Tactical Strike (19 page)

A solid arm hooked around her hips, anchoring her. “Hold on,
Ace. You have to hold on.”

The words flitted through her mind, the resolute tone
registering more than the meaning.

Beneath the pain and the anger, fear began to take hold.
Something was very wrong with her. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think.
Opening her eyes hurt too much, yet the darkness increased the sense of
disorientation and dizziness. She wished they’d just put her down and leave her
alone. Everything they did hurt her more.

Candace was barely hanging on to awareness when that familiar
voice reached her again, pulling her back through the fog. “Ace? Ace, stay with
me.” The words were labored, laced with concern. “Tell me you hear me.”

She struggled up through the haze shrouding her, blinked.
“Yes...”

The firm hold on her shifted, moving her into a more
comfortable position so that she was more horizontal than vertical. “Good girl.”
He was panting, fighting to get the words out. “Just hang in there a little
longer.”

Though she was tempted to retreat back into the fuzzy cocoon
beckoning to her, she fought it, some hard-wired part of her knowing she didn’t
dare let go. As much as it hurt, as cold as she was, she couldn’t surrender to
the oblivion waiting on the horizon of her consciousness.

The men handed her off her twice more, each time pausing to
make sure she was still awake. As they carried her, the confusion and sense of
pressure in her skull gradually began to lessen enough that she became more
aware of her surroundings. The wind seemed to have died down somewhat.
Eventually she managed to open her eyes long enough to realize they were moving
her down the mountain. Details began to filter through her senses. The feel of
the solid muscles in the shoulder beneath her belly registered gradually, along
with the labored breathing of the man carrying her. She was still cold, a little
nauseated, but the awful pain in her head was slowly easing.

Gathering her strength she raised her head, managed to push up
on one elbow. Immediately a powerful hand clamped around the back of her thigh.
“Don’t fight me.”

Her heart leapt as that voice that had been her anchor this
whole time finally registered. “R-Ryan.”

He stopped so suddenly that she was forced to latch onto his
web gear to keep from falling off him. A second later he bent to slide her off
his shoulders. He caught her under the arms to lower her to her knees as he
followed, his face level with hers.

Blinking as she got her bearings, she looked up to find a pair
of earnest mahogany eyes gazing back at her.

“Hey there,” he panted.

“Hey,” she managed, trying to smile to ease the strain she read
in his face.

Ryan closed his eyes a moment like he was overcome with relief
and leaned his forehead against hers until he got his breathing under control.
“Thank God. You scared the fucking shit out of me, sweetheart.” His voice was
rough with emotion.

She frowned and reached up to settle her gloved hand against
his bearded cheek, needing the contact to reassure him she was okay. “W-what
happened?”

“Onset of high altitude cerebral edema,” he answered, still
trying to catch his breath. He cradled the back of her head with one capable
hand.

Her stomach tightened in alarm. “How l-long ago?”

“Ninety minutes or so. How’s your headache?”

Better. “I’ll l-live.”

He huffed out a laugh at that, then gathered her close in a hug
just shy of bruising.

Candace wrapped her arms around him and squeezed back, reveling
in the strength of the arms surrounding her, the chance to hold him in return.
It felt like forever since she’d been able to. “Th-thanks,” she whispered, only
beginning to understand the enormity of what he’d done for her. The incredible
risk he’d taken. “W-where’s everyone else?” There’d been another soldier with
them on the trip down, right? She spotted him back up the trail a short distance
away.

“Back in the cave. I was going to take you down until you
stabilized, find shelter then call them.” Setting her back, he ran his gaze over
her. “Still feeling sick?”

“A l-little.” Not nearly as bad as it had been. Being right
side up for a change seemed to help.

He checked his altimeter. “We’re at ninety-one hundred feet and
change. Let’s go a little lower before we stop, see if it helps more.” He stood,
pulling her up with him, steadying her when she wobbled slightly. “Can you walk
for a bit?”

She nodded. Now that her head was clearer, she could pull her
own weight. For damn sure she wouldn’t make him carry her any farther. He looked
exhausted. “Enemy?”

“No contact so far. Doubt they’d be out in this weather
anyway.” Bringing her hands to his mouth, he blew on them through the gloves
then rubbed them briskly between his in an effort to restore circulation. It
didn’t thaw her fingers, but the caring gesture kindled a blaze of warmth inside
her. Whatever happened from here on out, she knew without a doubt how much he
cared about her. Enough to risk his life for the chance to save hers.

Candace swallowed past the sudden knot in her throat. “Do you
n-need to rest?”

“Nope.” He looked past her, and she suddenly remembered they
weren’t alone.

Turning her head, she found another soldier nearby, looking
pointedly elsewhere.

“That’s Kawaleski.”

The man flicked a cursory glance at her.

“Thank you so much,” she said simply, though she knew how
inadequate it was. Both of them had risked their lives leaving the main body to
drag her sorry ass down the mountain in these conditions. She owed them a debt
she could never repay.

Kawaleski merely gave a brusque nod and looked away, back to
scanning for threats.

Ryan squeezed her hands once before stepping away. “Sure you
can do this? Just a little farther ’til we’re under nine thousand. Then we’ll
reassess.”

“Yes.” Her legs were still a bit unsteady, but at least moving
on her own would help dispel some of the embarrassment creeping in and get her
blood pumping. How the hell had they carried her over this terrain, along with
their weapons and equipment? “Let me t-take something.”

One side of Ryan’s mouth curved up in a sardonic smile.
“Sweetheart, believe me, you walking on your own is enough of a help to us right
now. We’ll go slowly, but if you need us to stop, make sure you speak up. Wind’s
already petering out, which hopefully means the worst of this front has moved
on. We’ll descend a bit more, find shelter and call the team. ’Kay?”

“Okay. What about a w-weapon?” She felt almost naked out here
without one. Hopefully the worst of the shivers would stop once she got
moving.

Ryan reached down to withdraw his sidearm from the holster
strapped to his right thigh and handed it to her. “Better?”

She nodded, awkwardly curling her cold fingers around the grip.
It was unlikely she’d hit anything more than fifty feet away, but at least she
had something to defend herself with if someone started shooting at them.

Ryan signaled to Kawaleski. “Let’s go.”

Candace didn’t protest when he took her hand to lead her
forward. Her legs felt heavy and uncooperative at first, but she managed to keep
pace with Ryan as he navigated his way down a shallow ravine. The snow was dry
and slippery beneath her boots. With each passing minute her head cleared even
more and her racing heart slowed a little. The wind no longer shrieked in her
ears, making it easier for them to communicate, and the exercise heated her up
some.

Ryan jumped off a large boulder and turned back to offer his
hands to her. She shoved the safetied pistol into the back of her waistband
beneath her jacket and locked her hands around his thick forearms, allowing him
to help her down.

Her right boot had just touched the ground when Kawaleski gave
a short, sharp whistle. She and Ryan cranked their heads around and when they
saw him, they both froze.

Kawaleski was staring intently down the mountain to their left.
Without taking his eyes off whatever he was looking at, he made a series of hand
signals to Ryan.

“Shit,” Ryan breathed beside her.

Heart drumming, Candace followed their gazes, squinting to make
out what appeared to be dark spots moving amongst the rocky trails several
hundred meters in the distance.

Then, carried on the dying wind, a series of sharp, staccato
shots reached them.

Instantly she dropped to a crouch while Ryan did the same. She
risked a glance at his face, trying to judge just how bad this was. Were those
friends or foes coming toward them? Had they been spotted? Who was fighting?

Ryan was already pulling out his radio. After a moment, he got
through to someone. “What’s your position, over.”

A heavily accented voice responded with a series of grid
coordinates. “We are taking fire from a small force. Moving west-southwest,
request reinforcement.”

“Stand by.” He spoke to Kawaleski. “It’s the ANA boys.”

Kawaleski assessed the situation through his binos. “Can’t tell
how many guys are coming up on their six.”

“Enough that they need backup,” Ryan muttered, adjusting the
radio frequency.

Candace instinctively reached back for her weapon, gloved
fingers curling around the grip of the pistol at her back, while Ryan called
someone else and repeated the information. She scanned the surrounding area,
searching for a place to hide. Her gaze landed on a break in the rock down the
trail. Ryan was still talking to someone, she assumed from the ODA team.

“Roger that,” he responded, then spoke to Kawaleski. “Team’s
moving down already. Diamond Dave wants us to take cover and wait until they
rendezvous with us.” Ryan swiveled around to address her. “Once everyone’s here
you’ll wait with your crew until we come back for you.”

The sounds of the firefight grew louder in the distance, the
reports of the shots cracking through the frosty air. Moving closer with each
passing minute.

“What about—” she started.

“We gotta get outta sight.” He grabbed her arm to drag her
forward but she resisted.

“No, down there.” She pointed down the hill, at the gap in the
rocks. “This way.” Without giving him a chance to argue, she gave a hard yank to
pull him in the right direction.

Thankfully Ryan followed, with Kawaleski close behind him.

Chapter Fourteen

“What is it? What did they say?” Mohammed whispered in
excitement.

Khalid lowered the handheld radio they���d picked up from the
retreating Afghan unit and met Mohammed’s wide eyes, reading the fear and
anticipation colliding there. “There are others in the area, cut off from the
main group, but I can’t tell how many. And there are more coming down the
mountain to them.” It must be the main body of the American force.

The men the Afghan unit were in contact with had either been
separated from the main force during the storm or had purposely set out on their
own. It didn’t matter either way, only that the Americans were split up. And
with Nasrallah’s men waiting down near the edge of the valley, Khalid couldn’t
have asked for a more perfect scenario. “It’s time to move.”

Mohammed scrambled to his feet, hunched over in an instinctive
posture to make himself a smaller target, or perhaps in an effort to retain what
little body heat he could.

Khalid held out a hand to stop him from rushing past toward
their front line. “Stay close. There are no more weapons available right now.
You’ll have to wait a little while.” He didn’t have to say it was because they
expected to lose more of the men in the coming hours. One had already died from
exposure to the cold overnight, left behind in a shallow grave they’d carved
out. The survivors had spent the night in a cramped cave, huddled together like
a herd of miserable goats to keep from freezing to death. All of them, but
especially the elders, knew what the cost of this mission would be. Blood and
lives would be lost here because it was necessary. And every man’s fate was
firmly in Allah’s hands. Everything depended on His will.

Mohammed pushed out a frustrated breath and bowed his head.
“Yes, Khalid-jan.”

Khalid fought a grudging smile. He had bigger plans in mind for
the teenager, who was proving to be one of his most loyal followers. “Come.
We’ll follow them closely now, until they choose their next position.”

Taking the lead, he guided Mohammed and the other boys out of
the wadi they’d been hiding in, hugging the side of the mountain to stay as
invisible as possible. Up ahead the older men were scattered amongst the rocks,
taking what refuge they could while delivering sporadic fire upon the retreating
dogs they hunted. Khalid hated his faithless countrymen for their betrayal even
more than the American infidels. This waste of ammunition was necessary to push
them into the jaws of the trap waiting below.

Pausing close to his front line to observe their movement, he
signaled for the others to take cover. As he watched, a dozen or more enemy
fighters slipped in and out of sight, hurrying down the hill and out of range of
his men’s rifles. A pair of Soviet-era binoculars allowed him to track the
traitors as they fled along a trail that led to the edge of the valley floor.
Where Nasrallah and all of his men were gathering in the network of caves for
the offensive campaign they were about to launch.

Standing on the side of the mountain with the dying wind in his
ears, it was suddenly and absolutely clear to Khalid what he had to do.
Adrenaline hummed through his veins, warming him from the inside out until he
barely noticed the cold. He turned to the huddled group behind him, the young,
eager soldiers who would be the new generation in this war. Meeting each of
their gazes, he made sure his next words hit home.

“When we advance, you will do so quickly and efficiently. You
will not stop to help the wounded or the dead. You must carry on, pick up the
rifle of the man in front of you and only fire when you have a clear shot to
conserve ammunition. Is that understood?”

Eyes blazing with purpose, his rapt audience nodded.

“Any man who hesitates or refuses to follow my commands from
this point on will be shot.” For emphasis he set a hand on the Soviet-era
six-shot revolver tucked into his belt. “Understood?”

Though some shifted uneasily or spared a nervous glance around
them, they all nodded again.

Good. He would be merciless in enforcing his edict. “God
willing, we will triumph over the traitors and the rest of our enemy by
nightfall.” With one final pause to look each of them in the eye, he pivoted
toward the sound of the gunfire. “For your country, in Allah’s holy name, follow
me.”

* * *

In the Pat Tillman USO at Bagram, Jackson was a third of
the way through his practice questions when something suddenly blew his
concentration. With his iPod playing Louis Armstrong to drown out the noise
around him in the back room of the building, he glanced up from his paper,
unsure at first what had disturbed him. He caught sight of the far door swinging
shut, the artificial breeze carrying a familiar scent that burst his remaining
focus like a pin popping a balloon.

He inhaled automatically, pulling in more of the unmistakable
smell. Tangerine and vanilla, a unique mix of tart and sweet he would never
forget.

Because of the person who carried it.

The instant he spotted Maya near the entrance his pulse
reacted, sending a rush of awareness through him. When her head turned and she
locked those intense sea-green eyes on him from across the room, his body
reacted in a predictable manner, making the crotch of his pants uncomfortably
tight.

She started toward him with a purposeful stride, never looking
away.

He stayed still as she strode over to him, her confident
posture and determined gait making her look taller than she actually was. And
more than a little intimidating to most people, he was sure. He was pretty
certain she liked it that way, yet there was something mysterious and undeniably
attractive about her that drew his eye every time he spotted her. And once he
did, he always had trouble looking away.

Hard, he thought again as she approached. Lieutenant Lopez was
hard all over, from her honed body to the glint in her eye that promised hell if
someone dared to cross her. She looked like she could dish out an ass-chewing
that would leave a man’s pride stinging for days and back it up with her fists
if she needed to. Yet watching her interact with her friends and hearing about
how she’d stood in the open in the middle of the rocket attack to help an Afghan
girl, he knew there was a softer, more human side to her too. That was the part
of her he wanted to get to know better.

For some reason that odd mix of badass and sweet tangled him
up. Since he’d first noticed her a few weeks back, he’d been more than a little
intrigued by her. She was different from the other women on base. And having
been raised by a single mother and three older sisters, he liked to think he
knew women pretty well. His friends teased him that he was a “woman whisperer,”
but that obviously wasn’t true. Because all these weeks later, Jackson still
couldn’t figure her out. And damned if that didn’t make her that much more
appealing somehow.

Maya strode right up to the edge of his desk and stopped as
though she had every right in the world to invade his privacy, bringing a cloud
of that luscious scent with her. She glanced down at the papers in front of him
with a frown.

Pulling out the earbuds in a show of politeness, he looked up
at her warily, prepared for anything. With her there was no way to tell what he
was in for.

“You’re doing math problems?”

Surprised that she’d singled him out to speak to him here when
she’d never approached him before, he leaned back in his chair a little to
evaluate the situation. No greeting, no formalities of rank or demands of
protocol from her. Fine with him. “Physics.”

Those pretty eyes held his, direct and unflinching. “So this is
what you do for fun in your spare time? Physics and crosswords?” The teasing
cadence of her faint Latina accent stroked over his heightened senses.

He bit back a smile at her straightforwardness. If she knew
about the crosswords, she was more aware of him than he’d realized. “I’m
studying.”

“For what?”

“The MCAT.”

Her dark winged brows went up, her face going slack with
surprise. “I’m impressed. And here I thought you were just an ordinary
geek.”

“No, ma’am.”

A grin played at the corner of her mouth, and he thought maybe
a spark of amusement twinkled in her eyes. He remained seated, staying silent as
she scrutinized him for a long moment. Instinct warned him not to break the
slightly tense silence building between them.

She was testing him.

Why, he didn’t know. But damned if he’d lose this staring
contest and let her have the upper hand. Something told him he had to be very
careful to hold his ground with her, not let her mistake manners and politeness
for weakness. This woman valued strength; that much was obvious. And if she
thought she could intimidate or rattle him, she was going to be sorely
disappointed. Jackson continued gazing back at her, calmly waiting for her to
say what she’d come to say.

When he didn’t fidget or break the silence she at last folded
her arms and regarded him with a slight tilt of her head, that blatantly
aggressive edge melting away. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, as though
she approved of his actions. He was happy to oblige. “I’ve asked around and none
of your boys seem to know anything, so I came to ask you personally.”

Okay, the pleasantries were over with. He must have passed the
test. “Ask me what?”

“If you’ve heard anything about Ace—Captain Bradford, and her
crew.”

Careful to hold her gaze, he shook his head. “Nothing,
why?”

“She was out on a mission last night. Never came back.”

That surprised him. “You’re saying she’s missing?”

“Has to be. Her crew only goes out on night missions, and even
if they’d been called into a major debriefing it wouldn’t take this long. No one
I’ve talked to has seen her or any of the others since last night. No one. And
even with my security clearance I can’t get any answers from anyone in
operations.”

Through the hard attitude and unapproachable body language,
Jackson detected a high level of unease in her. Despite the tough-chick routine,
she was worried as hell about her friend. Enough that she’d sought him out in a
public setting for help when up ’til now she’d been giving him nothing but
silent warnings to keep his distance.

He might not know her, but he knew her coming to him for help
was a big deal.

Jackson stood and gathered his things. “Come on. Let’s go see
if I can find you some answers.”

At the door he held it open for her and paused, waiting for her
to go through first. Maya flicked an uncertain glance at him, a slightly
discomfited expression on her face before she swept through with a murmur of
thanks.

“You’re welcome,” he answered, wondering why the simple show of
manners had made her uncomfortable. She had to be used to men holding doors for
her, even if out of nothing more than courtesy for her rank?

Maya accompanied him outside without another word, staying at
his nine, matching her strides to his as they started across the base. “Where
are we going?”

“Spec Ops area. You’ll have to wait at the gate once we—”

“I’ve already been in there.”

He snapped his head toward her in surprise. “What?”

She wore an almost jaded expression. “That’s where I just came
from. Nobody knew anything.”

He was still stuck on the logistics of it. “The guards just let
you walk in?”

Meeting his eyes, she raised a haughty eyebrow. “Yeah.”

Why did that not surprise him? She’d probably marched up there
like she owned the place, too, which might explain why they’d allowed her
inside. Whatever else she was, the lieutenant was a force to be reckoned with.
“Even if whoever you talked to knew something, he wouldn’t tell you. I’ll ask
around this time.”

“All right. Thank you.” The tension around her mouth told him
that while she didn’t appreciate being treated like an outsider, she at least
accepted how things were.

As it turned out, however, they didn’t even get to the
restricted area before they found what they were looking for.

Partway across the base they spotted the news crews milling in
front of one of the headquarters buildings. At first Jackson didn’t think
anything of it. Media presence was commonplace at a large base like Bagram,
always looking for interviews about operations and other things. But when Maya’s
face hardened and she veered away to stride over there, Jackson knew she thought
it must somehow be connected to her friend.

“What’s going on?” he said, following her.

“Ace is definitely missing,” she answered, as though the news
crews’ mere presence confirmed it. Then she swore under her breath in Spanish
and muttered about what she thought of the slime-sucking media in general.
Considering the inventive language involved, he was pretty sure she had no clue
that he understood every single word she was saying. When the diatribe finished,
she switched to English. “And now that the rumor’s out, every news affiliate in
the western world wants to know if a senator’s daughter really is missing in
action.”

“Her father’s a senator?” Went had never mentioned that. Did he
even know?

Rather than answer, Maya curled her lip at the camera crews,
every line of her compact body radiating outrage. “Assholes.” She threw a
warning look at him. “Ace doesn’t want everyone to know about her family, but I
guess it’s too late. Just try to keep it to yourself.”

“I will.”

They stopped close enough to the nearest crew to catch some of
what the reporter was saying to the camera. Apparently information had been
leaked hours ago about a possible downed gunship crew, and it was widely
believed that Senator Adams’s daughter had been one of the pilots on board.

Wait. Senator Adams, the one he’d read about in the paper with
Went the other day?

Beside him, Maya sucked in a sharp breath. He glanced down at
her, noting her pinched expression, the torment in her eyes. His heart went out
to her. If she’d been any other woman he would have put a hand on her shoulder,
done something to offer comfort. Because she wasn’t, he didn’t dare touch her.
“I’ll head over and see what I can find out—”