Promises in the Dark (31 page)

“And you’re going to take on six soldiers all by yourself?”

He eyed her coolly. “They bleed like everyone else, don’t they?”

She knew better than to question a former Ranger, a fact she’d found out from talking to Tristan. But still, she didn’t move.

Finally, he pulled an as-yet unlit Molotov cocktail out of yet another side pocket of his cargo pants. “I’ll shoot the tires, then the gas tank. And then this. When they’re running, I’ll shoot them.”

“You’re not even going to try to reason with them?”

“I’ll try, Rowan. But they’ll want to search the camp.”

“If you kill them, more will follow.”

“Not if no one knows they were killed here. Go now.”

She couldn’t ignore the command in his voice and did as he asked. At her urging, Randy took a rifle and hid among the brush at the far end of the camp. She waited until he was out of sight before turning her attention to Julia, who was mercifully asleep.

She didn’t remain that way for long, opened her eyes at the sound of the rapid fire that broke the still air. And then there was shouting, more shots fired.

Rowan fought the urge to cover her ears, looked over and saw that Julia was cyanotic.

No, not like this. Not without her husband near her.

She put down the rifle and blasted the O
₂
, urging Julia’s head up slightly to facilitate breathing. “Come on, honey … you can do this.”

The morphine drip was taking its toll on her. With the oxygen mask fully in place, Rowan reached to turn down the drip of the IV and then propped Julia up on another pillow, all the while aware of the battle going on around her.

It shouldn’t be going on this long. Unless …

She turned in time to see a soldier slam into the room, speaking rapidly in Krio, then shouting and pointing between her and Julia.

Her rifle was still under the cot.

Bare hands in the air, she was shoved back against the wall viciously, the breath knocked out of her momentarily. The soldier’s gun was aimed at her chest and then it moved to Julia, who’d begun to revive. Rowan saw the fear in the woman’s eyes.

“Please, she’s dying,” she said, and the soldier whipped his attention from Julia, put his hand around Rowan’s neck and pinned her against the wall.

She put her hands on the soldier’s, tried desperately to pull it away, choking and watching in horror as the man’s rifle pointed toward Julia. There was movement on the other side of the door, and the soldier called, “She is here. Come get her—we will bring her to the jail now.”

When no one came into the room, the soldier released his grip to turn and check the door. Rowan doubled up, coughing, dragging air into her lungs, and it gave her enough time to pull her own gun, hold it to him.

His back remained to her and he was curiously still, but only for a moment. And then he fell backward toward her and she fought the urge to reach out and catch him, instead, letting him hit the ground hard.

She saw Tristan standing in the doorway and looked to see a knife sticking out of the soldier’s chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was hoarse but it could’ve been much worse. “Doc J?”

“Shot in the leg. He’s all right.” He bent down and pulled the knife out of the dead soldier, and then hoisted the man up. “I’ve got to hide the bodies. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You’re going to do that alone?”

“I have some help with me. I’ll send Doc J in here—try to get him to let you take the bullet out.”

With that, Tristan was gone. She turned back to Julia and saw that her color was deteriorating fast.

“It’s okay, Julia,” she assured her. “Randy, come out. It’s all right now.” She wasn’t sure he heard her, until the back door opened and he rushed inside, knelt by Julia’s bedside.

It wouldn’t be long now—and Rowan stood by the door, giving the couple their privacy but staying close enough in case she was needed. She heard Julia’s murmurs, Randy’s rough sobs, and she wondered if this was better, being able to say good-bye, or if it always felt as if a part of you had been ripped off with no warning, no matter how much actual warning you’d been given.

No matter what, you suffered with the loss. A gut-wrenching, aching void that one day, hopefully, if you’re lucky, could be filled again.

She looked up to the ceiling and knew her husband would understand about Tristan, would want this, and she said a silent prayer of thanks. If he hadn’t loved her, and loved her well, she’d never want to find that feeling again.

When she opened her eyes, she realized tears coursed down her cheeks, saw Randy standing by Julia’s bedside, holding Julia’s hand and refusing to let her go.

She wasn’t gone yet, was staring back at Randy, smiling.

Rowan had been gone a long time, but in these moments of chaos, she realized with a stunning clarity that she’d finally been found.

It wouldn’t happen, and without looking back, she accepted Dylan’s help getting onto the ship, and in seconds he was next to her on the deck and the crew was untying the moorings from the dock.

Dylan Scott was a dangerous man. Zane was as well, but Dylan was so different.

“Go below with Riley,” Dylan told her, then leaned in and whispered, “None of the crew knows about the children. Keep it that way.”

She would.

The first thing Riley did when she saw Olivia was hand her a small yellow pill. “Dramamine,” she explained. “Even if you don’t normally get seasick, this trip will change that.”

Olivia took the pill with a sip from the bottle of water Riley had also handed her.

“I already gave some to the kids. They should sleep most of the trip,” Riley continued. Olivia saw the bunk hidden by some trunks, the kids under blankets.

Upon closer inspection, Olivia noted that they were already asleep—the combination of the medication and the stress of the past days taking its toll, no doubt.

“They’ve been through so much already,” she whispered, more to herself than Riley.

“So have you,” Riley told her, handed her a cell phone. “It’s secured. Call your parents by pressing 1. They have a secure device as well.”

She didn’t wait for a further invitation, did what Riley had said and heard her mother’s voice for the first time in over six months, and then her father’s, and they were all crying. There was relief in her parents’ voices, but it was mixed with fear, even when she assured them that she was okay.

She wondered if they’d heard the fear in hers. “How are you both?”

“We’re fine, Olivia. We’ve just been so worried,” her mother said, and her father interjected, “We know you can’t tell us where you are. Just please … keep calling. Please.”

“I will. I promise,” she said, saw Riley motioning for her to wrap it up, and so she did, telling them she loved them and hearing it in return.

“Thanks for that,” she told Riley when she handed her back the phone. The tears were too close, her voice thick with them held in.

Dylan joined them, told her, “We’ve got food.”

“I’m not—”

“You need to eat. I can’t deal with you fainting from low blood sugar when we dock again.”

“So being bossy is a family trait.”

Dylan didn’t answer but Riley smirked, told her, “Wait until you meet Caleb.”

He’d seen Doc J go down, picked off the soldier who held the rifle on him before he could do further damage. Taken care of another while Tristan ran toward the sounds of shouting in the main tent.

Now Tristan piled the bodies into the soldiers’ own truck. “There’s a nice drop-off about a mile from here,” he said. “That’s where they’re headed.”

“I’ll drive behind you,” Zane offered but Tristan shook his head.

“We don’t want anyone spotted around the truck. I’ve got a few friends, locals in the next village, who’ll be happy to do the job. I’ll walk back.” He climbed into the driver’s seat and backed the truck with the dead soldiers down the rough road, away from the clinic.

Doc J sat propped on his elbows on the ground. “Bullet went straight through. I’m fine.”

“Yes, you’re fine. You didn’t ask why I’m back,” Zane said as he helped him up and took his weight against him, moving with Doc J slowly, toward the main tent. The man still had a Molotov cocktail in his side pocket.

“I’m guessing for Randy.”

“The kids are on the ship, they’re fine. But they need their father.”

He and Doc J met Rowan at the door of the main tent. When he looked past her, he saw they’d moved Julia there for comfort. It was light and airy, and although the breeze still carried the smell of gunpowder and blood, it was an infinitely better place for Julia to be.

She tried to sit up in bed when she saw him, and Randy stood quickly.

“Julia, Randy, please, it’s okay,” Zane started, quickly drowned out by Randy’s demanding, “What’s wrong? The kids …”

Zane raised his voice. “They’re on a boat to Morocco with Olivia and my brother. They’re well protected. I promised you.”

Randy muttered a prayer and Julia sank back against the pillow, her face unnaturally pale. “Thank God,” she said. And then, “I’d like to speak with Zane alone.”

Zane was as surprised by anyone at that statement—and honestly, it was the last thing he wanted to do. But he couldn’t refuse her, and so Rowan and Randy helped Doc J back outside, with Rowan grabbing supplies to dress Doc’s wound.

Zane stood by Julia’s cot uncomfortably, his adrenaline still running too high from the firefight to stay truly still, but he tried. “You sound better.”

“Rowan lightened up on the morphine. I’d rather feel the pain and be awake for the short time I have left.”

He nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I’m glad you came back for Randy.”

“I didn’t come back for him—I wanted to make sure the kids have their father.” His words were blunt, but she wasn’t offended.

Instead, she said, “You don’t believe, do you?”

“I believe in some things.”

“I don’t know why you do what you do, but I thank you for saving my family.”

Zane felt the anger rise, hot but not wholly unexpected. “I don’t know why you do what you do when you have kids. Why you drag them into your choices.”

She blinked. “Are you looking for a deathbed confession?”

“Sorry, forget it,” he said roughly.

“No, it’s a fair question. It must seem risky … stupid, especially now.”

“My parents were missionaries,” he told her. “They weren’t as lucky as you, and I wasn’t as lucky as your children.”

“I’ve grown up in this life,” Julia said. “It’s all I know. I followed in my parents’ footsteps. Serving like this, it’s what I do.”

“Children don’t have a choice.”

“My sister chose not to do this work as an adult. She’s been in the States since she went there at sixteen for boarding school.” She paused. “Our work is dangerous. But so is everything in life—you can’t make choices based on fear.”

He knew that, agreed with it, and still …

Not your parents, not your problems
. In a way, he’d absolved himself with this trip, best he could do to alleviate the nagging guilt of all those other kids left behind.

This family wouldn’t fracture completely on his watch. “I don’t have to take Randy right now. He wants to wait with you.”

“You’ll let him do that?”

“I won’t be able to stop him.”

“Do you … have any good memories of Africa?”

He snorted softly.

“You must have some, Zane. I know my children do, and I’d hate to think that this would erase years for them.”

Catching snakes with the local children in the riverbeds. The tall grass, the freedom. Space.

When he’d first moved back to the States with the Scotts, he hadn’t realized that he’d been lucky. He now understood why they traveled so often—they were seeking the same space.

“School wasn’t school here, it was more like … life. Lots of reading. Hands-on learning. Everything was different.”

“I can see you here, running wild,” she told him. “You seem to belong somehow.”

He was more comfortable here than he’d thought he’d be, even with the missionary family close by and in danger. It was as if the old instincts came back … as if they’d never left. He knew what to do, how to act. “There were some good times. In truth, I didn’t know anything else until …”

Until the day of the massacre. That’s what it had been, what his memories told him, fogged though they were. Until that point, he’d been another child running free and wild, loving his parents.

“What were they like?”

“I don’t remember that much about them,” he said honestly. “Almost like I stopped myself from remembering because when I was captured and sold, and then hiding, I knew it would hurt too much to think about them.”

“I’m sorry, Zane. This must be bringing back such bad memories for you.”

“It’s making new ones too.”

“Olivia,” she said softly.

“Yes, Olivia.” He paused, and then, “You should be spending this time with Randy, not me.”

Julia simply nodded, and Zane called out Randy’s name, walked past him as he left, not looking back at Julia again, not wanting to be thanked. He’d never understand what she was doing—would never accept her answers.

Zane wasn’t convinced by Julia at all. It wasn’t that easy, never would be. The only thing he could do was take comfort in the fact that he’d gotten the kids—and soon, their father—out.

Julia had been beyond saving. Hell, maybe they all were—but that wouldn’t stop Zane from trying.