CHAPTER 20
What I need is you. The words swam around in Ali’s head as she sat opposite Ram in total darkness. What could she say? What should she say? Her silly heart was doing flip-flops of joy. Her head warned her to be cautious, given their past history. Then, she told herself that his brain was shaken up by the bullet hitting his Kevlar helmet, thus the reason behind his slurred statement. That had to be it, right? People said and did crazy things after they were wounded. But usually they told the truth, not a lie. Was Ram telling her the truth? He was in shock, talking trash, and that was the end of it. How she wished it wasn’t though. Her inner voice whispered to her that he was telling her the truth. It wasn’t trash talk. She gulped, feeling as if her whole life had shifted in that moment.
Inwardly, Ali yearned for peace between them. She knew the silence was weighing on both of them. She reined in her anxiety and she said quietly, “Do you want me to clean out that head wound? It will probably make you feel better. We need to start you on antibiotics, too.” That was SOP, standard operating procedure, when stuck out in the field with no Medevac on the way.
“Yeah, maybe later. I’m feeling really tired right now, Ali.”
“Then go to sleep,” she urged. “I’ll stand watch, no problem.” She was coming down from her adrenaline high, falling over the cliff just like Ram had done. But one of them had to remain focused, awake, with senses wide open. She could feel another wave of threat coming at them. Most likely because Azarola wasn’t getting any radio communication from the first group of soldiers he’d sent out to chase the hostages down. Now he was probably sending out a second group to find them. And when he did, all hell was going to break loose. Ali knew the drug lord would be livid over the loss of ten soldiers. He’d sent out his best men to hunt them down. Sooner or later, he’d know they were dead. He’d be furious and wanting blood. And not to mention, his rage over them stealing his hostages from under his nose, as well. Azarola had a lot of reasons to hunt their asses down.
Her sat phone vibrated in the front of the ammo vest she wore. Quickly pulling it out of the plastic, she answered it. It was Captain Gomez. The Black Hawks had landed he told her, and their team, as well as their four rescued hostages, were aboard them. Once they landed back at the Marine base, the four women would be driven to a local hospital for any care they might need. When she had called in earlier that Azarola’s men had attacked them, he ordered the drivers to leave immediately. His drivers had no way to protect themselves should there be more drug soldiers coming into the area. The Black Hawks could carry the team plus the hostages, no problem.
She and Ram were, for all intents and purposes, alone without back-up for now. She listened to the Marine officer’s strategy. Ali agreed with his decisions and ended the call.
“What’s going down?” Ram demanded, his voice sleepy and roughened.
“Captain Gomez says that the four women and the rest of your team will arrive at their base shortly, safe and sound. José is having his medic drive the women to a local hospital for examination. If they’re in good enough shape afterward, there’s an American Black Hawk that will fly in to pick them up later today. They’ll be transferred to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, where there is a multi-agency group waiting to debrief them at the base.”
“That’s good news,” Ram said. “I imagine you’re relieved. Cara’s safe now. That’s a major worry off your shoulders.”
Her heart warmed over his sensitivity to her situation. “Yes,” she managed, her voice suddenly strained. “I was hoping to see her, talk with her, but that isn’t gonna happen for a while.” Not until—or if—they could get out of the present situation. But she didn’t go there.
“At least your parents will be there to meet Cara once she’s been debriefed. Davis-Monthan is one of the closest military bases to the Mexican border.”
“Yes, that’s even better. She’s going to need serious emotional support from them.”
“What else did Gomez say?”
She tucked the sat phone into the plastic once more, lodging it into the front of her vest for safekeeping. “Because of our firefight, Gomez had ordered the two trucks out of the meadow. He’s worried Azarola is going to send a second wave of his men to scour this area for us or the hostages.”
“I figured that,” he said heavily. “I wish to hell I wasn’t still dizzy off and on.”
“Maybe if you let me clean out that wound and get some antibiotic on it before you lie down to sleep, it might help?”
“Yeah, fine. Go ahead . . . ”
She heard the disappointment in his tone, realizing he was irritated with himself and his wound, not at her. “Look, Gomez said for us to sit tight unless or until the drug soldiers get too close to our hiding place. He’s hoping in the next forty-eight hours to get us extracted. He’s tentatively planning for their Black Hawk to land in that meadow about a mile from us where the trucks were originally parked. We’ll just have to see what’s going on. I’m to check in with him every six hours and give him an ongoing assessment of our situation. That bird isn’t going to land if those drug soldiers are still snooping around the area.”
“You’re right. Gomez is a good man. He’s smart. And yeah, Azarola’s men are gonna be pissed off, wanting to kill us, for sure. We dropped ten of their buddies. You did cover our tracks to this place, right?”
“Better believe it. For now, we just hunker down and wait them out as they look for us. When they don’t find us, they’ll go back to their fortress and then we can move out of here, call Gomez, and get that helo to extract us from the meadow. And you’re ambulatory, so we’ll make that exfil when it comes time.”
She took out her small penlight, moving to her pack to retrieve her first-aid pack. In no time, she was kneeling down next to Ram, who had sat up, leaned against the wall, and sat unmoving while she cleaned out the bloody, clotted wound.
“You’ve got about an inch-and-a-half crease in your skin,” she said, examining it more closely. “I’m going to put some surgical strips across it when I’m done cleaning it out. Closing it up will help.” She had on her latex gloves, quickly washing out the wound first with sterilized water, then with antibiotic. Lastly, she put the Steri-Strips in place to close it. It wasn’t ideal conditions out in the middle of nowhere to do this, but it was the best Ali could do under the circumstances.
Ram’s hair would have been shaved off in that area, but that wasn’t possible right now. Spreading the antibiotic ointment liberally across the closed wound and Steri-Strips, she pressed a sterile dressing across it to protect it, and then wrapped a bandage around his head to keep the dressing anchored in place.
“You should have been a nurse, Ali. You have a gentle touch.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, surprised he’d say anything at all. She taped the end of the bandage around his head. “There. How does your head feel now?”
Ram lifted his hand, barely touching the gauze near his brow. “Feels okay. My headache is better.” He turned, looking up into her deeply shadowed eyes. “You have a medic’s hands.”
Ali wanted to absorb his grateful tone, but she cautioned herself. Ram could turn on a dime and become confrontational or defensive with her, too. But maybe that had all changed. She hoped so. “I like medical stuff. Always have.” She quickly pulled off her gloves and dropped them in a nearby container within her pack. “You need to take some antibiotics,” she said, reaching into another place in her kit and pulling out a bottle.
“I know the drill.”
She grinned a little as she dropped them into his opened hand. “Let me get you some water.” She reached into her larger pack for a bottle, unscrewing the lid for him. Even with the low, red light, she could see his eyes were cloudy and marred with pain. “I think if you lie down using your pack as a pillow, and sleep now, when you wake up you’ll feel a lot better than you do right now.”
Downing the antibiotic pills, Ram slugged down almost a pint of water. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked her up and down. “What about you, Ali? Are you really okay? Any cuts? Strains?”
“No, just a colorful assortment of bruises. I’ll live.” She took the emptied water bottle and dropped it back into her pack. “There’s nothing to do now but wait to see if Azarola’s men come snooping around here or not. I’ll stand watch for us.”
“Wake me if they come around?”
“Yes, don’t worry, I will.”
“Do you think they know about this cave?”
Shaking her head, she Velcroed her pack up once again, all the articles contained within it in place and snug. “Highly doubtful. Even the locals don’t know about it. I think that’s because of the high brush and that it’s off an animal trail fifteen minutes north of us, so very few people have ever wandered into this area. Maybe indigenous Indians a hundred years ago, but as generations were born, the knowledge of this cave was lost, even to them.”
“Except in the memory of jaguars, cougars and peccary, wild pigs,” he intoned.
“Predators are always around, and I’ve found some scat in the back of the cave. All peccary,” she agreed. Ali had discovered some dried pig poop along the opposite wall, telling her that from time to time, a herd came in here to bed down for the day to sleep, leaving to forage at night because they’re nocturnal feeders. It would be a very safe place for them to rest during daylight hours, out of sight of prowling jaguars and cougars. Pulling a blanket off the outside of her pack from beneath the rain-proof tarp, she said, “Lie down, okay? I’ll cover you with this, and you can sleep.”
“It’s almost like being tucked into bed by Mom.”
She heard a bitter edge to his tone, remembering what Wyatt had told her. Ali was trying to keep things calm and balanced between them. Ram was probably reacting to his wounding and it had to be expected. No one got shot without having it change their entire world for days, weeks, sometimes even months, afterward.
She should know. She was still in the middle of her own emotional reaction to her gunshot wound right now. “Yep, my mom knitted Cara and me afghans in our favorite colors. Whenever we didn’t feel good, she’d pull it out of the closet and wrap us up in it, saying that her love for us was knitted into the blanket and that we’d feel better under it. She was right. We always did.”
“Nice,” he murmured, slowly lying down and repositioning his heavy pack. “I’m glad you have those kind of parents, Ali. I really am. You’re lucky.”
Those were the last, slurred words Ram spoke as she brought the blanket up and over his shoulders, tucking him in. They would not take off their ammo vests for good reason, but Ali knew it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep in.
There had been a momentary wistfulness in his voice, and then she’d heard barely concealed feelings when he added that she was lucky to have such parents. The gunshot wound was taking him up and down emotionally, like it did everyone, and she let it go at that. As she’d found out herself, being wounded tended to wring the truth out of a person when normally, they’d hide it from the world.
Her duty was being their guard dog. She pulled on her NVGs, kept her baseball cap on, and then dug into her vest where she kept some beef jerky, chewing slowly on it. The protein, coupled with the heavy salt, would help revive her physically. Sitting next to the entrance, her back against the rocky slit just inside the opening, she lifted the waterproof flap on her watch. It was 0500. In October, the sun would rise later. She wished it were dawn. Everything was so much easier when one could see.
*
The first remnants of light revealed to Ali a turbulent sky of gray mixed with black. Whiter, ragged-looking clouds scattered below the ceiling here and there. She watched the dawn crawl up on the mountains, backlighting their rugged shapes and peaks. There had been a thin line of pink around the mountains to the east of her position, but it was quickly doused by the thick, rain-swollen clouds moving across the area.
Rain had been off and on, sometimes light, but then it would be followed by a fifteen-minute downpour. With any chubasco, rain was sporadic. She knew there would be one or two more bands of rain from the major weather. So far, she saw and heard no movement near the cave.
Ali had eaten and drank some water, but was now getting sleepy. She’d been up for twenty-four hours without any rest. She’d purposely put her back against a sharper rock, knowing the jabbing pain would keep her awake.
Ram was snoring off and on. Fortunately, it wasn’t a loud snore or Ali would have had to wake him for fear of anyone nearby hearing the sound and coming to investigate. She was going to let Ram sleep as long as his body needed it. Sleep took away the shock factor and facilitated swifter healing. He needed both. It was a small sacrifice on her part. She’d have done the same for anyone on their team.
Her mind moved from topic to topic, from most important to least important. She removed her NVGs and allowed them to hang around her neck, there was enough light to see outside the cave now. Ali tried not to think of the five men she’d killed. They would have shown her no mercy, either, but knowing that didn’t make her feel any better about it. Each man was a son, maybe a father, or an uncle to a family she knew nothing about.
The only thing that offset her regret about doing it was that these soldiers were in the business of hurting other human beings. And they had murdered many other people before they met their demise under the sights of her M4. Still, she did not like killing, but knew sometimes that was the only way evil could be eradicated.
She would go to her grave remembering every man’s face that she’d ever killed. War wasn’t pleasant and never would be. Ali sighed, looked around, and saw the dawn light peeking in. It flooded the area, showing her the rest of the large cave.
Maybe it was time for her to get out of the business of being a combatant. She was twenty-eight years old. There was more to life than what she was presently doing, although she understood clearly that her job was essential. Still, she was tired of the violence. Glancing over at Ram’s sleeping form, her heart opened and she felt a keen longing for him. She was sure that it was her gunshot wound emotions rising up within her, and she tried not to give it more power over her than it already had. The man was tough to ignore. Her body wanted him, that she knew. How many times had she wondered what it might be like to kiss Ram, to be held by him, loved by him?
Shaking her head, Ali moved her gaze to outside the cave. It was tough to see much of anything through the thick greenery covering the opening. Sunlight was starting to peek out here and there as the last rain band left their area, leaving a bit of blue sky between the dark riff of clouds.
Maybe that hard rain had erased any trace of their trail. Rain was always a good thing to have when being hunted. Ali was sure her efforts to remove any indication that they’d walked off the trail toward this area had been successful. She didn’t worry about that because she was a good tracker herself. All snipers were. Hiding in plain sight was a specialty of hers.
A raucous Mexican blue jay started shrieking a warning in a nearby pine tree. Instantly, Ali sat up and put her listening skills into play. Her hand curved around her M4, setting the stock on the ground next to her as she got to her knees. She peered out between the leaves and branches and waited, breathing slow and deep. Ali sometimes relied on birds to give her a warning sign of other humans entering the immediate area.
She sat still and slowly moved her head, her gaze sweeping the area she could see, which was severely limited. Ali knew it could be an animal predator going home at dawn after a night’s hunt, as well, although the jaguar, cougar, or fox were rarely up this late looking for food in early daylight. No, they were all nocturnal hunters, unless they were starving, forcing them to hunt in daylight hours. She couldn’t discount that the blue jay was screaming about something. Her fingers wrapped firmly around the M4 as she craned her neck, wishing she had a broader view than she did.
And then, she heard a male voice speaking Spanish. Another man answered him in the same language.
It had to be the drug soldiers!
Turning, Ali laid her rifle against the rocks and silently made her way in a crouch to where Ram lay asleep. She hated waking him, but knew this wasn’t something he would want to sleep through. Like all black-ops soldiers, she didn’t just lean over him and shake him awake. No way. Too many of them came up swinging with their fists, muscle memory taking over.
Stretching her hand, she squeezed his shoulder, holding it, letting him know he had to awaken. Ali was far enough away to stay out of his reach if he reacted with a fist.
Ram’s lashes opened. He froze.
“Tangos,” she told him quietly, and released his shoulder. “No eyes on them yet, but I hear them.”
Grunting softly, he quickly sat up, pushing off the blanket.
Ali left his side, going back to watch the entrance. She crouched on one knee, pulling the M4 across her lap, ready to use it if necessary. There was nothing she could see.
The blue jay continued to scream, remaining hidden, flapping its wings in warning.
Ali knew the more agitated the bird became, the closer the humans were. Where the hell were the tangos? She wanted a wider range of visibility, but was stymied.
More voices.
Ram came quietly to her side, behind her, looking out the slit with her.
“How many?”
“I heard two men speaking in Spanish, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.” Ali could feel the heat of Ram’s large, strong body right behind hers, a sense of protection emanating from him. He had his M4 in his hand, as well.
“Think they’re tracking us?”
“Anything’s possible, but yeah, I think it’s Azarola’s drug soldiers on the prowl.” She twisted her head. “Why don’t you get our packs quietly moved to that exit point on the other side of the cave? Just in case.” She searched his alert, clear eyes. It appeared Ram was fine now, the wound not bothering him as it had before. She saw him nod in agreement and slip silently away. The other opening was nearly the same size and opposite from where she knelt.
Her mind, like a computer operating at light speed, went over a range of possibilities. It was barely daylight. It was two miles from the drug fortress, so this group was out to find the others who were missing and not answering their radios. How many had come along to hunt for them? Were most of them burying the bodies of their dead back up on the trail? What had made these two soldiers come their way? Uneasily, Ali looked to the left, following Ram’s quiet movement, taking each pack around the corner of the cave and disappearing.
When he returned, he came directly to her. “I’m taking up lookout at the other exfil. There are three drug soldiers out there from what I can see between those bushes covering our entrance. Two are farther along and a third is hanging back, looking around in another area. They’re trackers. And they’re looking for us.”
“Get your ear piece and radio on,” Ali spoke softly. Again, Ram nodded. She saw the hardness and focus in his eyes, his square jaw set. He was expecting trouble like she was.
“If we have to egress, are you familiar with this area? The best place to run to in case we have to get out of here?” Ram asked.
Grimly, Ali said, “Yes. I know another way down to that meadow where the Black Hawk will land.”
“I wouldn’t lead them there,” Ram warned. “They could follow our tracks and we don’t know how many of them there are. I’m more interested in disappearing into these mountains for the moment.”
“We can do that, too. Just depends upon which way we egress if we’re forced into doing it.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Go to radio click if they start coming too close to your position. I’ll do the same. One click means they’re close. Two clicks mean we egress.”
A shower of safety and protection swirled around Ali over Ram’s unexpected touch and concern. Now, he was all business. An operator. And their lives were on the line. Again. As always. Giving a bare nod, she saw his eyes soften on hers for a split second.
Then, that wonderful, warming look was gone. She lamented its passing, but said nothing further. Talk was out of the question now. Ram had never done this before and it left her unsure of his reasoning. He was still in shock from being shot. And right now, they had at least three drug soldiers, all trackers, trying to locate them. Worse, it was daylight and they would be easily seen if there were others behind these three.
She settled in and remained unmoving, her M4 nearby. The two men on her side of the cave were clearly drug soldiers, their heads bald, smoking cigarettes, wearing tactical vests with mags in it along with the M4 rifles they carried. Just how good as trackers were they?
“This makes no sense,” the black bearded one said.
“What doesn’t?” the clean-shaven one asked, coming up alongside the taller, beefier soldier.
“This isn’t the area they’d go. Those were most likely Norte Americanos who broke into the fortress, not Mexican Marines. They took off. Later, after Miguel discovered the four hostages gone, Don Azarola sent out our ten friends to find and intercept them.”
Snorting, the beardless one muttered, “Oh, they found them all right. Ten of our men dead. These were professionals, not Marines. Besides, the Marine detachment at the village wouldn’t hit and run. They’d amass a company and storm the fortress and try to capture the Don.”
“You’re right. That’s why I think it’s a black-ops group, most likely CIA.” He halted, turned, and pointed back toward the trail. “And if we assume that, Francisco? Then they are long gone. Chances are they put a rear tactical team of a few of their men to wait and kill our soldiers as they came down that trail. All of them were probably picked up by helo transport after they ambushed our men. They wouldn’t hang around here. Why would they? They had the hostages to take care of and get out of here.”
Grunting, Francisco put his hands on his hips, looking in the direction of the trail up on the gentle slope above them. “Then let’s go back.”
“Don Azarola will want a detailed report from us. I think we should go to the trail and continue to follow it down to that meadow. I will bet money that was their infil and exfil point. We’ll find the grass knocked down, indicating a helicopter or two landed there to drop them off and then take them all out of here.”
“I agree. Let’s get the other three guys and head to the meadow.”
Ali began to breathe easier. The two soldiers quickly turned and left, moving toward the trail that was fifteen minutes away from their cave. The soldiers weren’t dumb and she applauded their logic regarding this assault. Drug soldiers were usually mercenaries, having a strong military background. They were not slow or prone to making stupid decisions and mistakes like their drug lord leader. Usually.
She waited another ten minutes but didn’t spot any more activity, and no longer heard male voices. Ali eased out of her position and quietly moved to the other end of the cave. She saw Ram down on one knee, watching out the slit of the opening. Making sure he saw her coming, he lifted his head as she knelt on the opposite side of the slit from him.
“Did all five of them leave?” she asked in a low tone.
“Yes.” He glanced at his watch, lifting the flap. “Ten minutes ago. They’re heading back to the trail to make their way down to the meadow.”
“I think we’re safe, but we need to stay alert. Once they get to the meadow, they’ll see flattened grass from the blades of that Black Hawk and figure out that we were airlifted out of here with the hostages.”
“Yeah, and they’re going to see truck tracks, too, and figure it all out. But they’ll be coming back on the same trail later on.”
Nodding, she said, “You’ve got first eyes on them when they come back this way. I don’t think they’ll wander down here again, but rather, stay on the trail. And we’re too far away to hear voices up on that trail.”
“I’m thinking the same thing. That blue jay warned us of their approach before. But he might not be in this area when the soldiers come back. We each need to remain at our entrance/exits points for the next three to four hours. It looks like there’s going to be another band of rain coming through from that chubasco,” he said, his gaze moving toward the cloudy, restless-looking rainy sky to the west of them.
Ali breathed a sigh of relief. “I agree. How are you feeling, Ram?”
“Much better.” He flashed her a grin. “You have a healing touch, Ali.”
Snorting softly, she said, “It wasn’t that way for a couple of years between us.” His expression grew sad and she was sorry she’d said it. Usually, their acid pattern with one another was just like this. He’d say something innocuous and she’d become a smart mouth—or vice-versa.
Wanting to apologize, she realized her words had cut him. He was being vulnerable with her. Why couldn’t she be that way with him? Mentally cursing herself and her defensiveness, Ali said nothing.
“Well,” Ram said, moving his hand down the rifle, “maybe we’re entering a kinder, gentler time with one another?” He looked deep into her widening eyes.
“That would be nice,” she agreed, still feeling guilty. Ram wasn’t being defensive toward her. He looked concerned, and she knew he was resisting lowering himself to the usual sniping they flung at one another. “I-I prefer peace over war.”
“That makes two of us.” One corner of his mouth curved faintly. “Maybe we’ve grown up and traded our diapers for a pair of panties and skivvies?”
She couldn’t help but smile a little, realizing Ram was making it easy for her to gracefully bow out of her defensiveness. “I always wear my big girl panties, Torres.”
A low rumbling chuckle came out of his chest and he met her wicked looking smile. “You certainly do, Señorita Montero.”