Never Surrender (9 page)

Gagging, Bay dragged huge draughts of air into her burning lungs. She barely heard the threats, thinking she was going to die. Her knees gave way.

“Let her fall,” Khogani snarled to his soldiers.

Bay collapsed to the floor, a hand around her bruised throat, gasping for air. Her head hurt, her cheek was hot and swollen, throbbing with vicious pain. She marginally tried to assess her injured state. Her ribs were sore and bruised, and she had no idea how that had happened. She remembered his fist coming down, the snapping sound cracking throughout her head and then...unconsciousness. Head hanging down, black spots dancing before her tightly shut eyes, she tried to relax and just breathe. Just breathe and get oxygen restored to her faltering systems.
Oh, God, he almost killed me...

Her attacker sat down on a flat boulder that was one of many scattered around the large, dry cave. The afternoon sun slanted into the farther recesses. As she slowly pushed herself upright to her knees, he smiled.

“What is your name, woman?”

Bay felt the fine dust of the cave beneath her hands and fingernails as she rested them tensely on her thighs. She lifted her head, warily watching the man. He had to be a leader because the two soldiers stood tense, waiting for his next order.
Captured
. She’d been kidnapped! In broad daylight. She tried to think what to do. Geneva conventions...escape and evasion tactics. Her shorting-out mind wouldn’t work, wouldn’t help her. Swallowing painfully, her mouth dry, she forced out, “Thorn. Petty Officer first class Thorn. U.S. Navy.”

“You’re a thorn all right,” Mustafa growled, jabbing his finger down at his wounded left calf. “Look at what you did to me!”

Bay said nothing, her eyesight finally beginning to clear. She wasn’t seeing two of everything and was relieved. Touching her left cheek, she winced. The whole left side of her face felt like a mushy marshmallow. When he’d hit her, she was sure he’d broken her nose and cheekbone. It felt like it, the pain beginning in earnest as the adrenaline began leaving her system. Shaky, Bay knelt on the floor of the cave, trembling so damn bad she felt as if she was falling apart. Bay smelled fear. It was her fear. She feared him, whoever he was. The glittering black shards of his eyes held no light. He took great pleasure in seeing her suffer. “You must fix me up,” Mustafa snapped, jabbing down at his wounded leg. “I’m bleeding. Stop it from hurting.”

Bay saw her medical ruck in front of her. Could she get to her feet? If she didn’t, he would have those two soldiers drag her over to him and slit her throat. Compressing her lips, she crawled forward on her hands and knees. Gasping for breath, steadying herself, she brought up one knee, trying not to sway back and forth like a drunk.

“Hurry up!”

Wincing at his sharpened command, Bay heaved herself to her feet. When she leaned over to pick up her ruck, she almost nose-dived. Her balance was off. Very off. Blood was still trickling out of the left side of her nose as she slowly put one boot in front of the other. She saw the bullet wound she’d given him, saw the dark, hate-filled look on his face. His hand rested tensely over the butt of his curved blade in a sheath on the right side of his body.

She swallowed with difficulty, her throat aching. She managed to fall to her knees in front of his wounded leg. Blinking, trying to clear her fogged mind, Bay opened her ruck with trembling fingers. Gloves...she needed gloves... Focusing on that, she managed to pull on a set of latex gloves. Now, to focus on finding a syringe and filling it with enough lidocaine so that as she examined the seeping wound, he’d feel no pain.

Bay slowly opened the top of her ruck.
Syringe. Bottle of lidocaine.
Her mind couldn’t multitask. Hell, it barely held one word. One thought. One movement. Biting down on her lower lip, her fingers blindly ran into her syringes stored in another pocket.

The man watched her. When he saw her draw a certain amount of liquid out of the bottle, he gripped her wrist hard.

“Are you going to try and kill me by shooting me up with too much morphine, whore?”

Pain drifted around her wrist bones where his fingers bit deeply into it, grinding them together. Freezing, she rasped, “No. This is lidocaine. It’s to numb the area where the wound is located. You’ll feel less pain. You’ll be more comfortable as I clean it out.”

A new soldier, tall and lean, entered the cave. His light brown eyes held hers as he came over and snatched the bottle out of her hand.

“What does it say, Zmarai?”

“Lidocaine, my lord.” He dropped it back into her ruck. “It’s as she says. It’s not morphine.”

Grunting, Mustafa smiled a little at his commander. “I’m glad you have some English, Zmarai. From now on, you will remain with her as she deals with my wound, eh?”

Bowing, Zmarai murmured, “As you wish, my lord.”

Bay realized he was afraid she’d kill him. She’d like nothing better, but if she did it, the other three soldiers would kill her. She wanted to live. As she worked to remove the fabric from around the gunshot wound on his leg, her heart ached with grief.
Gabe.
She loved him so much! Reality crashed down upon Bay. She wasn’t going to get out of this alive....

CHAPTER NINE

H
OW
COULD
SHE
escape Mustafa Khogani? Bay closed her eyes, shivering as the temperature at eight thousand feet dropped below freezing. She lay in a small cave guarded by two Taliban soldiers as dawn arrived. They rode at night to avoid detection by Americans and their drones overhead. They’d ridden from the first cave beneath cover of darkness to the present one. A musty grain sack had been thrown over her head, her hands tied in front of her, riding a horse led by the commander called Zmarai. He, of all the soldiers in this unit, seemed least disposed to glare at and hate her. And he was the only one who made sure she had plenty of water to drink and a little food to eat. He’d done what he could to allow her to help her own injuries, giving her the time to do it.

Tomorrow morning, Khogani was taking her to another cave in this complex to work on twenty-five Taliban soldiers who had been wounded in an earlier attack. That was why he needed her. Zmarai had told her Pakistan medical supplies awaited her and she would not want for anything. What he didn’t say and was clear to her—they didn’t have a medic among them to help the injured. And that was probably the only reason she was still alive. They needed her medical skills. What would happen to her tomorrow after tending the Taliban wounded?

Thoughts of being beaten, tortured and raped crowded into Bay’s mind every moment. She remembered all too clearly that, during the three-week-long advanced course SERE—Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape course—the instructors had made it very plain to the forty volunteer military women undergoing combat training at Camp Pendleton that, if any military woman was caught, rape was a reality. It was a tool of power and control over a woman. Females, the instructors warned them, presented a whole other perspective of what it meant to being taken prisoner in combat. Taliban and al Qaeda didn’t honor the Geneva Conventions embraced by the rest of the world. And it was that international accord that would keep a woman from being tortured and raped after being captured by an enemy force. Shivering, Bay used her ruck as her pillow and balled up into a fetal position, trying to sleep.

To keep track of days, Bay took an ink pen and had placed a mark on the inside of her ruck. This was the second day. Tomorrow would be the third.

Her heart ached as she pictured Gabe’s hard, warrior face before her. Surely, he was over here looking for her? Would his SEAL team allow him to do that? Bay had no idea. But she took hope that Chief Phillips at Camp Bravo was doing something to try and find her.

If only.... Oh, God, if only she could leave a trail of bread crumbs of some kind. But Khogani and his men were wily. They rarely stayed out in the open, moving into one of thousands of caves in the Hindu Kush to avoid the rapacious eyes of the Predator drones. Twice, she’d seen Apache helicopters very near where they were hiding. The helicopters used thermal imaging to try and locate human body heat. She knew they were searching for her.

Gabe...I love you, I love you so much it hurts. I’m so sorry, my beloved...so sorry. I didn’t mean this to happen...

Tears slid down her dusty cheeks, warm trails that dripped off the sides of her face. In her closed hand she held the carved jaguar. Luckily, she’d put it in her ruck, and so far, none of the Taliban had rifled through it to steal or take anything out of it. Not even her surgery scalpels. Maybe her captors didn’t know what they were, but they were usable weapons. Bay would use one of them to try and escape Khogani. And there wasn’t a moment that didn’t go by that Bay wasn’t looking for an opportunity to escape.

Since she was completely disoriented, Bay was thankful for her compass, which she kept in her ruck. The cave she lay in was small. It had connecting tunnels to it. The two Taliban soldiers stood guard at the entrance, AK-47s in hand, prepared to shoot her if she tried to leave.

Trying to sleep, Bay closed her eyes. Suddenly, she heard a child’s echoing wail somewhere very far away. The echoes were faint but disturbing, floating through the tunnel system. Sitting up, she blinked, her heart starting to pound. Was she imagining that child’s cry?

The cave was airless and suffocating. Was she starting to lose her mind? Why did she hear that child’s shriek of utter pain? Touching her aching nose, Bay pulled two more ibuprofen out of her cammie pocket and drank them down with the glass bottle containing muddy-looking water. Zmarai had thoughtfully given it to her, telling her in very serious tones that she was lucky he’d found it for her.

Settling down once again, placing the right side of her face against the ruck because her left side was horribly swollen, Bay closed her eyes. Exhausted, in shock, she trembled inwardly. Fear ate at her. Everything was unknown. Khogani was like a cobra striking out at her unexpectedly, keeping her off balance. She feared he’d rape her and shuddered at the possibility. God, he stank like goat, his beard littered with bits of food, smelling of rotten meat and garlic. Her stomach churned.

And then, she felt Gabe nearby. She felt him come to her. Bay didn’t care if it was her imagination or not. Her fingers tightened around the carving, pressing it against her heart, the only physical link she had with the man she loved with desperation. She felt his hand move gently from her shoulder, down across her torso to her hip, as if to soothe her, calm her.

The edges of sleep lapped at Bay as she sensed Gabe settling his tall, strong body against the curve of her back, hips and legs. His hand slid gently beneath her neck, curving around, drawing her even closer to his body. To him. Her lips parted, and she moaned softly because he was so real to her, his moist breath falling across her neck, reminding her just how real it really was. And when Gabe eased his hand across her waist, settling it against her belly, long fingers splayed outward, Bay felt incredible heat radiating from him to her. A ragged sigh slipped from between her swollen lips as his powerful, loving protection surrounded her. His bodily warmth seeped into her, and in minutes, Bay stopped shivering beneath the thin, torn blanket.

Gabe was with her. He was
here
.

It gave Bay such overwhelming comfort that the fear that dogged her dissolved. She fell into a deep, healing sleep for the first time since her capture.

* * *

G
ABE
HALTED
HIS
black gelding as Reza brought his fist up in a signal that meant “stop.” Dressed hajji, looking like an Afghan, he waited, squinting across the eleven-thousand-foot ridge, the horses standing knee-deep in summer snow. Beneath his Afghan clothes, Gabe wore his SEAL cammies. The voluminous and baggy clothing hid the fact he wore his H-gear, a harness that surrounded his waist and chest. In fifteen pockets was as much ammo as he could carry for his M-4 rifle and SIG pistol. Plus, Reza had added huge saddlebags to each of the sturdy mountain horses. They were an arsenal on four legs, and he anticipated no mercy when they found Bay.

The wind at dawn was sharp and cold. Gabe had wrapped his neck in a yellow and green shemagh, a woven cotton scarf Afghans often wore. The colors of the shemagh denoted he was from the Shinwari Tribe. The mighty Hindu Kush mountains at this time of morning, just before dawn, were incredibly clear and beautiful. Pale pink outlined the peaks to the east of them.

Gabe knew Reza had seen something. They each wore a radio headset, the mic close to their lips, hidden by the Shinwari shemagh over the lower half of their faces and necks.

“What do you have?” Gabe asked quietly.

Reza stood up in the stirrups of his saddle, pointing north, a spotter scope in hand. “Look...Taliban...”

Instantly, Gabe dropped the reins on the tired horse’s neck and pulled his scope out of his side pocket. Quickly, he moved it through the general area where the Afghan had gestured. His heart started to pound. Sure enough, there were at least twenty Taliban on horses. His eyes narrowed. His heart stopped beating. The second rider’s head was covered by a sack. That was the way they treated prisoners so they could never know where they were. It prevented the prisoner from trying to escape.

“That’s Khogani!” Reza rasped, his voice excited as he watched them through his scope. “In the lead!”

“That could be Bay, second horse from the front?” Gabe’s mouth went dry. His whole body contracted with tension. “What do you think, Reza?”

Reza held the scope, looking intently at the second rider in line.

Gabe couldn’t tell, the shadows were too deep. They were a good two miles across the valley, on a ridge west of the group. Even Night Force scopes had their maximum distance. He waited, trusting Reza because the man lived in these mountains and knew them intimately. Controlling his hope, controlling his emotions, his mouth flat and hard, Gabe continued to watch the small group of riders on a goat path at least five thousand feet below them.

“I think...I think it is. I can see her hands...they aren’t a man’s hands. Look closely...see what you think,” Reza said, low excitement in his tone.

Gabe had the eyes of an eagle, and with a Night Force scope, it simply increased his ability to see clearly. The group moved into deep shadow and around a turn. He lost the first four riders.
Dammit!
Pulling the scope away from his eye, he muttered, “I can’t see her, but your assessment is good enough for me.”

Reza smiled brightly. “If it is Bay, then she’s alive. They’re taking her somewhere.”

“But where?” Gabe demanded, looking around at the silent, pristine world. The pink along the eastern peaks deepened to rose. It reminded him of Bay’s soft, natural mouth. Reza turned his horse and pulled up next to Gabe. “In the direction they are heading, there are several hospital caves the Taliban sometimes use. Not all the time,” Reza said, frowning, adjusting his shemagh to stay warm, “but often enough.”

Nodding, Gabe indicated he was familiar with hospital caves. He’d come across them before on patrols in these unforgiving mountains. They’d find spent IV bags, torn wrappers that had once contained battle dressings and emptied syringes littering the floors, along with emptied bottles of antibiotics in those large caves. Sometimes, they’d find dead bodies of Taliban who had perished despite medical care. Rubbing his chin, feeling the three-days’ growth of beard beneath his fingertips, Gabe let his mind range over options.

“I’m calling it in.”

Reza nodded. “I would. None of the other teams have found a trace of her.”

Gabe pulled out his radio and changed channels. He had a direct line into Chief Phillips at Bravo, who was coordinating the SEAL search for Bay. He then used his Night Force scope which would give him the range of where the Taliban where seen. Then, he pulled out his GPS unit, firing a laser beam into the area. Armed with the intel, he called in the numbers. Phillips would direct a drone flying at twenty thousand feet, unheard and unseen, over into their area. They had to be careful. If Apaches were sent in, Khogani might smell a trap and know he’d been spotted.

And what would happen to Bay? He might slit her throat. The horror of that happening slammed through Gabe. His emotions started to unravel. Just as quickly, he jammed them back into his kill box. Emotions had no place in this hunt. Absolutely none, if he was going to find Bay and rescue her.

“I know a goat trail off this ridge into that area,” Reza said, cheerful once again. He pointed back from where they’d come. “Turn around, we’ll go down.”

“Damn glad,” Gabe muttered, shivering from the cold. His heart rose with hope as his horse slowly and carefully negotiated the snow and then the slippery rocks at lower altitude. By the time the sun had risen, sending its golden, warming rays across the peaks, Reza had located the little-used trail. They’d have to go down into a very narrow valley and then back up the other steep, rocky side in order to reach the same trail the Taliban had been on earlier.

Hang on, baby. Just hang on. I’m coming to get you. Don’t you lose hope...I’m going to find you and rescue you...I love you, Bay...

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
they hit five thousand feet, a radio call came through from Phillips. Gabe gave Reza the silent signal to stop, as he turned up the volume to listen. The messages were always terse and short. What had the drone found? It was on station somewhere above them. Phillips had given Bay’s rescue the name Operation Pegasus. She was given the code name Amazon.

“Black Bird Actual, this is Black Bird Main. Over.”

Gabe responded. “This is Black Bird Actual. Over.”

“Amazon has been sighted. Repeat—Amazon has been sighted. Stand by for GPS. Over.”

Gabe nearly came undone. Tears jammed unexpectedly in his eyes as he fumbled for and found his computer to type in the coordinates. He didn’t trust his voice, his vision blurring for a moment. Clearing his throat, he keyed the mic. “Go ahead, Black Bird Main.” He typed in the latitude and longitudinal coordinates, his heart soaring.

“Anything else, Black Bird Main? Over.” Gabe wanted more intel. Where did the drone see Bay? Was she still on the horse? Had the drone actually photographed her face? His heart hammered in his chest, and he could hardly sit still.

“Roger. Positive ID on Amazon. Repeat—positive ID on Amazon.”

Relief, sharp and searing, scored through Gabe. For a moment, he tightly shut his eyes. Tears leaked from the corners of them. His entire chest and heart trembled with fear, with fierce hope. “Roger, Black Bird Main. Actual, out.” His voice was unsteady. Twice, he cleared his throat, shoving back his emotional reaction.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Reza grinning and throwing him a thumbs-up. The Afghan’s eyes lit up with such joy that Gabe found himself grinning. Bay was alive! The drone had photographed her face after the sack had been taken off her head as the Taliban group had halted in front of another cave complex. The photo was grainy, but in color, blurred, but Gabe could see it was Bay. Peering at it, he saw the right side of her face, her hair messy, her face dirtied with sweat. There seemed to be blood near her nose, but he couldn’t be sure. She must be feeling terror.
God, let me get to her in time.