I swallow hard to clear the lump in my throat. “Zephyr, if we’re all headed home by dinner tomorrow—safe—I’llbuy you those CPUs.”
“Careful there, Nomar,” Austin warns. “Unless you have an extra twenty grand lying around. You can’t get what she needs off the shelf from Computers-R-Us.”
For the next half an hour, no one says a word. Lisette keeps her head bowed, her fingers fluttering over the hem of the headpiece that covers her down to her thighs. The rest of us keep watch out the windows.
Twice, Austin takes a detour, worried he saw the same car more than once, but I pull out one of the mini surveillance cameras and angle it out the back window so Zephyr can run her pattern matching program on any vehicle behind us.
It’s almost 10:00 p.m. by the time we get to a house on the edge of the city. One of the Viper’s contacts used to live here, but he moved to Kandahar last month and the place stands empty.
I hustle over to the gate and pick the lock. It opens with a metallic scream, but this neighborhood was bombed last year, and most of the residents left long before Farid came to his senses and bolted.
The eight-foot cement wall around the place will give us enough privacy, no one should know we’re here.
Once Austin pulls in, I shut the gate and jog back to the car. Lisette opens her door, but I shake my head. “Stay with Leo and Austin, sweetheart. Griff and I need to clear the house first.”
Her shoulders stiffen, and I’d bet she’s angry with me, but I can’t help the term of endearment. It doesn’t matter that we’re over before we could even begin. I love her, and that will never change.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lisette
I wanderthrough the old house and wonder about the people who used to live here.
The walls are painted in bright, almost feminine colors. Several throw pillows with intricately embroidered designs linger in the corners of the main room. A doll lies abandoned in the bedroom. A woman and at least one child lived here. Were they happy?
Is any woman truly happy in Afghanistan?
Griff and Leo secure black tarp over the single window. “You can take the burka off now,” the younger man says. He moves carefully, and when he drops to a knee to rummage in one of his bags, lines of pain tighten around his eyes. Two broken ribs, and he has not complained once.
Ripping off the light blue material, I take my first deep breath since we left the plane. “When will Nomar and Austin be back?”
Leo checks his watch. “Couple of hours. You should try to get some rest. You too, Iron Man. I’ll take first watch.”
“That’s Titanium Man, Grandpa.” Griff unclips two bedrolls from the nearest bag and passes one to me. “If the perimeter alarms go off, my phone will vibrate and itshouldwake me up. But if not, kick my boot. Don’t get any closer unless you want me to lay you out flat.” He plugs his glasses and mobile into a portable battery, then stretches out on his back. “I’ll relieve you in two hours.”
I tuck the thin pad under my arm and start for the bedroom, but Leo calls my name. “We stay together. Sleep in here.” After a beat, he adds, “Please.”
Choosing the corner farthest from the other two men, I pick up one of the throw pillows and beat it with my fist. A cloud of dust clogs my throat, and my eyes water.
“Can you shoot?” Leo asks.
“Yes. But it has been a very long time.”
He passes me a small pistol. “Safety’s off and there’s a round in the chamber. Keep it close.”
The gun is heavy in my hand. Warm. Not at all reassuring. But I set it next to the bedroll.
Leo rights an overturned chair and sits facing the door, an M4 rifle resting on his thighs.
I fold the head covering over the throw pillow and curl onto my side. But every sound frightens me. The chair creaks when Leo shifts his weight. Griff lets out a single soft snore. A car passes on the street outside.
The scent of coffee fills the room, and I push up on an elbow. Leo sets an open thermos on the floor next to him.
I watch him for several minutes, wishing I could be half as calm as he seems. “Do you have paper and a pen?” I ask.
The older man points to the bag closest to me. “Front pocket. You’ll find a small notebook and pen. Why?”
Tears prick at my eyes. “I will never speak to my parents or my sister again. Will you…if I write them a note, will you deliver it for me? When I am gone?”
