Page 56 of Lethal Pursuit

The man stood frozen at the village entrance, maybe thirty yards away. Big bastard, probably taller than Jackson, with broad shoulders and a muscular build. His dark head was bare, he was dressed in tribal wear and he had an AK slung across his chest. With that nearly black gaze fixed on his, the man slowly raised his hands into the air in a nonthreatening gesture. Jackson didn’t move. Whatever game that fucker was playing, Jackson wasn’t letting him get past. He was the only thing that stood between this asshole and Maya, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Heart thudding a hard rhythm in his ears, he was completely unprepared for what happened next.

Jihad smiled and actually chuckled, the sound of his amusement carrying across the tense and deadly space between them. “Youdon’t wanna shoot me, Thatcher, since I’m the guy they sent to get you out of here.”

It took a moment for Jackson’s brain to process what he’d said in such perfect, accent-free English. How many big men who spoke perfect English were running around these parts? No way was it a coincidence. He frowned in disbelief, trying to put everything together. “You’rethe one who helped the LT escape?” The bastard had stood back and watched them get tortured without lifting a finger to help them, not even during that fucked-up game of Russian roulette.

“Yeah.” He kept his hands in the air, his expression totally calm, as if he stared down the barrel of a gun every day. “Now I’m here to get you guys home.”

“That right? Even though you seemed happy enough to watch us get ready to blow our brains out back in that room?”

Jihad shook his head. “He handed me the revolver and asked me to take out every bullet except one. I took themallout instead. He just didn’t notice.”

Sothat’swhy the revolver had been empty when Khalid had tried to shoot them.

Jackson kept his weapon aimed at the center of his chest, still not trusting him for a second. If what Jihad said was true, and so far it seemed to be, it meant he was part of something much bigger than anyone else knew about. Some secret undercover sting sanctioned by the military or the government.

He was aware of the tense silence, of the many anxious eyes focused on him in the village. His host stood nearby, rubbernecking between him and Jihad with wide, anxious eyes, no doubt wondering if his village was about to be shot up. Jackson glared at Jihad. “Who the fuckareyou?”

Jihad’s black eyebrows went up. “Mind if I come closer for this conversation?”

“Yeah, I do.” His index finger stayed snug around the trigger.

Another grin, but he didn’t try to approach. “Name’s Sandberg, and we don’t have much time to talk. Khalid’s group is less than five hours’ march from here and they’ve got help on the way. Another force is coming in from the southwest, and there could be others.Trust me, you do not want to be here when they show up, especially Rahim’s men. Now, Tarik, he knows me,” he said, nodding toward the old man. “We go back five years now. We’re buddies.”

“He doesn’t look very happy to see you,” Jackson pointed out, his grip steady on the pistol.

“He was running to warn you so you wouldn’t shoot when you saw me. I told Lieutenant Lopez to take the trail here because I knew you’d be safe here. Tarik told me all about the American soldiers who saved his grandson at the MEDCAP. I knew he’d look out for you until I got here.”

Since Tarik had carried his grandson to the MEDCAP in the first place, the village couldn’t be too far from where Jackson and the others had been captured. “So we’re still in Afghanistan?”

His eyes danced with amusement. “Almost. Just a few miles back that way.” He jerked his chin over his shoulder.

With his suspicion wavering, Jackson slowly lowered his weapon, keeping it in front of him at the ready just in case.

Jihad—or Sandberg, if he even had a real name—sighed in exasperation and lowered his hands. “Look, if I’d wanted to kill you I could’ve taken you out with my rifle long before you even realized I was here.”

Much as Jackson hated to admit it, the guy had a point. “Okay, so say I believe you.” And he wasn’t saying he did, since he didn’t trust him any further than he could fucking throw him. “What do you want?”

“I’ve got a ride coming for you all in ten hours at a pre-designated LZ to the northeast,” he answered, pointing over his shoulder as though Jackson didn’t know which direction that was.

“Who do you work for?” Because it wasn’t the regular military, or even Spec Ops. No, this guy, if he was for real, worked for a government agency.

“The good guys.”

That didn’t convince Jackson in the slightest, since he knew how quickly allegiances changed in this part of the world. There was no shame in working with the U.S. and their allies one day, and pledging your allegiance to the Taliban the next. Whatever served your purpose for the moment. It was how these tribal people hadsurvived in this harsh land for centuries, and how they would go on surviving until the end of time. “What branch did you serve with?”

“Special Forces, a long time ago. Look, man, I know where you’re coming from but we don’t have time for this. You might not like it, but you just have to trust me. We have to get Haversham and Lieutenant Lopez out of here right the fuck now if we’re gonna stay ahead of the bad guys and make our rendezvous with that bird.”

If something seemed too good to be true it usually meant itwas, but he couldn’t afford to dismiss Sandberg’s words. Not if there was a chance they were true. At this point, Jackson’s only options were to go with it or shoot Sandberg and make a run for it. And if the enemy really was closing in, then he couldn’t abandon Maya and Haversham. “They’re both too far gone to walk out.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here to carry one of them, huh?”

Setting his jaw, Jackson eased his stance and glanced at Tarik to let him know everything was okay, then spoke to Sandberg. “You do anything that smells outta line, I’ll take you out.” His clipped tone made it a promise.

Sandberg shrugged, his cocky expression telling Jackson he was welcome to try. “Fair enough. Now can we go to Tarik’s?”

“Yeah,” Jackson muttered, and waited for Sandberg to pass him before falling into line. Even if this guy was promising them a ride home, Jackson wasn’t taking his eyes off him for a moment.

---