Hawk (The Quiet Professionals, Book 2) (5 page)

Heart in her throat, Fekiria shoved back against the stairwell. She could not let Zahrah see her. Pure and perfect, Zahrah would try to convince her—again—of the error of her ways. Her cousin presumed she was doing things a woman of morals and virtue would not do. Perhaps that was true, but not in the way everyone assumed. Not in a way that damaged her worth. Yet if they found out, she’d be flailed for the lies, the secreting out, the half-truths. What she had accomplished, what she had earned, would not matter. Only the lies.

Bah! Irritated, Fekiria continued down. Cruised the perimeter, plaster cold against her fingers as she scurried in the darkness.

“Fekiria!” came a hushed whisper-shout from the top.

Sucking in a breath, she reached the ground level. Shoved herself across the foyer and out the door. Staying close to the exterior wall, she secured her hijab then stuffed her arms through her coat. It took only fifteen minutes to make it to the bar. Nightlife in Mazar-e was not like what one saw in Western cities.

At the hookah bar, she waited till a group of girls entered and quickly fell into step with them. Entering alone would draw attention and risk word getting out to her family. She’d be fine once she met up with her fellow soldiers. Inside, the low lighting made it difficult to see through the haze of smoke. A rumble of laughter burst from the side.

Gray eyes met hers at almost the same time. Captain Ripley came to his feet with a smile and no small amount of surprise.

His reaction gave her pleasure that pushed her through the crowds to the seating area where the UPT graduates lounged. Captain Ripley motioned to the cushioned sofa. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Nor did I.” She tucked herself onto the cushioned settee. When he assumed the spot next to her, she stiffened but told herself she was being foolish. If she had not come to see him, then why
had
she come? She must relax. Stop worrying.

“Lieutenant Rhmani!” One of the other pilots spotted her. “Awesome flying out there.”

She inclined her head. “As with you, Lieutenant Atwood.”

He grinned, his gaze bouncing between her and Captain Ripley for a second, but long enough to make her uncomfortable, then he was pulled into a conversation.

“How was your celebration with your family?”

Fekiria shot the captain a glance, her stomach clenching. “Fine.” She barely remembered to smile. “These things are not as important here.” So tired of the lies, she searched for a way to divert the conversation. “Kandahar…”

He bent forward, elbows on his knees, his shoulder almost touching hers. “Advanced training.” Brown hair cut high and tight, he was handsome. And nice. “Please tell me you’ve decided to go.”

Fekiria nodded before she could change her mind.

“Awesome!” He touched her shoulder, his enthusiasm waning a bit. “What about your family?”

Her family had long ago lost the right to have a voice in her life. “What of them?”

“Won’t they miss you? I thought you said—”

“I must make this decision for myself. I am of age, and…” She drew in a steadying breath. “I want to do this.”

He nodded with another smile. “I’m glad. I’d hoped you would.”

What did he mean by that? The sparkle in his eyes bespoke something more than his happiness that she would continue her pilot training down in Kandahar. Away from him. If he was so excited to see her go, he couldn’t like her that much.

When he didn’t stop grinning at her, she finally gave in. “What? You have something in your eyes.”

He dipped his head sheepishly. “One of the instructors is heading back to the States. They offered me the position.” His gray eyes held hers. “My orders came through about ten minutes ago. They’re sending me to Kandahar.”

She should be thrilled. He was one of the finest instructors in the training program. He was patient, nice, and—though a bit older than she’d prefer—good looking. And he held a world of expectation in his gaze and words. Maybe that is why her stomach squirmed. She just found her wings, in more ways than one, and she wasn’t sure she wanted them clipped by being tethered to a man.

“So, you’re going.”

“I am.”

Fekiria should enjoy his attention. He wasn’t married. He didn’t have another wife. He didn’t have grandchildren like the man her parents had tried to match her with six months ago. Handsome, kind…

What is wrong with me?

“You’re not happy I’m going.”

“No—I mean, yes!” She laughed and used the moment to gather her nerves. “I’m not sure how to answer that question.” Another laugh. “I am happy you’re going. You have made all the difference in the world in my training. That you will be there, training me—”

“
Possibly
training you. There are no guarantees I’ll be your flight advisor. But I will be there.”

Fekiria beamed. “I am relieved I’ll know someone there. That was one of my major concerns.” She patted his arm. “It is good to have a friend, a friendly face in a new place.”

“Friend.”

Fekiria couldn’t meet his eyes after the disappointment she heard in his voice. “You’ve been wanting this, too, haven’t you? To work the advanced program.”

“Been waiting years.”

“Then see? It is good for all!”

“Hey, Captain.” Someone slapped his knee. “Check it out.”

Fekiria followed their gazes to where a group of men entered the bar. Their bearing screamed American military as much as if they wore uniforms. Dressed in all black and a serious attitude, the men stood at the entrance for a few minutes.

Then the tall one turned and looked her way.

Fekiria drew back. Captain Watters! Cold washed across her shoulders and spine.
What is he doing here?
If he was here, then…Almost on their own, her eyes searched the other four men huddled around him. The really big guy. The dark-haired one. A shorter one.

Oh thank goodness!
He had not come.

The really big soldier craned his neck to the side, his gaze forward on the hazy room, as he seemed to listen to someone. Then with a smile, he shifted.

And she saw him—Sergeant Brian.

Fekiria hauled in a breath and straightened, pushing her gaze to the teal carpet. Panic swirled. If he saw her…

She started to turn to her left, but that would put her in a rather intimate position with Captain Ripley. What if Sergeant Brian saw that? She cut a quick glance to the side.

Green eyes met hers. He looked away.

Oh. He hadn’t recognized her. She shouldn’t be hurt. Relief. She should feel relief. Had he forgotten her so quickly? It was easier, didn’t complicate things, if he forgot her.

His gaze flicked back to hers, recognition evident in his raised eyebrows and cocky grin.

Fekiria closed her eyes. Touched her fingers to her forehead.

“You okay?” Captain Ripley asked, his attention bouncing between her and the newcomers. “Know them?”

“Not really.” The words were honest. But not entirely.

“One of them seems to know you.”

“He… We were at the same funeral once.”

Captain Ripley’s eyebrows rose as his gaze seemed to follow someone. Then he stood. “Can I help you?”

Fekiria’s heart pounded as another set of shoes appeared.

“No. I’m here to say hi to her.”

Mustering her courage, Fekiria looked up. Wanted to pretend she didn’t recognize him. But this close, he seemed…large. Powerful. When their eyes met, something in her warmed.

“Miss Hai—”

Her name! “Sergeant Brian.” He knew her
real
name. She punched to her feet. “A surprise to see you here.” She refused to glance back to the other Americans, terrified Zahrah’s boyfriend would join them. But her body acted on its own. A dizzy flood of relief washed through her when she found the foyer empty—the others were gone.

“I could say the same for you.” His taunting tone drew her gaze. His gray-green eyes were mere inches from her.

She pulled in a steadying breath, willing herself not to look away. Not to yield to the electrical storm surging between them. Curse the man! Why did he find everything so amusing? “I’m out with friends. Not so strange, is it?”

Something curious and penetrating flashed through his eyes. “I guess not.” As he studied the UPT—One. At. A. Time.—he seemed to take in a lot of information with the way his eyes darted and processed. An intense awareness that this man could unravel the last two years of hard work became apparent as he angled his head toward her. “Just didn’t realize you hung out with U.S. military. Last I recall, you had a particular dislike for my kind.”

She lifted her chin. “Yes,
your
kind. That hasn’t changed.”

Green eyes locked on to her.

“Have we been introduced?”

Sergeant Brian smirked at Captain Ripley, who held out his hand. Then Sergeant Brian patted the captain’s shoulder. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “I—”

“Miss Haidary—my pleasure.”

“It was only yours, Sergeant Brian.”

His grin grew. “Yes, ma’am. I reckon it was.” With that, he turned and navigated the thick throng, vanishing into the smoky back room like a ghost. One that could definitely haunt her if he told Captain Dean. Who would, no doubt, tell Zahrah. Beyond that, he’d used her name. Which meant this could come back to end her piloting career.

“Who is he?”

Fekiria started. Then smiled at Captain Ripley. “A soldier who helped my cousin.”

“The one who was taken captive?”

Fekiria stilled. Met the gray eyes that bespoke confidence and intelligence. And a hint of romance. “How did you know that?”

“Don’t worry about secrets. We all have them, Lieutenant Haidary.”

I
nvincible. Indestructible. I’ve laid below their radar for almost a year now. My programs are infecting their systems. My mastery evading their efforts. I’ve wreaked havoc against one of the most invincible cyber networks in existence.

And I’m still alive.

They haven’t caught me. Nor are they even on my trail, thanks to Zmaray. Distracted by the lion, they don’t see the panther hiding in their own systems. Because of their success against his effort and rescuing the girl, they’re blinded by their own arrogance and have forgotten the thorn in their side.

A festering thorn. Creating a wound that will abscess and kill its host.

Almost too poetic, isn’t it?

Almost too much for me to bear.

I said,
almost
.

After the fiasco six months ago, I thought my windfall had…well,
fallen
. Assets were locked. I had to vanish. And now, now it’s their turn. They thought they’d squished this bug. Now, I’m back. Bigger and better.

I’ve relocated my home away from home to a different site. Really, it’s insane how close I am to them. If I wanted I could step outside, hook up to their power box, and be up and running. (Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.)

Except that I won’t. That’d be stupid—like leading an electrical bread-crumb trail right to my metal cabin. They’d discover me before I got the door closed on the way back in. So, I’m playing it safe. Taking it slow.

Had a friend in high school who always said, “Fast is slow. Slow is fast.” The guy had some serious OCD issues, but I see what he means. Take it slow and steady and you can make it. Rush, screw something up, and you’re starting all over.

My phone rings and I glance at the caller ID. Compare the number against my codec. It’s one of the dozens of contacts I’d made in the last few months trying to track down the special ops team who infiltrated the former factory, ripped the girl from Zmaray’s hands, and destroyed a year of work.

So not letting that one go. They’ll pay. Mightily, if I can swing it. You know what they say about payback.

“Salim, my friend.” I put as much college-boy into my words as possible. “What can I do for you?”

“Those men you ask about?”

I pump my fist but restrain the excitement from my voice. “Yes?”

“Men just came into the bar. I am not sure if they are the ones you are looking for, but…”

“I’ll be there.” Excitement nearly chokes me as I shove to my feet. Then remember my manners. “Thank you.”

“What of my money?”

“Of course. I’ll have it.” I grab a stack from the safe as I set up the security protocols to alert me if anyone so much as breathes on my little piece of heaven on earth. But then, why would they? The outside just looks like a run-down piece of junk. Which sucks considering the frigid temperatures said to be coming in.

For a second, I wonder if this tin can rusts. If the snow will make it hard to open doors. With a glance over the bank of monitors streaming the data, the codec flickering through security footage feeds with a facial-recognition software to find matches, I turn. It’s the thought of payback that keeps me warm as I head into the oncoming storm to tag and bag them.

D
istraction had never been so pretty—or annoying. Brian shifted to the edge of the chair he occupied in the corner of the hookah bar. Angled his body in the hopes his mind would get the message and home in on the convo. But that put him closer to the SEALs. They smelled like fish. Actually, everything in here smelled bad. A tickle at the back of his throat made him cough.