guard behind him chuckled and muttered something under his breath. She thought she caught, “That’s the one.”
Gunfire erupted from the hallway and the terrorist flinched, his rifle wavering for a fraction of a second. She lunged at the man, slamming her elbow into his throat. He stumbled back and she clamped a hand around the barrel of the rifle and rolled, jammed the stock into her shoulder, and aimed it at his face.
He charged at her and she pulled the trigger. Felt the kick against her shoulder. His face exploded into a red mist.
Bullets spit into his partner behind him. Footsteps pounded on the dirt floor. Another spray of gunfire above her head brought screams from the girls still in the cell. Fire exploded in her side and then her arm.
Just as quickly, the shooting stopped.
Ears still ringing, Sarah ignored the burning pain just under her rib cage and swung the rifle toward the hallway that opened into the area where she and the teens were being held. When she spotted the camouflage uniforms, she dropped the weapon and lifted one hand above her head. She couldn’t lift the other without massive agony racing through her arm.
“Move away from the weapon!”
“Hands! Show me your hands!”
The commands rolled over her and she let out a sob of relief. “Don’t shoot,” she screamed. “Don’t shoot! I’m an American!”
“Sarah!”
The voice came from behind the first soldier. Even in her terrified, semi-paralyzed state, she recognized it. “Gavin!”
He rushed to her and snagged the rifle from the dirt and passed it to the soldier behind him. She refrained from launching herself into Gavin’s arms. Instead, she drew in a ragged breath. “Thank God.”
Gavin lowered his weapon, helped her remove the rest of her burqa, and stared into green eyes he’d recognize anywhere. “Sarah.”
“About time you guys showed up,” she said.
“Had to stop for a burger. Knew you could take care of yourself until we got here.” His words came out gruff, filled with emotion he had no right feeling at the moment. Surprised, he cleared his throat.
She huffed a short laugh that ended on a hiccupped sob. “Right.” She didn’t take her eyes from the man on the floor. “I killed him.”
“No, you didn’t.” He listened to the voice in his ear. “The threat has been neutralized.” They were safe for now. Plan A had worked.
She swiveled her gaze to him. “What?”
“You missed.”
“Not even. I don’t miss.”
“Whatever the case. We need to get out of here.”
She stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m so very glad to see you.”
“Same here.” He gave her a quick squeeze and she gasped. He frowned, but was intent on their next move. “Come on, we’ve got to go before their reinforcements arrive. You ready?”
“As long as there’s room for the other girls. Fatima is injured and needs a doctor.”
“There’s room and we have a medic with us.” He turned to the girls in the cell and, in Pashto, said, “All of you, follow those two soldiers and we’ll get you to safety.”
His Pashto must have been good enough, because the girls hurried from the cell. He stepped over to the fallen teen and her friend who still knelt beside her, hands covered in blood, but still pressing hard. “Don’t take your hands away yet, okay?”
She nodded.
“Gavin?”
He turned. Sarah’s hands clasped her side. She swayed, then sank to her knees.
“Sarah!” He strode back to her. “You’ve been hit.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. I hadn’t noticed.”
He slung the rifle over his shoulder and caught her just as she passed out.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Sarah’s own voice woke her. Terror sent blood racing through her veins and sweat pouring from her brow. She pressed a hand against her racing heart.
Another nightmare. Just another stupid nightmare. She was safe. Her captor was dead. Thanks to her. She’d killed a man and couldn’t stop seeing it. No matter how much she told herself she’d had no choice, the vision of his exploding face wouldn’t leave her.
“Rochelle.” A soft hand gripped hers, the gentle voice propelling her toward the full awareness that she wasn’t alone. “Rochelle, wake up.”
She blinked and sat up, only to have the pain freeze her, rebuking her for moving too fast.
Hands eased her back into a reclining position. “Be careful now, Miss Denning, you’ve got a nasty wound there.”
Sarah looked up at the woman. “Who are you?”
“I’m your nurse. You can call me Yasmoon.”
“Well, thank you, Yasmoon, but I’m fine.” Once again, Sarah shifted. Once again, pain shafted her into stillness.