Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Jack
The familiar tang of mineral oil stung Jack’s nostrils as he finished assembling the rifle on the table in front of him. Fahad’s entire kitchen was littered with weapons—the ones Jack and Noah had brought with them, as well as a great deal more that Fahad had dug up from his cellar outside.
This wasn’t the first time since Prescott Federline had found him in the Kharga that Jack had the feeling he’d slipped back in time.
He, Fahad, and Noah had all gathered here during the war—just like this—usually going off in different directions.
And while Jack had faced his fair share of danger back then, most of the time it had been Noah putting it all on the line, sneaking into enemy territory with little but his training and skills to get him out of whatever scrapes he got himself into.
But this was different.
This time, Noah and Fahad weren’t here because the government or an army had sent them.
This time they were here for him. Because of him.
If something went wrong—with the sheikh’s men or otherwise—it would be on Jack.
The air in the small kitchen quarters—normally filled with the scent of Nasira’s cooking or fragrant spices like cardamom or cinnamon—bristled with tension and heaviness. Fahad had lit a few oil lamps, their flames casting a soft amber glow that flickered across the tiled walls.
Jack caught Noah’s gaze just behind the sight line of a pistol and smirked. “Having fun yet?”
“If I ever grumble again about long days teaching arithmetic and Latin to my children, you have my permission to come clobber me over the head,” Noah deadpanned dryly.
“Do you really think we’ll need all of this?” Fahad asked, hoisting a rifle onto his shoulder. “The sheikh has given you his word, hasn’t he?”
“I trust that sheikh only marginally more than Prescott.” Jack rolled his shoulders back.
“Besides, most of this is staying in the car. I’m not as worried about the sheikh’s men as I am at the thought of transporting Alice and Kit after we retrieve them.
Who knows where Ruby slipped off to too.
I’m not going to let my guard down until I get them to safety. ”
“Can’t say that I blame you,” Noah said. He bent down and placed the pistol in a satchel.
Brakes shrieked on the road outside, a harsh, unwelcome sound that sliced through the stillness.
Jack jerked his head, looking over his shoulder toward the only window in the kitchen—a small one over the sink—which had little visibility.
He shoulders tensed. Who could be here this late?
Behind him, chairs scraped. Metal clinked.
Instinct took over. He was moving before the others had fully risen, reaching for the gun holstered at his hip.
“It came from the front,” Fahad said decisively.
If the sheikh had changed his mind—or something worse—they wouldn’t have much time to prepare for an assault.
He sidled up to the front door as Noah crept toward the window. Moonlight glinted off the edge of Noah’s profile, giving his features a hard edge. In the darkness, Noah intimidated, radiating how confident he was. Lethal.
“See anything?” Jack muttered.
Noah leaned closer … then went rigid.
“Bloody hell—” He pushed away from the wall.
“What is it?” Jack exchanged a look with Fahad, who gave a bewildered shrug.
Noah didn’t wait for answers. He crossed the room in three strides, yanked open the door, and disappeared into the darkness with a shout, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Jack moved to the doorway.
Cold air rushed in through the open door, sweeping away the stale air. Outside, the car’s engine coughed once, then fell silent. The headlights bathed Noah in stark white as he stepped forward, then scooped an awaiting Ginger into his arms.
What on earth? Ginger … here?
Even if he was angry with his wife, Noah’s irritation seemed to melt away as their mouths met in a kiss. The sight of it made Jack smile. Noah and Ginger had always been expressive of their adoration for each other in a way he couldn’t help but envy.
On the other hand, what was she doing here?
Noah pulled back slightly, his hands still cupping her face. His voice cracked on the first word.
“Ginger—when? How—how long have you been here? Where’s Clara? Where’s Alex?” His eyes scanned her face as if he could extract the answers from her expression. “You were supposed to be in Penmore. You’re not safe here—”
“I know,” she said gently, her hand pressing against his chest. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through to get to you. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Noah’s posture went rigid. “My God. What’s happened?”
Before she could answer, the headlights on the car behind them clicked off, and the driver’s door opened. Alastair.
Then the back door opened, and the entire world around Jack shifted.
Kit Federline.
His heart gave a violent lurch, a blow that almost knocked the air out of his lungs. His hand flew to his chest, but it wasn’t pain—it was the disorienting thud of memory, grief, and something that might’ve been joy all colliding at once.
Kit.
Flesh and blood. Standing in the silver spill of the moonlight. After all these years—after everything.
She was alive.
And yet he couldn’t quite breathe.
But … what about Alice?
Jack took one stumbled step toward her. “You’re—” was all he managed.
The sky was a rush of blurred stars and gleaming moonlight, his eyes filling with tears he hadn’t dared to spill since Prescott had dared to give him hope she might be alive.
Kit paused by the car. “Hi, Jack Darby.”
It was the kind of greeting one might give at a café in London. Not after years of betrayal, not after heartbreak.
But maybe that was who Kit was—a storm that could pass through, then pretend nothing had been uprooted.
His voice was a rough scrape as he took slow steps toward her. “Hi, Kit.”
God, had it been fifteen years since he’d last seen her?
How could it possibly have been so long?
She was close enough that he could reach out and touch her. Real. Whole.
His hand twitched—reflexive, as if reaching for a ghost.
He took a step forward, then halted, breath snagging somewhere between his chest and throat. Not only because something strong and unexplainable stopped him but for a moment, when he’d looked at her, he’d seen a flash of Ruby’s face.
The memory of Ruby was too close to his skin. Too heavy on his heart.
He blinked, and she was Kit again.
But the ache she left behind stayed rooted in his chest, stealing his breath, reminding him of betrayal—both Ruby’s and Kit’s—all over again.
For her part, Kit made no effort to move closer and bridge that gap between them.
Just as she hadn’t done the last fifteen years.
“What are you doing here?” Jack managed to ask, then swiveled a glance at Alastair, then Ginger.
“It’s a long story,” Alastair said with a grimace. “One including daring escapes, stabbings, kidnappings, a nauseating airplane ride, and me having to come to the rescue, of course—but what else could one expect when Noah Benson and Jack Darby are involved?”
Ginger pulled away from Noah and set her hands on her hips.
“Alastair may be making light of it all, but it’s all much more serious than that.
Prescott has Alex.” Her voice cracked slightly.
“Noah—he took him. From Cairo. A plane. Today—yesterday. God, I don’t even know anymore.
” She rubbed her forehead, her composure slipping.
“Alex?” Noah gawked. “As in our son, Alexander?”
Ginger’s eyes were dark with worry. “Yes. He and Ivy were missing for weeks—I sent telegrams, trying to find you. Fahad only answered one of them and said little, but that was how we knew you were here, at least.”
Alex and Ivy …
The words barely registered at first. Jack’s mind snagged on them like barbed wire.
Missing.
Weeks.
Something cold slipped down his spine. He gripped the strap of his rifle.
How many people had he already failed?
Fahad came to the doorway. “Telegrams aren’t always reliable here,” he said with a frown. “I’m sorry.”
“Wait—what happened to Ivy and Alex?” Jack asked, furrowing his brow.
“My father kidnapped them, apparently,” Kit said, coming closer to Jack.
“And now Alex has cracked a code I left in newspaper articles for you, and he’s found out where I’ve hidden Alice.
” She cleared her throat. “There’s a lot to tell you about—I’m sorry.
I came up with a ludicrous plan to send you a message about Alice using the pen name Gretchen Herbert.
I thought if you’d see it, you’d know it was me. It was silly, I know.”
Jack held her gaze. “I did see it—and we’re on our way to the orphanage right now. I went to Baghdad too. Found the microfilm. Only …”
He exchanged a look with Noah.
Kit reached out unexpectedly, gripping his forearm. “Only what?”
“Only, your father sent someone to take it from me,” Jack admitted, tapping the bandage on his temple with his fingertips.
Kit’s expression wavered, filling with horror.
Noah looked ready to rip something apart limb by limb. “And you’re saying your father has Alex and is on his way here?”
Kit nodded, taking a faltering step back.
Jack looked at Kit—at the panic flashing beneath her composed expression.
He glanced at Noah, whose hand gripped Ginger’s like a lifeline.
Alastair and Fahad, who’d always been stoic, wore worry in their brows and eyes.
And in his mind, he saw Alex.
Alone. Terrified.
“Then let’s move,” Jack said, reaching for the rifle. “This ends tonight.”