Chapter 19 #2
I snap my foot out with such force, the wood cracks beneath it.
The door flies open, bouncing off the wall and ricocheting back, but I catch it with my free hand to keep it from hitting me.
Then I quickly scan the darkened room, which holds a sagging bed and rickety set of drawers.
The room looks empty at first inspection, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t hiding inside.
Moving slowly, carefully, I creep into the room. My gaze jumps between the bed, the dresser, and a narrow door I assume leads to a closet.
In my ear, Ace says, “Found him. He’s alive.”
Oh.
Malik.
With every cell in my body, I want to race into the other room to see him.
But I can’t. Not until—
From behind the dresser, a man appears.
He starts firing at the same time I do.
One bullet burns along the slide of my sleeve. Another digs into the wood above my head.
I fire off a volley of gunshots in his direction, but he drops back down.
Ace shouts, “Yara! Get back!”
For a moment, I’m torn.
Retreat, wait for backup, potentially giving the tango a chance to escape? If he gets away, he could sound the alarm that would bring attention we don’t need. Attention that could keep us from escaping, ourselves.
Or hold my ground? Take down this asshole who’s been holding my friend captive for years? Make damn sure he doesn’t get away?
Is there any question? It would be one thing if it were just my emotions talking. But his escape could mean the failure of our mission, and that I can’t allow.
That doesn’t mean I want to make myself an open target, though. So I take a quick step back into the hallway and to the side, letting the wall shield me for a second. I hold for a count of two, then dart back into the room.
At first, there’s nothing. No gunfire. No movement. I glance at the lone window in the room, but it’s still closed.
He has to be behind the dresser still. There wasn’t enough time for him to hide in the closet. There couldn’t have been.
In Farsi, I say, “You’re outnumbered. Just put down your weapons and come out. We’ll show mercy if you do.”
I’m not sure what the mercy would entail. But if he agrees, I’ll make sure we stay true to my word.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he starts firing again.
I fire back.
Another bullet whiffs past me, catching my other sleeve this time.
I keep firing.
In my ear, there’s shouting.
Then.
Something hard and heavy slams into my chest.
Shit.
Pain explodes, then radiates out.
My breath whooshes out in a gasp.
“YARA!” Ace bellows.
“I’m okay,” I wheeze, but I’m not sure if he can hear me. The bullet hit my vest, which means it hurts like anything, maybe even bruised a few ribs, but I’ll be okay.
Well, assuming this asshole tango doesn’t shoot me in the head. Then—
“GET DOWN!” Ace hollers. A moment later, he crashes into me, shoving me to the floor.
“Ace!” I yell. “What are you—”
As I’m scrambling to my feet, fire spits past me. Once. Twice. Three times.
On the third, Ace makes a startled sound. It’s half grunt, half groan.
I spin around to find him standing in the doorway with a hole in his arm.
A hole.
Everything stops.
My heart.
My lungs.
Everything around me.
Ace is hit.
All I can think is, Ace is hit.
He’s hit.
He has a hole in his arm.
Fear beyond anything I’ve felt before—and that’s saying a lot—takes over.
Scattered, panicked thoughts bounce in my head. Ace was shot. Shot. He’s bleeding. Bleeding! What if it hit an artery? What if he dies? What if Ace dies because he was trying to protect me?
But I refuse to let the panic take over. It can’t.
Operating on sheer instinct, I leap to my feet. With a roar of anger, I race at the tango.
No. The enemy who shot the man I’m in love with.
In Farsi, I shout, “You’ll regret this!”
Shock moves across the gunman’s face. He wasn’t expecting this. He thought he had the upper hand. But he doesn’t. Not now. And never again.
I fire at him, but only twice. Once to hit him in the arm, and the other his opposite shoulder. He screams, and his semi-automatic rifle drops uselessly to the ground.
From behind me, Rafe and Grover come rushing in. Belatedly, I realize only a few seconds must have passed, or they would have been here already.
I watch as Rafe races over to the bleeding tango and quickly restrains him. Then I turn to Ace, who’s leaning heavily against the wall with his hand clapped over his bleeding arm.
“Ace!” I fling myself at him. “Ace! Oh, God. Your arm!” More loudly, I yell, “I need QuikClot! Bandages! A tourniquet!”
“What’s going on?” Saint asks in my ear. He sounds more than a little freaked out. “Tink! What’s going on?”
“Ace!” I reply. My voice is shaking. I yank Ace to the ground, then tear at my shirt, ripping a strip of fabric from it. “Ace was shot. He’s bleeding all—”
“Tink.” Not Saint this time. Ace.
“Ace.” I try to pull his hand away from the wound so I can check it. “Don’t move. Just let me help. Try to stay calm.”
Ironic, yes, given that I’m about to lose it myself. But his arm is covered in blood! An artery could be severed, and he could be bleeding out right now. “Indy!” I shout. “I need help! Now!”
“Yara.” It’s firmer this time. Ace touches my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. “Look at me.”
“Ace.” A sob expands in my chest. “Oh, Ace. Why—”
Indy comes rushing over and drops to his knees beside us. “Shit, Jensen,” he says. “I thought we agreed no one was getting shot.”
“I’m fine,” Ace replies. But he doesn’t look fine. He looks like he’s in pain. Like he’s bleeding from—
“You have a hole in your arm!” I blurt. “A hole!”
“Tink.” Ace pulls off his goggles, then removes mine. “Look at me.”
It’s dark without the night vision goggles, but there’s enough light to see his eyes, and the anger simmering there. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you stay down?” he demands. “You could have been killed.”
“What?” I’m taken aback by his anger. “He shot you. I had to do something.”
“Better me than you,” Ace retorts. “That’s why I knocked you out of the way.” His voice rises. “That’s why I wanted you to stay down.”
“Stay down? And leave you to get hurt again? Are you kidding me?”
“Yes. Stay down. So you don’t get hurt.” He grimaces as Indy packs QuikClot into his wound. “You’re more important, Yara. Always.”
“No!” I blurt. “I’m not more important.” Tears sting my eyes. “You’re more important, Ace. Because you’re amazing and wonderful and—” My voice cracks. “I love you. I had to protect you. Just like you protected me. Because that’s what people who love each other do. They—”
Ace’s mouth crashes down on mine, silencing the rest of my words.
It’s a hard kiss. A desperate one. One tasting slightly of salt, which I belatedly realize is because I’m crying.
When we break apart, Ace strokes my lower lip with his thumb. He stares at me, almost in wonder. “You love me?”
“Yes.” I sniff at my tears. “Yes. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I got scared. I don’t know why; I just did. And then… I thought I’d tell you once we get back home. I should have told you before. I know I should have. I’m sorry. But I love you. More than anyone in the world. And I can’t…”
Turning to Indy, I ask, “Is he going to be okay?”
A smile tugs at Indy’s lips. “Yes. Looks like it missed everything important. With the QuikClot and bandages, he should be good. Once we get to a safer location, I’ll clean it better and put in some stitches.”
“Oh.” I finally sag. “Oh.”
“Yara got hit in the vest,” Ace tells Indy, sounding very pissed off about it. “We need to check her for cracked ribs. Hematomas.”
“I’m okay,” I insist. “Don’t worry about me. Just—”
“Of course I’m going to worry about you,” Ace interrupts. “I love you, Yara. It’s so dumb—”
“Dumb?” I ask.
“Dumb that I didn’t tell you sooner. Because I’ve been wanting to tell you. I shouldn’t have waited this long.”
“You love me?”
“More than anything.”
“And you’re not dying?”
Indy snickers.
Ace touches my cheek. “No. I’m not dying.”
From the hallway, Tyler says, “Sorry to interrupt. But Grover’s with Malik. Just making sure he’s stable enough to move.”
Crap.
How could I have forgotten, even for a second?
“How is he?” I ask. “How bad?”
“Malnourished,” Tyler replies. “Beat up. But nothing life-threatening. We should be able to get him straight through to Armenia with some fluids and first aid.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. “We really found him?”
“Yeah.” Tyler pats my shoulder. “We really did.”
“It’s okay, Tink,” Ace says, somehow knowing I’m feeling guilty without me saying a word. With his good arm, he pulls me into a hug. His lips come to the top of my head. “We got him. Now we can all go home.”