Nine
refused to look at Owen.
The day before yesterday, she’d come across a piece of news that had her boss salivating. She’d been eager to share it with Owen, but he’d pulled the rug out from under her, shutting her out. He’d told her what happened that night between them—and all the moments leading up to it—was a mistake. She’d been blindsided. The wind knocked out of her without physically being punched. Not that she’d had time to wrap her head around it because she’d had to walk outside and report live as if her heart wasn’t breaking.
Because it was.
She’d almost cried right there as she stared at him. Tears of shock had stung her eyes, demanding to form and fall. She’d been grateful he’d left when he did. She was already embarrassed enough without suffering even more humiliation of traitor tears because she’d been dealing with another devastating revelation. She’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t want her—a realization that slammed into her as he crushed her delicate heart.
She didn’t know how she could fall in love as fast as she did. She’d heard of people meeting and marrying from whirlwind romances, but she’d assumed those people had been blinded with lust on their road to love. It had just seemed implausible to her. Now, she knew the all consuming truth. It wasn’t only a possibility, it was her reality. If she hadn’t met Owen, she’d still believe falling in love so quickly was impossible. She knew with painful clarity now that she’d been so terribly, utterly wrong. There was zero doubt in her mind and her heart how she felt. But she also understood that, unlike those blindly fast courtships, there would be no happily ever after for them.
Since crushing her world, Owen had been emotionally distant, but he’d hovered around as if he was ready to take a bullet for her. She knew he was doing his job, but the conflicting emotions rolling off him infuriated her. He seemed to master being right there without being there at all. He talked to her only when he had to, and even then it was all business. He hadn’t touched her since that night, either. Not a hand on her elbow to guide her somewhere, nothing.
Yesterday, she hadn’t been able to face him, so she’d stayed in her room as much as possible, doing some research online in preparation for their excursion today. Alec had brought her meals, and she’d been relieved—and hurt. By that evening, she couldn’t avoid leaving the hallow protection of her room. If she didn’t walk down the short hall to shower, she would’ve had to do a sponge bath in her sink. She was pitiful enough to admit to herself today that she’d seriously considered that as an option last night. The shower had won, hoping it would help her feel even marginally better. As she’d gathered her toiletries and big girl panties, the sight of Owen’s note and pen taunted her from beside her bag. Without hesitation, she’d ripped the paper into shreds before grabbing her toiletry bag and PJs.
Then she’d picked up the pen and looked at it. She didn’t think it’d destroy easily, though the thought had occurred to her to have it meet the same fate as the paper he’d used with it. But she was hurt, not crazy. She couldn’t break something that didn’t belong to her, but neither could she keep it around. It was his, and she couldn’t stand to have anything of that man across the hall near her right now. When she’d walked out of her room, his door had been open, and Owen spied her from his perch on his bed, the one they’d shared. The last time she’d gone in there with that pen, she’d been furious and had hurled at it him, hoping to cause harm. What had transpired had hurt her more in the end than any damage she could have done to him.
So last night, she’d wordlessly stepped into his room and tossed it gently, with perfect aim on the bed by his feet. Her gazed had stayed locked on his until it bounced by his boot, and then she’d retreated to the shower. A large part of her hoped he’d follow her in there—a part she’d wanted to smack.
He never did. The man didn’t want her, and he was keeping his distance.
Even this morning, when they’d boarded the helicopter, he hadn’t helped her strap in, though he’d stood in front of her staring down, watching as she secured the harness. She mentally jumped between wanting to demand answers from him, force him to deny what had formed between them, and wanting to catch the first flight out of this country, never having to feel his gaze on her again.
Yeah, the last couple of days had been torture. And now, she focused on work because it dulled the ache.
She was in the middle of an interview with the sixth villager who’d agreed to speak to her in yet another part of the Achin District. No new information had developed since they’d been farther east a couple of days ago, and this new interpreter hadn’t been as relaxed as Asad had been. When Owen told her flatly that Asad had been removed from duty without any other explanation, she hadn’t thought much about it.
Not Lorenzo. He’d demanded answers, reiterating that he’d worked with Asad for years, but Owen shut his questions down, ushering them to the helicopter to load up and head out. Ever since they landed, Lorenzo had been a bear with a sore paw, snapping at her about the camera angles and the questions she’d been asking the locals.
“Ask him if he knows anything about the alleged member of the Shinwari tribe recruited by ISIS,” she asked Karzai, the interpreter who’d replaced Asad.
He asked the young man who quickly answered. “Yes. His name was Aarif Yasin. He was killed when the bomb dropped.”
She blinked, his answer rolling around in her head. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me the US dropped a bomb targeting tunnels and just so happened to take out a man who’d been buying weapons from the military?”
Karzai asked her question, but she didn’t need to hear the confirmation. She glanced at Lorenzo who had a blank look in his eyes. The camera he held drooped slightly as he stared at Karzai, waiting for the translation.
“Yes. The American known to them only as War had been scheduled to meet with Aarif Yasin the day of the airstrike.”
Lorenzo cussed, dropping his camera completely. Caitlin’s gaze whipped to the side, but the man was walking away. “Hey,” she called after him. Where the hell was he going? This could be a huge story. What if the military had dropped the MOAB to take out one man specifically? Who was he? And who was the War man? Had he been taken out, too, or maybe even the target? Her mind was racing through all these questions, her journalistic instincts screaming there was something here. Had the military learned one of their own was trafficking arms and tried to cover this up? Running guns was bad enough, but if a ranked officer was behind it, that was crimes-against-Country serious and could potentially implicate a lot of people. This story could be huge.
This could be the story of her career.
“Lorenzo!” But he was beating feet.
Owen had been standing across the small street off camera but jogged the few paces in her direction when she’d yelled after her retreating cameraman. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t—”
Several loud cracks sounded, startling her. She didn’t have time to register what it was because Owen grabbed her and tossed her down behind a half-wall lining the small road. The noise continued, followed by a loud explosion. Oh God, the cracks…gunfire. It was gunfire. Following by the explosion, and more shots. Endless cracks rent the air. The village was under attack, and they were right in the middle of it! She screamed, grabbing her ears and ducking, acting on self-preservation instinct, but Owen covered her. He blanketed her so completely that she vaguely realized it was the first physical contact they’d had since—why was she even thinking about that? Had to be the fear enveloping her, knocking her senseless. All of her thoughts were scattered, as chaotic as the scene around them.
“Taking fire!” he shouted, and she rolled her head to the side to look at him. He had his hand to his ear, and she realized he wasn’t talking to her. He spoke to his men on the communication device. “Coming from the west… Copy.” He rolled off and tugged her arm. “Stay low, follow me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. Another explosion rocked the center of the village right as they rounded a corner of a building.
This was bad. This was very freaking bad! She shook like a leaf, her heart pounding, but she ignored her body’s physical reaction to the terror as best she could. “Are we headed to the helicopter?” How close were they to it? She had no sense of direction.
“Negative. It’s been hit.”
She gasped, her head craning instinctively, searching for proof of what happened, as if she needed to confirm they had no way out. Owen grabbed her hijab and a handful of hair, forcing her back down. She winced and reached for his hand, but ducked back down.
“Sorry. Stay the fuck down.” He pushed the comm, and said, “I see seven tangos to the east. Need to get inside the building. Cover us. Radio in for another helo.” He manacled her wrist and pulled her with him as they ran hunched over to the back. Shots fired in their direction but ricocheted behind them. They found a door, and Owen busted in, taking her with him, his rifle on the ready.
Caitlin froze. “Oh no,” she breathed, staring down at a dozen or so pair of eyes.
“We’re in. Schoolhouse isn’t empty.” He stepped toward the children and motioned with his hand, instructing them to stay down under their tables. Then he glanced around the room, finding a stairwell. “Follow me.”
“But the kids,” Caitlin said, though she never hesitated as she following Owen.
“Best way to save them is to push back the attack. I need to get into position. Take out any threat to the kids and us.”
They ran up the stairs, not stopping until he found his way onto the roof of the building. It was one of the tallest in the village, but still short enough they could jump from the top. They might break some bones, but they’d survive.
From up here, she could see the devastation. Smoke billowed from four different areas as gunfire continued in a barrage. The sound reminded her of firecrackers on the Fourth of July, those pesky fireworks that did nothing but pop and crack. It was surreal that sounds of war in a repressed country reminded her of the traditional sounds of celebration on Independence Day. Her brain had a hard time reconciling it with the images of devastation below.
“Baby, get down,” Owen said, pushing on her shoulders until they were on all fours. The term of endearment caused her already pounding heart to nearly beat out of her chest. She watched him as he crawled to the side, lay on his belly and propped up his gun, thinking he was too focused on this task of keeping them alive to realize he’d called her anything other than her name.
She followed him, crawling as low to the ground as she could, scraping her elbows and knees through her clothes along the rough and bumpy surface. “What are you going to do from up here? Shouldn’t we find the other guys and fight in a group?” She really had no idea how this worked, but there was better luck in numbers, right?
He looked to the side, his eyes cold, fierce. “Too dangerous to run. New transport should be on the way. Air support might have to come if we can’t take them out or make ’em retreat. Up here I can keep people from storming the school and using the kids.”
“Use the kids? What the hell does that mean?”
His eyes looked troubled for a split second, but whatever emotion that was quickly disappeared before he turned his focus back to the streets. “Our best chance is to stay right here. The team knows where we are. They’ll help protect us,” he said as he flicked something on his rife. “Cover your ears,” he murmured, the command gentle, which felt all the more foreign. How could he be calm at a time like this?
She quickly slapped her hands over her ears, and Owen pulled the trigger once, the sound blasting through her meekly protected eardrums. Her hands clamped down harder and she ducked her head just as Owen fired another shot. A few seconds later, she looked up at him as he activated his communication device. “Two down. I have four tangos on the move. One running your way, Dozer.” He glanced at Caitlin. “Ears.”
She covered her ears and flinched when he took another shot, immediately followed by another. About five seconds later, he took two more shots and dropped his rifle. “Tangos eliminated… Excellent… Kids are safe. We’re heading down,” he said to his team and looked at her. “We gotta bug out, babe.”
Three shots suddenly fired in rapid succession right by her, but they hadn’t come from Owen.
They. Hadn’t. Come. From. Owen.
He roared, and she gasped, turning in the direction of the bullets. But the end of rifle flew passed her face and slammed into Owen’s head.
Oh, God. This can’t be happening. She followed the gun as it made impact with the skull. Blood. There was blood everywhere. His head. It oozed from several places on his leg. The sight of him limp and injured made her wail as tears immediately began to fall. Everything happened so fast within the haze of slow motion, but it registered that Owen had been shot and knocked out. God, please let him just be knocked out.
Someone grabbed her hair and tried to yank her up, but when she saw the person standing above her, she gasped. “Lorenzo? What the hell?” she screamed, and he let go to aim his gun at her.
“You have no fucking clue what you got yourself into. Sorry, bella. Get up.”
“What’s the matter with you? You shot him!” Screaming at a man with a gun was a stupid idea, but the retort was out before she thought better of it. She scrambled back, trying to put some distance between them and edge closer to Owen. It took everything she had not to look at the man she loved. If she did and he was dead, she’d fall apart, like seriously lose it.
“Asad is like a brother to me!” he roared. “No way has he been discharged. No one’s heard from him. Those fuckers have him detained somewhere.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense? They don’t just detain people for no reason.”
“He’s Aarif Yasin’s cousin”
“What?” How had he gotten clearance to work with the military? She inched closer to Owen until she was sitting against him. When her bottom bumped into this side, he didn’t stir, and she bit back a sob.
“You heard me. Why do you think I’ve been directing you to certain people to interview? Asad had inside info, not that he could come out and share it.”
Her mind reeled. “You brought him in to get a story?”
“Don’t act so high and mighty. When the news breaks about the arms deal, you’ll be a household name.” His words made her sick, her own words earlier about it potentially being the story of her career left her feeling cold. The weird gleam in his eyes only exasperated that negativity. She had journalistic integrity, but in this moment, she felt dirty because of Lorenzo.
The man had lost his marbles.
How was she going to get away from him? She wasn’t strong enough to move Owen, but she wasn’t leaving him. She had to figure something out and quickly.
Lorenzo checked his watch. A revoltingly sick feeling slid over her. “You knew about this attack today.” It wasn’t a question because she already knew the answer. The truth as a sly smile formed.
“Live footage of insurgents is news gold.”
“You’re sick,” she breathed, not sure if he heard her since the battle raged on in the tiny town, but farther away, thanks to Owen taking out the closer Jihadists.
“I’m practical. Then the military up and tossed Asad in some jail. He was my source for years, and now I need leverage to get him out.” He waved the gun as if ordering her to get up.
“You won’t get away with this.”
He laughed, the sound so sickening she had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. “I have for years. You think lover boy over there’s the first time there’s been collateral damage?”
No, though she didn’t have to say it out loud. Her hand brushed along Owen’s leg. The cool metal of his sidearm tucked between them made her pulse thunder in her veins. He’d shown her how to use it under life or death circumstances. This totally qualified. If she could just pull it out without Lorenzo seeing…
“Time to go. Move your ass,” he said, glancing behind himself.
She had to stall just a little more. “They won’t negotiate.” She didn’t tack on with terrorists because she didn’t want to offend him with the term.
His face fell a little. “You are a beauty. It’ll be a shame when they decapitate you after Asad is freed.” He raised his left hand and shut that eye as he regarded her clinically. “I’ll make sure the lighting is perfect, and I’ll record it from your good side. It’ll be so tragically beautiful.”
Oh God. No marbles. Not even rolling around at his feet.
He reached for her, and she didn’t hesitate. Owen’s instructions came back to her in a rush on how to fire the gun. On adrenaline fueled instinct, she grabbed the gun, pulled it around, and fired several shots. The first and forth ones went wide, but the middle two shots hit him right in the chest. He didn’t have a chance to react, just crumpled to the ground.
She’d killed him. Holy shit, she just killed a man. She couldn’t think about that. She whirled and patted along Owen’s back, trying not to gag at the blood pooling at his leg. She felt his wrist and almost collapsed over him in relief at the feel of his pulse. She didn’t know anything about vital signs or medical care, but she hoped it was strong.
As guns continued to fire below them, she yanked off her hijab and scarf and quickly worked, tying them around his leg wounds. “Owen, can you hear me?” she asked as she heaved him onto his back. She patted his face and looked along his body for other wounds, feeling a little relief when she didn’t find anymore.
He groaned.
“Owen! Owen, wake up. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.” She looked at his ear and the contraption around his neck, wondering how the communication thingy worked. “Please, please, wake up.” She cried. How was she going to get them out of here? She could try to pull his rifle off and shoot people who rushed the building to keep the kids safe like he’d been doing when he’d gotten shot. But she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to move him enough to get his rifle. Too bad. You don’t have a choice!
She reached for that big scary gun, but a door slammed behind her. Caitlin twisted where she sat beside Owen, the handgun shaking in her hand, ready to kill whoever threatened her and the man she loved bleeding beside her.
“Easy,” Alec said.
“AA?” she asked, not taking any chances.
“That’s Double Alpha to you,” he said as he rushed to her side, not waiting for her to put the gun down. “You did good.” He inspected the makeshift bandage. He pushed his comm and said, “Big O down. Need med evac.” He looked at Caitlin. “Haverty is on his way up to help me carry Owen. Don’t shoot him.” He winked at her, but she seriously couldn’t process his words. Had he spoken English? Was he even talking to her?
The gun in her had dropped. Why was she shaking so bad?
“Shit,” AA said. “You’re okay. Just a little shock. Stay with me, sweet pea. Owen needs us. And if you pass out, I’ll have to leave him up here bleeding out to carry you down first. He needs medical attention. I can’t leave him, but he’d have my ass if I got him out first.”
She nodded, but her head felt very wobbly. She raised her hand to her head to try to salute him.
He chuckled. “You’re bad at that.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said, seeing some stars and squeezing her eyes shut briefly before looking at Owen again.
“I’m going to need more help up here,” Alec said to someone.
Owen needed her to be strong. She couldn’t pass out. She wouldn’t.
She repeated those words as more troops rushed to the roof, but she couldn’t watch them even if she wanted. She was too busy focusing on the black trying to close in around her vision, doing her best to overcome the urge to pass out.
It was a battle not meant to be won.