CHAPTER
TWO
Sarah had buried the satellite phone in the corner of the cell’s dirt floor only minutes before the guard had returned. Since then, he’d stayed just outside the door, and one hour turned into two.
“What are they waiting on?” Fatima whispered.
“I don’t know.” Every so often another guard would come and the two men would exchange whispers. Then he’d turn and hurry down the hallway, only to return a half hour later to repeat the whole thing. “I’m going to move to the door and see if I can hear what they’re saying,” she whispered to Fatima. “Stay put.”
Eyes wide, Fatima nodded.
On hands and knees, so as not to draw attention by standing, Sarah moved through the group, pressing a comforting hand on a shivering teen’s shoulder or squeezing the ice-cold fingers of another as she passed. Talia’s terrified gaze met hers, and she pressed her lips together, her displeasure at Sarah’s movement clear.
But if the phone hadn’t worked like it was supposed to, they were going to have to know what was going on. At the door, she slid against the wall. The other guard should be returning any moment. As though he’d read her mind, footsteps pounded down the hallway to stop in front of the door. His radio crackled and Sarah thought she caught the words, “Search them one by one. Bring her to the conference room. We will make the video there.”
Bring who?
“Get up! All of you!”
Sarah jerked at the order and slowly stood. The other girls followed her lead.
The guard who spoke was in his early thirties with a long beard and body odor strong enough to knock her out.
And a rifle gripped in his right hand.
When all of them were standing, huddling together, the guard threw open the door and lifted the rifle. He pointed it at Fatima. “You. Come with me.”
Fatima stepped through an opening in the group. When she reached Sarah, she grabbed Sarah’s hand in a death grip. The teen shook like she’d splinter apart any second.
The guard jabbed Fatima with the rifle. “What is your name?”
“Fatima.”
“Remove your head covering.”
Slowly, Fatima pushed the cloth away, her eyes downcast.
“It’s not her,” the other man said. “But I will take her for a little while.” He jabbed his weapon at Fatima. “Come with me.”
The teen shuddered but didn’t move to obey the order.
The guard’s eyes gleamed. “Come, I said. Obey or die. Which will you choose?”
Still gripping Sarah’s fingers, Fatima lifted her chin. “I choose to die.”
A multitude of gasps sounded behind her.
He pulled the trigger. Fatima jerked and fell, her hand sliding from Sarah’s grip.
Screams echoed.
“Fatima!” Heart pounding, ears ringing, Sarah dropped to her knees and pressed hard against the wound, barely able to control the rage she wanted to unleash on the guard. But the girl . . .
“It hurts,” Fatima whimpered.
The rifle jabbed Rashida, the girl next to Sarah. “You. Get up.”
“Kinaaz,” Sarah said, “come press on her wound.”
Without hesitation, Kinaaz, the gentle soul who loved poetry, nature, and puppies, darted to her friend’s side and replaced Sarah’s hands with her own.
“Hold on, Fatima,” Sarah whispered, “help’s coming.”
“I said get up!”
Rashida wailed and covered her head with her arms. The guard adjusted the rifle.
“Stop! Don’t shoot her!” Sarah stood and stepped between the rifle and the other girls, ignoring the nausea curling in her gut. “What do you want?” she asked, keeping her head lowered but watching him through her lashes.
His eyes glinted and raked her up and down. “I didn’t tell you to interfere.”
Sarah waited for the bullet. It didn’t come, but she thought he considered it.
“Remove your head covering.”
Sarah reached to do so, and the smile that split his lips turned her stomach once more. He jerked the rifle, indicating she was to hurry up.
The guard behind him chuckled and muttered something under his breath.
Gunfire erupted from the hallway, and the terrorist flinched, his rifle wavering for a fraction of a second. She lunged at the man, slamming her elbow into his throat. He went down, and she clamped a hand around the barrel of the rifle and rolled, jammed the stock into her shoulder, and aimed it at his face.
He charged at her and she pulled the trigger. Felt the kick against her shoulder. His face exploded into a red mist.
Bullets spit into his partner behind him. Footsteps pounded on the dirt floor. Another spray of gunfire above her head brought screams from the girls still in the cell. Fire exploded in her side and then her arm.
Just as quickly, the shooting stopped.
Ears still ringing, Sarah ignored the burning pain just under her rib cage and swung the rifle toward the hallway that opened into the area where she and the teens were being held. When she spotted US Army uniforms, she dropped the weapon and lifted her hands above her head. One hand. She couldn’t lift the other without massive agony racing through her arm.
“Move away from the weapon!”
“Hands! Show me your hands!”
The commands rolled over her and she let out a sob of relief. “Don’t shoot!” she screamed. “Don’t shoot! I’m an American!”
“Sarah!”
The voice came from behind the first soldier. Even in her terrified, semiparalyzed state, she recognized the voice. “Gavin!”
He rushed to her and snagged the rifle from the dirt.
She refrained from launching herself into his arms. Instead she yanked the burqa covering from her head and drew in a ragged breath. “Thank God.”
Gavin lowered his weapon, helped her remove the rest of her burqa, and stared into green eyes he’d recognize anywhere. “Sarah.”
“About time you guys showed up,” she said.
“Had to stop for a burger. Knew you could take care of yourself until we got here.” His words came out gruff, filled with emotion he had no right feeling at the moment. Surprised, he cleared his throat.
She huffed a short laugh that ended on a hiccuped sob. “Right.” She didn’t take her eyes from the man on the floor. “I killed him.”
“No, you didn’t.” He listened to the voice in his ear. “The threat has been neutralized.” They were safe for now. Plan A had worked.
She swiveled her gaze to him. “What?”
“You missed.”
“Not even. I don’t miss.”
“Whatever the case. We need to get out of here.”
She stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m so very glad to see you.”
“Same here.” He gave her a quick squeeze and she gasped. He frowned but was intent on their next move. “Come on, we’ve got to go before their reinforcements arrive. You ready?”
“As long as there’s room for the other girls. Fatima is injured and needs a doctor.”
“There’s room and we have a medic with us.” He turned to the girls in the cell and, in Pashto, said, “All of you, follow those two soldiers and we’ll get you to safety.”
His Pashto must have been good enough, because the girls hurried from the cell. He stepped over to the fallen teen and her friend, who still knelt beside her, hands covered in blood but still pressing hard. “Don’t take your hands away yet, okay?”
She nodded.
“Gavin?”
He turned.
Sarah’s hands clasped her side. She swayed, then sank to her knees.
“Sarah!” He strode back to her. “You’ve been hit.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. I hadn’t noticed.”
He slung the rifle over his shoulder and caught her just as she passed out.