Maybe he wasn't there. They could be in Africa or the Middle East. Maybe they were in Northern Europe.
Ansley opened her eyes to see the roof of the ambassador's house fall in, so none of the frame remained above the second story. Her heart clenched. She wished she'd turned on music instead of the TV. She didn't need to see this.
If Link were in there and he hadn't made it out, the video of this scene would haunt her forever. Her mind twisted over all the crap she'd gone through going into hot zones, the explosions, the gunfire, the people hell bent on causing havoc. They'd run the gauntlet of land mines, booby traps, and angry mobs. War was hell on earth, and loving someone who walked into it was crazy.
She wanted to turn off the TV, but she needed to wait for the sound bite that declared everyone was okay. Her heart wouldn’tstabilize until she knew. Even if it wasn’t Link’s team, she wanted them all to be safe.
Knowing the intricacies of war was a detriment. If she could be ignorant in this moment, it would be better. She would trade her knowledge and training for the simplicity of not knowing how dangerous the situation was.
Sitting here wasn’t helping her. The dishes needed to be cleaned, and she could vacuum and mop the floors. Anything to get her up off the couch.
Though it physically hurt her heart, she punched the power button on the TV remote, cutting off the anchor mid-sentence. Later, after all the misinformation had cleared up and something closer to the truth came out, she would find an article or some video that told her what happened.
Ansley spent the next four hours cleaning. Not that Link’s house was messy, but she did all the weird cleaning tasks that usually only were tackled once a year.
Exhaustion made her weary, and she dropped to the couch, pulling out her phone to look at headlines. She found an article about the rescue of the ambassador. Buried deep in the article, there was one line stating that the members of the USA military who'd gone in to rescue the ambassador got out safely.
Ansley burst into tears. She didn’t know if it was Link, but she thought they might have been the ones who were tasked with saving the ambassador. Whoever it was inside that house, whatever team they were associated with, she was glad they were all okay.
She curled into a ball and cried with her head on the armrest of the couch, relief running through her like a cool stream.
Maybe she drifted off, or maybe she was just in that liminal space between sleep and being awake when the front door opened.
She blinked open her eyes, wondering if it was Link. But that didn't make sense. Link was overseas. Her phone, which was tucked under her arm, hadn't buzzed or pinged.
She pushed herself up, blinking as she stared at the dark entryway. No lights. When had the sun set?
The door slammed, then the lights flipped on. Horror filled her. It wasn't Link. Instead, Pete stood in the entryway, his smile too wide for the dead look in his eyes.
Then it hit her, she hadn’t turned the alarm back on after the package delivery. She was totally screwed.
Chapter 41
Link peeled his clothes off,glad he hadn't actually caught fire. His skin was a little toasty, but he would cool off. There weren't any blisters on his neck or back, unlike Mick.
They were okay, a few sore muscles, bruises aplenty, sore backs, and knees, but they were alive. Mick had some blisters on the back of his neck, but they would heal.
The ambassador was alive, though he was shaken. His wife and kids had been out of town when the attack happened. The loss of life of a few of the house staff was sad, but it could have been much worse. The ambassador was taking time to call the family of the staff who hadn’t made it. Link thought that was good.
Another team could have gone in with the same results, or they could have done better, preventing the explosive devices from going off. They hadn’t seen the devices, so maybe it would have been better, or it could have been so much worse.
Link had taken the kill shot. He knew it would stay with him for a while, but he would work through it in therapy. He had Tetris on his phone, a game he played after every mission to help regulate his thoughts. He'd still need to go to therapy, talkto someone about what happened, but the kill had been good. The man had been planning on killing the ambassador. That had been evident from his stance and the determined look in his eyes.
“Hey, Link, you good?” Chase asked as he stepped from the shower.
“Yeah. I’m good. You?”
Chase rolled his shoulder. “Just sore. Nothing a dip in the hot tub and some pain killers can’t take care of.”
“Oh, a hot tub sounds good,” Stanley said.
“I’d love to take a long nap,” Bean said.
“I want pizza,” Keel said.
“I want ice,” Mick said.
They all chuckled at that one. They'd survived hell and come out on the other side. The terrorist, whoever he was, had meant to create chaos, and he had in a way, but he hadn't won. Maybe he thought he could strong-arm the USA or Germany into doing his bidding, but now he was just some dead guy who failed.
