Page 84 of Deadly Betrayal
He grinned. “I’ll be back before you havetime to miss me.”
“That is not possible,” she said, meeting hisgaze. “I miss you already.”
Okaythen. Heat suffused hischest and rose to his neck and cheeks. “Right. I’ll just… uh… gonow. Stay quiet and out of sight.” With that he handed her his gun.“Don’t use it unless you have to. The noise will alert Tariq’smen.”
She grimaced and held out her hand, gingerlyaccepting the weapon. He quickly showed her how to take the safetyoff. Then setting a five-mile an hour pace, he hit the path. Assoon as he’d covered some distance, he increased his speed. Maybehe should have just carried Shahram on his back. But Shahram wasalready dehydrated, and Kaden wasn’t sure that a fireman’s carrywould have been safe for someone in his condition. As much as thetwit was a pain in the ass, Kaden didn’t want to see him indistress. He was Azita’s brother, and, for that reason alone, Kadenwould do whatever was needed to get the man to safety.
Ten minutes later, Kaden spotted a young boy,leading a goat by a loose rope around its neck. “Salaamalaikum,” he said in greeting.
The boy stopped, bowed his head, and greetedhim back. When the boy looked up, and up again, his eyes grewcomically round. Kaden stooped over in an attempt to appear lessintimidating, then smiled apologetically.
“You are very tall,agha,” the boysaid in Dari.
Kaden hunched his shoulders forward and stuckhis lips out in a pout. “It’s a… birth defect.”
The boy’s face lit up with laughter. “It’snot a bad birth defect,” he said, thumping the goat on the back.“She has an extra toe!”
The kid was too cute. “I’m coming from thenext town over. Is there anywhere I could buy some water?”
“There’s no water in your village?” The boy’sbrows rose until they touched his ragged bangs.
Kaden shook his head. “The Taliban camethrough and took everything. My wife, she’s pregnant”—he mimed abig belly with his hands—“and she needs clean water.”
“Come with me.” The boy took one of Kaden’shands and led him down the trail. The goat plodded along besidethem. A quarter mile later, they turned onto a narrower path thatpassed between two fields where several skinny goats and sheepmunched on shrubs and weeds. Ahead was a tiny shack.
They entered a rudimentary kitchen through adoor that hung askew on its hinges. The boy opened a small iceboxand hefted up a pitcher of water. “I collected it from the streamthis morning.” A proud smile broke across the youngster’s face. “Doyou want some?”
Turning down the boy’s offer would disappointhim. On the other hand, even a sip of that water would have Kadenbent over and puking before long. “I would love some, but I’dbetter bring it with me and drink it with my wife.”
The boy nodded sagely. “Do you have somethingto carry it in?”
Shit. Kaden had been hoping for waterbottles. Clearly this family couldn’t afford such a luxury. Hepatted down his pants and vest as though he might have some sort ofcontainer stashed away in them. “I guess it fell out when I wasrunning.” He scrubbed his face, trying to look pathetic andworried. It wasn’t much of a stretch.
“I have an idea.” The boy set the pitcherdown on the small scarred table. He disappeared into a back roomand returned with a French-issued canteen. “A soldier traded it fora piece of lapis lazuli I found outside a local mine. My littlesister was hot and tired, and she drank all the water that was init before we even returned home.” He smiled and handed the canteento Kaden.
As he filled it, Kaden thanked the namelessFrench soldier for both good deeds. When he stood, he ruffled theboy’s hair and pressed a handful of afghanis into his small hand.“I like you, kid.”
“I like you too, American,” the boy said inbroken English.
So the kid had caught onto his ruse, probablyright off the bat too, and helped him, a strange foreigner, anyway.Kaden was still grinning as he exited the shack. The boy and hisfamily were dirt poor, lived in a war zone, fought for each morselof food that slipped between their lips. Yet they had each other,and they were happy.
There had to be a lesson in theresomewhere.
Azita trembled as she huddled against Shahramunder some bushes. Much to her relief, Shahram had regainedconsciousness soon after Kaden’s departure. But that relief hadbeen short-lived. Now, not far away, boots thudded on the forestfloor, and angry Pashto bounced off the treetops. With Kaden gone,the only course of action left to her and Shahram was to hide.Hopefully, the men would move right past them. She’d done all shecould to erase their traces by brushing a few fallen branches overtheir footprints. Then she’d used them to camouflage theirhideout.
Her heart pounded so roughly, it was almostpainful. She longed to stretch, to do some deep breathing, anythingto relieve the ache in her chest. She didn’t want to die like this,hunted like an animal. Most of all, she didn’t want to die withKaden hating her. Shame made her eyes burn. Everything that hadhappened was her fault: the ambush on Kaden’s unit two years ago,as well as the danger they were all in presently.
There could be no more deaths on her hands.If Kaden returned now, these men would shoot him on sight. Shecouldn’t let that happen.
Quietly, she disengaged from Shahram’s arms.“What are you doing?” he said, his whisper a harsh rasp.
“A distraction. Sneak away and go warn Kaden.If they see him, they will kill him.”
“And what of you? You know what men likethese will do to a woman alone.”
“I do.”
“He means so much to you?”
