Page 87 of Deadly Betrayal
His arms were getting tired, and they wereboth covered in grime. There was no way he could hug her, but hecould tell her how he felt. “When I was a boy, my father often hadto go on trips for work. One night, it was just my mom, my littlebrother, Thomas, and me at home. A sound woke me up. Because my dadrefused to have any guns in the house, I kept a baseball bat besidemy bed. I was the oldest, and when my father was away, it was myjob to keep my mom and brother safe.” He took a deep breath, hatingthe way the old memories descended, suffocating in their intensity.“I crept into the hall to see what was going on, and I heardwhimpering coming from my mom’s room. When I opened the door, herbody lay on the floor.”
Azita gasped and touched his arm. “I am sosorry, Kaden. That must have been horrible.”
He appreciated her support, but the worst wasyet to come. He swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth. “Hernightgown had been hiked up to her waist and there was a ropearound her neck. Thomas was huddled in a corner, sucking his thumb.He hadn’t done that in years.”
“He was made to watch,” she said, her toneflat. By her own admission, Azita had witnessed her fair share ofatrocities, and he’d guess several of them had taken place whenshe’d been a child herself.
“He was.” Emotions roiled inside him. Thomashad been such a great kid, and it had been Kaden’s job to protecthim and their mother. As an adult, he knew in his head that hewasn’t really to blame. He’d been just a kid himself. Barely apre-teen. But in his heart, the blame was on him. “Thomas neverrecovered. Five years later, on his thirteenth birthday, he killedhimself.”
“Is that when you joined the military?”
“Yeah, as soon as I turned eighteen, I wasout of there.” He turned to look at her. “How did you know?”
She gave him a tearful smile. “It is notunusual. Young men who lose family members to violence often burythemselves in one of two pursuits: getting revenge or saving theworld. It is obvious which option you chose.”
“For all the good it’s done.” He shrugged,trying to rid himself of the painful memories. “Anyway, I told youthis is so you’d know that I understand what you’re going through.If you want to talk, if you want to cry, I’m here.”
Nodding, she put her arm around his waist. Itlay loosely on his hip, but it was progress. He didn’t want her tobottle up her anger, her angst and pain, the way he had. It hadtaken him years of therapy to lock up his demons in a cage withbars so strong they couldn’t escape. When they neared the village,he wiggled his hip. “Take my phone out and if there’s a signal,call Jake. Tell him to come get us.”
While she pulled up Jake’s contactinformation, Kaden knelt in the grassy field and carefully laid thebody of the man who’d sacrificed himself for his sister on theground. Between the two of them, Shahram had been the better man.Some days, Kaden still wished he’d died protecting his mother andbrother. At least then, he wouldn’t have had to live with all theguilt.
“Hello, Jake,” Azita said. Kaden blew out abreath and half listened as he rearranged her vest over Shahram’sface. She lapsed into silence. When it dragged on, he worried thatJake had said something to upset her. After tucking the jacketaround Shahram’s shoulders, he looked up and found himself staringdown the barrel of a very large rifle.
Khalid pushed the gas on the ancientrusted-out Corolla he’d managed to purchase from the fuelingstation owner. It had taken more than two hours, multiple threats,and four times as many afghanis as the battered piece of metal wasworth.
At least he had a chance of catching up withhis wayward fiancée, her brother, and the American. This time whenhe got her, he wasn’t letting go. He’d keep her in his sight untilthey were wed. Azita was his, and nothing and no one was going totake her from him again. He palmed the grip of his pistol. He’dkill to keep her.
By his calculations, he was crossing intoBadakhshan province, the territory under Tariq’s unofficial rule. Acommotion in the village to his right drew his gaze. Several menwere gathered around a black vehicle. He squinted to see moreclearly as he drove by.
Was that—?
It was.He barely slowed down beforeexecuting a turn and exiting into the village. When he pulled upnext to his Chrysler SUV, a couple men detached from the group,pointing high-caliber rifles at him. One waved his gun and orderedhim out of the Corolla.
Turning to open the door, Khalid let hispistol drop to the floor and kicked it under the seat. He steppedout, hands up. “Salaam alaikum,” he said in greeting. Theynodded, but didn’t return the greeting. He narrowed his eyes attheir rudeness. “What’s going on?”
“We’ll ask the questions,” said the burlierof the two men.
“What business do you have here?” asked theother man. He was years younger and taller than his cohort.
Khalid lowered his hands and put them at hiswaist. “I was curious.”
Burly Man laughed, the sound coarse and ugly.“In this place, curiosity will get you killed.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude.” Khalid turned andput his hand on the door handle. “I’ll be on my way.” He hatedleaving his SUV to these men, but he had no other choice.
Something hard pressed between his shoulderblades. Khalid froze.
“Well, well. I thought I recognized you.Look, Mirzal. This is the man Khan Tariq told us to watch for,”said Tall Man gleefully.
In every man’s life, there came a time whenall his good and bad deeds would be counted. Khalid prayed his timefor counting had not yet arrived. His good deeds column waswoefully empty.
“Turn around, Agha Khalid,” said TallMan.
Slowly Khalid faced the men.
“That your car?” Burly Man motioned to theSUV, his eyes brimming with avarice.
Khalid nodded. “I was carjacked inPol-e-Khomri.”
