CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Nomar
I squintin the bright sun, scanning the airfield for anything out of place. We’re far enough from the rest of the airport the breeze carries only a hint of jet fuel.
Austin stands stiffly outside the terminal door. Two plus years retired and the man still hasn’t learned to relax. Not that I’m surprised. With a curt nod, he heads in our direction.
“We’re clear. Lisette, stay close.”
She huffs and picks up my duffel bag. I’ve got her roller bag and the silver case holding Griff’s arm. The former CIA officer is in a world of hurt, and removed his prosthetic right after takeoff.
We barely make it down the stairs before Austin hustles over and relieves Griff of his rucksack. “Our flight to Kabul doesn’t leave until 14:30. You’re going straight to the nearest health center to get checked out.”
He nods, a testament to how much pain he’s in. I woke up a couple of times on the flight to find him rearranging bags of ice around what’s left of his arm. “If I see the asshole who jumped me, I’m dislocating his shoulder before I kill him.”
“Lisette? I’m Austin. How are you holding up?”
Her gaze pings between Pritchard and Griff before she shifts subtly closer to me. It gives me hope I haven’t completely ruined things between us. “Where is my son? Has he landed in Afghanistan yet?”
“Zephyr was able to track their flight. They’re about ninety minutes from Kabul.” Austin gestures toward the terminal. “We should get a move on. Griff needs medical, I’m on supplies, and Nomar can reach out to his contacts to see if he can pull in some local muscle. Leo—he used to work with Trevor—should be here in a couple of hours.”
“You got a place I can talk in private? Or am I doing all this from the car?” I ask.
“You’ll see.” Austin grins, and I resist the urge to rearrange his smile. He sent me to Shapur, stalled on my exfil plan, and left his fucking post without saying a goddamn word. Maybe if he’d gotten me out like he promised, none of this would have happened.
Or maybe we’d still be here praying for a miracle.
Lisette and I squeeze into the back of the rented FIAT. I can feel her discomfort. Her fear. Everything. From the moment we met, she’s been strong. But now, she’s seconds away from shattering into pieces.
Austin’s GPS calls out directions, and twenty minutes later, he pulls up to the Five Points Istanbul. “Zephyr should have sent you a room number, and your phone unlocks the door. She’s monitoring the hotel security cameras. This is the safest place in the entire country at the moment. Food’s pretty good too. Text me your shopping list, and I’ll do my best.”
* * *
I standat the window on the twenty-second floor of the luxury hotel suite, staring out over the city. Lisette picks at her pizza and Caesar salad, her gaze locked on her phone.
Zephyr’s catching a couple of hours of sleep, but as soon as we take off for Kabul, she’s promised to tell us everything she’s found on Raziq Ali.
“Lisette, please eat more.” I sink into the chair next to her and take a bite of my burger. It’ll be nothing but MREs and protein bars once we get to Kabul, and I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.
“If I do, I will throw up. Go back to your phone calls, Nomar. I cannot do this with you right now.” She tries to turn away, but I cup the back of her neck and force her to look at me.
“Do what? Exist in the same room? I love you, Lisette.”
“Stop,” she whispers and shakes her head.
“No. After we get Mateen back, I’ll walk away. You’ll never have to see me again. But I won’t—Ican’t—stop loving you. So for the next twenty-four hours, you’re stuck with me.”
“What do you expect me to say to that?” She twists out of my hold and puts as much space between us as the room allows. “You are not a parent. You cannot possibly understand what I am going through.”
Fuck. A kick to the balls would have hurt less. She’s right. Mateen isn’t my son. But though I’ve only spent a couple days with the kid, I want the chance for more. For a lifetime of more.
“Tell me.” I pin my gaze to hers, begging silently for the smallest opening. The slightest chance we might have some sort of a future together.
Her shoulders slump, but before she can speak, my phone buzzes on the table.
“Shit. This guy only checks his messages once a week. If I don’t answer now, I’ll lose him.”
The relief on her face pisses me off. Though I shouldn’t be surprised. She thinks I’m an asshole, and she’s right.
