Julian sat at the
makeshift command center at the now-deserted Bastion Air Base. Not long ago,
thousands of British soldiers had made this their base of operations, but now
it was more like a ghost town, except for the team Julian had brought in. They
were all holding their breath as they listened to the rescue team’s radio
transmissions. Augie, their computer tech, sat next to him, chewing on his
thumbnail and glancing nervously at Julian every few seconds. The normally
chatty computer tech knew better than to talk right now. Julian’s heart was in
his throat. He wanted to be there in that prison, rescuing Zaya himself, but
knew he was too close to her emotionally. Letting himself near the people who
had taken her would not have been a good idea. And he couldn’t risk anything
that would blow the mission to get her back.
The radio was
pressed to his ear, though, and he strained for any information about her
condition. She’d been gone six months and eighteen days. Vanished as if she’d
never existed. Nazer had taunted him with the knowledge that he was holding her
captive, saying that if Julian and his task force didn’t back off, he’d send
Julian footage of Zaya being murdered in a horrific way. Even with that threat,
Julian had done everything he could to find her and, at the same time, try to
stop Nazer from hurting anyone else. But every time Julian got close to
bringing him down, the more he worried that Zaya would pay for this
cat-and-mouse game with her life.
In the end, it was
a money trail that led them to her. Julian followed all Nazer’s accounts
himself, meticulously picking through the transactions to shell corporations
and known government officials. He’d found a financial rabbit hole that finally
linked a large payment to Saif Taraki, Nazer’s known enforcer. After that, it had
been easy to find his whereabouts and follow him to the makeshift prison in
Musa Qala, Afghanistan. Located in a desolate desert area mostly populated by
native Pashtun tribes had made it harder to run covert ops, but Griffin Force
had managed to get it done. When the intel came in that a female prisoner was
being held there, Julian had the first glimmer of hope that they might have
located Zaya.
His stomach
clenched as the transmission crackled over his radio. The only words he wanted
to hear were “the package is secure.” But it was too soon for that. Too soon to
hear anything.
“Heading for the
exit point. Coming under fire,” Jake’s voice said, his breath coming in huffs.
“Make sure Bones is waiting for us.”
Something must be
wrong if they were calling for Bones. That was their nickname for the team
medic Elliott Burke. Zaya’s injuries must be bad. The thought squeezed Julian’s
chest until he couldn’t breathe. Part of him had expected as much, but he’d
held out hope that Nazer wouldn’t hurt her, that she was merely a bargaining
chip. He should have known better. Nazer al-Raimi and his men had no problems
hurting anyone who got in their way.
“Sir, can I get
you something?” Augie asked tentatively, his fingers paused over his keyboard.
“No.” Julian paced
the small room, needing to burn off his anxiety. He hated feeling helpless. The
months he’d spent searching for Zaya had been the worst of his life. He’d
stopped sleeping for any significant length of time, reduced to closing his
eyes for power naps when his body finally succumbed to exhaustion. But no
matter how long he closed his eyes, the nightmares were always there– Julian
running after her, hearing her scream his name, but never being able to catch
up, to save her. The dreams got to be too much, so he’d lived on black coffee
to stay awake as much as possible and prayed to find her.
Even with that, he
knew nothing he’d gone through would compare to whatever Zaya had suffered. His
mind often jumped to worst-case scenarios until he thought he’d drive himself
crazy. His fists clenched. He shouldered all the blame for her capture, and
he’d never be able to forgive himself for not being there. It was his new– and
only– goal in life to do everything he could to earn Zaya’s forgiveness.
If they could get
her out of there alive.
The radio crackled
again, and he sucked in a breath. Nate, Jake, and Colt were three of the best
men on Griffin Force. That’s why he’d sent them after Zaya. But a small
extraction team had its risks, especially when Nazer was on his home turf. He
seemed to move about Afghanistan as if it were his own kingdom. Stealing Zaya
back would be a huge coup, and Nazer would most likely come after them even
harder if they succeeded. Julian couldn’t care about any of that. He just
needed the words that she was safe.
He pressed the
radio to his ear, not wanting to miss any part of the incoming transmission.
“Package is
secure.”
It took a moment
for the words to sink in. Had he dreamed them? But then they finally
registered. Zaya was on the helo. Safe. He sagged against the wall, finally
slumping to the ground, unable to stand the mountain of relief pouring over
him.
“Your plan worked!
They got her out.” Augie slid down the wall next to Julian, pointing at the
blue plaid shirt he loved to wear when they were on ops. “Commander, I’m
telling you, every time I wear this shirt, the mission ends in success.”
“Never take it
off.” Julian could hardly speak. His mind was racing ahead. Getting Zaya back
would only be the beginning. Dealing with what had happened would take a
lifetime. What had she been forced to endure? Could she come back from it?
Suddenly the air
in the command center was stifling. He had to get out. After pulling himself
up, he jerked open the door. The air outside wasn’t any more breathable– its
dryness made his throat itch– but he sucked in a few breaths anyway and tilted
his face skyward. It was too early for any sign of the rescue helo, so all he
got was a faceful of sun. Temperatures had been more comfortable with winter
coming, but the days could still be hot. He wouldn’t be sad to leave
Afghanistan behind.
Thinking back, his
last day with Zaya had been warm and bright like today– and full of so much hope. Late spring in
Morocco was beautiful, and when he knew he’d be there with Zaya, he’d contacted
his jeweler friend, Nabil– not because he would help with their assignment, but
because Julian was ready to choose an engagement ring for Zaya. They’d been
discussing marriage, and Julian was planning the perfect proposal. The Moroccan
mission was supposed to have been a quick pickup of one of Nazer’s associates
to take him to a black site for questioning, so there should have been plenty
of time to pick out a ring. They should have been to Morocco and back within
seventy-two hours, but Julian hadn’t considered the idea the pickup was a trap.
He’d been too preoccupied with the ring, how he would propose, and what her
answer would be.
Their last
movements together that day ran through his mind on a loop as they had
thousands of times before. That last morning when they’d left the hotel, on
their way to the counter-terrorism facility where Nazer’s associate Mbarek
Bahnini was being held. Laughing and chatting about the little man on the
sidewalk who’d tried to cheat them out of eighty dirhams to be their “tour
guide.” Julian had held her close, glad she was his to love, and excited to
make his proposal.
They’d been a
little bit early to the counter-terrorism facility, but it hadn’t taken long
before Bahnini was brought out of the holding cell and secured in the transport
vehicle. Julian told Zaya he’d meet her at the airport since Nabil’s jewelry
shop was five minutes away, and he wanted to have her ring in his pocket before
they got on the plane. Zaya had raised an eyebrow, but smothered her curiosity,
just nodding. Looking at her trusting, beautiful face, he’d wanted to drop to
one knee and ask her right then, but there was no way he would have lived down
the utter lack of romance by proposing marriage to her in front of a Moroccan
counter-terrorism office. Instead, he’d kissed her goodbye and watched her get
into the back of the van.
That was the last
time he’d seen her.
As near as he
could guess, the motorcade had been attacked at the same moment he’d put her
emerald engagement ring in his pocket. He’d been on his way to the airport in a
little blue taxi when he saw the smoke just ahead. Blindly, he’d jumped out and
ran for the scene. Bloody carnage everywhere. No one had been spared. Their
prisoner was shot execution-style, still handcuffed in the back of the van. The
driver and first guard were obviously dead, but the second guard from the back
of the van had been lying half in and half out of the door. When Julian
approached, he’d still been alive. Julian held his head, knowing from the
rattling breaths, he didn’t have much longer.
“Zaya?” Julian had
asked, praying she wasn’t dead.
“Taken,” the man
had whispered. “Nazer.”
It was a small
relief, but those two words shook him to his core. From that moment on, the
ring box in Julian’s pocket was like a cannonball of regret. There was no doubt
Nazer had been after him, as the head of Griffin Force, and Julian would have
been there if not for the ring. Instead, one of the most wanted terrorists in
the world had gotten Zaya. The guilt was crushing.
Julian had been
driven in his hunt for Nazer before, but from that day on, he was relentless.
He called in every favor he was owed and used every penny at his disposal to
find Zaya.
And now he had.
It was impossible
to stand still. He strode back and opened the door to the communications
building he’d exited. Augie was at the computer, monitoring the helo. Judging
from the little blip on the screen, Zaya was about ten minutes out and they had
the all clear. Good.
“I’m going down to
the landing zone,” Julian said to Augie, pushing down his jitters. After all
these months of waiting, Julian needed to make sure he was there the moment she
touched down. Augie nodded absently, and Julian walked away. Several Griffin
Force soldiers who were guarding the perimeter eyed him as he passed by, but no
one approached. He was glad. Explanations, or small talk, were beyond him right
now.
Camp Bastion had a
lot of empty space, but as soon as he’d received the go ahead to use the
buildings on the far edge of the camp, the first thing he’d done was secure a
makeshift airstrip. His steps slowed, and he began to pace the length of the
landing zone, waiting for the helo. Finally, he heard it. Shading his eyes, he
watched the descent. Sand briefly obscured the aircraft as it landed, and
Julian took a step forward, letting the rushing granules sting his face,
reminding him that this was real. She was here. His stomach was in knots as he
waited for the aircraft to be safe for approach, and then he was running,
needing to see her.
The helo door
opened, and Jake Williams, still in tactical gear, put up his hand. “Wait. Give
her a minute.”
But Julian had
waited six long months. He pushed Jake to the side and climbed aboard. Elliott
was there in the middle of the floor, his entire focus on the woman lying very
still before him. A woman that looked nothing like the Zaya he remembered.
Her long, brown
hair was now short and matted. She looked filthy, but underneath the dirt, it
was obvious her skin was pale and waxy-looking, as if death had claim on her,
but hadn’t quite received its due. Her cheekbones were more prominent than they
had been six months ago, and her one visible wrist was bruised and looked like
it could be snapped in two with only a touch. His heart wrenched hard, twisting
his insides and making it difficult to breathe.
He looked at
Elliott, whose eyes were full of compassion. “Y-you probably have a lot of
questions, but r-right now we need to get her inside,” he said just loud enough
for Julian to hear. “She needs t-treatment for an infection in her foot.”
“Her foot?” Julian
held on to the edge of the door, trying to steady himself. Standing there,
frozen in place, wasn’t how he imagined their reunion. He wanted to be strong,
to be able to comfort her, but it was as if his body could only stare dumbly
and try to process the scene in front of him.
“Some d-deep
lacerations that haven’t h-healed properly. She’s got a f-fever, and we need to
get that under c-control.” His tone was brisk as he started to move the
stretcher into position for transport. “Once she’s s-settled, we can t-talk
about where to go from here.”
Julian nodded.
That was reasonable. But he didn’t feel reasonable. He wanted to take her in
his arms. To tell her how sorry he was. To beg her to forgive him for sending
her in the van alone. Instead, he stepped back and watched as they lowered the
stretcher from the helo. She didn’t move. Was she unconscious? Sleeping?
As if Zaya had
heard his unspoken question, she opened her eyes, squinting at the sun. Julian
leaned over and took her hand carefully in his, feeling the raised skin of
scars on her palms. What had they done to her?
“Z, it’s me,
Julian.”
For one brief
moment, she squeezed his hand and brought it to her cheek. But then her brown
eyes locked on his, and he couldn’t hide his shock at her obvious pain and
misery. His breath seized at how naked and raw the emotions swirling between
them were.
“I’m sorry,” he
murmured, not knowing what else to say, but needing to say something and hear
her voice. “So very sorry.”
She gave a slight
shake to her head, then turned away without a word, her light tugging on his
hand forcing him to release her.
“We’ve g-got to
treat her now,” Elliott said, as they moved her into the triage area. “You’ll
have t-time to talk later.”
Julian folded his
arms and watched them take her into the hospital, trying to calm the feelings
inside him. It felt as if his soul had been raked over the coals, the hot trail
of guilt and regret leaving a path that burned through his body. The agony of being
separated from her had multiplied at seeing the result of her captivity. And
from her reaction, she blamed him, just as he blamed himself.
He started toward
the hospital, but quickly detoured back to the command center where he’d spent
the morning waiting for news. He wrenched open the door. Augie was inside,
engrossed in whatever was on his computer screen. He glanced over to see who’d
come in, a puzzled look on his face.
Julian managed to
get eight words, “I need to be alone for a minute,” past the lump in his
throat. Augie didn’t ask any questions, just closed his laptop and scurried
past him immediately.
Once Julian was
alone, he locked the door and slid to the floor again, his head in his hands. A
groan escaped from deep inside, and, after that, he couldn’t stop the anguish
flooding over him like an avalanche. Silent tears coursed down his face. He
knew he would need to be strong for Z in the days ahead, but he needed a window
of time to mourn for what she’d suffered and the fact that nothing would ever
be the same again. For either of them.
He didn’t know how
long he sat like that, but a knock at the door and Augie’s plaintive voice
jolted him back to the present.
“Sir? Sir, you’re
needed at the hospital. They’re calling for you to come immediately.” He was
agitated, more so than usual. That meant trouble.
Julian scrambled
to his feet. The only reason the hospital would call was if something had
happened to Zaya. Remembering how fragile she’d looked, alarm raced through
him.
“On my way,” he
said, as he pulled the door open. She wasn’t going to die now. Not if he had
anything to say about it.
