Trinity: Military War Dog (20 page)

Watterboy and Candyman approached.

Heath stood and Trinity with him. “What’s up?”

“Command got word of a potential drug lord’s location about ten klicks east. We’re going to check it out.” Watters squinted as he looked at them, then to the ladies. “You’re cleared to go along, but you stick like glue to us.”

“Let’s move,” Hogan said.

Heath glanced at the girl, who didn’t seem to understand what a threat was, that they could go into this village … and never come out alive. Wait a minute, wasn’t this what he’d wanted three weeks ago? To get back in the action, prove he still had what it took?

Parwan Province, Afghanistan

He’d never taken kindly to traitors. Staring down the face of the cliff where Jia struggled to maintain her grip, he toyed with letting her drop.

But Peter Toque needed her. Needed to know what her mission was here. Because one thing was certain—she was a part of the geological survey team, in name only.

A yelp yanked his better judgment to the front. He hooked an arm around a tree that shot up out of the rocky terrain and swung down, catching her arm.

The sudden shift in her weight jerked them down. Wide, almond-shaped eyes came to his, the moonlight glowing off the whites. The tree cracked. Popped. Gravel dug into his belly as he strained against her weight.

She slapped her hand up and coiled her fingers around Peter’s forearm. “Don’t let go.”

Don’t tempt me
. He gritted his teeth, dug his heels in, pulling himself into a hunch, then hauled her up. Shouts and clamoring voices drew closer.

She twisted and flopped onto her back, rolling away from the ledge, and thudded against a rock. A grunt hissed out.

He half expected her to lie there, but in a lightning-fast move, she hopped to her feet and sprinted away.

Peter cursed his hesitation and darted after her. He’d—once again—underestimated the Asian woman. Since they’d met in the warehouse and she’d shown more awareness of the geopolitical nature of the area than the geological makeup, he’d watched her. Back at Bagram, she’d been pulled into a meeting with a general after saying she’d filled out paperwork wrong. She returned an hour later, and all paperwork questions vanished. Good thing he didn’t believe her geology student status.

Rock and dirt exploded, peppering his cheek. A piece flicked against his brow. He cursed and ducked, wanting to stay intact, and propelled himself around the next corner. Pumping his arms faster, he vowed to get the truth out of Jia—if they survived tonight.

He broke through a small cluster of trees—and rammed straight into Jia, shoving her forward. She yelped. Why wasn’t she moving faster? “Move! Go! They’re right behind us.” Peter pushed her.

She stumbled, recovered, then ran again. But her legs seemed tangled in vines. After a few missteps, she regained her footing, and they hurried farther and farther from the gunshots.

They tumbled into the camp almost on top of each other.

Jaekus leapt from his canvas chair by a fire. “Whoa!”

Jia dropped to her knees with heaving breaths.

“We’ve got trouble. Get everyone up.” Peter spun to Jia. “What have you done? Where did you go?”

Eyes hooded in pain, she barely acknowledged him as she fumbled with her zipper.

Only then did he notice another set of eyes peeking at him. A child—in her jacket! “Who is that?”

The little girl wiggled out of Jia’s coat, dark spots sprinkled against her clothes.

“She’s bleeding!”

“No,” Jia said with a gulp. “She’s okay.” After another labored breath, Jia looked to the right and slumped back onto her legs.

Alice came from the tent. “What’s happening?”

Jia nudged the little girl toward the only other female in the camp. “Alice, get her clean clothes and some food. She’s been alone for a while.”

The nymphlike girl rushed into action, ferrying the child into a tent just as the professor emerged from his quarters, firelight accenting the bags under his eyes and the askew salt-and-pepper hair.

Even as the others fretted over the little one, Peter knew something was wrong with Jia. She’d been a pillar of strength and defiance since their first meeting at the university. When she tried to stand just now and tripped, his suspicions were confirmed.

“It’s you. That was your blood on her.”

Not responding or even acknowledging him, Jia pressed a hand to her shoulder, pushed onto her feet. “Everyone pack up. We’ve got a truckload of trouble about to hit us.” She trudged toward the tent she shared with Alice, her boots dragging heavily on the dirt. As she reached the opening, Jia paused and looked back.

Jaekus and the prof stood around, dazed.

“Move, people! They’re coming to kill us, not have tea.” Despite the vehemence in her words, the strain couldn’t be missed. “Move! Now!” She wavered.

Peter stepped into her path as she eased into the darkened interior. “Get off me. Pack up.”

“Screw the stuff. You’re hurt. Let me see it.” He pointed to her cot.

She shoved him back. “Get out! Don’t you get it—?”

“Yeah, I get it. You’re Lara Croft’s sister and don’t like her showing you up. But if that”—he pointed to her shoulder—“kills you, nobody will have to worry who’s stronger.”

“Nobody should be worrying—period!” She reached under the bed and grabbed her pack. When she swung it onto the cot, she jerked and held her arm. She recovered, then dug in the pack. Sweat beaded on her pale face.

Her stupidity would get everyone killed.

Not if I can help it
.

Peter snatched the Glock holstered at his back.

          Fourteen            

G
un in hand, Darci spun. Staring down the barrel of a Glock, she hauled in a breath. Her gaze jumped to the owner. “Toque.” His name came out like a breath. A disbelieving breath. “What are you doing with a firearm?”

He knocked his against hers. “I could ask the same.” A smirk. “Thought I had you pegged right.” He cocked his head and nodded toward her HK 9mm, then his weapon. “Same time?”

Yield? Was he crazy? “I’m eating your barrel and you want me to stand down?”

“Together.”

“Who are you?”

“Weapon first.” He motioned toward her cot with his free hand. “On the bed.”

Clenching her jaw, Darci considered the showdown. She should’ve been alerted to him. In a way she had, with the way he stood out, annoyed her, trailed her. But she hadn’t clued in, and that was a deadly mistake. When had she last made such a grievous error?

Who was he? He couldn’t have known her mission, so what put him on her team in the middle of Afghanistan? This couldn’t be a coincidence.

“You said we had to hurry,” he said in a calm, smooth voice.

Darci flicked her wrist so the firearm pointed toward the ceiling of the tent. Eyes locked on Toque, she backstepped away from him and bent as he did the same. She set the weapon down and backed up. Mentally combing her belongings. Where had she put the Gerber?

Toque set his Glock down and straightened. Hands on his belt, he flashed that cocky smile. “So, what part of the alphabet soup are you?”

“If you had any brains, you wouldn’t ask.”

“Let’s just say I’m short on those at the moment.”

His arrogance kneaded her frustration. Cold wind flapped against the tent opening and swirled around her hands and face. “We can play Scrabble with our letters, or we can get everyone packed up and out of here—alive.”

“Who’s coming? You never said.”

“Does it matter? The brand doesn’t matter when it’s a bullet through the skull.” Truth or Dare. If she told him it was the Chinese, he’d never believe it. She sure wouldn’t have if she hadn’t seen their distinctive faces with her own eyes.

“Matters a lot to me.”

“Then you can die alone.” Darci dug into her pack. She’d learned long ago how to get by on little. And survive on less. She glanced at him as she tugged out the blast-proof box. Spinning it to the right combo, she tried her best to ignore the man standing over her.

“You’re spooked. So I’m going to guess it wasn’t Taliban. What? Has someone with a vendetta found you at last?”

She popped the lid, removed the canister of oxygen, then pressed down twice in rapid succession.
Click!
Darci dug her fingernails into the hair-thin space between the platform and the interior hull and pried up. The false bottom gave way. She pulled out the tiny satellite phone.

“Last resort, Kintz. A call from that phone should precede your death by seconds.”
The general’s warning boomed through her mind as she powered it up.

Toque cursed.

Darci recognized the move that followed his curse and dove for her weapon.

Dead weight dropped against her arm. Pain snapped a yelp from her.

“Who?” Toque growled, his face against hers.

“Idiot!”

“Who followed you?”

“I am not authorized to divulge that information.” “American?”

Darci met his hard expression, their noses an inch apart. She knew what he was asking—since she had slanted eyes and high cheekbones—was she loyal to the Asians or Americans? And she hated the operative before her for even questioning her loyalty.

“You’re the spook,” she ground out. “You tell me.”

He didn’t budge.