“Get him up,” Range barked, weapon moving back and forth, holding the others at bay as she slipped her arm under her friend’s and helped him stand. “Go,” he instructed, his gaze still on the foul men of this village. “If you come after us, you will not live to see the dawn.”
Hurrying Zaki to the street, she felt … numb. Could not process what happened. Worried her only childhood friend would die before they could get him help.
“Here,” Range said, indicating to a small sedan, windows still rolled down and engine left running.
She helped Zaki into the back and sat down. Barely closed the door when they whipped away from the mosque. In minutes, they pulled into his courtyard. Parked. Helped Zaki into the house, where his mom flew into a frantic frenzy, shouting she would get the doctor and vanished.
“Can you patch him?” Range asked.
Kasra faltered. “What?”
“I need to pack our truck, so we can leave.”
“Now?”
“Two minutes ago.”
“No, he needs a doctor. We—”
“Go,” Zaki said, his color very pale, a ghostly sheen. “I have had worse.”
Range considered him for a second, then gave a grim nod and stalked off.
“You have not had worse,” Kasra argued.
“I will be okay.” He hissed a breath and slumped against the wall. He slid down.
“Zaki!” Kasra tried to help him. “Range, we need a doctor.”
“Kasra,” Zaki wheezed. “Please—I am at peace.”
“You will be fine. Just wait. The doctor is coming.”
Gear in hand, Range stalked down the hall. He squatted, his face still painted with that grim expression and some pain.
“I am sorry,” Zaki whispered to him. “Take care of her … yes?”
“Zaki, just hold on.” She looked toward the door. “Where is the doctor?”
“Kas,” Range said quietly. “We leave in two. Understood?”
“We can’t leave him!”
“Be at peace.” After touching Zaki’s shoulder, Range went outside with the gear.
“Please,” her friend said, “I do this … maybe make a wrong right?”
Crying made her eyes and face hurt, but she could not stand this. “There is nothing to make right, Zaki.”
“I am sorry for what I did … to you.” His hand flopped, reaching for hers, so she held it. “You are married … good man…” A strange whistle came from his throat and he wheezed his last. Head lolled to the side.
“Noo!” she wailed. “Please, please, Zaki.” She shifted forward, hooked his head and hugged him. “You silly fool.” She kissed his temple.
“Kas, they’re coming down the street. We have to go.”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Bexar-Wolfe Lodge, Northern Virginia
