Page 8 of Deadly Betrayal
Kaden filled them in on what they’d missed.“So, somehow, I have to not only get to Kabul in the next couple ofdays, but also find an excuse to get past the border guards.Civilians can’t just waltz into the country, and it’s not like Ican board a military flight.” He looked longingly to the corner ofthe room where Jake had suggested they put a mini-fridge. Anotherbeer would go down damn good right about now. “Any ideas?” heasked.
Nic pushed to his feet and shoved his handsinto his pockets as he paced the room. “As a matter of fact, I’vegot one.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, it happens once in a while. Gofigure.”
Kaden flushed. Nic was his friend, but he wasalso his boss. “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.”
Brow arched, Nic continued. “My publicist,Meg, has been planning a two-week USO tour. We’ll be hitting allthe major ISAF bases, do some meet and greets, and airBadDays.”
“When were you going to inform your securityteam of this?” Kaden asked, his voice heavy with frustration. Theman he’d sworn to protect with his life was going into a war zoneand hadn’t even thought to include him in the planning?
Nic flashed him his patented Hollywoodmovie-star grin. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I was going totell you as soon as I had the wheres and the whens. Publicists arealways planning something, and most of the time it doesn’t pan out.Besides, you had enough on your mind with getting this place up andrunning.”
“So what’s your idea, Nic?” Jake asked, andKaden had to smirk at his eager expression. Even after four monthsof working for the man, Jake was still a little starstruck by theirboss.
“Thank you for asking, Jake. Since the plansare already in motion, I’ll work with Meg to move the dates up. Itshouldn’t take more than a few hours to charter a jet, and Meg hasalready obtained our visas.”
Kaden shook his head. “As your head ofsecurity, I can’t let you go there, Nic. There’s no way I canprotect you against warlords with armies who’d literally kill tokidnap you. You’d be worth a tidy ransom that would finance theirfighters for years.”
“You’re forgetting that I was embedded inIraq for three weeks before filmingBad Days. I know exactlywhat I’m getting into. The ISAF has agreed to assign me a securityescort while I’m in-country. And while you’re off helping yourdoctor, Jake will be in charge.” He slapped Jake on the back andsmiled grimly. “You’ll make sure I don’t get shot, right?”
Jake stood and raised his chin to meet Nic’sgaze. “Like my life depends on it, sir.”
Kaden joined them. “It does,” he growled.
Grabbing the men’s shoulders, Nic smiled. “Soit’s settled? Who will you leave in charge?”
“Moses.” Though the newest member of theirteam, he had years of experience in personal security. “But…” Kadenhesitated. It wouldn’t look really good for him to admit he didn’tyet trust anyone other than Jake or Rémi Whitedeer, Nic’s longtimefriend and former police officer, to protect Nic’s family.
“But you aren’t sure if you can trust the newguys yet?” When Kaden nodded, Nic pulled out his cell. “Let me seeif Rémi and Alyssa are up for a little staycation at theranch.”
After a couple minutes on his phone, Nic hungup. Rémi and his fiancée, former Sûreté du Québec Sergeant AlyssaMorgan, would be coming over to the ranch the following morning andstaying until they returned from Afghanistan. The safety of Nic’sfamily—his fiancée, Lauren, her son, Jason, and Nic’s sister,Rachel—couldn’t be in better hands. “Any other concerns?” Nicasked, a humorous glint in his eyes. The man was having way toomuch fun with this.
“Lauren’s going to kill me for letting you gothere,” Kaden said.
Jake laughed. “If I were you, I’d be moreworried about Rachel. She’s got a tongue as sharp as a KABAR whenshe’s pissed about something.”
Nic seemed to pale at the reminder, but thenhe shook it off. “Lauren and Rachel will be okay with this. We’regoing there for a good cause. They support the ISAF, and I’m surethey’d do whatever they could to save this little girl, Laila, fromany more abuse.”
In the quiet after Nic left to make thearrangements and Jake went to pack their supplies, the enormity ofwhat they were about to do hit Kaden. With only Jake’s help, he wasgoing to have to protect an Oscar-winning actor in the middle of awar zone, and he was going to have to somehow extricate a younggirl from the claws of a ruthless warlord and his militia. At thesame time, he had to make sure Azita and her brother didn’t getthemselves killed. It was a lot to take on.
But at the top of his to-do list? Get to thetruth about the ambush that had left Sanchez dead and him with abullet in his chest.
The faces of Kabul, mostly male at this hour,sped by as Khalid maneuvered the car through the clogged inner-citystreets. Azita twitched in the passenger seat, where Khalid hadinsisted she sit. Normally, she was the first to complain about theAfghan custom that women were to sit in the back seat of anyvehicle. But today, she’d have preferred the back. Being so closeto him made hiding her anger that much more difficult. He probablywanted to have a “talk,” since, worried she’d say something she’dlater regret, she’d shunned him yesterday. There was nothing hecould say to make her like the cruel marriage he’d arranged forLaila.
Turning away from him, she stared out thewindow. Small kiosks selling everything from kitchen wares toAmerican movies sprouted along the busy thoroughfares early eachmorning, competing with the cart vendors who hawked vegetables andother foods, boys and men desperate to make a few afghanis to feedtheir families.
At least the men could work, Azita reflectedbitterly. Besides begging and prostitution, most women had very fewoptions. Illiteracy and religious dogma had victimized them farworse than any single invader in the past several decades.Everywhere she looked, Azita saw traces of Afghanistan’s violentpast: the Soviets had left their blond hair and blue eyes; theWesterners had brought their skateboards, which boys and young mennow used to zigzag through the traffic; the Taliban had broughtabout the resurgence of the bluechadri, beneath whichhopeless women begged for mercy, a coin, a morsel of food to calmthe bellies of their hungry babies. Worst of all were the brokenand battered bodies of the children with their outstretched handsand empty eyes, whose limbs had been blown off by landmines, theterrible legacy of decades of conflict.
Hard times always affected the mostunfortunate the worst. Sitting in the heated luxury of Khalid’sfancy American SUV, Azita felt a shroud of guilt weigh upon hershoulders. The work she did at the clinic and the secret women’sshelter helped, yet it wasn’t enough. No matter what she did, itwould never be enough to alleviate all the suffering she saw.
If there was little she could do for thepeople of Afghanistan, she could do something to help Laila. Shehad to find a way to save Faroukh’s daughter. If Azita could notstop this illegal marriage, only pain and tragedy awaited Laila atthe hands of the brutal Tariq.
By now, Shahram would have attempted tocontact Kaden. Would the sergeant remember her? He’d still beenvery ill when he’d come to her clinic to thank her for treatinghim, and that had been two years ago. Many things could happen inthat amount of time, especially in a place as ravaged by war asAfghanistan. Every day she heard more reports of Americancasualties. Each time her heart constricted, and she prayed for herAmerican soldier’s safety.
Kaden was her best chance to rescue Laila,yet she almost hoped Shahram could not locate him, or that he wouldrefuse to help. Perhaps it was selfish to want his memory of her toremain pure. If he agreed to help them and came to Kabul, itwouldn’t take long for him to discover the truth about the ambush.She would not be able to maintain the illusion, the lies, in theface of his goodwill. Bittersweet sadness filled her. With a sigh,she leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
