Only Her (A K2 Team Novel)(77)

“Soldier.”

The muted voice stopped Cody. He motioned for his spotter to head on up to the roof of the building they’d scouted out a few days earlier. Cody was familiar with the occupants of the house across the alley. Covered in a burqa, Asra, the teenage girl who lived there with her parents and two brothers, beckoned him before disappearing inside.

He ran low to the other side of the street and ducked into the open door of her home, his Glock palmed in his hand. Taking off on his own was against regulations and foolhardy, but she’d given him good intel on the Taliban twice now. Her only condition had been that no one know about her. He understood. The Taliban would kill her and her family if they ever learned of her treachery.

Adjusting his eyes to the dusty shadows of the house, he zeroed in on Asra, doubled over and holding her stomach. She yanked away the material covering her face. Blood dripped from a cut on her neck. Every hair on his body stood on end. The situation was bad, but he wasn’t sure why. Had the Taliban somehow learned that she’d been passing their locations to him? He stepped toward her. It was quiet, too damn quiet.

The air behind him shifted, and he spun . . .

Soft fingers caressed his cheek, and he blinked his eyes open. Asra leaned over him, the blood on her neck now dried in crusty patches. “Wake up, soldier.”

“Where am I?”

“We have to go before they come back.”

“My head,” he said, reaching a hand up and finding a large lump on the back of his skull.

“They hit you there. They think you dead, soldier. We must go.” She pulled on his arm.

“Have to go.” He struggled to his knees, and then the blackness descended.

He groaned at the pounding ache in the back of his head. Forcing open eyelids that felt as if they had been stapled shut, he frowned at seeing dusty, sandal-clad feet in his line of vision. Why was he facedown on the floor? Lifting his gaze, he saw Asra being held against a bearded man wearing a balaclava head wrap, saw the knife in the man’s hands, saw the blood dripping down Asra’s neck. He tried to sit up. Had to save her.

He made it to his knees when something hit the back of his head again, the searing pain sending him into oblivion. When he came to, he was facedown on the dirt floor staring into the dead eyes of Asra. She was on her back, her head turned his way, her accusing eyes open. He pushed up onto his arms, then fell into a sitting position. The room swam, and he thought he was going to throw up.

“Asra?” He shook her. If he could get her to their medic . . . His gaze fell on her stomach, cut open, revealing a bloody mess of organs.

Cody leaned over and vomited. His fault. His fault.

Voices sounded in the next room, men arguing in Pashto, the primary language of the Taliban. Cody tried to focus on the open door, but there were two of them wavering in his vision. He fumbled around for his pack and sniper rifle, but they were gone.

“I’m sorry, Asra,” he whispered. “So fucking sorry.”

He crawled toward one of the doors, hoping it was the real one.





CHAPTER TWENTY




Noooo!”

Riley shot straight up in bed, heart pounding. Cody?

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”

The agony she heard in his voice pierced her heart. She scooted onto her knees and turned the lamp on dim. Cody rolled from his stomach to his back, and his face was wet with tears. He was having his nightmare, and she wasn’t sure what to do. If she tried to wake him, would he lash out? She felt strongly that he wouldn’t hurt her, that somehow even asleep he’d know it was her. Then she remembered that her name was supposed to be a safe word.

It was something to try, at least. On the other side of the closed bedroom door, Sally, or maybe it was Pretty Girl, whined. Riley covered Cody’s clenched fist with her hand, hoping her touch would calm him. Also, if he tried to punch her, she’d maybe be able to push his hand away.

“My fault. My fault.”

He sounded so devastated, and whatever he was dreaming had to be something really bad, something he blamed himself for. She leaned her mouth close to his ear. “Riley.” She waited a few seconds, then said it again. “Riley.” He tried to shake off her hand, but she closed her fingers around his. “Riley.” Each time she spoke her name, she said it a little more loudly and forcefully. “Riley.”

His eyes blinked open, and he stared at her, but she knew he didn’t really see her. “I’m Riley. It’s Riley here with you.”

“Riley? You can’t stay here. It’s not safe. They’ll get you, too.”

At least he was talking to her. “Riley’s not there. You aren’t either. She’s here, in America, with you. Do you understand? You’re with me, baby.”