Читать книгу Navy Seal Rescue - Susan Cliff - Страница 14
ОглавлениеHud spent the next three days recuperating.
Recuperating, seething in silence and fantasizing about Layah.
He couldn’t believe she’d played him like that. He’d intended to play her, not the other way around. He thought he could convince her to abandon her half-cocked plan by demanding sex, but she hadn’t blinked an eye at his crude proposition. She wasn’t afraid of him, and she wasn’t innocent. She was a young widow, ripe for pleasure. She’d stroked his hair and rubbed her generous breasts against him.
Damn it.
All he’d gotten for his efforts was an erection that wouldn’t quit. He kept reevaluating the kiss they’d shared, searching for signs of deception. She couldn’t fake chemistry. They had that in spades. The feel of her hands in his hair had turned him into mush. When their mouths met, it was like fireworks.
She’d wanted him, in that moment. They’d been on the same page, hungry for each other. He hadn’t imagined her heated response.
Then they’d almost been caught by Ashur, and she’d jumped up from the bed in a panic, as if she might get stoned in a public square for kissing him. A cold weight had settled in his stomach at the sight, and a little voice in his head whispered: She’s married. She looks guilty because she’s married.
She’d said she was a widow, and that made sense, but he didn’t trust her to tell the truth. She was holding him hostage. She’d kidnapped him and drugged him. Lying was a minor offense compared to her other infractions. Intuition told him she was hiding something, and he’d been burned by beautiful women before.
His cheating ex, for example.
He’d searched Layah’s room at the first opportunity. He hadn’t found a cell phone or any useful items among her personal effects, which he’d inspected thoroughly. The damp lingerie in her washroom had smelled like jasmine water, clean and intoxicating. It wasn’t his finest moment of reconnaissance, but no regrets.
This morning, he’d woken up antsy. He’d paced the room, considering his options. He didn’t want to cross the Zagros with a bunch of refugees, but he didn’t want to stay in this village. It was an insecure location, nestled against the mountains. He had no local contacts. The closest military base was hundreds of miles away.
After breakfast, he tested his stitches by doing a basic captivity workout. Fifty push-ups, two hundred curl-ups, five minutes of cardio. Halfway through, he heard a knock at the door. He paused, wiping the sweat from his face.
Ashur looked in on him. “Are you sick, American?”
“No, I’m training.”
“Kill-training?”
Hud smiled at the boy’s hopeful expression. He’d given Ashur a basic self-defense lesson yesterday. The boy was an apt pupil, eager to learn more close-quarters combat techniques. “What do you want?”
Ashur entered the room and dropped a pair of boots on the floor at Hud’s feet. “Layah says we go today.”
“Go where?”
“On our journey.”
His gut clenched with unease. He hadn’t expected to leave so soon. “Have the others arrived?”
“The others?”
“The other people in our party.”
“They came weeks ago.”
Hud dragged a hand down his face. She’d lied to him. The other refugees had been here all along, waiting for him.
“You are strong,” Ashur said. “The weather is good. We must go now.”
He tried on the boots. They were the right size, and almost new. Layah had waterproofed every pair with beeswax and oil, on his orders. He could argue that he was still too weak to climb, or simply refuse to leave, but neither option appealed to him. He didn’t feel secure here. His best option was to travel with Layah. He’d act as her guide, for now. He’d do whatever she wanted. A part of him was excited by the prospect.
A very stupid part of him that sometimes made his brain shut off.
He knew he shouldn’t touch her again. He was a Navy SEAL, and she was a refugee. He might be able to get away with seducing her as an escape strategy. Doing it for his own pleasure was a clear violation. It was unprofessional, unethical and unwise. Not to mention dangerous. He couldn’t afford to let down his guard with this woman. Bedding her would be hot, but he had to stay cool and keep his distance.
She’d been giving him a wide berth, so it shouldn’t be difficult. They’d hardly spoken since the kiss. She never came into his room. Maybe she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. He smiled at the thought.
At some point, he’d get a chance to sneak off on his own. He’d have the advantage in the higher elevations. He didn’t know where they were, exactly, but they had to be close to Iraqi Kurdistan. The Kurds were reliable US allies, with an army of well-trained soldiers. They would take him to an air base.
He stood, rolling his shoulders in anticipation. His injury wasn’t bothering him. He’d done little but sleep and eat for two days straight. He could feel his body recharging, gaining back the weight he’d lost. A glance in the mirror in Layah’s washroom had revealed a stranger with sharp cheekbones and a delineated rib cage, but plenty of lean muscle. He touched his flat stomach, which was still full from breakfast.
“Hungry again?” Ashur asked as they left the room.
“I don’t think you’ve fattened me up enough,” Hud said.
Ashur made a snorting sound. “You eat more than ten men, American. You will be fat as a qurād soon.”
“What is that? A king?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, a king. Do you wish to learn Arabic? I teach you.”
Hud didn’t plan on being in the country long enough to bother. “You can be my interpreter.”
Ashur flinched at this suggestion, his smile fading. Hud was reminded of his last interpreter, who’d died a grisly death. Ashur couldn’t know that, but he seemed offended. “I will never work for you,” the boy said.
“I work for you, is that it?”
“Yes. That is it.”
Hud stared back at him in silence. Ashur had a quick temper and a chip on his shoulder the size of Iraq. Hud recognized a bit of himself in the boy. He’d been angry at the world as a kid, unable to control his emotions. Climbing had been his only outlet until he’d joined the military, where he’d learned to channel his aggressions.
Now Hud was adept at staying calm and focused, after years of practice. He’d worked hard to master his mind and body. The strategies he used to maintain equilibrium had kept him sane in captivity. It was ironic, he supposed. His mother had worried constantly about his combative nature, and his affinity for danger. She’d thought climbing would be his downfall. Instead it was his salvation. His troubled adolescence had been a training ground, honing him into an elite solider who could withstand extreme duress.
Hud moved around the boy and continued outside. Ashur wasn’t a serious threat, and he wasn’t responsible for Hud’s predicament. Layah was. She stood by the gate with three backpacks at her feet. Bulky layers of clothing disguised her figure and a pale brown hijab covered her hair. She might look unremarkable from behind. Straight on, her beautiful face shone like the desert sun.
He felt a stirring of desire and resented it.
“Good morning,” she said.
He nodded curtly. They were getting a late start, by his standards. Most climbing expeditions began before dawn. He picked up his pack, which was loaded with ropes and equipment. He’d examined every item yesterday. The sutures on his shoulder tugged as he balanced the weight.
“How are you feeling?”
“Do you care?”
She lifted her own pack with a frown. “I wish I could give you more time to rest, but it is important to begin our journey now, before the Da’esh come, or the ground thaws and the terrain becomes unstable.”
He glanced at the white-capped peaks in the distance. It was the middle of spring, so he understood her urgency. Snowmelt turned the ground into slippery slush and caused rock slides. They needed the weather to stay cool and clear, but there were no guarantees. At the summit, the temperature could dip to below freezing, with swirling snowstorms and zero visibility. “Where are the others?”
“We will meet them on the mountain.”
Ashur opened the gate for them. Two men stood outside, guarding the exit with Kalashnikovs. Hud recognized them as the men who’d carried him away from the rubble of the torture cell.
“This is Yusef and Aram,” she said.
“My executioners?”
“My cousins,” she corrected. “They will not harm you.”
Hud gave both men a quick examination. Layah’s cousins appeared comfortable with their weapons, but they were no match for him physically. He could disarm one and kill the other in the blink of an eye.
“You must stay with us,” she said, as if she could read his mind. “The Yazidi have taken a great risk by giving us refuge. They know you were a Da’esh prisoner, and they will not allow you to endanger them by getting recaptured.”
“So your men won’t shoot me, but the Yazidi will?”
“If you leave our group, yes. They will shoot you to protect their families.”
He adjusted the straps on his pack. She’d chosen to begin their journey at midmorning for a reason. She wanted him to be seen by the villagers, who would help her keep him in line. “How convenient.”
“You fault me for warning you?”
“No. I fault you for threatening me with violence while pretending you’re above it.”
Her cheeks flushed a dusky rose. “I pretend nothing.”
He studied her face, remembering her heated response to their bedroom tussle. She might not be a faker, but she wasn’t honest, either. And his body didn’t seem to care. If anything, his anger and resentment had stoked his desire. He felt outmaneuvered by her, and the caveman in him wanted to flip things around. He wanted to get back on top and pin her underneath him.
But that wasn’t going to happen, so he dropped the subject and started walking. Challenging her wouldn’t improve his situation. It would only make him want to crush his mouth over hers in retaliation. He told himself it was a normal reaction. Any man who’d been taken prisoner by a beautiful woman would think about doing her, and she’d encouraged him to kiss her. She’d given him signals. Of course he was going to fantasize about getting even. Or at least, getting off.
Layah trailed behind him, followed by Ashur and the two cousins. Hud continued down the dirt road, which couldn’t have been more than a mile long. He could see a well-worn path from the village into the mountains, used by goats and sheepherders. It would take a day or more to hike beyond the grazing hills.
After a few minutes, his muscles warmed up and his tension eased. It felt good to be outdoors again. It felt good to be alive. The air was cool and the land was green. He loved climbing. He’d rather die on the side of a mountain than in a dusty tomb. Forced labor wasn’t so bad, and the scenery was excellent.
He could almost hear his comrades’ mocking voices in his head: You’re mad about getting rescued and bossed around by a sexy woman? Dude, what is wrong with you? Did you lose your balls in that explosion?
Thinking about his team members gave Hud pause. Some of them might have died in that explosion—because of him. Because of his choices, his mistakes. He’d been so intent on catching the terrorist who’d killed their interpreter that he’d risked his own life, and the lives of his best friends. That didn’t sit well with him. He needed to stop lusting after Layah and concentrate on his main objective. He could still ditch her in the mountains. He felt strong, like he could hike forever.
As they started up the goat path, Layah fell into step beside him. “You are unhappy about our partnership.”
He arched a brow. “This isn’t a partnership.”
“I would like it to be.”
“I think what you’d like is for me to follow your orders with a smile.”
She gestured toward the summit. “Up there, you will be giving the orders.”
He glanced that direction, trying not to feel excited by the prospect. The lure of a dangerous challenge beckoned.
“The journey will be difficult, but it is the best way. Soon we will all be smiling in celebration of our success.” Her lips formed a tentative curve that was half peace offering, half propaganda.
“You don’t have to sell it to me, Doc. The threat of being shot by Yazidis already did the trick.”
“I wish for harmony between us, not strife.”
He squinted at her wording. “Did you learn English from a brochure?”
“No. I learned it in Baghdad.”
“Why do you cover your hair?”
She blinked in surprise. “What?”
“You aren’t Muslim.”
“Many non-Muslim women wear a hijab.”
“Out of fear?”
“There are other reasons. Assyrian women have been wearing them since Biblical times. I do it to be respectful, to keep the dust out of my hair and so I can travel without attracting attention.”
He doubted she could travel anywhere unnoticed, with that face. He wanted to ask more questions, to interrogate her about every detail of her life. Instead he pulled ahead, ending the conversation. She was a fascinating woman, but he couldn’t afford to get sucked in.
The steady climb kept him busy for the next few hours. He set a punishing pace to see if they could match it. They couldn’t, but there were no complaints. No one requested a break. Soon he was sweating, his leg muscles burning.
He spotted a plateau where they could rest. A glance over his shoulder revealed Layah in front of the others, flushed with exertion and struggling to catch up with him. He accelerated, leaving them behind.
When he reached the plateau, he found a motley group of refugees awaiting him. Two sturdy-looking, dark-haired men stood in front of a half-dozen women. Packs were scattered around in a circle. The men looked wary, uncertain if he was friend or foe. They hadn’t expected him to arrive alone.
Hud said hello in Arabic, which was about the extent of his vocabulary. Then he took off his pack and sat down to drink water. He was light-headed from the last push. All the refugees approached to introduce themselves, saying names he couldn’t make sense of. It was an incomprehensible mix of sounds.
“Hudson,” he said, touching his chest.
“American,” someone said. “American, yes?”
He gulped more water. “American. Yes. Hoorah.”
There were several cheers, as if he was here to save them. A weight settled into the pit of his stomach, making him queasy. He shouldn’t have pulled ahead of the others. Taking a deep breath, he did a quick head count. There were two extra bodies here.
An old woman and a girl.
Goddamn it.
Layah appeared with Ashur and her two goons. They were sweaty and winded, like Hud, but they’d done well. Better than the current party would do. He gave Layah a dark look, because she’d promised him a team of healthy adults. They were going to have a very unharmonious discussion about this as soon as she caught her breath.
The extra woman was pushing sixty, with a sturdy shape and a careworn face. The girl was Ashur’s age or younger. She was too big to carry, too small to carry her own weight.
The grandma brought him a flatbread sandwich loaded with meat and goat cheese. It was delicious. He devoured every bite. Then he stood and gestured for Layah to come with him. They walked about ten yards away for a private chat. He didn’t think anyone else spoke English, but he wasn’t sure. Ashur accompanied them, eating his sandwich. Layah’s cousins watched from a distance, their rifles close at hand.
“I can explain,” Layah said.
Hud crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for it.
“The girl and her grandmother asked to join our party.”
“So you just said yes?”
“They are Yazidi. I could not refuse.”
He understood her dilemma. The Yazidi had sheltered Layah and her people. She owed them a favor. “I can’t guide a team of children and old people.”
“We have no choice. We cannot send them back.”
“Why not?”
“I gave my word.”
“You gave me your word,” he said in a low voice.
Ashur stepped in front of Layah protectively. “She does not answer to you, American.”
Layah nudged Ashur aside. “The girls in the village are being taken as brides by the Da’esh.”
Hud was no stranger to the horrors of war, but this news shocked him. “That young?”
“As young as thirteen. She is twelve.”
Hud swore under his breath. He’d heard about IF militants targeting women and girls. The highest-ranking members collected as many wives as they wanted, and murdered any male relatives who protested.
“One of their leaders has already claimed her,” Layah added. “He said he would come back for her in the spring.”
Ashur studied the girl as he finished his sandwich. “She is pretty, for a Yazidi.”
“I can’t carry her,” Hud said.
“You won’t have to,” Layah replied. “She is strong enough to make the journey.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, uneasy. Layah had no idea how many things could go wrong on a climbing expedition. This entire country was a jinx, as far as he was concerned. His last mission had been a disaster. He’d left two good men behind. He’d let down his team by getting captured.
He wasn’t ready to play the hero again, physically or mentally. Four days ago he’d been struggling to survive in an underground dungeon. Now he was carrying a heavy load of equipment and a staggering amount of responsibility. Innocent lives were at stake. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
“Is your shoulder sore?” she asked.
“It’s fine.”
“Any dizziness?”
He shook his head and moved past her. If he pushed them hard, someone might get injured or quit before they reached the point of no return. He could push Ashur off the side of a cliff while he was at it. “Let’s go.”
She agreed with an easy nod. “I would like to reach the edge of the snow by nightfall. How does that sound?”
He squinted into the distance. “Optimistic.”
They set out again five minutes later. Hud led the pack, followed by Ashur and Layah. Everyone else marched behind them in a neat row, with the armed guards at the rear. Hud didn’t expect any gun battles out here in the middle of nowhere, but it was possible. If they did get shot at, he planned to grab a Kalashnikov and return fire. The rocky terrain offered very little cover. The best defense was excellent marksmanship.
As they reached higher elevations, the conditions worsened. Loose pebbles shifted beneath his feet and he struggled to catch his breath in the thin air. Tomorrow they would add snow to the mix. Then ice. At some point, he’d need to use his climbing gear on the rock face. Without his technical skills, they wouldn’t make it.
Hud might have enjoyed tackling this mountain range with Team Twelve. SEALs were all experienced climbers and expert outdoorsmen. He could lead his team across the Zagros with confidence. Refugees and children were another story. He kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting injuries.
They settled into a steady rhythm. He pushed as hard as he dared, and they pushed themselves harder. No one fell down the hill or collapsed in exhaustion. Layah, in particular, impressed him with her stamina. She had a body like a centerfold, not an athlete, so he hadn’t expected her to keep up.
About an hour before sunset, he spotted a possible campsite. It was a little early, and they hadn’t yet reached the edge of the snowcap, but they were close. He knew they were tired, because he was tired. The excited chatter he’d heard all afternoon had died down.
He paused on a flat stretch of land and studied the area. There was a trickle of water running down the side of the cliff nearby. It was a good place to stay, sheltered from the wind on three sides.
“We can stop here for the night,” he said to Layah.
She smiled her relief. “Bless you.”
He took off his pack and sat with his back against the rock, muscles aching. He was beat. She pressed a handful of dates into his palm. Although he was ravenous, he chewed slowly, savoring each bite. The others rested with them, drinking and eating their own snacks. The setting sun glowed on the horizon.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Layah murmured.
Before today, he’d have said Iraq was the ugliest place on earth. But this stretch of land was a rich tapestry of colors, dancing with light. He turned his gaze to her face and found more beauty there. “We have to set up the tents.”
“My cousins will do it.” She gave the order with a wave of her hand.
Aram and Yusef fumbled with three tents, two medium-sized and one small. They were clearly out of their element, but Hud left them to it. Layah had a tiny stove to boil water for a meal of dried meat and couscous. It was a time-consuming process. They ate in batches, refilling their water bottles from the stream. When they were finished, it was almost dark, and the temperature had dropped considerably.
Hud knew at a glance that there wasn’t enough space for everyone. There was a tent for women and a tent for men, both full. Hud, Ashur and Layah were left with the smaller tent. “This was supposed to be for the Turks,” Layah said.
“I’ll take it,” Hud said.
“You can’t. The women’s tent has no space because of Hanna and Yelda. Ashur and I have nowhere else to sleep.”
“Ashur can sleep with your cousins.”
“The men are taking turns keeping watch.”
“So? He can take a turn.”
Ashur was pleased with this arrangement, which gave him man status and access to the Kalashnikovs.
“I don’t want him handling weapons,” Layah said.
“I’ll give him a safety lesson tomorrow,” Hud said. He didn’t trust Ashur not to shoot him accidentally. Or even on purpose.
“Very well,” she said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Good night.”
Ashur joined the other men in the tent while Yusef came outside for first watch. He narrowed his eyes at Hud in warning, but said nothing.
“My cousins don’t approve of us sleeping together,” Layah said.
“Your cousins aren’t in charge.”
She didn’t disagree. Hud suspected she had her own reasons for agreeing to share his space. Maybe she wanted to keep tabs on him.
Hud crawled into the two-man tent after Layah. He didn’t care about her overprotective family members or her martyred-widow reputation. He just wanted peace and quiet. She settled in next to him, stiff as a board.
Two minutes later, he was asleep.
