Page 32 of Deadly Betrayal
“I meant no insult,” Kaden murmured softlyenough that Shahram wouldn’t hear him over the noise of thetraffic.
“None taken.” She offered him a reassuringsmile. He’d only wanted to help her, to ease her fears. Perhapsallowing him to touch her made her a loose woman. For once, shedidn’t care. “In his concern for me, my brother has become moreprudish than amullah.”
“Speaking of which, I heard a great MullahNasruddin joke on the flight to Kabul. Want to hear it?”
“Of course.” Jokes about Mullah Nasruddin, areligious cleric believed to have lived in thirteenth-centuryTurkey, were a national form of entertainment in Afghanistan andmuch of the Middle East. And a little humor would keep her fromslipping into more fantasies about a certain tall American.
“Okay. Here goes. ‘How old are you, Mullah?’a boy asked. Mullah Nasruddin responded, ‘Three years older than mybrother.’ ‘How do you know that?’ the boy asked. ‘Reasoning!’Nasruddin said. ‘Last year, I heard my brother tell someone I wastwo years older than him. A year has passed. Now, I am older by oneyear. I shall soon be old enough to be his grandfather!’”
As she laughed, Kaden watched her with aproud smile. Even Shahram joined in. Without her realizing it,they’d already reached the midpoint of the tunnel. She decided tooffer a joke of her own. “I have one. Mullah Nasruddin went into ashop to buy a pair of trousers. Once inside, he changed his mindand chose a coat instead, which was the same price. Picking up thecoat, he left the shop. ‘Wait! You have not paid!’ the merchantshouted. Themullahresponded, “I left you the trousers,which are the same value as the coat.’ ‘But you did not pay for thetrousers, either,’ said the confused merchant. ‘Of course not,’Nasruddin replied. ‘Why should I pay for something I did not wantto buy?’”
Kaden’s laughter was all she’d hoped it wouldbe, a low rumble that resonated deep inside his belly. Her cheeksheated, and she reached out to touch him. In the cover of darkness,her brother could not see her hand on her fake-husband’s thigh.Under her fingers, his hard muscles bunched amazingly. She’d nevermet anyone so well-developed. Kaden’s laughter turned into a fit ofcoughing, but he did nothing to remove her hand.
As they drew near the end of the tunnel andthe gloom was replaced with light, she handed him his bottle ofwater along with a wink of her own. How bold of her! “We wouldn’twant your throat to get dry,” she teased, echoing his earlieradvice to her.
Kaden’s eyes twinkled with a mirth thatwarmed her heart. How could he make her so giddy with a simplelook? No, it hadn’t been just his eyes. Her palm tingled where ithad lain on his thigh. She sighed at her brashness. He wasaffecting her in strange ways. Or was her odd behavior because lifeas she’d known it was coming to an end? Soon enough, it wouldn’tmatter if she smiled at her handsome American or touched his hardmuscles. Even in the eyes of her guardian, today’s taken libertiescouldn’t begin to compare to tomorrow’s intended crimes.
Kaden’s chest heaved from the combination oflaughter, choking, and instant lust that had shot straight to hiscock when Azita’s small hand had rested on his leg. Christ, if ithad been him driving and not her brother, he’d have pulled the caronto the side of the road and done some deliciously wicked thingsto the good doctor—things that might have gotten them both killed.Damn. He had to remember where they were.Whothey were.
He pulled his thoughts away from Azita andfocused his attention on the narrow road ahead. The Salang Pass wasliterally cut out of the mountainside with, on one side, jaggedpeaks rising thousands of feet into the clear blue sky, and on theother, cliffs that dropped a mile or more into a deep valley,unprotected by even a guardrail. One wrong move, and they wouldplunge to their deaths.
A black Nissan sped by the Corolla,zigzagging through the traffic. The sight wasn’t unusual, but whenthe Nissan inched perilously close to the edge of the road to passthe rear truck in the NATO convoy, Kaden’s hands clenched.
The tanker swerved on a sharp curve, forcingthe Nissan closer to the edge, and Kaden swore under his breath.Suddenly, the Nissan exploded into a ball of fire. Shit, shit,shit! Insurgents must have planted an IED, hoping the wider NATOconvoy would hit it.
Shrapnel from the Nissan flew toward them asthe bulk of the vehicle plunged into the valley below. All aroundthem, cars and trucks braked and spun, horns honking, screamsfilling the air.
“Incoming!” Kaden reached for Azita to holdher down. Shahram jerked the wheel, and Kaden’s hands met air.Shattered glass fell into the car, but Kaden couldn’t tell where ithad come from. The Corolla spun crazily, and Azita was tossed intohis lap. Keeping his lids closed to protect his eyes, he bent overher, shielding her with his body.
After what seemed an eternity, the carfinally settled. Had they been thrown to the edge of the road?Would one movement cause them to tumble to their deaths?Cautiously, he raised his head and opened his eyes. The spin hadbrought them to the middle of the narrow road. Kaden’s shoulderssagged in relief.
“Azi—” Her name died on his lips when helooked down. She lay sprawled on his lap, limp and pale. Herheadscarf was soaked through with blood. So much blood that he feltits wet heat against his own legs. “Shit. Shit.” Her window wasbroken. Something must have hit her in the head.
Adrenaline flooded his system. When he’djoined Delta Force, he’d been taught to control his body’sreactions to stress, to lower his heart rate and to slow hisbreathing. He’d also learned to use the rush of adrenaline to focushis attention and heighten his senses. Putting his training to gooduse, he touched her face, her mouth, assessing her condition. Smallpuffs of air indicated she was still breathing. “Azita, honey. Canyou hear me?”
When there was no response, he tugged off herheadscarf to get a better look at the wound and judge its severity.He knew head wounds bled a lot, but to his admittedly inexperiencedeyes, this seemed excessive.
“Don’t remove—” Shahram’s eyes filled withtears and he swallowed visibly. “We must preserve her modesty.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kadenshouted. “Your sister willdieif we don’t help her. Now getyour sorry ass over here.”
Azita stirred in his lap. His shouting musthave awakened her. “Thank God you’re conscious,” he said, touchingher cheek gently. He could tell she was having difficulty focusingher eyes on him. “You’re going to be okay.” He didn’t know any suchthing, but it’s what people always said. He’d never felt souseless.
Cries and wails came from the families of theinjured in nearby cars. Christ, he hoped the cameras he’d spottedoutside the tunnel were working. It was going to take a seriouseffort on the part of the ANP to bring aid to all these people.
Azita licked her lips. “My m-medical bag,”she said, her words broken by short gasps of pain. “Need to help…people… hurt.”
“Shh… the police will take care of theothers,” he said, even though there were no emergency personnel insight. “Right now, we need to concentrate on you.” He flicked aglance at Shahram, who stood idly by the open passenger door. “Gether bag.”
Kaden slipped off the vest he wore over hisAfghan clothes and spread it on top of her. Then he tore a stripoff the bottom of hiskameez. He folded it and pressed itagainst the gaping wound on the side of her head. She winced.
They were in the middle of fucking nowhere,and God knew when help would arrive. Blood was pouring from herinjury, so there was no way he could wait. He had to treat herhimself, but he couldn’t do it alone.
“Azita, please. You need to tell me what todo.”
Her pain-glazed eyes stared up at him. Wasshe too out of it to guide him? When she licked her lips, he felt asurge of hope.
“How big…?” she asked. He saw more than heardher question, she spoke so softly.
