Dead Reckoning (21 page)

“He's gone.”

Glock in hand, Reece hunched next to the smoke- and ash-covered woman. After that double aerial she’d pulled, he didn’t expect to see her alive, let alone moving.

Eyes wild, she whirled and lost her balance. Sooty auburn strands clung to her tear-stained face. Rivulets of tears streamed down her dirty face and tore at his heart.

“We need to go.”

She shook her head, recognition slow in coming. “Brutus.” Her gaze slid back to her friend. “No, I … I have to help him.”

“You can’t help him.”

Defiance flashed in her eyes.

News like this wasn’t easily delivered, so he softened his voice. “He's dead.” Reece held out his hand and prodded her. “Come on.”

“I can’t leave him.” Trembling, she looked down at her fallen friend. “Not like this.”

He clasped her shoulders. “Shiloh, there are men trying to kill you. If you don’t leave—”

“Then let them.” Her lips pressed into a taut line.

Nostrils flared, he holstered his weapon and tore off the flak jacket. “We don’t have time for this.” He swung it around her and lifted her arms. She struggled against him, but he threaded one arm into the jacket. “If I have to drag you out of here, I will.”

A right cross connected with his jaw. He stumbled backward, but caught himself. In position, he reached for her other arm and caught her fist midair. With his fingers wrapped tightly around hers, he reminded himself she was still in shock, still reacting, still irrational. He used his grip to thread that arm through the vest.

The wound in her right shoulder didn’t seem to faze her. Again, the shock.

“I’m not—”

Gunfire drowned her words. Shouldering her pack, Reece drew his weapon. Holding it to the side, he scanned the void beyond them. The void that once held restrooms and a waiting area. Settling debris caked the air.

Shuffling. He raised his weapon, right arm straight but slightly bent as he settled back with the same foot.

“What’re you doing?” Her whispered words reminded him of his mission: her. He had to protect her.

“Get behind me.”

The scraping of feet came faster.

Reece side-stepped until he stood in front of Shiloh. “Move to the wall.” He tried to direct her to safety, but she wouldn’t budge.

“How do I know you didn’t do all this?”

The accusation snapped his head around. “What?!”

Her red eyes widened as they focused on something in the corner. “Baseer!”

He turned and stared down the sights of his Glock into the clouded eyes of Baseer Khan. The weapon in the man's hand put Reece on full alert. “Drop it, Khan.”

Standing within a dozen paces, Baseer stopped, his dark eyes lowering to his son. “They vowed to kill him if I did not help.” Grief seemed to battle within him—but with what?

The rest of the family. A wife and daughter. Stomach clenched, Reece inched toward Shiloh, his gaze still on Khan. “Put the gun
down
.” He shifted, his grip relaxed but firm. “Now.”

Shiloh rushed around Reece toward the man.

Baseer shook his head and bounced his shoulders at the same time. “Look what they do to those who do not obey.” His gun aimed straight at Shiloh.

“Don’t!” Reece ground out.

With a gasp, she pulled back. “Baseer.”

Mournful and grief-etched, his dark orbs met Reece's. Something in them seemed to send a message …

Shock flooded Reece. “No.” He drew himself straight. “This isn’t the answer.”

“It is the only way.” He squinted at Shiloh. His weapon dipped as he applied subtle pressure to the trigger.

Reece fired first.

Boom!

Baseer stumbled, the bullet penetrating his shoulder. Just enough to thwart the man's aim.

Shiloh's cry clawed at Reece. He couldn’t let Khalid's father fire a shot at that close range.

Bent on his course Baseer staggered and aimed again.

God, help me! He's making me kill him.

Boom! The
weapon's recoil rattled through Reece's arm.

A sob-like sound burst from Shiloh. “Stop it!” She thrust a hand toward Reece while she held another at the man trying to snuff out her life. “Please, Baseer, come with us.”

“Khan! Drop it,” Reece roared, his pulse throbbing in his neck and temples. “I’ll end this. So help me, you know I will.”

“No!” Shiloh shot him a glance. “Baseer, just put the gun down. Please!”

A crooked smile faltered on the embattled man's lips, a stream of blood oozing out as he looked at Shiloh. “He loved you so very much.” His knee buckled. Although he swayed, he remained upright. “Nisa wanted you in the family even though you had no faith in God. I argued with her. But she loved you as a daughter.” The smile dropped into a frown. “They will rape and murder her. You know this, yes? Then my daughter— poor Aatifa. I can’t … can’t let that happen.” His finger coiled around the trigger, his hand shaking. Eyes glassy, he aimed at Shiloh again.

Boom!

Baseer spun. Fell. The weapon skidded to the side.

Shiloh rushed to him. “Baseer! Why? You could’ve come— taken Nisa to America. You could’ve hidden.”

Reece stood over them. The mentality—the fear that destroyed the lives of normal, decent men—angered him.

“Here …” Baseer gasped and stuffed something into Shiloh's hand. “Gerard Mo … Mor …” Trembling, bloodied hands encompassed hers. “Take to him. Tell Nis … love … er.” He slumped with his last wheezing breath.

Shiloh sniffled as she bent over Khalid's father.

Shouts outside.

Reece grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back. “We’re outta time.” With a firm but gentle grip on her arm, he led her to his bike just inside the building. The blown-out wall had given him the perfect entrance and exit.

Tires squalled nearby. Sirens blared.

Carefully, he fitted a helmet on her and secured the chin strap. With a tap on the top, he pronounced it good to go.

“We’ll be on the road all night. Will you be okay?”

Liquid blue-grey eyes drifted to his. A somber nod. He pointed to the graze on her shoulder. “If that bothers you, let me know. Tug on my jacket.” He hunched so they were eye-to-eye. “Got it?”

Another nod.

He flipped down her face shield, mounted the Monster, and shifted back to her. She stood, stared at the bike, and slowly hiked up the absurd burqa, revealing a pair of jeans. Surprise lit through him. Why had she worn jeans? Somehow, she knew something would happen tonight.

Proud that she had obeyed her instincts, he held out his hand. Shiloh placed hers in his and swung her leg over the back. He bent and lifted her foot and set it on the footrest. He repeated the move with her other foot. As he stabbed the key in the engine, he felt the subtle pressure of her grip against his leather jacket. Reece tugged her hands around his waist and patted her arm.

“Hold on—tight.”

He revved the engine, released the clutch, and the bike screamed forward. Rubber tires clawed for traction. He felt her tense. Her fingers dug into his jacket. Then she moved closer. No lady-like distance between them.

They burst out of the building. Sparks flew off the fairing—bullets missing their target. With a bounce, the Monster screeched and jerked forward, propelling them down the darkened street. He accelerated and up-shifted, ready to embrace the night.

Lights shattered the darkness. Ahead, several cars appeared on the road.

Left foot downshifting, he tucked his head and glared.
Lord, we need an—

The alley! Urging the bike to the far right, he spotted the turn and fired down through the gears to second. Barely slowing in time, he felt her muscles constrict. A glance at the speedometer—60 mph—warned him this corner would be terrifying. Hoping to give her a silent message to trust him and go with his movement, he pressed his elbow against her arm.

Then he banked left, leaning hard into the turn. Down … down … Shiloh countered his momentum, trying to stay upright instead of following his lead.

He pulled harder, arching his side toward the road and once again accelerated. Kiss of death?
Come on, come on
, he prodded her mentally.

Her weight eased into his. Aha! There, she’d figured it out. The scathing warmth of the cement sneered up at him. A fraction more and his knee would sizzle. Just a little farther. They nailed the corner.

Nice and steady, he tugged his body straight, and she came right into position, pressed to his spine, stopping the bike's curve trajectory. At the next street, he repeated the maneuver, thrilling over the way Shiloh had adjusted and flowed with it as they roared toward the interstate. The wind whipped against them, and he hammered through the gears. The arms encircling him bound tighter and tighter. It wasn’t until he flicked the bike into fifth and smoothed out at one-twenty that she started to relax. By the time they’d reach the Green Beret camp, her legs would feel like jelly.

But he wondered if the Shiloh Blake he’d met on Mumbai Beach two weeks ago still existed. Tonight's ordeal ranked up there on the catastrophe scale that left people with major issues.

God, protect her mind and heart. Help me get her to safety.

He concentrated on the winding road to avoid the potholes that felt like landmines. Whatever Baseer Khan had given her, Reece would have to convince her to hand it over. That could be the answer, the key to this whole disaster. Beside his wife and children, the man had a secret worth dying for.

Reece could only hope nobody else knew about it.

Northern India

P
RE-DAWN COLORED THE WORLD IN A GREY HAZE. A SLIGHT BREEZE
swirled cool mist around the street. Trees stood guard along the winding path to wherever they were going. At this point, she really didn’t care where, just as long as they kept going. And going.

At a trash bin, Shiloh tossed the burqa. Her gaze darted to Brutus, who haggled with a street vendor. His frame seemed enlarged next to the short woman tending the stand. Never would she forget the image burned into her mind of him killing Baseer. Shot after thundering shot. With a quick shake of her head, she tried to push the image far from her mind. But her thoughts danced with it in some sick serenade. Khalid in her arms … his last breath.

Why did God do that? Why did He take Khalid? He was such a good man.

He's gone.
She blinked fast and dropped her gaze to the UCSD T-shirt she wore. Why didn’t God protect him? Isn’t that the way it should work? Khalid lived his life for God. Shouldn’t the Almighty return the favor and let him live?

Brutus approached, armed with two bottled waters and protein bars pulled from his pack. “It's not much, but it’ll get
us through till we make camp.” He handed her one of each. “How’re you?”

What a question. How did he think she’d be after watching her best friend and his father killed? Her shoulder ached, and her head pounded like a distant echo of his firing weapon. Ignoring him, she twisted off the water bottle cap. After a couple of sips she closed it and set it in her bag.

The early morning hues shrouded his face in shadows. “We’re not leaving until you down that bottle.”

Shiloh studied him. His almost flat brows seemed to sit in a perpetual line. His lips were tight, his jaw set. Did it even bother him that he’d shot a man to death?

“We’ve been on the road since midnight.” He glanced at his watch. “It's nearly four. You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since last night.”

“So?”

“So you need to guard against dehydration.” Without waiting for her reply, he retrieved her water and handed it to her. “The water and at least one protein bar.”

“Or what?” She heard the hollow jeer in her own words. It didn’t matter if she ate or drank. Nothing mattered. Everything seemed senseless.

Straightening to his full height, he stepped closer and slid the protein bar into her hand.

Heat shot through her chest. In a tantrum, she threw it across the dusty street. Without a word, he offered another.

Eyes searching his, she felt the hammering in her chest. “You killed him in cold blood. You just shot him where he stood.”

Brutus didn’t flinch. His gaze held hers, constant and steady.

“Not once.” Her voice rose, and she shoved him. “Not twice.
Four times!
”

Despite her shove, he didn’t budge.

“How can you stand there”—another shove—“and not say anything?” Right jab to his gut. “You shot him.”

His hands rose slightly in a defensive move. “Shil—”

With all she had, she slammed her fist toward his stomach, but he caught her strike.

And he let her go just as quickly. “I’m not going to fight you.” Hands held up, he took a step back.

Her fury fed off his words. Her palm stung when it connected with his face, slapping him again and again.

In one fluid move, he wrapped her in a tight hold. Blood roared through her ears. Unable to reach his face, she writhed in his grasp and pounded his sides.

“I hate you!” She hit him again. “I hate you! You killed his father.” Tears poured down her face. “You made me leave him.”
I loved him.
“Like a dog in the street.”

Her vigor renewed, she pummeled his sides. Occasionally, he grunted from a blow, but remained steadfast in holding her tight and close. It felt like she beat him forever … until she could hardly hold herself upright.