Forty                  

We are not going down that hole.” Heath pried himself off the cave wall. “We don’t even know where it leads—if it leads anywhere.”

“So …” Darci motioned to their surroundings. “We just stay here? And die?” Her head cocked. “I know you’re a former Green Beret, but even I thought you had more fight in you than that.”

“What I have is some common sense.” He poked a finger at her. “You’re injured—you can barely sit up—and you expect to rappel down a chasm? Our rope won’t even reach the bottom.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

He knew where this was going. “You don’t know how far it is from the end of the rope to the bottom. You could break your legs—and that’s the bright side.”

“You’re all sunshine and roses, aren’t you?”

“Darci.” Heath pushed up onto his knees. “Please, I’ve made a dent using my fingers, but let’s give them time.”

“What if they don’t make it, Heath? What if they were buried?”

“I can’t accept that.” He swallowed that bitter pill. “Please—let’s just wait.”

“Only if you beg.”

Heath glared at her. “Not funny.”

“Why can’t you accept that? It’s completely within the realm of possibilities.”

“Because if they didn’t make it, then that means the men are dead. And so is my girl. I’m not going there. Not again.” He remembered those men, their funerals he’d missed, the fading in and out, the PT learning to walk, and the scars from Trinity’s bite. “I can’t lose a team again.” This time it was his heart thundering, not his head. All the same in the grand scheme of things though.

Fierceness rosied her cheeks. “That bomb wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

Heath stilled. “I should’ve been more alert.”

“It was an ambush. You have to move on and stop letting it color your past.”

Heath angled his head, gaze locked on her. “How … how do you know about that?”

For a fraction of a second, Darci’s eyes widened, then slid shut. And to Heath, it felt like the light in his life blinked out. She hung her head.

He inched closer. “How do you know about that ambush? I never told you. It was above top secret. No reason for you to know.”

“… uplifted by His grace, and feel yourself enfolded in the peace of His embrace.”

The fragments came together in that moment as if the bomb that had exploded into shards two years ago flew back together. They were in the mountains. Just like right now. Then the angel who stood over him—

“You … it was you at Landstuhl, wasn’t it?” They’d told him he was crazy. Whacked on painkillers as he came out of surgery. They vowed over and over that nobody had been with him in the days afterward before he regained consciousness.

“I felt responsible.” Darci’s words were small as she stared down at her hands. “I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t just walk away. So I stayed there until they convinced me you were going to live.”

“You prayed over me.” Awe speared him.

“I found it in my mom’s Bible—a little gift card with a prayer stamped on it.” With a sad smile, she shrugged. “It was all I had to offer, to undo the pain I caused.”

Heath tilted his head, confused. “You caused?”

Again, her eyes widened. She looked away. Then down.

Realization dawned on him. His gut twisted, and his mind warred with the gravity of what she had just revealed. “You provided the bad intel.”

“Not”—she jerked her gaze to him, her eyes watering—“on purpose. It was blowback.”

Blowback. His ragged pulse lumbered to a slower pace. “Unintentional consequence of spying operations …”

“Not just unintended but designed so that when the retaliation comes—the ambush—the public doesn’t understand why it happened, can’t connect X to Y.”

“Amazing.” He’d lost his career due to bad intel, provided by her, but then God brought it full circle. Brought them together. Ya know, for the first time, Heath didn’t mind the scars so much, if that’s what placed Darci in his life. In fact, he’d take a few more for her.

She swallowed. “I am so sorry. Please. You have every right … but please … don’t …”

The brokenness in her voice tugged at his heartstrings. “Don’t what?”

Big, brown watery eyes. “Don’t hate me.”

Aw man. She was as bad as Trinity when she tucked her tail and head, then sidled up to him with that pathetic whimper. At least it had the same effect on his heart.

Emotion. Too much emotion.

“Hate you?” Needed some testosterone injection here. “I’m about to go down a rabbit hole for you.”

Shhhink. Grind. Whoosh. Thud.

Shhhink. Grind. Whoosh. Thud.

Peter Toque shoveled hard, determined to do his very best to find the girl who’d spearheaded efforts to take down one of the most powerful men in China. And that had drawn the sleeping dragon from his den.

No way was Jia Li going down now. Not this way.

He rammed the shovel into the snow again. Again. Again—thud!

Peter cursed.

Another dead end, solid rock.

Shouts from the right drew his attention as he repositioned in a new spot. This was where the opening had been. Would they ever break the two out of the cave?

Watters, Candyman, and the one they called Rocket huddled up, talking. Something was going on. He wasn’t sure what, but Peter trained his ears and eyes that way as he started digging again.

“What’s going on?”

Peter eyed his handler, Bright. “Not sure.” He dug. Thrust, toss. Thrust, dig, toss. “Maybe they got coms back up.”

“That’d be nice.” Bright grunted. “Our ride should be here soon.”

“I’m not leaving till they have her back.”

Bright stilled. “This isn’t the time to get romantic.”

“You’re right. And I’m not.” Peter rammed the shovel into the hard-packed snow. “It’s about respect. About protecting one of my own.”

“She’s American.”

“She’s an operative. She covered my back before. I’m covering hers.”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Then leave.” Peter glared. “I know where you live.”

Bright shook his head with a laugh and rejoined the effort. “D’you see it?”

Peter tossed another load over his shoulder, sweat sliding down his temple. “What?”

“I’m not sure.” Bright’s ruddy face twisted beneath the labor. “I thought I saw one of the Asians throw something seconds before the avalanche.”

“A grenade.” Which is why he wasn’t letting the men out of his sight.

“Which one?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What are you going to do?”

Peter smirked.

Bright shook his head and held up a hand. “You’re right. I don’t want to know.” He shoved his hands into the snow, no doubt to alleviate the burn from the blisters. Peter had them, too. But what’s a bit of blood and blisters when racing to save a life?

Shhhink. Grind. Whoosh. Thud.

“This is senseless, you know.” Bright wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s been too long.”

“Unless the cave has an air source.” Bright sighed.

Shhhink. Grind. Whoosh. Thud.

“But if it doesn’t …”

“If you want to stop digging, then stop. Otherwise shut up and let me work.”

With another grunt, Bright drove the shovel into the snow. “I’m going to see what they found.”

“Please.” Peter tossed rocks and snow. “Go.”

Foul became his mood. The thought of not getting to her in time. She was a good operative. A kind woman. She didn’t deserve this. Nobody did. And he had that mantra, the “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” that he tried to live up to.

Of course, while on a mission, all bets were off. But as a regular citizen, he practically wore a halo.

Another thrust. With it … a strange noise.

Peter looked to the side, listening. Nothing. He lifted the shovel.

There—again. Behind him. He twisted his upper body and looked back. Who would be over there? It was nowhere near—

A bark sailed over the still air.

The war dog!

Peter threw down the shovel. “Where’s the dog?”

Heads popped up as the others turned their attention to the barking.

Peter jogged around the incline. Oddity of oddities—this stretch was pristine and white, undisturbed, save a trail that snaked down … down …

A black-and-amber form. “There!”

“It’s Trinity. She’s found them,” Watterboy shouted.

“Not possible,” Peter called as he pointed back up over the ridge. “They were up there. In the cave. We didn’t make it down this far.”

Watterboy hesitated, his gaze bouncing around the area.

“He’s right,” Scrip said. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Watterboy raised gloved hands. “That dog is trained to protect her handler at all costs.” He looked back down the mountain to the plain where she dug with fervor.

“She’s got a hit!” Candyman threw himself down, half sliding, half jogging.

Watters went with him, and so did the Asians. Peter rushed after them, hoping against vain hope that they weren’t making a big mistake.

Bright joined him. “This is asinine.”

“Did you guys come up this way?”

“Hanged if I know.” Bright sighed. “It was dark half the time and the pass so narrow … but no, this doesn’t …” He looked around. “The snowfall changed the face of it. I wouldn’t know if I’d lived here.”

Toque’s face hardened. “Well, let’s check it out.”

“I have got to be out of my mind.” Heath swiped a slick palm down his pants as he adjusted the rope around his hips and waist.

“Maybe for once you’re in your right mind.” Darci sat at the edge of the hole with him, her voice confident and calm.

“Are you always this annoying under pressure?”

Her smile amplified the beam of his lamp. Then fell as if she’d jumped off a ledge. What replaced it yanked so hard on his heart, he jerked. “Hey.” He frowned as he took in her overwrought expression. “What just happened?”

“I …” She cringed and held her side. “I just …”

“Darci.” Heath shifted on the ledge to face her better.

“Do you like me?”

Feeling like a Ping-Pong ball caught between her thoughts, Heath blinked. “Huh?”

“Because if you like me, I can die happy.”

Whoa no. No talk of death. “Darci.”

“No, seriously. I know it sounds crazy—”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I’ve faced death before—”

“Darci.” Heath hooked a hand around the back of her neck. “Stop.” He tightened his hold. “Stop talking about death. We’re not going to die. You’re not going to die and—”

“Will you kiss me?”

Heath blinked. “What?”

“You wanted to kiss me at Bagram, but I pushed you away. So kiss me before you go down there.”

What ledge had she just jumped off of? His pulse chugged through his veins. God forgive him, but his gaze bounced to her lips. His yearnings betrayed him, but he finally pushed out a response. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because …” Heat clawed his face. Two years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He liked her. She liked him. But it felt like something bigger, greater was happening here. “Because you’re thinking I’m going to die, so you want no regrets.” He shook his head, his chest feeling like a mortar range. “And because a kiss would mean something to me.”

“It would mean something to me, too. That’s why I asked.” She shoved the black hair away from her face. “I don’t need romance, Heath.”

“Maybe.” He couldn’t believe she was dead serious. “But it’s kind of nice. Know what I’m saying?” Taking things slow. Not rushing.

“I just need to know if you’re feeling the same thing I am.”

Now his brain felt like it was attached to the bungee cord on the ledge she’d just jumped from. His head hurt—and it wasn’t the TBI. “How did we just go from death to talk of romance?”

“If I’m going to die—”

“Stop!” He cupped the back of her neck with both hands. “Darci. Slow down.” He tugged her in closer, determined she believe him. “Nobody’s going to die. I’m going down this hole—doing it for you, remember?”

“You’re right.” Shoulders sagging, Darci shrunk back. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m just … tired.” She lowered her head. “Sorry. I …” Her gaze darted over his face, mouth open about to say something, then she pulled herself inward, crashing down as she pressed her lips into a thin line. “Never mind.”

“Hey,” he whispered, still holding her neck. “What’s going on inside that pretty head?”

Looking up, out from under her eyebrows, she considered him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never been this scared.” A weak smile quivered on her lips as she worried the cuff of her jacket. “Not like this.”

Heath nudged her up so he could look into her brown eyes. “Maybe it’s because this time you have something to risk.”

“Yeah?” Her voice went crazy-soft. “What?”

“Staying alive to make good on that request for a kiss.” Heath angled around, bracing himself on the edge before she could see how much that line just embarrassed him. Why did she have to go and get all mushy on him as he was lowering himself into oblivion? It was good incentive, true, but it also made jelly of his iron stomach that someone like her was scared.

Shoulder light fracturing the black void, Heath eased himself down, toes braced against the wall in front. With one hand threading the line, he glanced down. Nothing but pitch black.

Why had he watched all those horror movies? Too many images flashed into his mind, holding him in a vise grip of hypervigilance.

“See anything?”

Her voice already sounded miles away. Heath glanced up at the top. How had he descended that far? “How much line do I have left?”

“Plenty.”

Right. Heath considered the depth below … waaaay below. He plucked the SureFire from his shoulder and aimed it down. The light danced along a slick wall where snow melted and trickled down.

His beam reflected off something.

Heath angled it again, this time over his shoulder as he strained to see what was down. Unable to see anything, he adjusted his balance so he could turn.

“Why aren’t you moving?”

“Thought I saw something.”

“No sightseeing.”

Heath smirked as he lifted his arm and pointed the beam straight down.

His toe slid free.

His body swung to the right.

He slammed into the wall, his head thudding hard. He flung out a hand to stop the move—in that instant he realized his mistake. “No!”

The clank-clanky-clatter of his SureFire tumbling to the bottom—if there was one—reverberated through his mind.

Heath pounded an arm against the wall.

“What’s wrong?”

He watched the beam twirling, tumbling—

Splat!

Darkness gulped the beam in a wolfish devour.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Heath wanted to punch something. Kick the wall. But he had to keep it together. Stay upright, calm … for Darci. For her to get frantic, want to cut to the chase when she was all avoidance and distance at the base—panic had its talons dug deep into her courage. And too much distance already separated them.

“Heath.” Her voice strained. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything.” He cursed himself for being so careless. He was so far out of his element, off his game. When Darci was depending on him.

And I’m dangling in a shaft with no light.

His studies for chaplaincy rained down verses, one after another, about Jesus being the Light of the World. A staunch reminder that Heath wasn’t a shining example of trusting God.

He peered up, no longer able to see Darci’s hope and expectation gouged into her face. No longer able to see where he’d come from. And below … unable to see where he was going.

Just like my life.

He knew God had a twisted sense of humor, and though he didn’t find it funny, the poignancy struck center mass. Hand fisted on the cord below, Heath glanced up and down again. Should he keep going? Or return? The slight tremor in his arms warned him of his weakness.

In more ways than one.

He knew, in his own strength, he could go back up. Get to the top. Be with Darci. But that would get them nowhere. But going down, exploring the unknown … hadn’t he done the same thing with his life? Familiar with combat and military life, he’d pushed and pushed till he got what he wanted.

And how’s that working for you?

Okay, God, enough with the stark parallels. Despite his playful thought, he was wide open to whatever God was doing here. He could sense the life-altering shift. He just wasn’t sure how it was connected to this shaft.

Going down was a matter of faith. Exploring the unknown, being vulnerable, was putting action behind his faith. Faith without works is dead …

Okay. That was beyond stark.

Heath released the belay and lowered himself more.

“Heath?”

Was this stupid? Going farther down, risking getting stuck or never reaching bottom? He continued down.

“Heath?”

Water gurgled below, drawing his gaze downward. A strange glow swirled …

The SureFire!

On the surface. About ten feet below.

Heath let out the tension and glided down … down … to the end of the rope.

Still hadn’t hit bottom.

“Heath!”

Her frantic call jerked him out of his focus. “Sorry.” If he let go and dropped, he could go straight into the freezing water. With the rabid temperatures, he’d have fifteen minutes—max—before his body temperatures dropped to critical.

So did he feel the way out was there, with the icy water and certainty of death?

“Hang on.” His voice bounced off the walls and thudded against his mind.

He stared down at the beam. He couldn’t be more than six or seven feet from the bottom. He’d jumped from greater heights in training. The fear that had him clinging to the rope was the question of the water. It’d swallowed the flashlight. Then spit it back up. Deep enough to go down, but not enough for it to vanish.

Noise filtered through his senses. Heath looked left. What was that? To the right? Crazy. There wasn’t anything here to make noise.

Again, he felt his toe slipping against the wall and reached out.

Hollow and distant the noise actually sounded closer.

How was that possible?

Thwat. The soft sound registered like a sonic boom. He jerked up, barely able to see the multistrand rope fraying. A strand snapped free.

Playtime over. He had to get down. Now.

Heath quickly lowered himself. The cord snapped taut. Ploink! Another snapped.

Do or die, he had to take this literal leap of faith. Heath released himself from the harness. Dropped. Straight down.