Lethal Pursuit (Bagram Special Ops #3)

Seventeen

SEVENTEEN

K NEELING BESIDE H AVERSHAM while he searched through the medical kit, Jackson paused when he heard Maya cough again outside the enclosure. She’d woken in the middle of the night with it and had insisted on relieving him for a few hours, and he’d reluctantly agreed because he’d been so exhausted. The dry, sporadic cough had roused him just before dawn and it didn’t seem to be going away. One more thing for him to worry about.

“Maya, can you give me a hand here?” he called in a loud whisper.

She came around the corner a moment later, a pistol in her right hand and her left arm cradled protectively against her body. The fingers on her left hand were swollen and discolored, and the swelling in her face had completely closed her left eye. A kaleidoscope of colors covered her cheek and eye region, the skin stretched so tight it was shiny. The only thing that seemed to be improving was the cut in her lip.

“What’s up?” she asked in a near whisper.

“Need you to put pressure here for a minute while I get the suture kit ready,” he said, indicating the entry wound on the front of Haversham’s shin.

Without hesitation, she tucked the pistol in her waistband and sat on her haunches next to him, placing her right hand over the saturated bandage. She winced in sympathy and glanced up at Haversham. “How you doing, sir?”

“I already told you, call me Doug,” he answered in a tired, weak voice. Even his dark skin tone couldn’t hide the grayish cast of his face. He hadn’t gotten much sleep through the night either. During the few hours he’d rested, Jackson had woken multiple times from Doug’s restless shifting. “And I’m hangin’ in there.”

“Good to hear. Just tell me if I hurt you too much. Gotta keep the pressure up.”

“I know. Do what you have to do.”

Jackson filled the syringe with what remained of the fentanyl. A used one wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing, and at least with Maya having had all her shots, the biggest risk they faced from sharing needles was infection, rather than hepatitis or HIV. Since he was dealing with an open compound fracture, it would be a miracle if an infection didn’t set in regardless.

He flicked the syringe to make sure there was no air in it. “Good news is, this will take the edge off while I put in the stitches and move the leg around. Once I get it sewn up and bandaged, I’ll find something to splint it with, make it more stable for you before we move out.” He injected Doug in the hip.

“Appreciate it.”

Jackson gathered what he needed, allowing the meds a few minutes to kick in. When he was ready, he gave Maya the signal and she bent to grasp the edges of torn flesh with her good hand, pulling them together without the benefit of gloves. She leaned back to stay out of his light, applying pressure to the exit wound on the back of the calf with her forearm without being told.

It took seven stitches to close the entry wound and it wasn’t his prettiest patch job, but it would do for now. The back was trickier. They had to roll Doug on to his side while he stifled his cries of pain so Jackson could get at the larger exit wound. That took eleven sutures to close, and he tied off a small superficial vein to slow the bleeding more.

When that was done, he packed the suture kit up and gathered the bandages.

“Those are pretty neat stitches. You know, if the med school thing doesn’t work out, you could always make your living as a tailor,” Maya remarked.

His lips quirked. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll keep that as my backup plan.”

“You’re not gonna need a backup plan, because I know you’re gonna ace the MCAT. They’d be crazy not to give you a spot.”

Her faith in him made him feel unworthy. She was the amazing one. All that strength and determination packed into her petite body. “I’ll tell them you said so.”

“You should.” She smiled a little as she shifted around to hold Doug’s leg steady for him. Padding and bandaging the wounds didn’t take long, and he rose to stretch his back.

“Feelin’ sleepy yet?” Jackson asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Doug mumbled, eyes closed. “Just wake me up when we get back to a U.S. base, will ya?”

“Sure thing.” He turned to Maya. “I have to find some wood to put a splint together.”

“I’ll take watch.” She stepped past him and walked out to the group of boulders they’d used for concealment during the night, stifling another cough, her face pinched with pain. “Hurry though. Sun’s coming up fast.”

“I know.” He’d done what he could to disguise their trail last night, but the blood spatters were a dead giveaway. And if the men coming after them had tracking dogs—he doubted it, but couldn’t rule it out for sure—they might show up at any time.

Careful to keep his silhouette to a minimum, Jackson searched around and found some sturdy branches to fashion a splint with. When he came back, he could hear Maya coughing, even though she had her face buried in the crook of her elbow to muffle the sound. And from the way she winced and squeezed her eyes shut, it hurt her like hell every time she coughed. From the deep sound of it, he’d bet money it was bronchitis and well on its way to becoming something worse if left untreated.

“Be as quick as I can,” he said to her on the way by. Using the dull jackknife from the kit, he cut the branches down to size and lashed them together in groups of three. The splint wasn’t the greatest, but it would give Doug’s leg some stability and hopefully guard the newly set leg. His patient didn’t even twitch as he bound his limb into it. Jackson shook his shoulder. “Time to go.”

Haversham opened groggy eyes and flinched as he turned on to his back. “Thanks,” he said, looping one arm around Jackson’s shoulders and setting his other hand against the rock wall to get up on his right foot. He sucked in a breath at the increase of pain then gave a sharp nod. “I’m ready.”

With Maya supporting his left side and Jackson his right, Haversham used them as human crutches. Both he and Maya were armed this time, and Jackson carried the medical bag on his back. A line of light blue lit the eastern horizon, heralding the imminent arrival of the sun.

“Gotta stick to the shadows and use whatever cover we can,” Jackson reminded them. Wasn’t much they could do about their tracks, except to step on rocks wherever possible. At least the blood spatters would be minimal this time.

They hugged the trail, staying a dozen or so yards away from it, picking their way through shallow depressions and deeper wadis. It made the going slower, but it disguised them and their tracks from anyone else who might come along the path. When Haversham got too tired to carry on, Jackson passed the med bag to Maya and hauled him over his shoulders. The man’s fingers bit into his upper arms with bruising force, but he made no more than a groan. Jackson hoped the voting public would find out just how brave their Secretary of Defense was in the face of all this.

Maya followed a few yards behind him, watching their backs. From her tense posture and vigilant gaze, Jackson knew she was as worried as him that they were being followed. She kept trying to muffle her coughs every few minutes, but even so, the sound carried through the still air. Every time she did it, the tension inside him wound tighter. If she developed full-blown pneumonia, there was nothing he could do for her out here. And if she didn’t get treatment in time... He shoved that thought from his mind.

They managed to keep moving most of the day, taking short breaks to rest and have a sip or two of water from the half-empty canteen. By the time the sun sat low on the horizon, he was smoked and Maya was worse. Her cough kept deteriorating and when he stopped to gauge her temperature with a hand on her forehead, he wasn’t surprised to find her feverish. He pursed his lips, knowing the decision he was about to make held their fate in the balance. He couldn’t keep them moving like this, and there was no way Maya could keep this pace. Haversham couldn’t walk on his own, and Jackson couldn’t carry them both. They were almost out of water and food. That left only one option.

“I’m gonna find us some shelter and then I’m gonna have to leave you to get water,” he told them when they stopped for another break.

Maya swiped the back of her right arm across her forehead, her cheeks flushed from exertion and fever. Her eyes were clear. “No. We’re not splitting up.”

“We have to. Our water’s almost gone, and both you and Doug need more or we’re gonna be in trouble.”

Though she clearly didn’t like it, she didn’t argue anymore. “How will you find us without a compass?”

“I’m a born tracker, been huntin’ since I was a little kid. I’ll find you, don’t worry.”

That seemed to reassure her a little. She scanned the area ahead of them where the trail broke away from the rock, straying across the brush-dotted soil and disappearing into what was probably another shallow valley. “Only place with solid shelter is right beside the trail, and even I know that’s too risky a place to stop.”

“We’ll have to find a wadi or a dried-up riverbed for tonight,” he answered, stooping to bring one of Doug’s arms across his shoulder.

“You two go ahead,” the Sec Def managed, his face damp with a glaze of sweat and his face lined with the constant agony wearing him down. “Leave me somewhere and come back for me when you can.”

“Not gonna happen,” Jackson said before Maya could answer.

“I’ll stay with you and keep watch until he comes back,” she informed Doug. “And that’s not up for debate, so make peace with it.”

A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jackson stood and waited for Maya to bolster Doug’s left side before starting out at a slow pace. His legs were so tired he could barely carry his own weight right now, let alone adding Haversham’s. They skirted the trail to the crest of the hill, where the red-tinged mountains loomed before them. And they all heard it at the same time.

Tiny bells. Faint at first, growing louder with each passing moment, their sweet chimes filling the air. Setting Haversham down between them, he and Maya hit the deck and lay flat on their bellies, trying to make their outlines as small as possible.

A minute after that, the first bleats reached them, followed by the patter of hooves over the hard, rocky ground. Fuck. Jackson’s whole body tensed, a surge of renewed strength exploding through him. Beside him, Maya kept her gaze trained ahead where the goats were. They sounded close and seemed to be coming closer. Haversham’s face was rigid with tension.

The bells and bleating came nearer, the hooves now a constant rattle on the ground. A whole herd of goats, which meant the shepherd couldn’t be far behind.

But it wasn’t a human who found them.

Jackson barely had time to react when something rustled in the brush to their right and a medium-sized dog bounded out. It stopped a dozen or so meters from them, frozen in a pose that was part point, part coiling to spring. The animal was white except for brown spots on its ears, nose and a large patch on its right flank. Jackson cursed silently. Shooting it would only alert any humans in the area to their position, and there was no way he and Maya could haul Haversham out of there fast enough to evade anyone who chased them. Their only hope now was for the dog to lose interest and leave before it attracted its master’s attention.

He held his breath, willing the mongrel to move on. It didn’t.

The dog remained poised to spring, gaze fixed on them, ears back, a low, almost inaudible growl coming from its throat. Then a sharp, shrill whistle rent the air, and Jackson closed his eyes in disbelief at their shitty luck.

“Jackson,” Maya said in an urgent whisper that barely carried to him.

He answered with a minute shake of his head. They couldn’t make a run for it now. It was too late.

Another whistle, and the dog flinched, its hindquarters quivering as it kept staring at them. A man’s shout rose up. The dog still didn’t leave. And when the inevitable sounds of footsteps came next, Jackson’s heart sank. He didn’t want to have to kill an innocent goatherd. How many of them were out here? They’d probably be armed. Jackson tightened his grip around the pistol, ready and waiting.

Above the scraggly bush they were hidden behind, a pair of thin legs appeared beneath a gray tunic. Heart in his throat, Jackson watched the legs give way to a lower body, then a small torso. When he saw the young boy’s face, no older than ten, Jackson stopped breathing. There was no way he could kill a kid. Not unless he was actually firing at them, and even then Jackson would only shoot to disable.

The only thing the young goatherd had for a weapon was a long walking stick.

The kid froze in horror when he came close enough and saw what his dog had cornered. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open, but no sound came out, as though he was too terrified to scream.

Praying he’d stay quiet, Jackson met his fearful gaze and brought a finger to his lips in the universal signal for silence.

The kid blinked once. Then, as if the motion had unparalyzed him, he opened his mouth wide and screamed something.

Jackson was already on his knees, ready to lunge for the kid and tackle him, but it was too late. An answering shout rang out, and Jackson glanced up in time to see an old man running toward them. He was carrying a rifle.

Maya cursed and dragged Haversham to a standing position, preparing to make a run for it. Jackson stayed where he was, weapon raised, ready to fire if the old man brought his rifle up. But the man stopped running and stared in shock, then held up one hand and lowered his weapon to the ground.

As their gazes connected, a shock of recognition rippled through Jackson. He slowly lowered the pistol, wondering if he was imagining things. “Maya, wait.”

“What?” she snapped, whirling to face him. When she saw the expression on his face, she stopped and followed his gaze. She frowned at the man. “Is that...?”

He couldn’t answer. It was all too fucking surreal.

The old man stared back at them for a moment then beckoned for the boy, who turned and ran to him. A startled smile spread across his bearded face. He said something to the boy and took a step toward them, both hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat.

“My God, it is ,” Maya breathed in disbelief.

Yeah. It was the old man from the MEDCAP, whose grandson they’d evacuated to the hospital. Jackson hoped like hell the elder was in the mood to repay that good deed with one of his own.

* * *

T HINGS HAPPENED SO fast that Maya’s head was spinning by the time they reached the village. She was still terrified they’d discover this was all a trap, but so far no one had done anything to threaten them. Only men were there to greet them, since the boy had run ahead to warn the villagers and the women and children had been sequestered. The old man had taken her place, carrying Haversham between himself and Jackson. She held her pistol tightly and muffled her coughing as best she could, making sure her body language stated loud and clear that she was still strong and would shoot at the first sign of a threat to her and the others.

The men in the village stared at them openly, some with hostile eyes, some merely curious. It occurred to Maya that many of them might never have seen a female soldier before. She didn’t like the attention one bit. The old man called out to them, and the boy who’d first discovered them came scampering over with a huge smile on his face. He held a large bladder of what she assumed was water, and she swallowed reflexively, longing for a drink. If a kid was running around offering them water and smiling at them, chances were good no one was out to kill them, right?

She glanced at Jackson to check his reaction. His face was set, his eyes wary, but his weapon was still in his waistband. Maya didn’t feel brave enough just yet to put hers away, even though her wrist was killing her and every breath jarred her injured ribs. Her chest felt too tight, as if an invisible vise was squeezing her lungs.

Leading them to the largest mud-brick house at the end of the village, the old man called ahead, and someone opened the door for them. Maya hesitated and turned, not wanting to give her back to anyone. The men had followed them through the village, talking among themselves, but none were doing anything hostile or even remotely threatening. Still, she couldn’t relax. There had to be a catch and she’d be damned if anyone would take her off guard again.

She was a little surprised when Jackson entered the house with Haversham and the old man without hesitation. Keeping one eye on the men outside, Maya ducked her head and followed them. Inside the dwelling, she found the boy from the MEDCAP lying on a pallet on the floor. He beamed up at Jackson, speaking excitedly with his grandfather. Then the old man helped settle Haversham onto some cushions, using more to prop his wounded leg up.

Jackson hovered close by, his back to the wall to keep his line of sight open. Maya did the same on the other side of the room until the old man looked over and beckoned to her. After glancing at Jackson for reassurance, she moved forward hesitantly. The man said something in a coaxing tone and waved his hand toward the back of the house, probably where the women were. Maya balked at the implied command. There was no way she was leaving Jackson’s sight.

As though he understood her reluctance, the man sighed and gestured for her to sit. She did, probably violating all sorts of etiquettes as she held tight to her weapon, half expecting someone to burst through a door with guns blazing.

Instead, an old woman came shuffling out of the back room a moment later, babbling at the man. He issued some sort of gruff order and she returned soon after, carrying a tray full of food. Maya’s stomach howled when she caught the scent of the rich spices wafting up from it. She didn’t care what it was on that platter—she’d eat bark right now if it smelled like that. The lady set the tray on the floor and left without glancing at any of them, though she had to be wondering who they were and why her husband—if that was who he was—had invited them into their home.

When none of them made a move to take any food, the boy darted a hand out to snag a piece of flatbread and earned a slap on the back of the head from the old man. Their host looked up at Jackson and Haversham with an encouraging smile and took a piece of bread for himself, dipping it into a dish with some sort of orange sauce, then proceeded to eat it with great relish.

Guess it wasn’t poisoned, then.

Maya’s mouth watered.

Haversham stared at the food like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “It’d be beyond rude for us to refuse his hospitality now,” he said in a weak voice. “And besides, I’m starving.” Reaching out to the tray, he copied the old man, tearing into the bread without another thought.

“Go ahead and eat, Maya,” Jackson said quietly, and she realized he was waiting for her to eat before taking his turn. Even now, his Southern manners were still intact. It blew her away.

Not about to turn down fresh food, she finally tucked her pistol away and came forward to kneel beside Jackson. The old man cast her a curious glance, and she did her best to ignore him while she ate, trying not to look like a starving animal as she did so. God knew she looked like one with her face beaten and her hair a tangled mess, with dirt, blood and grime streaked across her skin. They looked bad, even Jackson, who was in the best condition of them all, despite the cuts and bruises all over his face. He scooped up his own portion, his gaze moving around the room, likely taking in each possible exit and entry.

The meal was silent and tense, and Maya was starting to feel like a sacrificial calf, being fatted up for the big finish. By now everyone in the village knew they were here. It was only a matter of time before someone either made a call with a cell phone or left to inform someone in another village about them.

They had to move out of here, fast.

She swallowed another blissful bite of the bread and was reaching for more when a coughing fit seized her. With her right arm up to muffle the noise, she turned away out of politeness, but the movement tweaked her ribs and the agonizing shock of pain took her breath away. Immediately Jackson had his arms around her, tipping her backward.

“Maya, lie down.”

She shook her head, gasping for breath, horrified that she’d appeared so weak and ill in front of people who might well be the enemy.

Before Jackson could argue, the old man barked something. Jackson tensed beside her, and Maya went rigid. Was this it? Was someone going to attack them? Her hand instinctively went to the weapon in her waistband.

The old woman reappeared, this time with a teenage girl. The man said something to them and they reached for Maya. She shrank back against Jackson. Their host frowned at her and made a sweeping gesture with one hand, telling her to go with the women.

“I’m fine right here,” Maya insisted, though he couldn’t possibly understand her.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, lieutenant,” Haversham said. “We’re his guests now, for better or worse, and women are supposed to be sequestered from the men. If you stay, you’re insulting him and challenging his authority.”

Her shoulders went rigid, but Jackson sighed. “He’s right, Maya. No point in doing anything that might make him change his mind about helping us.”

Going with the women was the last thing she wanted. Not only would that mean being separated from Jackson, she also wouldn’t be able to see if there was any danger to him and Haversham. Who would watch their backs if she wasn’t there? “How do we know it’s not a trick?”

“We don’t,” Jackson answered, “but he owes us and he’s already offered us his hospitality. If I understand the Pashtunwalai code right, it means he and his family are honor-bound to protect us with their lives.”

She knew what it meant, she just wasn’t sure she believed it. Or if the old man and his family would hold up their end of the bargain. “I think this is a bad idea.” She barely got the words out before another coughing attack hit her. Jackson said something she didn’t catch. When she recovered and unscrewed her eyelids once more, he was holding her and had a hand on her uninjured cheek.

“Baby, you’re burning up,” he said softly.

She knew it. The chill and ache in her body wasn’t something she could ignore. Yet for some reason that gentle tone, combined with his touch, almost undid her. The ache suddenly spread into her throat.

She swallowed past it. “So I have to do this,” she whispered hoarsely.

He nodded, face solemn. “For now.”

Pulling in as deep a breath as her ribs would allow, she found her center and started to push to her feet. Jackson helped her up and they followed the women to a doorway on the other side of the living space, where he stopped.

She didn’t want to leave him. Everything in her cried out in protest.

He gave her a gentle nudge. “Go on. It’ll be okay. I’ll be right here. Try to get some sleep if you can.”

Sleep here? Not freaking likely. But the exhaustion was an overwhelming weight on her weary body, dragging at her.

Gathering her courage, she stepped away from him, immediately mourning the loss of his touch as she entered the unknown of the women’s quarters.