of humor back.
“Are you Petty Officer Second Class Luke Harding?” The man in battle gear knelt beside him.
As hard as he tried, Luke couldn’t make a sound—or even nod his head. All he could do was stare until his eyes misted, and he squeezed his eyelids shut so he wouldn’t fucking humiliate himself.
They know my name. Somebody knows who I am.Gratitude washed over him even as sorrow intruded into his momentary peace. Except for two short weeks, he could have celebrated with Ian.
The warrior reached for Luke’s hand, gripping it firmly. “It’s okay, son. You stay with me. You hear me, sailor? That’s an order.” He leaned over Luke, and there was understanding in his eyes. “We’re here to get you home alive, and failure is not an option. You copy that?”
Luke would have smiled if he could have. Did the guy know the phrase he uttered so effortlessly was the only thing holding Luke together?
“Medic!” the man yelled over his shoulder, and two seconds later, another warrior stuck his head into Luke’s space.
It was getting harder to breathe. His rasping and gurgling grew louder and filled his ears.
“Chest wound.” The second man applied pressure, none too gently, to the hole in Luke’s torso.
Jesus, you stupid SOB!Luke would have given anything for the strength to shove him away, while using every four-letter word he knew, but the most he could manage was a pained groan.
“Hang in there.” The first man pulled Luke’s attention from the medic. “I know you’re in pain. The chopper will land any second, and we’ll get you onboard. Next stop—a nice, clean hospital and then…Stateside. We’re going to give you the good shit so you can sleep through this next part. You’re going to make it, sailor, so start planning your homecoming.”
Sally.The image of the sweet brunette flashed in Luke’s mind. He barely felt the prick of the needle before his eyes fluttered closed on his last memory.
* * * *
This was definitely going down in history as one of the worst ideas she’d ever had. Sally pulled the door handle of Emmett’s Chevy Tahoe and jumped out before he’d even come to a full stop in front of her house.
Dating her new boss—had she gone completely mad? Now that he’d proved to be a total dickhead, telling her exactly what he expected of his new office manager…outside of the office…she’d had no choice but to suggest he drop dead, using the f-word, which hadn’t crossed her lips since Jen was born. Of course, that meant she’d be pounding the pavement tomorrow, looking for a new job.Really?How could she have been so foolish? She needed that job too, especially after her old Explorer had finally died and she’d had to go into debt to get the needed repairs. If only she could have a do-over for…oh, say, the last year of her life.
“We’re not done yet, Sally.” The SUV’s door slammed shut and hurried footsteps followed her up the path toward the lights that glowed from the windows of her rented home.
Sally kept on walking. Her head throbbed as though someone had taken an electric drill to her temples.Please, God, don’t make me listen to anymore. She shivered and drew the lightweight pashmina tighter around her shoulders.What the hell was I thinking…wearing a short dress with no sleeves and strappy heels—at night in the middle of April—in the mountains—in Idaho?Strong fingers circled her arm and bit down as he tightened his grip, jerking her around, making her forget the chill in the air, and bringing her face-to-face with one irate man.
She tried to shrug off his grasp, but he only pinched tighter. Sally swallowed an outraged cry, not willing to let him know he was hurting her. With composure she wasn’t exactly feeling, she met his angry gaze. “Look, you made me an offer—I refused. I have a daughter and she comes first. Even if I wanted to become your…slut…I’d never set that kind of example for Jen. Surely you can understand that.” Wary of the temper he’d exhibited on the way home, Sally refrained from telling him what a jackass she thought he was for pretending to be nice and normal until she agreed to go out with him. Then he’d hit her with a proposition that would have made a hooker blush.
