Cover of Darkness (38 page)

Cover of Darkness

by Kaylea Cross

grunt and swiveled about to glare at her. She hopped back, her linked ankles making it hard to keep her balance, but she managed, keeping her hands up, her body squared.

Come on, you bastard. Face me.

Tehrazzi climbed to his feet and brushed at his robes, giving her a look of contempt. "You would not like me to lose my temper."

"Fuck you." She was out of her head with anger. "You want me? Untie my feet and fight me like a man."

For a moment she thought he might, his expression was so enraged. But then he seemed to gather himself and the hot glow left his eyes. He picked up the tape and then drew his knife.

Her skin shriveled.

"Easy way, or hard way, Miss Daoud. Your choice."

When he tried to grab her again, she lashed out at the wrist of his knife hand with a cry, knocked it out of his grip. A euphoric haze swamped her. A hysterical laugh brimmed. She wasn't powerless. She was strong, capable. She threw a punch at his head.

He ducked back, her knuckles grazing his beard.

But the punch had her falling forward, and her feet couldn't keep up with the momentum. Her knees hit the ground, and in a heartbeat he was on her, straddling her hips and wrenching her head up with a muscular arm wrapped around her neck. She screeched in outrage, twisting up to bash him with her skull, trying to get air.

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He nailed her between the shoulders with the hilt of his knife. Her arms went numb, fell away from his arm. He released her throat.

"Bastard," she hissed, tears stinging because she knew it was over. He had her wrists taped up before she could move her arms, and hefted her onto his shoulder. She tried to plow an elbow into his face but he dodged it and whacked her in the head hard enough to make the dugout spin. Before her head cleared he had her outside and...

Slung her over the back of a horse.

She reared up just as he leapt on behind her. Facedown with her arms pinned beneath her, she was helpless to fight his powerful grip. He jammed one elbow into her spine to hold her still and jabbed his heels into the horse's sides, sending them rocketing forward over the sand.

Luke struggled up on his knees in the aftermath of the explosion. His head rang like a bell inside his helmet. Jesus, he'd almost been killed by friendly fire. He fumbled to get the NVGs back in place. Glancing around, he shook his head to clear his blurry vision and saw Rhys pound over to the two bodies lying in the sand. Luke staggered over. McCabe lay unconscious as Rhys checked his vitals.

"Got a pulse," he said. "And he's still breathing, but not well."

Luke was already calling in for a Medevac. Shots peppered the ground around them. He checked the other SEAL. Still alive, but his chances of surviving the shrapnel wounds to his belly were slim. He and Rhys dragged the SEALs behind some rocks.

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"Stay with them until the medics arrive," he told Rhys, and rose to head back to the rest of the team. His knees buckled but he caught himself, gritted his teeth and rushed to help the others.

They were still firing, holding their own when he got to them. "Dec's down," he shouted to them. "Hold your positions until the air support clears off the ridge." He flattened himself on the ground when another round detonated close by. He felt the rush of hot air as the debris flew past his head.

Raising his rifle, he picked off a figure running at them.

In the distance, something caught his eye. He glimpsed a figure on top of the ridge. Heart racing, he zoomed in with his NVGs and tightened the focus. His breath caught. Bryn and Tehrazzi. On horseback.

She was still alive.

Pulled to them like a magnet, he shoved to his feet.

"Sir!"

He spared a glance at the young SEAL beside him. His eyes were round.

"I'm going after him—the rest of you stay here," he shouted over the gunfire. "Air support is inbound with another Medevac. Lay down covering fire for me—"

"But sir—"

"Covering fire. Now," he snapped, fighting off waves of dizziness.

The kid relayed the order, and the SEALs started sweeping the area with short bursts. Luke sprinted across the open desert, heading for the ridge. He couldn't call for air support now. Not while Tehrazzi had Bryn with him. Luke was going to 360

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have to pick him off with his rifle. Bullets sliced through the air. Mortars whistled overhead. He kept running. His chest burned. His thighs ached. He reached the edge of the slope, scrambled up it with his rifle flung across his back. His fingers dug into the earth. He clawed his way up to the top, lay panting on his belly, scanning the desolate ridge for Tehrazzi, weapon aimed. The ground tilted. He shook his head sharply.

Stay tight. You've almost got him.

The world righted itself.

No sign of them. They'd disappeared over the ridge. Panic rose. He forced it away and dropped his eyes to the ground.

There in the distance. Hoof prints.

No way could he catch up on foot, and the air force had its hands full. If he had to wait for another chopper to pick him up, he might lose the path. He tore back toward the camp, ignoring the nausea that boiled up each time his head jarred when his feet hit the ground. Firing his rifle at a sentry, he raked his gaze over the site. A motorbike. There by the dugout.

He raced over and grabbed it, fired it up. The engine sputtered and caught, roared to life. At a tingle between his shoulder blades he glanced up, saw the gun raising toward him, and he fired, hitting the guy in the chest. Twisting the throttle, he slung around and took off to pick up the trail.

Finding the place where his footprints began, he tracked the hoof prints over the rise. He followed them down the bank and across the wash.

Something made him stop. The bike idled beneath him.

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This route led down to the river basin. Why would Tehrazzi come this way?

You trained him. He thinks like you. What would you do?

He'd be hauling ass to the Iranian border. Which was in the other direction.

He blinked to clear his vision, stared at the hoof prints, precious seconds ticking past. Now that he studied them more closely, they were odd looking. Too clearly defined.

Horseshoes? He frowned. Tehrazzi didn't shoe his horses.

Why would he need to have his horse shod? Unless...

Shit. Had the bastard nailed the shoes on backward, to lead anyone following him in the opposite direction?

Like he'd just done. He could almost hear Tehrazzi's delighted laughter whispering in the wind.

His head pounded sickeningly. "Christ I hate you," he breathed, and sped back the way he'd come, following the tracks east toward the border.

The scream of a jet broke through the gunfire as a fighter streaked overhead. Behind her, Tehrazzi cursed and spurred the horse to run faster. The animal put its head down and lengthened its strides, eating up the ground. A terrific explosion rocked the air. The concussion forced the air out of her lungs, thudded deep in her chest. The horse stumbled as the shockwave rippled through the earth, but kept its footing, galloping away from the mushroom-shaped cloud of dust rising above where the camp had been only seconds before.

She would have been in there if Tehrazzi hadn't needed her for cover. She would already be dead. Maybe that would have been a kinder way to go than what he had planned for 362

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her. Bryn's mind raced as she flew across the desert in Tehrazzi's unbreakable grip. Would he kill her now? He'd gotten away. He wouldn't need her anymore. If she wanted even a chance of surviving, she had to come up with a way to escape before he stopped the horse.

The wind whistled past her, making her eyes tear. The pounding of hooves was loud in the quiet. Tehrazzi stared straight ahead, taking them further away from the camp.

Where was he going? Didn't matter. She had to get away. Her eyes surveyed the terrain. Some gullies. A few drop offs.

Mostly rolling landscape. She could jump. If she did, would he stop and come back for her? Or would he keep going? Maybe she could get his gun, or the knife she'd seen at his waist.

She might be able to get a shot at him. Would she be able to pull the trigger? Stab him?

Yes.

The realization shocked her. She hated him enough to kill him. If that was her only chance to get away, she would do it.

But he was quick. Well trained, better than she was. She was pitted against a man trained by Luke. She'd only get one chance with this. If she failed, he'd kill her for sure.

Think, Bryn. Think!

She was going to have to save herself this time.

Dec came to. Someone was lifting him roughly. Pain tore through his chest.
Can't breathe.
He tried to push away.

"It's okay, man." Rhys' face peered down at him. He slung him over his shoulder. "Take it easy. Helo's waiting."

Dec tried to suck in air. Couldn't.

No air. Choking.

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His vision turned gray around the edges. Rhys' voice, urgent. Rotor blades whirring. More hands on him. Pressing down where the pain hurt the worst. His body corded.

Bryn. Was she alive? Had someone gotten her out?

"Don't," he gasped, struggling. "Can't leave—" They had to get Bryn out.

"Hold him down."

No! "Bryn...Is she—?"

"Easy, Lieutenant."

Someone put a mask on his face.
Still can't breathe
. He clawed at the hands holding the mask down, striving to escape his own body.
Pain's so bad. Can't stand it.

"Can you sedate him?"

"Soon as I get this line in him."

The rotors sped up. The floor tilted.

Bryn...Can't leave her...
He loved her. He didn't want to go on breathing if she was dead.

Ping. Ping. Pop. Small arms fire hit the chopper.

Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat. Machine gun returning fire.

Can't. Fucking. Breathe.

Bang!

The rotors whined. The aircraft tilted sharply and then dropped.

The hands holding him clenched tight. "Shit!"

"Brace yourselves! We're going down."

Can't breathe. Helo crashing. Going to die.

He pushed the thought away, then pictured Bryn's face...igniting a desperate will to live.

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The whap of rotors sounded. Luke glanced over his shoulder, watched the helo climb. One of theirs. The Medevac he'd called for McCabe. He floored the bike, slowly gaining on the horse.

You're not getting away this time, you bastard.

Something exploded.

Luke's head whipped up. Jesus. He tossed off his NVGs to avoid scorching his retinas. A round had hit the helo. He saw the sparks from its tail rotor. Heard the disruption in the engine, the whine as it lost altitude. "Shit," he whispered, heart pounding as it plummeted to earth.

The ground shook when it hit. Relief flooded him when no fireball exploded into the air. Maybe the aircraft was still intact. Maybe the guys had survived.
Goddamn.
Nothing more he could do for them, he was too far away. The others on the ground would have to order air support and another extract.

He had Tehrazzi in his sights. He wasn't stopping now.

Couldn't. Everything hinged on him capturing the bastard. If he couldn't do that, he'd kill him. Or die trying.

He glued his eyes to the back of the horse. Brown. He was close enough to tell the color now. The engine screamed as he opened up the throttle, the wheels spinning in the dusty ground. Tehrazzi was right in front of him. His heart slammed. He'd waited six years for this. He was going to end this now.

The horse was tiring. Its nostrils flared wide as it tried to pull in more air, its sides heaving with the strain of carrying them at a full gallop for so long. They were slowing down. If 365

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Bryn was going to jump, she was going to have to do it soon, before the animal stopped.

Bryn flexed her fingers, getting the blood flowing through them so she could grab for the pistol in his belt. She'd already planned out the movement. She was going to brace her taped feet against the horse, shove up with every bit of strength she had and throw her head up into his face. At the same time, she'd have to grab the gun with her bound hands and smash her elbow into him as she threw herself off the horse somehow. She'd worry about that when the time came. For now, she had to pick her moment. She braced herself, body tensing in anticipation. The horse slowed a little more.

A hitch. That's all she needed—something to throw them a little off balance.

Her heart pounded. She might die doing this, either during or after, when Tehrazzi caught her. For a moment she tipped her head back to gaze up at the lightening sky. The last stars were fading into the sea of indigo. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

I love you, Dec. Wherever you are.

The whine of an engine had her eyes snapping open.

Tehrazzi twisted in the saddle. Her eyes went past him. A man was chasing them on a motorbike, and gaining on them.

Elation roared through her. Was it Dec? Hope flooded her heart.

Tehrazzi barked out a curse and swiveled back around, bending low over the horse's neck, pinning her harder between him and the animal. She fought not to shove at him.

Stay still. Don't tip him off you're going to try anything.

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But then Tehrazzi tore the pistol from his waistband and aimed it behind him. He fired. The man on the bike ducked, swerved, but kept coming. Closer now. She saw his face.

"Luke!" she screamed, rearing up despite herself.