Chapter 15
Blade kept vigil while Lily slept.
She’d gone out like a light. To be fair, they’d battled a mighty river, frozen half to death, then walked close to five miles before stopping, so it was no wonder she was exhausted.
Once again, he’d been impressed by her stamina. She was tough. He knew her eyesight wasn’t a hundred percent without glasses, which made her stumble occasionally, yet she never complained.
He couldn’t understand why he’d never noticed Lily before. Apart from that first meeting a decade ago, he hadn’t seen her much. Maybe not at all. She’d kept to herself. Plenty of times he’d invited Spade to hang with the guys at the bar or to go away for a weekend, but he always declined. If he was on leave, he was with Lily. Spade kept the two parts of his life separate, and Blade respected that.
He assumed it was because he didn’t want to drag his work into his relationship. What they did hardly made for good dinner conversation. A man’s home life was private, his family sacred. Blade, on the other hand, preferred not to have a family—for all the reasons he’d given Lily when they were lying together.
Joe had figured out how to juggle a homelife and the Special Forces, but Blade never had. Now he wouldn’t need to. There was no more Special Forces. No unit. He scoffed and turned his face up to the sun. It was blasting through the trees, turning the lush valley into a steaming sauna.
Soon, it would be sweltering, and they’d have to hydrate frequently to avoid dehydration. He shook his head. Talk about extremes.
A random thought popped into his head. Would he be willing to juggle a relationship and the unit if it had been Lily?
It was an interesting question. Lately, he was thinking maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t manage it but that he hadn”t found the right girl. If he’d had someone like Lily, with her sharp mind, lush curves, soft lips… Hell, he wouldn’t have wanted to say goodbye in the morning either. Then again, she wasn’t the type of girl to pick up a soldier in a bar.
He sighed and checked the perimeter of their little hideout. Nobody would even know it was there. It was unlikely that their enemy would come up into the hills to search for them. Unlikely, but not impossible.
Once the Taliban realized they weren’t on the west side of the river, they’d cross it and come east, looking for signs they’d been there. Hunting them down. They’d rely on local intel too, the villagers and farmers whose land they’d been crossing. A soldier and a woman wouldn’t be hard to spot.
Don’t you get lonely?
That question had been spinning around in his mind as they’d marched here. These last ten months had been the loneliest of his life. Not only was he grappling with the grief of losing his best friend, but guilt from the failed mission was eating him up inside.
He’d filled the hours with working out like a maniac, fishing, going for long motorcycle rides, even getting drunk. Anything to numb the pain.
Now, for the first time in a long while, he’d found a semblance of peace. Being out here, rescuing Lily, had given him a purpose again. Even if she did drive him crazy with her sensual looks, quirky attitude, and curvy butt.
He thought about the sleeping bag and shook his head. Never, and he meant never, had he wanted anyone so much. Just thinking about the way she fit into him made his stomach knot with a tight heat.
But it was more than just a physical sensation. He wanted to protect her from the scumbags who wanted her dead. He wanted to drown in her arms and shut out the world. Pretend none of this had ever happened. That it was just the two of them.
He exhaled. What the hell had come over him?
He was never like this.
Was that how Joe had felt when he’d returned home from a mission, knowing she was waiting for him?
A vision of Lily standing in her underwear in the silver moonlight made him catch his breath. Damned if he didn’t want to make her moan again, like she had before. But this time he’d see to it she didn’t stop.
A loud crack made him swing around, but there was nothing there. He listened, careful not to move a muscle. The slightest sound, a twig breaking, a leaf rustling, would give him away. In this part of the forest, shadows were scarce and visibility was good. A sudden movement would draw the eye.
There it was again.
Footsteps.
The trees and foliage had a way of distorting sound, so it was hard to pinpoint their exact location, but he thought there were two of them. Two distinct voices talking in Pashto. Careless and unaware, a sound out of place amongst the natural melody of the forest.
In these mountains, there were many rural communities and tribes. Of course, the most likely scenario was they were Taliban fighters, or sympathizers, but they could also be local farmers who felt it was in their best interests to assist in the search for two westerners on the run.
Slowly, Blade got to his feet, his weapon ready. He held it with practiced ease, the barrel pointed safely toward the ground but ready to be brought to bear in an instant. His finger rested alongside the trigger guard, but the safety was off.
He was ready.
He inched forward, his movements deliberate, keeping to the denser foliage. It offered heavier camouflage but also obscured his view.
Another rustle, louder now. The adversary was moving closer.
There!
He was right.
Two turbaned men in flowing robes having a smoke. He crouched down and watched for a while, thinking if they moved on, away from their hiding place, it might be okay.
Unfortunately—for them—they didn’t.
As they turned, Blade noticed an AK-47 hanging off the one man’s shoulder. It had been hidden amongst his robes, escaping immediate notice.
His mind cleared with only one thought present.
Neutralize.
Blade slunk through the undergrowth, not making a sound, until he was directly behind the two men. He could gun them down right here, right now, but the noise would be deafening. It would alert anyone else nearby that something had gone down.
One of the men flicked his cigarette butt on the ground, said something to his friend, and disappeared around a tree to take a leak. Blade watched as he leaned his weapon against a tree.
Big mistake.
In a fluid motion, he drew his knife. He’d always preferred it as a weapon. Silent, efficient, deadly. It was his proficiency with the weapon that had earned him his nickname in the unit.
With a swift motion, he was upon his enemy, one hand clamping down on the mouth to silence any potential outcry, the other drawing the blade across the throat in a swift, merciful action.
The man made a soft gurgling sound then crumpled to the ground. Blade supported his weight to prevent any noise, then he melted back into the forest.
The second guy was easy to locate. He paced back and forth, clearly agitated, weapon over his shoulder, no thought to the noise he was making.
He called for his friend but got no reply, so after making an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, he went looking for him.
Blade followed.
Before the man reached the lifeless body of his friend, Blade pounced. There was no warning, no prelude. His knife found its mark with a precision that was almost surgical, slicing through flesh and sinew with ease.
This time, no sound. Not even a gurgle.
Blade laid the second man to rest beside his comrade, then pulled some foliage over them to prevent anyone finding them soon. He buried the two rifles inside a dense, prickly bush, where it was unlikely they’d be found.
The forest was silent again.
Still, their position had been compromised. These two might be missed, and he didn’t want a search party of fighters combing the woods near his and Lily’s hiding spot. It was time to move on.
He went back to the camp to wake her.