“If you wanted my team’s help, you could’ve picked up the phone. Instead, you risked your life by putting a damn knife to my throat.”
“I know how it looks, but you don’t understand. Please, Donovan. I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you?” Donovan’s deep huff held no signs of actual humor as he pushed himself back up to his feet. “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.”
He didn’t say another word before turning and walking away.
Well that certainly could have gone better.
With a deep sigh, she watched him return to the groupof not-so-small men still gathered toward the cabin’s front. She couldn’t tell what he was saying to his teammates, however it didn’t require super-human hearing to understand their feelings toward the news Donovan had just shared.
Shock. Frustration. Utter disbelief.
A short moment later, almost as if the men of Eagle’s Nest had rehearsed it, they all simultaneously turned their heads and looked her way. Kaamisha kept herself in check, refusing to wilt like a withering flower beneath their intimidating stares.
She’d known this would be an uphill battle, at best. But they had to believe her. Theyhadto. Or, at the very least, she needed them to listen to what she had to say.
Donovan started toward her once again, his black boots silently striking the carpet with each of his broad, purposeful steps. One by one, his teammates fell in line behind him, and within seconds, she was surrounded by five men who wanted her dead.
“Miss Dawari, like I said back at the hotel, I’m Logan?—”
“Hayes,” she finished for him. “Former leader of one of the most decorated DEVGRU teams in Navy SEAL history. And you’re Archer Nash.” Her gaze slid to the man with dark, wavy hair, a matching, trimmed beard, and dark brown eyes that studied her closely. “Demolitions expert, if I’m not mistaken.”
“You’re not.” Archer held her stare, his expression as unreadable as the others.
Shifting her focus to the man on Archer’s left, Kaamisha said, “Jason Lucas, the team’s technical analyst. Although, you typically go by ‘Lucky’. And, from what I’ve been told, you, Chase Boyer”—Kaamisha’s gaze landed on the final member of the team—“are a very talented sniper.”
“You’ve done your research.” Logan crossed his arms at his chest. “Is that supposed to impress us?”
“I don’t need to impress you, Mr. Hayes. I just need you to hear what it is I have to say.”
“So talk.” The deep command came from Donovan, who was standing much like Logan. Arms crossed and a look of contention etched on his stone-cold face.
Kaamisha filled her lungs with a long, steely breath before releasing it in a slow and steady stream. A silent prayer was sent up as she asked for the words that would compel these men to hear drove through her mind.
Knowing this was most likely the only chance she’d have to convince them she wasn’t a murderer, she parted her lips and told them everything as she knew it.
“I grew up in Kandahar, but my parents wanted more for me than what most women achieve in that part of the world. Even when I was a teenager, they anticipated the return of another extremist Taliban rule. They saved every penny they could, and I worked twice as hard as anyone else in my classes. By some miracle, I was selected to receive a grant which allowed me to attend college in the United States.”
“You were a political science major attending CSU in Northridge on a student visa,” Lucky added. “You received a bachelor’s degree before going on to graduate school and, until four years ago, you were also in the process of becoming a bonafide American Citizen.”
Kaamisha’s chest grew tight with regret. “Dual citizenship was always a dream of mine. I was so close, too.” She smiled sadly. “But then I got word from my mother that my father had grown ill. Rather than enroll in the following semester’s courses, I packed up my things and returned to Afghanistan.”
“So you could help your mother care for your father,” Chase surmised.
His tone was a bit softer, and the look in his pretty blue eyes was a touch less threatening than before.
“Yes.” She swallowed, confirming his statement. “Unfortunately, his cancer was aggressive, and within six months,my father was dead. I stayed in Kandahar for the next three years, helping my mother. She finally convinced me that she would be fine on her own, and I made arrangements to return to my studies. Then, a week before I was scheduled to fly back to California?—”
“Your mother was shot and killed.”
Kaamisha looked up at Logan and nodded. “Suddenly, it was just me. I was all alone, and the only thing I had left of my family were the small home I where I grew up and my memories.”
A stretch of silence passed before Donovan grumbled an impatient, “This little history lesson on your life is great and all, but how about we skip to the part where you ended up in that alley?”
She couldn’t blame him or his teammates for being angry or untrusting. They had obviously been misled about her and her motives, just as she had been about them.
“A few days after my mother was killed, I returned home from the market to find a large envelope waiting for me on my kitchen table. There was no postmark. No return address. Only my name written on the front.”
