questions.
When he gave her the coordinates, she shrugged at Hank and relayed the information. At first her mind reeled with what it meant; but if Garrett showed two tracking beacons moving, that meant only one thing.
Kinkaid hadn’t stayed put. He was on the move, and that wasn’t possible, not in his condition.
“What’s going on, Martini One?” Garrett finally asked.
“We’ll evaluate the situation and contact you when we know more. Martini One out.”
Garrett wouldn’t be happy with her cutting him off, but her team had to move. If she knew Jackson Kinkaid, he’d be pissing in the wind of a real shitstorm. And from what she’d seen of his feelings for Kate, he’d have little regard for an exit strategy. On this mission, the guy hadn’t backed down or compromised. He’d been reacting on pure instinct and showed no fear—as if he had a death wish.
“Damn it,” she cursed.
“What’s going on?” Hank knelt by her.
“I’m willing to bet our FNG is channeling Chuck Norris.” Alexa used an acronym Hank knew well. Fucking new guy meant Kinkaid. “I think he’s flying solo and found our hostages. Those coordinates will get us there.”
“You got orders?”
“Yeah.” She raised en eyebrow. “Let’s give him a hand. He can’t hog all the fun.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hank grinned. To the men, he gave a hand signal, and they moved out, double time.
Alexa cursed Kinkaid under her breath and joined her men. She should never have left him behind.
A pungent smell filled Kinkaid’s nostrils in the heat—and rightly so, it stayed. The blood of the dead sniper not only left its odor and stained his clothes. It marked his soul. The memory of the nightmarish moment would plague him in the days and years to come. And he had no doubt another face would haunt his nights.
He’d pinned the smaller man down with a hand over his mouth. The sniper bucked under his weight until Kinkaid plunged the blade into his neck. Warm blood gushed onto his hand, and arterial spray pulsated onto his clothes and face. It was over in seconds, and the man stopped struggling. When Kinkaid pulled his hand away, the guy’s mouth gapped open, and his eyes stared at nothing.
An eerie stillness replaced his desperate last breaths after his lungs emptied for the last time.
Few would understand, but Kinkaid felt it was his duty to remember. Taking a man’s life should never be easy, no matter what the reason. And forgetting or dismissing it would be an even greater offense.
Darkness had settled onto the gorge, leaving only a sliver of moon to cast its dim haze across the rock cliffs and trees. He crept down a slope toward the outskirts of the village. Digging his bootheels into the soil, he crossed the steep hill at a slant and braced an arm against the incline to steady himself. He avoided the dense underbrush and stayed clear of the established trail, fearing it might be booby-trapped.
When he made it to the canyon floor, he got a bad case of the shakes, and dizziness forced him to stop. He found a dark shadowy spot to hide and gulped more water, splashing some on his face and neck. The fever had gotten worse. His neck and shoulders ached, and sweat drenched his clothes. The infection seethed through his body in a constant clash between churning heat and a rush of chills. He chose to believe that the pain racking his body was only weakness relinquishing its hold on him.
When he peered through the trees using the thermal infrared imaging capability of his binoculars, the tactical gear allowed him to see in the dark, and ghostly colored images were magnified. The village had quieted down. Not much foot traffic. And the fire pit in the center of the clearing had been reduced to glowing red ashes. No one tended it.
Kinkaid did a quick head count of the guards he’d seen before and watched their movements until he felt ready to go. He stashed his pack in a safe spot to retrieve later—alongside the weapon he’d taken off the sniper— and grabbed his HK G3 assault rifle before he headed out. He’d have to travel light to move fast.
Twenty minutes later
Kinkaid dragged the dead man’s body away into the brush, the last of the guards keeping watch over the hostages. He stashed the AK-47s with the two bodies. More armed men patrolled the camp perimeter. He’d have only a brief opportunity to speak to the captives and convince them to come with him.
Carrying his assault rifle, he crouched low and crept toward the hovel where he’d seen the children. If he found Kate there, he wouldn’t have to persuade the kids to follow him. Kate would know what to do, and she could help with the other captives, too. When he got to the tent, he avoided the side facing the clearing. That side of the tent was too risky and would force him to turn his back on the other guards.
Instead, he moved to the rear of the tarp and used his knife to cut through it. He opened the torn flap and found the children cowering in the far corner. When he used a small penlight to see inside, the beam flashed across the terrified faces of the kids. They squinted and held up small hands to block the light.
The oldest girl shielded the others. Her eyes were brimming in tears. And even though her chin was jutted out in defiance, her lips trembled. The child didn’t say a word, nor did she make a sound. Brave girl…and smart.
“Sister Kate. Where is she?” he whispered, and looked over his shoulder for any sign of movement. When the girl didn’t respond quickly enough, he repeated his question in French.
At the mention of Kate’s name, the expression of the oldest girl softened, and she whispered something to the other kids before she crawled toward him.
“Why are you asking about Sister Kate?” the girl questioned in English, letting him know she spoke his language.
“My name is Jackson Kinkaid. Sister Kate is my friend. I’ve come to rescue you…all of you.” He craned his neck over the tent and looked into the clearing. A guard was edging closer. With three more tents to check out, Kinkaid was running out of time.
“Where is she?” he asked again.
The girl reached for his arm and tugged at his sleeve to bring him inside. And even though every move brought him pain, he followed her lead. She crawled toward the other side of the tent and pointed across the clearing.
“They have her there, the third tent to the left of the fire.” She pointed a tiny finger, keeping her movement masked in shadows. “She is very sick. They beat her. I thought they’d killed her.” The girl sobbed when a rush of emotions hit her.
He stroked her dark hair and kissed her forehead. “I’m getting you out of here. What’s your name, honey?”
“Joselyne.” She wiped tears from her face with a dirty hand and took a ragged breath.
“You’re a brave girl, Joselyne.”
He tapped her nose with a finger and forced himself to smile to put her at ease. Having the children and the other captives separated from Kate made things tough. He knew what he had to do, but the decision to leave Kate for last wasn’t an easy one for him to make.
“I have to check on the other hostages. Which tents are they in?” he asked. After the girl told him what he needed to know, he said, “Stay quiet. I’ll come back for you. I promise. Then you’re all going home.”
The word “home” struck him and brought unexpected and bittersweet memories. He hadn’t had a real home in so long that the word sounded like a foreign language, but by the look in Joselyne’s eyes, she knew what home meant. And he was determined to make it happen for all the children.
With reluctance, he left the kids behind while he made contact with the other hostages. Scrambling from tent to tent had taken time. After he’d gathered the others, Kinkaid kept them moving and quiet. He positioned himself between the captives and the remaining guards on duty. If they were spotted, he didn’t want innocent lives caught in the cross fire. When they reached the children’s tent, Joselyne had the kids ready to go. In silence, they crawled
