Never Surrender (8 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

G
ABE
JERKED
AWAKE
, a scream on his lips. Disoriented, breathing hard, sweat running down his temples, he felt as if he were underwater, suffocating, unable to reach the surface for air.

God...what?

His mind tumbled. He looked at the digital red letters on the clock on the bed stand. It was 12:30 a.m. As he gasped for breath, his gut was tied in knots. He lay naked in the bed, feeling a horrible rush of anxiety tunnel and twist violently through him. Another nightmare? Hell, he had them regularly. This one was different. Very different. It raised the hair on the nape of his neck.

He forced himself to sit up, swinging his legs over the bed. The moment his bare feet hit the cool bamboo flooring, it gave him something to focus on, something to ground himself with. His reaction to the nightmare was joltingly different.

What the hell?

Gabe forced himself to control his breathing; something he was very good at because he was a sniper. He could damn near control every bodily function he had, including lowering his heart rate.

Wiping the sweat off his face, he blinked several times. Why was he feeling so damned scared? What the hell was this all about? He stared at the clock, making mental calculations that it was noon for Bay in Afghanistan. Daytime was safer than nighttime over there. The Taliban struck during the dark hours.

Had he had a precognitive dream about her? One that showed him something that was going to happen to her? The SEAL chief’s phone call last week had made him edgy. Tense. Maybe he was just working that out in his dream state? How the hell did he know? He was no friggin’ shrink.

Standing, Gabe walked out of the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen. He wanted water, his mouth feeling as if it had cotton balls in it. He stood at the sink, filled the glass, tipped it to his lips and slugged down the liquid. Finishing off the glass of water, he set it in the sink, turned and walked into the quiet living room.

Frowning, he felt restless, as if he had something important to do. His mind raced with questions. No answers were forthcoming. Rubbing his face with his hands, he muttered a curse. Dammit, he needed this sleep so badly. The past week, he’d been involved in the swim qualifications down at the SEAL base located on Coronado. He was in the water eight to ten hours a day. If the trained dolphins who protected the ships in the bay weren’t trying to bust his ribs as he put a fake limpet mine on the side of a cruiser’s hull beneath the water, then they were dealing with harbor seals whose duty it was to protect exactly that: the harbor. SEALs trained dolphins and harbor seals to defend and protect all the ships in the San Diego Bay. Whether they were dealing with nuclear-classed submarines, cruisers, a carrier or destroyer, they had been taught to kill an enemy frogman trying to sink a ship in their bay. His ribs were bruised as hell. His partner, Hammer, had busted a couple of ribs when an aggressive dolphin had taken him head-on yesterday. Hammer had lost that round and would be benched for six weeks while the fractures healed.

Looking around the near-dark condo, Gabe couldn’t shake the awful, roiling anxiety roaring through him. He felt his belly tighten, as if he were going to get hit with an unknown fist coming his way.
Damn.
Maybe a warm shower would help calm him down? It always had in the past.

Just as Gabe emerged from the bathroom, the white towel hanging low on his narrow hips, the phone rang. Looking at his Rolex, he saw it was two in the morning. An unsettled feeling avalanched him. No one called at this time of night. His mind spun with shock as he hurried to the phone sitting on the granite island in the kitchen. The only call he’d receive at this time of morning was....and he angrily shook his head, not going there.
No.
It wasn’t
that
phone call. It just couldn’t be....

Grabbing the phone, he growled, “Chief Griffin here.”

“Gabe? This is Chief Phillips.”

He felt all the air getting sucked out of his lungs, stunned to hear the SEAL’s voice calling from Camp Bravo in Afghanistan. Knees weak, Gabe suddenly sat down. “What’s happened to Bay?” he asked, holding the phone so tight his knuckles whitened.

“I’m sorry to call you,” he began heavily. “At noon our time, Mustafa Khogani attacked the village where she was holding a medical clinic. There were twenty Taliban riders, and they swept up through the line where she was helping the women and children.”

“Dammit, is she all right?” he ground out, his breath choking in his throat. Closing his eyes, he heard the SEAL Chief draw in a deep breath as if to fortify himself.

“No, she’s been kidnapped, Gabe. Reza, the terp, saw her shot from behind. Reza told Captain Anderson he recognized Mustafa Khogani on his black stallion come riding up to her. Bay fired at him, hitting him, we think, in the left leg. She was stunned by a Kevlar hit from behind. It threw her forward and to the ground. Khogani leaped off his horse and punched her in the face before she could get a second shot off at him. Reza said she went unconscious at that point. Khogani put her up on another rider’s horse, who is unidentified, and they rode for the wadi and disappeared into the underbrush. Khogani then ran over and grabbed her medical rucksack and took it with him.”

Gabe couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. A knot in his throat was so painful, he couldn’t pass words through or around it. Gabe’s mind spun with the information. He’d snapped awake at twelve-thirty in the morning. That would have been the exact time Bay had been kidnapped.

He rubbed his face savagely. “Chief, get me ordered over there right now. I’ll get my commander to let me get over there as soon as possible. I’m coming over as a strap-hanger. I’ll find her...”

“I’ll do it, Gabe.”

“What’s being done right now?”

“We had no drones in the valley,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “Those CIA boys here at Bravo knew we desperately needed one over there because of all the ongoing attacks the past two months. They just laughed at us when we requested eyes on that valley. If we’d had a drone on station, we’d have seen Khogani coming. This could have all been avoided.”

“I’ll deal with them later. Whose mounting the rescue effort?” Gabe’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he thought it might tear out of it. His mind whirled with shock, fear and rage. Bay was kidnapped.
Jesus.
She was in the worst kind of trouble. Could he get over there fast enough? Was there enough military assets to pull free in order to help aid the search for Bay? What was Khogani going to do with her?

God...no...no...please, protect her until I can find her...please...

“Captain Anderson is working with Reza. The Afghan interpreter is tracking Khogani and his men with two SF soldiers.”

“Is that all?” Gabe barely hung on to his mounting rage.
Dammit!

“Hell, no, Gabe, that’s not all. But you know as well as I that a woman soldier being captured, the shit is hitting the fan straight up to the Pentagon and into the White House to the president. Command was first going to remove Anderson’s people immediately out of the country. But we were able to talk them out of it. Besides, Captain Anderson refused to go. From our end we’re sending two four-man SEAL fire teams into the area. They’ve already been airlifted over there and are beginning the hunt.”

“What about drones now?” he snapped, his fury mounting over Bay’s kidnapping.

“The CIA just got one over there an hour ago. We’re coordinating with our two teams and with Reza. Our teams are using Ravens. As soon as they landed on that mountain ridge by helo, they sent their drones out. So far, they’ve not spotted anyone.”

Wanting to cry, to scream, Gabe shut his eyes tightly, trying to think what to do next. “Can you get me a flight out of Anderson in Washington, D.C.?” Chiefs could move the whole world if it pleased them. He knew Phillips was upset and involved. He had Bay’s back in this debacle. She was one of them, and he had no doubt that Phillips would expend every effort to locate her.

“I’m on it, but I’m not sending you through D.C. I’ll send you west out of California. I’ve started making the connections already. You just get your orders cut from your end, Gabe. I’ll handle the rest.”

“I’ve got to get over the fastest way possible, Chief. It can’t be two or three days from now. Bay won’t have that kind of time and you know it.”

Because Bay could already be dead. Her tortured, mutilated body would be thrown onto a goat path to rot until the vultures found her. Or until a SEAL team accidentally stumbled upon her body. His stomach clenched painfully as he wildly looked around the silent condo. Breathing raggedly, he waited.

“Okay, I’ll make it happen, Gabe.”

“You’ve got my cell phone number?”

“Yes. I’ll call you with steady updates as I receive them. You’re in the loop.”

Desperately trying to steady his breath, his heart hurting, Gabe whispered roughly, “Thanks, Chief Phillips. I owe you a whole helluva lot on this one.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Gabe. I’ve got the entire platoon on standby. If anyone is gonna find those slimy bastards, it’ll be us.”

“Thanks,” he choked out, all his strength deserting him as he hung up the phone. His stomach roiled. Turning, Gabe barely made it to the kitchen sink where he vomited up everything he’d eaten the night before.

* * *

“W
AKE
HER
UP
!”
Mustafa ordered his men. His leg was continuing to leak blood. The American whore had caused his wound. Not caring if the woman was still unconscious an hour after they’d arrived at the second cave on the other side of the mountain, Khogani wanted something done to stop his pain.

One of the soldiers took a bucket of water, throwing it on the woman who lay sprawled out on her back in the sand of the cave. They’d stripped her of the Kevlar vest and took her .45 pistol and holster away from her. They’d found a knife hidden within her trousers, strapped to her right ankle. As the water splashed savagely against her bloodied and swollen face, she moaned. Mustafa stood there, his arms crossed. She began choking. Smiling a little, he watched the whore’s eyes open to slits, her hair soaked, her face pale.

“Get her up!” he growled, snapping his fingers.

Instantly, two of his soldiers curved their hands beneath each of her armpits and hauled her up to her feet. Her knees collapsed beneath her, and she cried out. Blood was dripping out of her nose, the red splotches hitting the front of her uniform and boots.

“Shake her! I want her awake!”

Bay felt pain in her arms as she was jerked around. Her head snapped back and forth. She tried to compensate, everything spinning around her. Gasping, her lungs heaving, she gagged and vomited.

Khogani snarled and strode forward. He wrapped his hand into her loosened hair, jerking her head up. “Look at me, whore!” he yelled into her face in Pashto.

Bay grunted, pain tearing across her scalp. Her eyesight was blurred, and she was seeing double. Her knees kept giving out. She felt the grip of men’s hands on her upper arms, shaking her savagely, trying to make her stand on her own. Angry black eyes glared back at her. The man’s bearded face hovered inches from her own. She smelled garlic and goat on his breath, and it made her even sicker.

Trembling, Bay tried to stand, tried to make her knees work for her. Pain increased as he viciously tightened his fingers into her hair. She gave a little grunt as he forced her head back, fully exposing her throat.

“Whore! Either you wake up or I’ll slit your infidel throat here and now!”

His hot, rotten-smelling breath made her gag. Adrenaline suddenly shot into her bloodstream. Her ears were ringing, his Pashto threats distorted. Gasping, Bay made herself look into his angry, small black eyes. It was the same Taliban soldier who had ridden the black horse. Bay recognized the sneer on his lips, his yellow coated, rotten teeth.

Mustafa cursed and released her hair. Stepping back, he settled his hand on the butt of his curved scimitar blade. His eyes slitted as he watched her struggle to stand instead of continually collapsing. Her left eye was nearly swollen shut. He smiled, watching her fight into conscious awareness. He flicked his wrist, telling the two soldiers to release her.

She staggered, caught herself, and then locked her knees, swaying unsteadily. When she slowly raised her head, her wet hair framing it, she glared fearlessly at him.

“You are a doctor, are you not?” he snarled, jabbing his finger down at her rucksack sitting at his feet.

Bay blinked, fighting to remain upright. Dizziness made her want to fall to the left. She saw the murderous hate in the man’s eyes and knew he was good for his word to slit her throat. Swallowing painfully, she rasped in Pashto, “...I’m a combat medic.”

A pleased look came to Mustafa’s face. “Very good. You’re stronger than I thought. And you speak our language. You have endlessly surprised me so far.” He moved toward her, his hand shooting out, his fingers wrapping strongly around her neck. “You killed three of my men, whore....”

Shocked by the unexpected attack, Bay threw up her hands to break the hold. Instantly, two soldiers grabbed at her arms and jerked them behind her. Her shoulders burned with pain, and she gave a little cry, trying to ease the pressure against them.

The man with the black beard laughed. He squeezed her throat slowly, his face inches from hers, his eyes drilling into hers. “You killed three of my men. You are going to pay for that.” He squeezed her throat more tightly.

She fought, but the other two soldiers held her firm. Kicking out with her boot, she wasn’t able to land a blow, as he easily dodged her feeble attempt. Watching her strain, her eyes go wide because he was slowly choking off her breath, Mustafa smiled, enjoying her agony. Her face began to turn mottle-colored, her mouth opened, gasping, gagging for breath.

Suddenly releasing her, he laughed. “You are mine, infidel! You will do exactly as I say! If you don’t, I will guarantee that your life will be hell on this earth. You will die slowly. Painfully. Your American soldiers will find your naked body cut up into pieces, thrown to the vultures along a goat path. Do you understand me?”