Chapter 26

Lauren thought she heard Rad’s voice, and then watched him come into view, calm and unruffled, as if daring anyone to halt or delay him. Dressed in camo and armed to the teeth, he was all manhood and muscle, the very picture of a soldier. When his eyes met hers it was with an intensity that made her blush and a fearlessness that left her enthralled.

He held out his hand. “I told you I’d come.” His voice was smooth and measured and deep—the voice of authority. She took his hand and suddenly he was no longer a soldier and they were no longer in Pakistan. They were walking along a lonely stretch of beach with water tugging at their ankles, talking and laughing and embracing life.

Running her tongue across her dry, cracked lips, Lauren swallowed the iron-tasting glob in her throat and awoke from the dream that had seemed so vivid and real. Breathing was difficult—and painful—so she tried to focus her thoughts on a part of her body that didn’t hurt. But if there was an inch of bone or muscle that didn’t involve a pulsing nerve screaming with pain, she couldn’t find it today.

Despite the hurt, she lifted her hand to touch her eye, wanting to see if it was open or closed. The cell she lay in was dark and her face numb, making it impossible to tell. When her hand was almost there, it was forced to a jolting halt by a chain attached to her wrist and the floor. The pain that flashed through her when she got to the end of its length was excruciating, causing her to groan out loud.

She lowered her hand to her cheek, which felt swollen and pulpy beneath her touch. It struck her as funny that she wished no one would see her like this—hair dirty and stringy and caked in blood. She accepted that her death would be messy, but had hoped it wouldn’t be public. The fact that her interrogations had been in English with a video camera running had pretty much dashed that hope.

Lauren sat up with great effort and leaned her back against the wall. The floor of the place where she sat must have been concrete once, but now only a few broken patches remained. For the most part, she felt only dirt and grime beneath her hands. The stench that emanated from the filth suggested this was not the first time it had been used as a prison cell.

But the nauseating aroma did not stop Lauren from attempting to take deep, slow breaths. Mind over matter she kept telling herself. The fact her cell was practically devoid of light provided some relief—no walls could be distinguished. For all she knew, the room was huge… perhaps even opulent and luxurious. She envisioned it as she wished it to be until at last the claustrophobic panic subsided.

Lauren tried to count the number of days she had been here. Two? Three? More? Time was lost to her now. But what did it matter? She had won. The man who had been responsible for planning the deaths of countless Americans had been eliminated. Her goal had been accomplished. Knowing no American lives had been lost in the effort and future lives would be saved, made her feel fortunate, not sorry, for her current circumstances. When she added up the lives avenged, the future lives that would never be lost, and the terror network reeling from the removal of their leader, she felt the tradeoff a fair one.

Added to that positive outcome was the intelligence likely gained by Rad and his men when they seized computers and communications from the house of a most-wanted terrorist.

At the thought of Rad, a tear unexpectedly squeezed through her eyelid to slide down Lauren’s cheek. She remembered the briefing for the mission when her eyes had first fallen upon Pops. Why is he here? she remembered thinking. As realization set in, her eyes had sought Rad’s and found them waiting. They were not carefree and relaxed as she had remembered them at the beach, but strong—so strong. Even from across the room she felt the intensity, the concern, the solemnity of his gaze.

Lauren laid her head against the wall and closed her eyes as the recollections rocked her. Despite her circumstances, she recalled the sensation of being held against his strong body; of his kiss, so slow and thoughtful—and surprisingly gentle. It was his ruggedness and vibrant power that had first attracted her to him, but his tenderness and calm authority had kept her entranced.

Drawing a deep breath, Lauren felt an agonizing twinge in her lungs. It wouldn’t be long now. It couldn’t be long—for the simple reason she couldn’t take much more. With her vitality failing, a new pain ripped through her with an intensity that closed out all else.

Not willing to succumb to the pain, Lauren concentrated instead on the memory of Rad’s shirt on her shoulders, the smell of it, and clung to that thought as she would a life preserver in a stormy sea. It would be a sweet consolation if she could have something of his to hold and feel—to die with—but she knew memories would have to sustain her now. Anyway, she could feel him with her. Feel him to the very marrow of her bones.

A sudden peace washed over Lauren, filling her heart with gratitude that God had shown her the path of duty and given her the strength to follow it. All the vitality and courage she would need for what was yet to come flowed from that Source. She’d asked to serve and she’d served. She felt the pride of it—and the weight of it.

Lauren drifted off while listening to the wind whine through the crevices of the walls. But as her thoughts returned to that distant beach, she recalled eyes full of expression and a gaze that felt like a caress. The roar of pain in her ears became the gentle roll of waves, her unconscious moans of agony, the gentle call of sea gulls.

Yet when she heard the voices of her captors approaching from outside, her body involuntarily shook despite her mental composure. She did not fear what was to come, but she wished it were over. No matter what happened in the hours or the days ahead, she held onto her one consolation.

One life in exchange for the hundreds saved.

I won.