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Authors: Lindsay McKenna

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BOOK: Tangled Pursuit
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“Well . . . I remember one time, maybe when I was ten, Uncle Ihsan asked the three of us if we had one wish, what would it be. We’d been staying at their place, and we were having ice cream, which was such a treat when it was a hundred degrees out. We were sitting on their patio when he asked us.”

“You must have wished for a villa, right?” Wyatt grinned.

“I did.” Rubbing her face, Tal muttered, “I can’t believe this! I always wanted to have a home in Kuşadası. I love the energy there, the beautiful blue Aegean Sea . . . I just feel so alive, so good there. So does my mom.”

“She was born there, right?” Wyatt recalled.

“So were the three of us kids,” Tal said.

“Then, it is home for you, Matt, and Alexa.”

“Yes, Dad was a very important Air Force liaison officer who worked with NATO in Turkey. We lived in Istanbul for some time. Mom would get pregnant in Istanbul, where my dad was stationed, and then she’d fly home to give birth where she was born—in Kuşadası.”

“Well,” Wyatt murmured, giving her a warm look, “then you really are going home, darlin’. I think this is a wonderful gift they all gave to you. You’ll always have a place to call home from now on.”

Tal reached out, kissing him for a long time. As she lifted her lips from his mouth, she looked deep into his hooded, burning gaze. “You’re my home, Wyatt. This villa is wonderful, but it can’t compare to you, or to what we have. And the wedding gift is for
both
of us, make no mistake about that. Even if I had a villa and I didn’t have you, it would be a terribly lonely, empty place for me.”

She slid her hand up across his strong jaw, drowning in his warm gray eyes. “Without you in my life, I’d have nothing, Wyatt. Nothing.”

He took Tal’s hand, slowly kissing her palm. “Let’s put these puzzle pieces back into an envelope. I want to make love to the only woman my heart will ever need: you.”

The End

Don’t miss Lindsay McKenna’s next DELOS series novel

Forged in Fire

Coming to you in December 2015!

 

Excerpt:

Forged In Fire, Book 3, Delos Series

T
HE DESERT BEGAN
to shift and change in nature. Now, they were slowly climbing, gaining elevation and suddenly Dara could see snow-capped mountains in a U-shape around them the distance. These were fourteen-thousand foot Afghanistan mountains, rugged and powerful looking. They reminded her of the type she’d seen in New Zealand years earlier. These had sharply pointed peaks thrusting up out of the earth, dominating the valley. Dara tried to see the mountains coming into view as just that: rugged, but beautiful. Soon enough, halfway through the small, narrow valley, the Afghan village where they would render medical aid to the people, somewhere ahead. She spotted a thin ribbon of a dark green river off to their left. There were trees, although the leaves had shed for the year, leaving a lot of bare branches following the course of nearby water. The trees looked like skeletons, gray, thin and starved looking to Dara. Like the people who struggled to survive here in this godforsaken country. Afghanistan was one of the poorest nations on earth.

Mohammed, their driver, slowed the van and turned off onto a heavily rutted, muddy road. It had obviously rained up here from what Dara could see. She didn’t know the elevation, but it appeared much higher than the desert floor. There were wheel ruts made by carts drawn by donkeys or horses. The van jolted along at a very slow speed. Dara gripped the arm of the seat, constantly jostled around. There was a copse of trees resembling pines, their green limbs making it look like a gauntlet or corridor that the van would have to crawl through.

Matt, a Delta Force sergeant in the front seat, sat up, far more alert. What scared Dara was that he had just taken the safety off his M-4. Did he see something? What? She craned her neck, trying to see what he saw. Beau, his team mate, next to her, moved and flipped off the safety from his weapon, as well. That sent adrenaline leaking into Dara’s bloodstream. Her sister Callie seemed at ease, but she wasn’t. Callie had worked with Hope Charity for five years with these outlying villages north of Bagram. This was her first trip to such a village and she was concerned.

T
HE VAN MOVED
sideways as Mohammed fought to keep it on the road. Dara gripped the arm tighter, her gaze moving quickly from one side of the road to the other. Matt and Beau were on full alert, braced as they continued to scan the enclosed area. Dara could see nothing. This stretch of the road to the village was walled by sixty-foot pine trees and brush that blocked the view.

Her heart started to beat a little harder in her chest.

She saw Matt speak quietly into the mic that lay close to his lips, but she couldn’t hear what he said. Who was he speaking to? She was a civilian and had no grounding in anything military. Beau also wore an earpiece and mic, too. Not at all familiar with what Matt did, it alarmed her. There was such a feeling of danger hanging over them it was hard to ignore, but she told herself that it was only her over-active imagination. Seeing two Delta Force operators put the rifles to their shoulders sent her alarm bells ripping through her, and her knuckles whitened around the arm of the seat.

Dara was about to ask what was going on when suddenly, the windshield shattered. The glass exploded inwardly, like glittering ice shards thrown throughout the van.

“Get DOWN!” Matt roared, aiming his M-4 out the shattered window.

Dara lurched for the floor. Callie did, too. The deep-throated firing of the M-4’s hurt her ears, and Dara felt the van lurch.

Mohammed screamed as the van skidded sideways. A thunk, thunk, thunk of bullets were fired into the careening vehicle.

Dara closed her eyes, biting back a scream. She felt the van suddenly lift off on one side. They were crashing! Oh, God! Clinging to the floor, Callie near her, Dara knew they were all going to die. This was an ambush by the Taliban! She heard Matt’s voice above the roar and heard Beau answer. The sounds were cartwheeling around her and she panicked as the van fell on its side, sliding off the road. It slammed into the tree line and came to a sudden, abrupt halt.

Hurled upward, Dara gasped, slamming into the panel. She felt pain in her arm as she crumpled into the van’s sliding door. It was now partly open, mud oozing through the crack. The roar of the M-4’s returning fire and the chut-chut-chutting sounds of rifles returning fire outside of the van converged. Dara’s ears ached. She couldn’t hear anything. On her hands and knees, she twisted her head, seeing Beau firing slow and carefully out the shattered rear window. But where was Mohammed? She lifted her head, unable to see him. She saw Matt with the M-4 firing, each time, slow and accurate.

Then, for a moment, the firing stopped.

“Get out!” Matt roared. He kicked open the passenger door, leaping out. Beau cursed, trying to open the sliding door, but it was jammed. He grabbed Callie, throwing her forward between the two front seats.

“Exfil!” he yelled, pushing her to the right. Matt was right there, catching her as she was pushed roughly out the passenger side door. Instantly, he placed himself between her and the wall of the trees where the enemy hid, his M-4 lifted, ready to fire.

Beau reached back, grunting, as he hauled Dara off her knees, pushing her past him and guiding her through the opening to the front of the van.

And there was Mohammed, slumped over the wheel, dead. Half his head was gone! Dara choked, and before she could cry out, Matt reached in, jerking her into his arms, hauling her out of the vehicle.

Beau leaped out, right behind her. His face was a mask his eyes narrowed as he warily searched the wall of green before them.

“Take her,” Matt snapped, guiding Callie to her feet. “Get into the hills! We need to separate. We can’t go together. Once you get hidden, call for help from Bravo. Wait until the QRF arrives.”

“Roger that,” Beau said, gripping Callie’s arm. She’d fallen into the muddy road, her hands and knees covered. He moved swiftly to the rear of the van, jerking open a door and pulled out both rucks, bringing one over to Matt. Quickly, Beau shrugged his on and grabbed Callie’s hand.

“Come on,” he ordered, “stay low and stay close to me, Callie.”

Matt took the ruck, shrugging it over his shoulders, belting up. He pulled Dara to her feet and he swiftly guided her across the road from where the van lay on its side and headed into the brush. Twigs and branches swatted at Dara’s eyes and face, and once they were in the brush, they halted and crouched together. Breathing hard, gripping his gloved hand, Dara gulped, panic racing through her.

He turned. “We’ve been ambushed,” he told her in a low, raspy voice. “It’s a large, unknown Taliban force. Beau and I are splitting up so we don’t lead them into the village. We’re heading for the mountains. Beau will take to the hills in the opposite direction with Callie. He’ll be calling in for help from Bagram with his sat phone. In the meantime, we need to get as far away from this van as we can. By splitting up, we split the enemy forces and fewer of them can follow us. It puts the odds more in our favor if there’s a firefight.”

Dara gave a jerky nod, her throat tight, terror sizzling through her.

Matt looked around, keeping crouched, keeping her close to him. “Are you injured, Dara?”

She gulped, shaking her head. “Just—scared.” For a second, she saw the sympathy in Matt’s eyes. But then, it was gone. His gold eyes were hard and brittle with alertness. Now, she was seeing him for the warrior he was. “W-what do you want me to do?”

He took her gloved hand and guided it on his web belt at his waist. “Hold on to my belt. Try not to walk on large sticks because they’ll break and make a sound. The more noise we make, the sooner the Taliban will locate us. Do the best you can and stay very, very close to me.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“Up this mountain to hide,” Matt rasped, looking around, his rifle up, hand near the trigger. “I know this area well. There are a lot of caves up higher. And there’s a pro-American Afghan village on the other side of this mountain.”

“But isn’t there one a few miles away?”

“The Taliban have attacked us here. Beau will take Callie and they’ll work their way toward Bagram. He won’t go into that village because the Taliban will follow and kill innocent civilians while trying to find Beau and Callie. We’re each going to run and hide, draw the Taliban away from that village. It has no way to defend itself, Dara. Beau’s going to be in touch with Bagram, just as I will be when I can get an open spot to call them.” He turned, looking at the clouds gathering over the peaks of the mountains and scowled. “Taliban have Stinger missiles sometimes. They can blow a Black Hawk helicopter out of the air that tries to land and rescue us.” He brought her close, squeezing her against him. “That’s why we have to run. We have to get far enough away from this group and lose them. Then, I’ll call in on my sat phone and have a helicopter pick us up. Are you okay?” He searched her eyes.

It all made sense. Dara swallowed hard, her throat dry and constricted. “I’m okay. But Callie . . .”

“Beau’s as good as I am,” Matt reassured her quietly, holding her stare. “Callie’s in the best of hands. He’ll give his life for her if he has to. Don’t worry,” and he released her, guiding her fingers around his belt. “Let’s go. Remember, try not to step on anything that will crack or make a sound.”

It was harder to do than Dara thought it would be. She didn’t want to be separated from Callie, but she understood Matt’s strategic reasoning. Nor did she want that unprotected Shinwari village to be attacked. Beau was a big unknown to her, but Matt wasn’t. He moved with lethal silence, rifle up and ready, the hunter, not the prey. She felt like the prey, clinging to his belt, her eyes locked on the ground in front of her. Wind gusted through the area, the pines around them singing. As peaceful as they sounded, Dara knew Taliban were somewhere nearby, hunting for them. Oh, God, what would they do if the enemy captured them? Judging from the grim look on Matt’s hardened features, she didn’t want to know. They had speeded up after she thought she heard harsh, angry voices behind them. It had to be the Taliban looking for them! Adrenaline shot through Dara.

They moved quickly until the copse of trees began to thin. As it did, Dara tried not to make harsh sounds while breathing, but she couldn’t help it. Her knees were sore from the crash in the van. The muddy soil combined with slippery, wet pine needles gradually became a bare, rocky surface. Downed limbs from trees now surrounded them on the slope.

They were climbing steadily and Matt kept weaving through high brush and anything else he could to keep them from being spotted by the enemy. Dara saw the clouds darkening above them, the wind whipping more strongly across the rugged slope. Then, she tripped, nearly falling, but Matt turned, catching her before her knees slammed into the rocks.

He crouched, bringing her against him. “Let’s rest a second,” he rasped.

Dara nodded, bowing her head, mouth open, gasping for air. “It’s so high here,” she managed.

“Yeah, about eight thousand feet,” Matt put down his rifle and pulled out his Camel Bak hose off his shoulder attachment. “Here, suck on this. It’s fresh water. I have to keep you hydrated,” and he offered it to her.

Her hand trembling, she realized she’d lost one of her thin leather gloves, the back of it scratched and bloodied from brush, Dara took it, nodding her thanks. The water was cold, and Dara sucked hard, making a small sound of relief as it flowed down her aching throat. It tasted so good! She watched Matt panning the area, his head cocked as if listening for something. He’d pulled his hair back into a ponytail, wearing a dark green baseball cap. He too, like her, wore civilian clothes, jeans, boots and a heavy black winter parka that was perfect for this winter day and kind of weather. He also wore a green and ocher shemagh around his neck and shoulders, keeping the heat in his body from escape through the neck area.

Worried about him, Dara offered him the tube. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

BOOK: Tangled Pursuit
8.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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