Lethal Pursuit (21 page)

He’d
hurt Maya
. Beaten her with his fists and belt. Broken her bones. Deprived her of food and water. Locked her up in a cage too small to stand up or lie down in.

He barely felt the blows Khalid managed to land with his elbow and knees in between punches. They rolled and twisted in the dirt, locked in mortal combat. One of them wasn’t walking away from this. Jackson knew it. And it wasn’t going to be him. He was weakened and dehydrated, but he was still stronger than Khalid and his demented fervor.

He came up on top and straddled Khalid to drive his fist into that sneering face when he caught the flash of metal out of the corner of his eye. At the last moment he saw the blade slicing toward him in a deadly arc. He jerked out of the way just as the knife swept past his chest, so close he felt the breeze it stirred.

On instinct, Jackson twisted them around and captured the bastard’s head in the crook of one elbow. He added the other arm and squeezed hard, locking the choke hold down. His hands clamped around Khalid’s skull. Held tight as Khalid flailed in his grip. With an enraged snarl Jackson wrenched the head around as hard as he could, snapping his neck with a sickening crunch.

The knife hit the ground with a metallic clang and the body beneath him went instantly slack, those eerie yellow eyes turning glassy.

Panting, Jackson released him and slid off to the side. The adrenaline crash hit him hard. He was shaking all over and gasping when Sandberg raced up with his AK aimed at Khalid. Maya was right behind him, her face full of terror.

She dropped to her knees next to him, grabbed his shoulder with her good hand. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” The fear and desperation in her voice broke through the numbness.

“I’m fine.” He forced himself to his feet on shaky legs and turned to block her from the sight of Khalid’s body.

“What the hell were you
doing?
” she wheezed, face pale.

“Rifle jammed,” he answered. “And I wasn’t letting him come near you ever again.” He’d
wanted
to kill Khalid with his bare hands. And he had. That shook him. He’d never known he could hate anyone that much.

He watched the words register, the truth of what he’d said sinking in. She gave a tiny nod and reached up to cradle the side of his face with her palm. “Okay. But don’t ever do something like that again.”

“That LZ’s not coming to us, people, and it’s not getting any closer standing around here,” Sandberg said, returning for Haversham where he’d left him back down the trail when Khalid attacked Jackson.

He knew they had to get moving, but Jackson didn’t move out right away. Instead he covered Maya’s hand with his and closed his eyes to lean into her touch, letting her know what the gesture meant to him. Her hand was hot, too hot, and dry. Her breathing was raspy and labored, making him even more anxious to get her evacuated to a hospital for treatment. But that unexpected softness in her expression and knowing he was responsible for it—that was something he could easily live for.

He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed, keeping them to his scruffy cheek. “Almost there, baby,” he whispered. “A little ways longer and we’re outta here. But I think you’re gonna have to walk for a bit.” At the moment his legs felt too weak to carry his own weight.

A grin spread across her cracked lips and her right eye twinkled. Half turning so her back was to him, she bent slightly at the knees and looked over her shoulder at him, reaching her right arm back. “Come on, jump on,” she wheezed, practically wobbling on her feet. “But just this once.”

It was such a ridiculous thing to say and it was clear the effort cost her, but damned if it didn’t make him grin. “Rain check.”

Maya shrugged in a “suit yourself” way and stepped past him to head down the trail. Steadier now, he retrieved his discarded rifle and turned away to lead them the last mile to the LZ.

Chapter Twenty-One

A few hundred yards into the trek, Maya stumbled, her breathing all but stopping her in her tracks. Walking uphill even for that short a distance was too much. It felt like someone had weighed down her body with lead bricks. Her heart was pounding out of control and there was no way to slow it. The tightness in her chest made it impossible to get a deep breath and when she did, her ribs killed her or a coughing fit took hold.

Come on!
she raged at her body.
We’re so close.
They didn’t have far to go and they couldn’t risk slowing down to wait for her to rest. She didn’t want Jackson to have to carry her anymore.

Looking at him, no one would ever know that he’d just killed a dangerous militant in hand-to-hand combat. After retrieving then clearing his jammed weapon, he’d taken point again and was still going at a good clip, despite the demands he’d placed on his body today. Sandberg carried Haversham behind her, and when she slowed they caught up fast. She waved them on, bent over and gasping, but Sandberg didn’t budge from her side. When Jackson glanced back and saw her, he doubled back.

“Sorry,” she gasped, angry at her body’s weakness. “Can’t.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. Come on, darlin’, one last ride.” Stooping, he offered her a hand and she draped herself over his broad back so he could lift her more easily. She hated that he was forced to carry her again. He was doing double the work to pick up her slack, had been all day. She held her breath and tensed her aching muscles when he shifted her into position. God, the constant pain was making her insane. He stood and staggered back a step, telling her just how exhausted he was, then gave a muffled groan and started walking.

Maya covered her mouth with her right forearm as she began coughing, the fiery pain ripping through her. As soon as she could breathe again, she closed her eyes and laid her cheek against Jackson’s sun-warmed shoulder in defeat. “I owe you a day at the spa,” she managed.

“Nah,” he said between breaths. “I’ll take a good rubdown from you later, though.”

The thought made her smile. If she could be this ill and look like she did and he still wanted her to touch him, that had to be a good sign.

Next time she opened her eyes, Jackson had crested the small hill and had paused to rest a moment.

“Just down there in that clearing,” Sandberg told them, pointing to the LZ.

Now that the end was in sight, Maya’s heart was filled to bursting with hope. So close. It was hard to believe this whole nightmare was almost over. She raised her head, scanning the sky and straining to listen for the throb of incoming rotors. Nothing but the soft sigh of the wind came back, the sound of Jackson’s ragged breathing.

He kept shifting her repeatedly over the final few hundred yards, the muscles in his back and shoulders quivering beneath her. She rubbed a hand absently over his sweat-soaked chest in apology and gratitude for all he’d done for her.

At last they reached the clearing, and he set her down beside a thin, scraggly bush. She huddled into a ball on her side and wrapped the blanket around her to stave off the worst of the shivers, while he dropped to his hands and knees beside her, exhausted. Sweat poured off his face, no matter how many times he swiped his arm across it.

Sandberg set Haversham down and dropped his ruck, and the Sec Def immediately tore into it, handing both men a bladder of water Tarik had given them. Jackson drained a good amount of his before opening his eyes with a sigh and offering it to Maya. She took it and had a few sips, relishing the feel of moisture in her dry mouth. Her stomach was in knots from being exposed out here to await the CSAR team.

“How much longer?” Haversham asked Sandberg, propped on to one hip with a pistol in his hand. He hadn’t released it since they’d left the village.

“Twenty, twenty-five minutes,” he answered, still sucking in air.

Maya had no idea how he and Jackson had found the endurance to carry them so far in these conditions. She took in her surroundings, unable to let her guard down. They were in a natural bowl that provided some protection from the wind should it pick up. It was wide enough that a few helicopters would have no trouble setting down inside it. When they came, there’d be more than one. With the Sec Def as one of the extractions, they wouldn’t be taking any chances with his safety. Wouldn’t surprise her if an entire SEAL team showed up to get them. She wouldn’t mind seeing some SEALs right about now.

Jackson was on one knee holding his weapon at the ready, watching the surrounding hills. No one said anything, all of them too tired and edgy to bother trying to make conversation.

When it seemed like way more than twenty-five minutes had passed, a distant sound disturbed the air. She glanced up at Jackson to see if he’d heard it too. He was tense, focused on the sky behind her. She twisted around, grimacing as it pulled her ribs. Was it their ride? Her heart rate accelerated, anticipation rising sharp and painful in her chest.

A minute later the sound increased, and it was unmistakable. The heavy beat of a rotary wing aircraft. Then Sandberg pointed. “I see it.”

Everyone followed his finger. There in the distance, Maya picked out a black speck in the clear blue sky. A moment later, the speck split into three.

Oh yeah, the cavalry had arrived. The elation sweeping through her brought tears to her eyes.

She was on her feet without realizing it, shading her eyes with her hand. Part of her wanted to jump up and down and wave her arm like a maniac. She felt like a shipwreck survivor who’d just spotted their salvation. Then a series of cracks rent the air. For a moment they didn’t register.

She swiveled to find Jackson reaching for her, his face tense. “Get down!”

Jesus, someone was still out there shooting at them.

She dropped to her knees and then her belly as Jackson slid up beside her. He pressed her head down until her cheek dug into the dusty ground. With her head cranked to one side, she got her first glimpse of the figures rushing down the hillside toward them. Fifty men at least, maybe more.

“Shit, they’re surrounding us,” Haversham muttered, returning fire.

Maya glanced the other way to see more coming at them from that side. She cast a desperate glance up at the incoming helos. They were close. Would they be able to land and stay there long enough for her and the others to get aboard?

The shooting took a sudden uptick in volume. She lay flat next to Jackson while he and Haversham fired at the oncoming enemy. Within thirty seconds, Jackson set down his weapon. “Out of ammo,” he muttered, cursing under his breath.

Her stomach knotted. Before she could answer, something exploded a few dozen yards in front of them. Jackson covered her head and torso with his own while debris pelted them. That eerie howl of the militants rose up over the noise of the firefight.

“I’m out!” Sandberg shouted.

They were surrounded and out of ammo. The sound of the rotors grew louder. Maya’s heart lodged in her throat. Icy needles pricked her body. Jackson lifted off her and she shifted to get to her knees, but he stopped her with an arm around her back. “Stay down,” he yelled in her ear, holding her close. Unable to run though every instinct demanded she flee, she closed her eyes and clung to him, praying for help.

Bullets impacted closer, closer until she could feel them whizzing past her, thudding into the ground around them. The distant helos were still too far away.

She was holding her breath, praying for a miracle when the deafening roar of twin engines suddenly split the air. A half second later, the bark of powerful guns eclipsed everything else. Daring to open her eyes, Maya lifted her chin to see an Apache attack helicopter rise out of the valley beyond the cliff’s edge and spray the attacking enemy with fire. Moments later another one appeared on its left, rising out of the abyss. It opened up its guns with a loud rattle. After about a minute of firing, they fell silent. Her ears throbbed in the sudden quiet.

Screams from the wounded enemy filled the void, but that eerie howl that signaled an attack was gone. She didn’t dare look behind her or to the side as the big Chinook looming above finally came in for a landing, two Black Hawks flanking it. The Apaches gained altitude and resumed making controlled bursts at the remaining attackers. The instant the other birds touched down, soldiers poured out of them.

Dozens of them. Big men with scruffy beards and scary-ass game faces, come to send these bastards to their maker. SEALs or Delta from the look of them, maybe some of both.

Jackson’s arm scooped around her shoulders. He hauled her to her feet and shoved her in the direction of the Chinook, yelling in her ear. “Go, go!”

She took off on rubbery legs, wheezing but determined to make it. The SOF troops raced past her, taking out more targets as they ran to form a protective perimeter. Another man was running toward her, and Maya finally saw the letters PJ on his upper arm.

He grabbed her and tossed her over one shoulder, ignoring her scream of agony, then turned and ran like hell back to the waiting Chinook, its rotors still turning. She bit down and shut her eyes, struggling to stay above the pain. Each running step jammed her rescuer’s shoulder deep into her belly and jarred her damaged ribs.

In seconds he flipped her over and handed her off to someone else, who dragged her deep inside the belly of the helo. Just as she cleared the doorway, out in the distance her gaze landed on one of the attackers, scrambling back up the hill. He half turned, facing toward her, watching the helo. In the sunlight she caught the flash of a coppery head and beard.

Rahim.

She scrambled to twist around, searching for someone to tell. Where was Jackson? He’d been right behind her. She cried out in relief when he came flying up the tail ramp, reaching out a hand for him. He skidded to a halt in front of her and took her face in his hands. “You okay?” he yelled over the noise of the rotors.

She nodded. “Rahim’s out there—I saw him.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” She hadn’t imagined it, and there couldn’t be two copper-bearded militants built like that out here.

Another man appeared carrying Haversham up the ramp, and then Sandberg ran in. More men rushed inside, some moving backward, shooting at targets just out of view. She could hear the deeper bark of the Apache guns outside. The pitch of the rotors suddenly changed and the big helo shook under the strain as the pilots powered up. Her pulse pounded a frantic rhythm while the behemoth eased off the ground. She sensed the deck tilting as they climbed and eased forward, signaling their imminent escape.

Then a hail of gunfire erupted in the port side wall near where she was sitting. Automatically she dropped facedown on the deck, covering her head. Bullets raked the side of the aircraft, punching holes through the metal skin. Bits of insulation rained down on her. Men were yelling, swearing. The next thing she knew, Jackson had thrown himself across her. The big helo pitched to the side. Only Jackson’s weight kept her from rolling across the metal deck. More shots ripped into the port side wall. Jackson jerked on top of her. Men were shouting, running, grabbing fire extinguishers. The Chinook rolled sharply to the right.

Shit
,
oh shit
,
oh shit
...

They dropped so hard and fast her stomach floated up toward her rib cage. Maya thought her heart would explode. Were they going down? She squeezed her eyes shut. Jackson stayed on her like a living shield, pressing her down, one hand protecting her head. Another sharp pitch forward, and her body was shoved hard against the deck, telling her they were pulling serious Gs. She sensed the Chinook lifting, climbing ever higher. Soon the constant rattle of gunfire faded away, gradually replaced by the roar of the rotors as they sped away.

Trembling, hardly daring to believe it was over, Maya closed her eyes and went limp beneath Jackson. He rolled off with a pained grunt. The sound made her skin prickle. Lifting up on her good arm, she angled her head to see him. What she saw made all the blood drain out of her face.

He was lying on his side with a hand pressed to his belly, and his face was white with strain. Blood spilled out beneath his splayed hand.

Oh my God.
“No!” she yelled, the word torn from the depths of her soul as she lunged at him. She shoved her hand down over his, her eyes searching his face and seeing nothing but pain and anxiety he was trying to hide. She twisted around, heedless of her own suffering. “Someone
help
me!” His blood was warm against her fingers, pooling much too fast. Already it stained the deck.

“I’m okay,” he managed calmly, trying to reassure her.

He was
not
okay. Terrified sobs shook her, jarring her deep inside. He’d just been gut shot. She knew what that meant.

A soldier finally came over and pulled her away from him to take her place. She fought the restraining hands but another pair grabbed her, holding her steady. “Maya. Maya, look at me.”

She jerked her head up to find Haversham holding her. His eyes were earnest, shadowed with exhaustion and strain. “He’ll be fine. Stay back here with me and let them help him.”

They had Jackson’s filthy T-shirt cut off him and she could see the ugly wound on his abdomen they were working on. Her stomach twisted at the sight of that dark hole in his bronze-toned flesh. She made a high-pitched sound of agony, and Haversham hugged her closer, pressing his cheek to hers. “Come on, sweetheart, hang tough. He’s a fighter and they’re doing everything they can. We’ll be on base in no time and they’ll get him right into the O.R.”

It wasn’t good enough. She wanted to be the one next to him, helping him, doing something instead of sitting there watching him bleed.

If she’d realized anything since their capture, it was that she loved him. Unequivocally, and without reservation. She wanted him to know it.

One of the medics started an IV, while the other worked on slowing the bleeding. The second man turned his head to shout something toward the front of the aircraft, and with a start she recognized Jackson’s buddy, Cam. A tiny measure of relief eased the worst of the panic. Cam loved him like a brother. He’d do everything in his power to save Jackson.