HOSTILE: A Military Romance Novel (Military Men Book 1) (11 page)

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They were good, I’d give them that. The members of the Taliban who were tracking me didn’t let me out of their sight for even a moment. Every step I took, they took with me.

I needed to shake them and get back to Ariana before something stupid happened. She would be nervous now that she was alone, wondering where the hell I was. It wasn’t ideal separating, but I couldn’t risk both of us being followed.

The bastards tracking me could easily take me out. I wasn’t delusional enough to believe they didn’t have guns or knives on them. The reason why they hadn’t yet was worrying me.

Did they think I was going to lead them to my base? Did they have orders to capture and not kill? There were plenty of scenarios I played out in my mind, but I couldn’t decide on just one.

Whatever their reasons, I needed to shake them. If we were still out playing this game of cat and mouse after dark, it would not end well. They could hide all kinds of traps in the shadows.

I was tired of walking, hungry, thirsty, and antsy. I wished I had my gun. If I hadn’t lost it when that motherfucker had hijacked our truck, I would have felt much better. It would have at least leveled the playing field.

The streets were narrow and filled with obstacles like large chunks out of the sidewalk. I hastened my pace, slipping down alleyways that seemed too thin to actually go anywhere and employing every bit of my training to give them the slip.

I walked a large circle around the hotel where Ariana and I had parted ways. The last thing I wanted to do was leave it completely – there was no guarantee I’d be able to find it again if I strayed too far.

The fuckers were still on my tail, remaining just far enough back to make sure their message was clear but not close enough for me to get a good look at them. They were the shadows that lurked around every corner, the footsteps my ears strained to hear over my heartbeat.

A covered marketplace was coming up in the distance. Finally, my luck was turning. It would be a lot easier to lose them somewhere crowded like that. Hopefully it was peak time for the buyers and sellers.

I hurried to enter and wove an intricate pattern through the stalls. It was about half-full of people, still making it difficult to slip away from my followers.

Around and around I went.

Until I realized why they weren’t doing anything to capture me.

It was a diversion.

The moment the realization hit me, I could feel the truth of it in my gut. They were using me, keeping me busy so they go after what they really wanted.

Ariana.

I burst out of the first exit I saw, frantically looking around to gather my bearings. I needed to get to her before it was too late. It was so stupid of me to leave her, to think the Taliban were solely after me. It was a mistake that could cost an innocent person her life.

I had to get to her before they did.

How long had they been following me? How many minutes had I wasted leading them away when that’s exactly what they wanted? Get rid of me, and their comrades could swoop in and take Ariana.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

My gut was sick with panic and worry while my feet pounded on the dusty pavement. The burning in my side didn’t matter, not when Ariana’s life was at stake. I’d made it so easy for the Taliban. I’d left her vulnerable and alone.

So fucking stupid.

All the streets looked the same when I was running, every delay costing me seconds I didn’t have. The distance between Ariana and me seemed to be impossible. I couldn’t get back to her fast enough.

Finally, I burst into the hotel.

People were going about their business, talking on phones, waiting for elevators, speaking in low voices. I didn’t recognize any of them.

Ariana was gone.

There was no trace of her anywhere. I rushed up to the check-in counter and tapped the bell impatiently until a man came over. “I’m looking for a woman,” I said. “She’s about this high, dark hair, brown eyes. She’s a Westerner. Have you seen her?”

He nodded, at least understanding English. “Yes, she was here.”

“Where did she go? Did you see?”

“She went with a man.”

“What did he look like? When did she leave?” I craved details, needed to know everything. Already I was trying to work out where I would begin to look for her.

“He wasn’t a Westerner. They left a few minutes ago. That is all, I’m sorry.” The guy left me to attend to his customers. I wanted to call him back and demand more answers, but what else could he tell me?

The Taliban had taken her.

Ariana had been kidnapped.

And I’d let it happen.

I stepped back out onto the street, searching everywhere for a glimpse of her, or even a hint of where they went.

It was like she’d just disappeared into thin air. There was no trace of the woman, not even the lingering scent of her shampoo that I had locked into my memory.

Gone.

Vanished.

Along with the enemy.

My followers were no longer tracking me. They’d served their purpose and kept me apart from Ariana. They had her now; they didn’t need me any longer.

The city suddenly seemed massive when I was searching for one woman. I couldn’t leave her; there was no option for me to abandon her. I would spend the rest of my life looking for her if that’s what it took.

I started walking, going up and down every street. In my head I laid out a grid, making sure I didn’t miss anything and covered all the area I could before nightfall.

There were no traces of her. I wished I had a photo I could show people. Asking them if they’d seen a Western woman wasn’t very effective. The language barrier was too great to overcome in most cases. The few that spoke English were too scared to speak with me. The Taliban had them fearful too.

By nightfall I was still walking. I’d stolen some food to quell my relentless hunger, but there was nothing for my aching feet. I couldn’t give up, I had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do.

Eventually I had no choice. I had to rest. It had to be well past midnight and the streetlights were all turned off. I could barely see my hands in front of my face. I strayed into an alleyway and curled up in the corner.

Sleep took me away fitfully.

* * *

The next day was the same, walking and searching. I tried to remember every minute of my training, searching for buildings that looked like they might be bases for the Taliban.

The problem was they blended in too well. Members of the Taliban looked and lived just like their fellow countrymen. There was no red uniform or membership badge that set them apart from everyone else. I could have passed by the building Ariana was being kept in and there was no way to know.

I wanted to punch something.

Kill someone.

I must have walked for miles upon miles during the day. My search was endless and hopeless. All I could pray for was that Ariana was still alive and they hadn’t done everything I knew they were capable of to her.

Everything they did to her was blood on my hands. It was my fault that I hadn’t protected her. I was the one with the training. I should have worked out their plan sooner. It was me who had let her be taken.

Just before dusk, I spotted something. I suspected my eyes were playing tricks on me, showing me something that I wanted to see and not the hopeless truth that was surrounding me.

A second glance and he was still there.

A US military soldier.

He was in full uniform, his armor heavy and his gun at his side. He was standing beside a truck, one I knew belonged to the American Army.

I approached cautiously, well aware that I looked far from being a soldier myself. I didn’t want to give him a reason to use that gun.

“Comrade,” I said by way of greeting.

His Army patch said Fellows, and he eyed me with suspicion, his fingers gripping the gun a little tighter. “Identify yourself.”

I stood tall, trying to look at least a little like my old self. “Corporal Derrick Watson from the fourteenth platoon. I was on a mission that was ambushed ten days ago. My squad got separated.”

Fellows gave me a good once-over before he stuck out his hand for me to shake. “Welcome back, Watson. They’ve been looking for you.”

A flush of relief washed over me, allowing me just a moment to be happy. It was enough to restore my hope. Maybe now I would be able to find Ariana; maybe now I would have help.

Not that I deserved it.

“Do you know what happened to the rest of my platoon?” I asked hopefully.

“No, sir, I don’t. Sorry.”

“My mission was to protect some civilians,” I started before telling him the whole story. He listened intently while still keeping an eye on our surroundings. He didn’t ask any questions until the end, well trained by the military to listen before speaking.

“Are you sure the Taliban took her? She couldn’t have wandered off?” Fellows asked.

I wanted to punch him, but a part of me knew he had to ask the question. “I’m certain of it. She wouldn’t have deserted me without telling me. I promise you that.”

“We’d better get back and discuss it with our superiors. If the Taliban have an American civilian, then we are all in trouble.”

I nodded, and Fellows used his radio to call in our position and status. A scratchy voice on the other end confirmed they’d heard and understood everything that was communicated.

Being in a military vehicle was a relief. I could get help now. My brothers would do all they could to locate Ariana and get her home safely. I was alone no longer in my search.

The base was about thirty miles out of the city. I hated every mile that took me further away from Ariana, but I would return with help. We’d find her in no time.

We had to.

Otherwise, she was in serious danger.

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It had all happened so quickly. One minute I was sitting in the hotel foyer and the next I was surrounded by men I didn’t know.

They weren’t the kind of men who accepted no for an answer. They didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go with them. Two had grabbed my arms, one on each side, and they’d hauled me out to their waiting car.

The moment they had me in their captivity they placed a black sack over my head, cutting off my sight and muffling my hearing. Not that it really mattered. They spoke in a language I didn’t understand, in sharp tones that told me they were angry.

We drove around for a long time in the car. I counted the different voices; there had to be six of them there with me. We were crammed in and the air stunk like body odor. The smell, combined with the stifling heat, made me so nauseous I had to bite down to stop myself throwing up.

When the car finally came to a stop and the engine was cut, I knew true panic. They couldn’t do much to me in the vehicle, but in their private lair, they could do whatever they wanted. It wasn’t like they respected the law, or Westerners.

I wondered how long it would take Derrick to realize I was gone and start to panic. Surely he would know I hadn’t left on purpose and was in desperate need of his help? He knew me that well. At least, I hoped so. If he didn’t start looking for me, then nobody would.

I had to believe Derrick would rescue me; otherwise I wouldn’t be able to breathe. My life couldn’t end with these terrorists. It wasn’t how I’d ever imagined my future to be. I was supposed to grow old, not be tortured by the Taliban. This was never supposed to happen.

They pushed me along, my head still in the sack. They’d secured it around my neck a little too tightly, the rope digging into my throat painfully. Fearful didn’t even begin to describe the feeling of being their captive.

We entered a building, the noises of the road dying away and giving over to the quietness. My feet shuffled along while the men jostled around me. We were probably moving down a corridor, and there wasn’t enough room for us all to walk together.

I was pushed into a chair, my arms tugged behind me and tied with rope around the back. They left me there for some time before a man pulled the sack from my head.

My eyes blinked in the sudden light as I tried to take in my new surroundings. It was a dirty and dingy room, tiny but illuminated with strip lighting on the ceiling. It held only two chairs – one I was sitting in and one the man was perched on.

“You are in trouble,” he said. All his teeth were yellowed, his eyes as black as the night. There was no gentleness or humanity in his gaze. He saw me as an object and nothing more.

“Please let me go,” I begged. “I promise I will leave your country as quickly as I can.”

His lips quirked into a sneer. “You are going nowhere, bitch. You think your government will save you? Think again. You are all alone here, with only me, and I will not show you any mercy. You are an infidel.”

All I had was my voice, and I planned on using it as a weapon any way I could. “I’m a reporter. I came here to Afghanistan to tell the story of your people. I was trying to make the Westerners understand your side of the story.”

He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. His clothes would have been white once; now they were as gray as the steel on the chair we sat on. “You are here to tell lies. Lies about the Afghan people, to further your war.”

“I’m not. I don’t agree with the war. Please, you’ve got to believe me.”

Apparently he didn’t. He reached forward and slapped me across the face – hard. My head jerked to the side with the impact, the taste of blood fresh in my mouth. The sting of the impact came a moment later, making my whole cheek burn.

“I don’t believe anything you say.” He spat the words at me and walked out, slamming the door behind him. I was all alone in my tiny cell, still bound to the seat and unable to move.

It was a living nightmare.

Thoughts of Derrick flooded into my mind, trying to distract me from my situation. We had been fighting the last time we had had a real conversation. It had come after the sexy night we’d had together.

If that was the last time I saw him, I regretted it. He’d tried to push me away and I had let him, when in fact all I’d wanted to do was hold on to him. Maybe he was glad I had been taken. He would be able to find his fellow soldiers faster without me.

A feeling deep in the pit of my stomach told me he really did care, though. I had seen the soft side of him; he’d shown me his true self before he shoved the walls back into place. The real Derrick would be looking for me.

I had to believe that.

Otherwise, there was absolutely no hope for me.