WARRIOR (CROSSFIRE SEALS, #5) (17 page)

He stared at her for a moment. “There’s nothing to see up there but more trees and the main road,” he told her.

“I know, but I’ve also done research on the web. Aerial research because I enjoyed the view of the Swat Valley rivers. I bet, if I can figure out where the river is, I’ll recognize a few things I’ve looked at from those aerial views. Then I can locate them on the tourist map and we can...oh, will you just let me do this? It’s going to take them half an hour to reach our van and if they stop to search...we have just enough time. Okay?”

He sighed. “Go ahead. I’ll just lean against this tree and hold it up.”

She grinned at him. Freaking macho man wouldn’t admit it, but she wasn’t going to let him know she suspected he was having a hard time standing on his feet right now. “Don’t...take a nap while I’m up there. That’s an order, sailor,” she said.

She pulled off her skirt. His dark eyes narrowed at sight of the pair of tight boxers underneath.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “Those legs have my full attention.”

––––––––

S
NAFU. Situation all fucked up. Lucas looked at the pair of luscious legs climbing above him. Long, silky legs. Toned and tanned. Attached to a pair of pink boxer thingies that clung to hips and other female parts. SNAFU turning rapidly into FUBAR.

He banged his head against the tree. What the hell was he thinking, letting her climb up a tree, her ass all but naked, in the middle of the freaking Afghan-Pakistan disputed war zone? He must be out of his fucking mind.

He looked up again and caught a glimpse of Kit’s ass as she wriggled through a tight spot. He closed his eyes for a second. He was letting that woman get away with every hare-brained idea without even putting up a fight.

And his food poisoning excuse was only half the problem. He knew full well something was fucking up his system and bad food wasn’t the cause. He rubbed the area where he’d been stabbed the night before. It was radiating heat while the rest of his body felt icy cold.

His whole head hurt as if something was eating his brains out. He tapped his forehead against the tree trunk again. He could not afford to lose focus. He couldn’t believe he fainted. Fucking hell. He was leaning against the damn tree for support. He straightened up stiffly, using one hand to steady himself.

Kit was right. They needed to get to some sort of shelter before he lost all ability to protect her. Then what? He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

If those fuckers stopped to check the van—and they would because of the grenade—it wouldn’t take them long to make some educated guesses about who had been in the vehicle. He’d glanced around while helping Kit pack. There were tons of clues they’d left behind. English-language newspapers. Music CDs. Articles of clothing. Kit said she’d gathered most of the important stuff in her bag, but still, in their hurry, they could have left something.

He nudged the small pink suitcase with the toe of his boot. He frowned, trying to remember whether Kit climbed the tree with her backpack on her. She did, didn’t she? Why didn’t she leave it down here with him? Granted, it wasn’t a huge sack, but it would certainly impede her movement. And if she slipped.... He looked around for it. Nowhere in sight. Damn it.

Cucumber, you’ve got to start thinking ahead or you’re going to get both your sorry ass and hers killed.

He was the experienced one here. She was counting on him to get them back to that camp. He had to stay vigilant, have eyes on the back of his head. Kit had never been in this country, where everything could blow up at any second, where there were so many factions fighting one could end up making the fatal mistake of helping the wrong side. Like that truck being chased. Who was that kid and why did he yell out those odd messages that most American troopers would understand? Was he just crazy from this sickness or did he hear some kind of warning in that boy’s voice? And why the hell was the Taliban chasing after them if the kid was just mouthing nonsense?

He needed to try to decipher the words and see if they made sense. This fucking pounding in his head wasn’t helping. He slammed the side of his fist against the tree trunk in frustration.
Think hard, you jackass
.
Anticipate ten steps ahead. Act towards goal.

One thing was for sure. Kit and he couldn’t walk down the main road. He was sure his team was out looking for them already so it was just a matter of staying safe until they saw Jazz’s truck. Or maybe they’d radioed in for choppers, especially if they’d taken the wrong route and couldn’t find them. Of course, they wouldn’t know the two of them were now on foot. Their first assumption would be that he and Kit were still going up into the mountains.

He frowned. No, surely his team would also know, sooner or later those assholes would shoot at the van to stop them from following. Maybe they’d expected him to turn around and so they were waiting down there. Except they knew Kit was the one who had been driving.

His gut tightened from nausea. Unless he stopped feeling like this, it was best to get them out of the main road and just sit and wait. He would just be a liability to Kit.

Kit. His little Drill Sergeant Cupcake, leading a pussy asswipe who couldn’t stop puking his guts out because of some damn infection.

Now she wanted to head to the caves. He knew about them, the abandoned ones by enemy insurgents after a crushing defeat by Pakistani and US forces. They were put under surveillance by the local government for a while but that was two years ago. He knew the local government troops weren’t that vigilant, so that area wouldn’t be one hundred percent secure. But there could be some kind of way of communication there, if they were nearby. That was the problem—he had no idea how far away they were. It wasn’t a bad idea, except Kit thought she could find them. By climbing up a tree. In her boxer panties.

He groaned out loud.

This was so, so fucked up.

* * *

S
hahrukh studied the cloudless sky. The mountain view was spectacular today and from this privately-hewn ledge, he could see for miles. Some of Zerya’s Kurd guards had recognized him and given him a lot of freedom to roam here. To them, he was still one of the chosen sons of the famous elder who had won all those glorious battles for them. His father was descended from royal blood and had expected Shahrukh to carry on, even though, as a youth, he’d never even known what life outside the United States was when he came to live with his people.

Shahrukh nodded at the guard and waved him away. The other man disappeared into the background without a word. He gave a small reluctant smile at how quickly his wishes were obeyed among relative strangers. Just because they saw him as something akin to their leader. Just because his father’s legendary exploits gave them the impression his lost son would have the same qualities and the same inclinations. Even though he’d been gone for a few years, the oral tradition of passing down history and bloodlines made it impossible to be invisible among his own tribe. They knew of him and would treat him accordingly.

He took out his small satellite phone, turning the switch from cell to satellite signal. In these mountainous regions, where quick communication was impossible, it was probably one of his most valuable assets. His was issued by his agency, specially built to look inconspicuous, with an ability to scramble signals as well as other special capabilities. Here, in the hidden caves near the beautiful Swat Valley, using the device to talk about secret operations, special weapons and government agents made him feel like he was Batman. Amusement bloomed and the corner of his lips reluctantly lifted. Prince Batman. He’d have to request that as his code name when he returned to Center. So much more cool-sounding than boring Number Four.

“T,” he said, without any greeting.

“I’ve been waiting for your call.” The feminine voice at the other end came in clearly, velvety and sultry, like its owner.

“How did you know I would call you and not Number Nine?” he asked.

“It’s my job to anticipate everyone’s moves,” she replied. “And you call because you need him for a task but needed confirmation from me about his state of mind.”

As usual, the woman was perceptive. Everyone at Center had been watching his unit’s main man very closely. After all, the infamous Ice Man was showing
emotion.

“I heard there was a violent fight between him and One. First, who won? Second, can Nine handle any assignments?”

Number One was Alex Diamond. If Jed couldn’t perform, Shahrukh would report to him instead of Number Nine, even though what he needed done needed the latter’s expert touch. But Diamond had just returned from his self-imposed sabbatical and although he liked the man, Shahrukh didn’t know him that well.

“I wouldn’t call it a violent fight, darling, but yes, your concern is valid. As far as I can tell, Jed is handling everything normally.” There was a slight pause. “Perhaps a job taking him away from here would be good. He’s stalking the Medic floor like a wild animal and that only makes the staff nervous.”

Jed stalking. Jed in love. The very notion made Shahrukh smile again. Jed in love and stalking the Medic Center for updates on his lover were definitely interesting developments he wished he could witness for himself.

“Have you ever heard of the parable of the old lone wolf who found his life mate?” he asked, amused.

There was a tinkle of laughter. “No, but I hope it has a happy ending and the mate doesn’t die because if that happens, said lone wolf is going to be a dangerous lone wolf.”

“Oh, indeed,” Shahrukh agreed. He glanced down at the scenery below and added, “Is he dangerous?”

“Darling, he always is. Now, if you mean whether he’s in control of his emotional well-being to cancel someone for you, yes, I believe you should get him out of here for a while. I have too many stalking men around here at Center and not enough whips.”

T was the current operations chief for the mission. No doubt she had her hands full dealing with Jed and Alex Diamond at each other’s throats, what with Helen injured in Medic. He hoped she would make it. But these matters weren’t his top priority right now. His mind turned to his own operation at hand.

“I located the dealer in Karakoram. I had to exchange a favor,” he told her. Several, actually, but those were personal ones. “I need Jed to meet me to cancel a target.”

There was a small pause. “We don’t actually lend our operatives out for target cancellation, Number Four,” T finally said, her voice a little cooler. “There are certain rules by which we must abide. Center is not a Dial-An-Assassin service.”

He wanted to point out the experiments the nine commandos went through were called the Virus Project for a reason. They were all assassins functioning from within a cell, structured to destroy elements one by one. But it wasn’t in his nature to argue about semantics.

“Just get Jed here and he can decide,” he said, in his most reasonable voice. “I’m sure in the end, there’ll be a connection to some government sanctioned mission one way or another.”

There was another soft laugh at the other end. “You know that kind of manipulation doesn’t work with me, Rukh.”

His senses rang out a warning at the sound of his name. T was about to make her mental sniper move.

“I’ll give Jed your message but I think you need to take care of some business first,” she said.

Here it comes
. “What is it?”

“Vivi called and told me the girl you helped has been caught by her family. I need you to use your negotiation skills to find out where they have her. Now, a family blood feud isn’t going to be settled by money. I’m sure your Kurd familial connection has some weapons to be a little bit more persuasive, Rukh.”

Bullseye. T knew about the Kurd weapons. Shahrukh breathed out a quiet sigh. “The Kurdish battles have nothing to do with this war, T,” he said.

“Perhaps not directly, but you’re asking
me
to make a government connection, remember? We can’t interfere in a local blood feud now that the SEAL team has achieved their objective, which was capturing the Kob. But if your...contacts...would release the weapons they’ve taken from the caves when the insurgents ran off, now all targeted parties would listen and negotiate and we have a—how did you word it—sanctioned government mission.”

She had the exact reasonable tone he’d been using earlier. He could only admire the intelligence behind the tactic, how she struck a deal without his actually agreeing to it. NOPAIN, her GEM organization called this technique. Nonverbal Persuasion and Innovative Negotiation. Not having been long with Center, he had yet to master this art of war. One day, perhaps.

“And what will my contacts and their group get in return?”

“Shahrukh, they’re female
Peshmergas
. Our GEM operative in France has access to certain information and people, and thus can help find out who is targeting the top female leaders. I’m sure your contacts will be interested.”

He might as well admit defeat before he gave away even more. “I should just leave the wolves in your care,” Shahrukh remarked. “They could fight to the death while you claim a bloodless victory.”

T’s soft laughter made him smile in spite of the enormous responsibility she’d put on his shoulders. He supposed he deserved it. After all, he’d asked for a life to be ended.

“Rukh,” she said, “I must find some fun in my situation any way I can. Jed will get hold of you. Talk to you soon.”

* * *

“T
hey’re tracking us. I can feel it.”

Kit glanced behind them. They’d been moving steadily down the mountain but now that they were off the main trail, their speed was impeded by foliage, rocks and detours.

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it in my guts.”

“You puked them all out already,” Kit quipped, “so you must be wrong.”

He was perspiring so much, she was worried he wouldn’t make it. He hadn’t talked a lot, trekking without giving away his obvious discomfort, only stopping to heave that awful noise, which he tried to muffle with a wad of clothing. He needed to sit down and rest, but his paranoia of being followed pushed them along.