Page 14 of Zain

No one followedthem as Zain made his way down a road carved between trees.

But they were coming.

He backed the vehicle into the forest, out of sight. He had to walk only half a mile to reach the road that the rest of Jaysh’s men would take to find him.

But they didn’t know he was ready and waiting.

“Stay here,” he said to the woman. “Don’t get out for any reason.” He should probably ask again if she was okay, but he didn’t have the capacity right now. Christ, he’d become socially inept.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and leapt from the vehicle, softly closing the door. He hated that she’d been hurt again. He was being jumped by two men when he heard another drag her out. He’d killed the first two, breaking one’s neck and stabbing the other in the chest. But that bastard who’d had her on the ground—fuck.

For an instant, he’d thought she was already dead. The possibility had made him feel as if he’d touched a live wire. And he’d almost been too late. While fighting the second man, the one who’d made the call on the radio, he’d caught a glimpse of her through the truck windows. The woman knew how to handle herself. What she’d done was more than run-of-the-mill self-defense. Her posture, stance, and capabilities screamed law enforcement. He’d know that training anywhere.

Earlier, she’d tried to offer herself up as a sacrifice, suggesting he leave her and go. That shit irked him but also made him wonder if she was some kind of journalist who’d realized she’d crossed the line and had endangered too many people.

Later, he’d get a better handle on who she was—and maybe he would just let her out in the woods to fend for herself. After all, she had just blown apart everything he’d been working toward.

No, he could never do that, even if she was a careless journalist. Even if she was another type of operative. Even if she was a spy. She couldn’t be more than thirty years old. He was thirty-two, but he still shouldered more responsibility.

At the end of the day, he’d incited all this chaos to keep a woman from a fate worse than he could imagine. So as pissy as he was, he’d only fantasize about ditching her.

He stomped to the back of the truck. Every vehicle held a crate of weapons. He had to hurrybefore he missed Jaysh’s men. Jumping in the back, he ripped off the lid of the crate and pulled out a few hand grenades and another magazine for his rifle.

He moved swiftly down the dirt trail. The men wouldn’t be too far behind, but there were several small clearings and paths—a ton of places they could’ve gone. Hopefully they kept to the main road.

The roar of approaching engines relaxed his muscles. He could handle battle and death. That shit didn’t faze him. Women on the other hand, well fuck. He was out of touch with that area. He stayed hidden in the bushes and watched as the first truck came barreling down the road.

He brought the grenade to his mouth and pulled the pin with his teeth. He’d have to step out of the bushes to make a calculated throw at the moving target.

He held his breath as he counted the clicks of the truck. A little more, a little more...

Zain stepped out of hiding, drew back his arm, and threw the grenade. In a split second the headlights swallowed his body and gunshots fired. He dove to the ground as the grenade exploded.

He watched with his arms over his head as the first truck flipped on its top and the second swerved around it, rolling off the road.

Flames licked the first vehicle. Zain got to his feet and seized his rifle. He broke into a jog,crouching low, his finger on the trigger. Every one of them would have to die. Reaching the first vehicle, he located three men. Only one stirred, his movements slow. Blood swallowed his face. Without a second thought, Zain blasted two bullets in him and in the two dead guys for good measure.

Breaking away from the scene, he rushed to the second vehicle, which was on its side. One man crawled out of the passenger door. Zain shot him in the chest, and he went down with only a grunt. Then Zain circled around to the windshield and fired two shots at the driver, who appeared already dead.

That was it. No one else. The pressure on his chest eased but only a fraction.

More would come.

***

Heat scalded Dana’scheek. She touched the tender, swollen flesh and winced. Then she brought her fingers to her scalp. If he’d ripped out a handful of hair she couldn’t tell based on thickness, but the skin smarted.

Everything hurt. With every swallow, she felt as though daggers were slicing her throat, the tendons in her neck ached, and her head still swam from getting the wind knocked out of her. But what did bumps and bruises matter when she might not live to see the next day?

Dana mopped the tears off her cheeks with the heel of her palm. Stupid. All along she’d assumed Zain was some tortured soldier. A captive held against his will and someone in need of rescue. Whoever he was, Zain was certainly not that.

He’d taken out several men without hesitation. For all she knew, he’d do the same to her. Well, perhaps not. He’d saved her life several times now.

But still. He seemed furious she was here. Angry she’d found him. Who would feel that way unless he’d swapped to the other side? A terrorist happy just to kill. Someone who didn’t care who was on the receiving end of his weapon. That’s who.

Now she was screwed. She stared out the windshield, but she couldn’t see a damn thing but trees swathed in darkness.

Bam!

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