Trinity: Military War Dog (19 page)

She huffed a smile. Since leaving Heath.

Get over it. He’s not here. There’s little chance you’ll see him again
. It’d been why she was willing to have lunch with him. Play the game. Though, with the way he seemed to anticipate her, she half expected to see him around the next corner. Okay, not literally, but …

Darci lifted the girl, cringing as fire raced down her shoulder. That might be a graze but it hurt like crazy. Tightening against the slice of pain that accompanied the movement, she hoisted the girl onto the ledge. “Climb up and lie flat.”

Surprise snaked through Darci when the girl did as requested. This wasn’t the first time she had to hide, and that rankled Darci. No child should have to live like that.

Grateful for her love of rock climbing and the numerous adventure trips that gave her experience, Darci bent and rubbed her hands in the dirt. Not as good as chalk, but it would help. Then she wedged her toe into a gouged area and pulled up.

Pain sluiced through her again.
Gut it up and get moving
. She pushed herself up, caught hold, and dragged her legs over the ledge before rolling onto her back. With a breath of relief, she gazed at the stars. Wind tugged at her, whistling over them. They had to make it back. She had to tell Burnett about these men. Something was going on down there, and it couldn’t be good if they were masquerading as Taliban.

Her gaze traced the edifice that rose another twenty feet. Only as she lay there did the tree dangling over the ledge register. It was less than fifteen minutes from the camp. But getting up there … climbing that height with the child and an injury …

Shouts came from her right. She peeked out and down toward the voices. Shadows flickered in and out of the moonlight. Beams of light danced up and over, some bobbing in a strange dance against the face of the mountain as the men hurried. Snap. Had the entire camp come after her?

Okay, choices just vanished.

They
had
to go up. If she tried to take the route she’d come, the Chinese would be on her in minutes. She had to buy time by scaling the cliff. It’d be okay. As long as Badria could hold on tight. And Darci’s injury wasn’t deep and poisoning her or bleeding her out.

A strobe of light struck overhead.

Darci flashed a hand to Badria. “Don’t move.” She turned her head toward the cliff face as the light dropped on them. Her breath kicked into the back of her throat as the beam slid over her body. At least she’d had enough sense to wear a black jacket and jeans—it’d help her blend into the shadows.

Keep moving, keep moving
, she mentally urged the men.

The beam traced the rock, slipped down the path, and vanished into a tangle of trees and shrubs.

Once sure the men weren’t searching this location anymore, Darci pushed onto her knees. She removed her jacket and guided Badria onto her back. She slid the jacket back on and zipped it. “Okay, I need you to be brave and strong.” She patted the girl’s hands knotted around her neck. “Hold on tight—and don’t look.”

Darci tucked dirt into her pockets, then reached for the first hold. Keeping her movements slow and meticulous, she began their ascent. With each rise, Badria’s arms tightened around Darci’s shoulders and squeezed. Sweat broke out over Darci’s brow. The rubbing against the wound made it raw, burn. She blinked past the pain, determination hardening her resolve to make it.

In a secure toehold, she freed one hand and dug in her pocket for dirt. They were within three feet of the upper ledge when the voices once again returned. Not right under them, but she and Badria would soon be discovered if Darci didn’t hurry. As she tried to secure another foothold, she wished for the professional climbing shoes. Not the heavy boots she’d donned to withstand the bitter Afghan mountain nights.

Her foot slipped. Scraped along the rock. The slip jarred her shoulder.

Badria cried out and wrenched her legs.

At the stab of pain, Darci bit down to stop from crying out, too. Arms placed to the side as if she were a giant spider, she hung her head and let her brow rest against the rock as she regained her composure, shoved aside the burning.

Shouts below.

Her eyes snapped open. Straight down, she saw men.

They’d been discovered.

Tempted to hurry, she knew they couldn’t. One wrong toe placement …

Then again, if the Chinese started shooting again, toes wouldn’t matter.

Darci rammed her foot into a hold. Used all her remaining strength and threw herself toward the upper ledge. She caught … then slipped.

Rocks dribbled down.

“No,” she ground out as she scrambled. Her fingers clawed dirt.

Rocks.

Sliding debris.

Gravity snatched them.

            Thirteen              

2 Klicks outside FOB Robertson

C
old poured into their Humvee without mercy. Dull and aggravating, a throb annoyed Heath as they trounced over the hard-packed roads through the training area. He should’ve eaten a good meal before heading out. If the headache continued to increase, he—

No. He wouldn’t go there or let that happen. He freed his CamelBak straw, clamped down on the bite valve, and inhaled. The water felt good, but the throb didn’t ease. Probably because the pounding wasn’t from water deprivation. But from stress. From the TBI. He had to make it. Couldn’t go south now with his health.

A wet nose nudged his cheek. Then a wet tongue.

“You want some, girl?” Heath aimed the valve at Trinity and squeezed. Water squirted her nose. She jerked back but then lapped the liquid, half of it splashing on him at first. He chuckled as she settled next to him and seemed ready for a nap.

Heath swiped his arm over his face and mouth as he squinted out the windshield at the maneuvers. He’d seen a sniper take out a target without being spotted. He’d seen a Ranger battalion on the range, and he’d seen tanks and MRAPs practicing.

“Where are the dogs?”

“Come again?” Watters steered around an incline, then ramped up another.

“Specialist Farley said there were some working dogs out here.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah.” Watterboy adjusted his weapon strap. “Command ordered them down to Helmand. Got some HPTs coming in, so they sent the dogs.”

Heath nodded, remembering the mission that had been his last. “My last gig was for HPTs, remember? They’re expensive.”

Watters nodded. “No kidding. Cost a lot in equipment, training—and if things go bad, body count.”

Heath held up his hand. “It goes bad.”

“It was a close call. At least you’ll never forget—and neither will I.”

As he lowered his arm, Trinity nudged his hand up and licked it, pulling a laugh from him. Heath didn’t need to see behind the Oakley sunglasses to know Watters’s hazel eyes studied him. He nodded to Trinity. “Think she remembers that mission?”

“I guarantee it, but she doesn’t spook easily.”
Wish I could say the same for me
.

The thought of a spooked dog pushed his gaze back to Aspen. Just as he turned, her curls bounced as she turned her head away. Maybe now would be a good time for a topic change. “So, you guys seeing a lot of Taliban up here?”

“You know how it was a hot spot here for a while, so we were ordered into the mountains. Then things quieted down and we were sent south.” Watters shrugged as he pulled up along another Humvee. “Now the bad guys are back.” A broad white smile stood in stark contrast to Watterboy’s very tanned face and dark beard. “So are we.”

Stepping out into the cold seemed to invite the Afghan desert to drum on his skull. Heath winced as he strapped his helmet back on. The thing felt like a ton of bricks. A little more water and he’d be okay. All he had to do was stay in the shade as much as possible. Hydrate. Avoid stress.

Right.

They rounded a bend, stepping down a narrow gorge that emptied into an open valley guarded on all sides by limestone. The shape of the terrain reminded him of an upright tunnel.

Squinting, he peered up at the unrelenting sun layering its way into the gorge. Shade. “Right.” After one more sip of water and a squirt for Trin, he kneaded the back of his neck.

“You okay, Prince Charming?”

He eyed Hogan and knew she was waiting for him to fail. To prove her right. To be weak. “Peachy.”

She gave a cockeyed grin and stepped past him. “Be glad Beowulf’s not here. He can smell a liar.”

Heath hesitated.

Hogan laughed.

And the sound plucked on the frayed ends of his nerves, pushing a scowl into his face. The knotted muscles added to the thunder rumbling through his thick skull.

Jibril touched his shoulder. “Easy. She just likes getting you worked up.”

“She’s good at it.”

“My sister has the same talent with me.” Jibril smiled, his beard fitting in with the dozen Spec Ops soldiers they trailed into a makeshift shelter.

Three MRAPs sat in the northern quadrant with a tarp stretched over them, providing the only source of shade. The immediate relief to his throbbing head almost made him wilt in gratitude. Huddled around their leader, the men talked as if lives depended on their chatter.

Heath could sense a shift in the force. Scowls. Tensed shoulders. Hands fisted. Lips set in determined lines.

“Hold up,” Watters said. “Looks like something’s happening. Stay here.”

Suspicions confirmed, Heath lowered himself onto the bumper of one of the MRAPs and rubbed Trinity’s head. She whimpered, scooting forward every few seconds. She could sense it, too. Huh. Maybe his subconscious had picked up on her antsy behavior, and that’s what alerted him, since dogs had heightened senses. No doubt by the scent of fear. Maybe even aggression.

It was in the air, too. As if the spirits that roamed this country were … Were what? Alive? Of course they were. The Bible spoke about the spirit of a place. So why did it surprise him? “Because it’s almost tangible.”

“What?” Aspen looked at him.

“Nothing.” He tightened his hold on Trinity’s lead.

“What do you see?” Jibril lowered himself to the bumper.

“They’re planning. Something on the spot, need to move fast. Probably got wind of suspicious activity nearby.” Otherwise, they’d be packing up and rumbling back to base camp. “Not too urgent, or they’d be yelling back and forth with SOCOM.”