Page 11 of Stand Fast

It looked so serene and peaceful right now, the darkness hiding the scars of war left carved on the land. Deceptive. But he knew how fragile the illusion was. And how quickly a new offensive or suicide attack by the Taliban or any other insurgent group could shatter the stillness in an instant.

He was no stranger to violence and death. Anyone who posed a threat to him and his operations would earn a swift and violent end. He’d come too far and risked too much to turn back now.

A few more shipments, and with his cut of the profits he would have earned enough to get his son the things he needed. He would be able to get his entire family out of this country to start over somewhere new. Somewhere safe where they could live like kings without the fear of death hanging over them like a constant pall.

A small, rattling cough from down the hall broke him out of his thoughts.

On silent feet, he walked the length of the hallway. His wife emerged from their bedroom and opened the door opposite it. The soft glow of a lamp flooded the dingy hallway and the soft murmur of her voice floated out to him.

Reaching the other bedroom, he paused in the doorway to take in the scene before him. His wife sat on the edge of their son’s bed, propping him up with a few pillows behind his back. The boy’s face was pale and sweaty, a bluish tinge around his eyes and mouth. Just five years old. Far too young to know such anguish.

Those dark, sunken eyes swung up to him as another ghastly cough rattled that thin chest, and The Jackal’s heart clenched with helpless grief. His boy had suffered so much in his young life. Too much.

Putting on a confident smile, The Jackal walked over and sat beside his son while his wife scurried off to get more medicine. “Is it bad tonight?” he murmured to Beena, placing a gentle hand on top of his son’s head.

The boy nodded, his breaths raspy and strained, his eyes pleading for an end to his torment.

Somehow he kept the smile in place. “Well, your mother has gone to bring you more medicine. That will make you feel better and help you rest.”

Another nod, and Beena closed his eyes, as though they were too heavy to keep open.

The Jackal kept his hand on his son’s sweaty hair, stroking his fingers through it gently. “It won’t be long now. Another few weeks at most, and we can take you to a special doctor who will fix everything.”

With a soft sigh, the boy slumped against the pillows.

The Jackal sat there in the pool of lamplight and stroked Beena’s damp hair, unable to do anything more while he listened to each labored breath his son took. Anger and determination swelled until they all but choked him.

It wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair that his son should have to suffer like this simply because the procedure he needed wasn’t available in Afghanistan. Not even from the American and British surgeons at the military bases.

His wife’s soft footfalls reached him a moment before a gentle hand touched his shoulder. Her beautiful face was lined with worry and fatigue, her once raven black hair turned gray at the temples from the constant stress she lived with. She held the prescription bottle in her other hand.

“How much longer?” she whispered, the strain clear in her voice.

He didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. How long until he had the money they needed to get Beena better. “Not long.” He reached up to squeeze her hand in reassurance before pushing to his feet.

In the doorway, he paused to look back as she roused their son from his fitful slumber to give him the medicine.

Resolve hardened inside him. His son needed a life-saving operation, and he would make certain it happened, even if he had to work with theVenenocartel to do it.

He didn’t care who he had to work with or betray to make it happen.

Chapter Four

December twenty-fourth. Even without knowing the date, Zaid would have been able to guess it was Christmas Eve the moment he stepped into the squad room simply by observing his teammates.

The energy in the room was uncharacteristically low during this downtime before another team briefing. All the guys were quiet and subdued, partly because they were tired from the nonstop op-tempo over here, and partly because they were discouraged by the last two ops being total busts.

But more than that, Zaid suspected it had more to do with them being so far away from their families and significant others at this time of year. He missed his family too. And since FAST Bravo was only a few weeks into its four-month rotation, they had a long way to go yet before any reunions took place.

Jamie Rodriguez emerged from the small storage room at the back where they’d set up a laptop for private calls. They used their personal cell phones most of the time, but it was cheaper to use the laptop to check emails and do Skype calls. “You need in here?” Rodriguez asked him.

“No, I’m good until everyone else has had a turn.” The only people waiting for word from him were his parents back home in New Jersey, and since today wasn’t that big a deal to them, Zaid could call them another time.

“You don’t have a hot online date set up?” Rodriguez teased.

“Wouldn’t tell you even if I did.” And no, he’d given all that up months ago. He was sick of dating and things never working out. He wanted a meaningful connection he could build on with a woman he admired and enjoyed spending time with, not a string of hookups that went nowhere. He wanted it badly enough that he’d even jumped into online dating waters, something he’d sworn he’d never do, and had been matched up with a woman who seriously piqued his interest.

Still skeptical, he’d taken things slow with her, and after five weeks of chatting with her every day he was reasonably sure she was the real deal and had finally worked up the courage to ask her to meet in person when she came into town. She’d agreed and sounded enthusiastic about seeing him, and he’d eagerly anticipated it. Then, the night before they were supposed to meet, she’d canceled on him in a freaking text message and cut all contact.

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