Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set by Patricia Rosemoor, Toni Anderson, REBECCA YORK, Dana Marton, Sharon Hamilton, Kaylea Cross, Debra Burroughs, Lori Ryan, Jill Sanders, Marie Astor Page A
Authors: Patricia Rosemoor, Toni Anderson, REBECCA YORK, Dana Marton, Sharon Hamilton, Kaylea Cross, Debra Burroughs, Lori Ryan, Jill Sanders, Marie Astor
Tags: Suspense, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Military, romantic suspense, Mystery & Suspense, Dangerous Attraction
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come running over the hill at any moment, dressed in a nun’s habit and singing her heart out. The high mountain peaks soared skyward, yet untouched by the coming snows, and lush, deep valleys nestled amongst the foothills. Tribal villages lay scattered here over the valley, yet less than an hour ago they’d passed the largest ski resort in all of Pakistan.
She shifted in her seat and gazed out at the scenery. Aside from the deceptive beauty she was all too aware that these were not the Swiss Alps. The Pakistani military had a strong presence in the valley but it was the Taliban who truly reigned here, forcing the vulnerable civilians to conform to their strict interpretation of Islamic Sharia law at the point of a gun or knife. It seemed surreal but here in these bucolic hamlets women were subjugated by men, forced into a state of near slavery and some sequestered in their homes without being able to set foot outside without permission from their husband or village elder. It was so hard to reconcile that reality with the breathtaking view outside her window.
“Another ten minutes or so,” Gage announced from behind the wheel. She was in the back sandwiched between Ellis and Dunphy—or Blake and Sean, as they’d told her to call them. She’d met them for the first time that morning when Gage had come to get her just before three. On the way here they’d stopped outside of Saidu Sharif to pick up the interpreter, Zaid. The late twenty-something Pakistani sat in the front passenger seat beside Gage, speaking only when spoken to and with the trace of a British accent. All the men were dressed in camouflage gear and ready for business. The silence inside the vehicle didn’t seem to be bothering anyone but her. Tension continued to build inside her, already bad enough that her stomach ached.
“There it is.”
At Gage’s words she leaned forward to peer through the windshield, heart beating fast and a nervous flutter in her belly. Seconds later her father’s legacy came into view. She’d only seen pictures of it until now. Seeing it in person put a lump in her throat.
By western standards the school wasn’t much. Positioned in a clearing between two small villages, the one story white cinderblock building sat in the midst of lush grazing land and held only three classrooms. It was still better than anything this area had seen for years, since the Taliban’s initial campaign against girls’ education.
Her father had chosen this location with care, making sure the playground was built at the rear of the building for added protection against snipers or other threats. Khalia squeezed her hands together in her lap and bit the inside of her cheek against the sudden rise of tears. This was the dream her father had died for. She wished he’d been here to see it made a reality.
You mean you wish he was here instead of you, her conscience chided.
Yeah, a little, but Hunter’s final instructions to her last night were hard to forget. Even though he’d made it clear the contingency plan was only in place for an emergency, the need for its existence still weighed heavily on her mind.
“Here we go.” Gage’s voice and demeanor were perfectly calm. She wished she had half his confidence about being here. The vehicle rocked and jostled on the rough road leading toward the school. “Looks like Ray’s already waiting for you.”
She peered out the right rear window past Blake’s shoulder to see Ray standing out front of the school with a group of who she assumed were the staff members. He was smiling as he spoke to the middle aged woman beside him. Khalia expelled a slow breath, hoping none of the others noticed her anxiety. They were all experienced soldiers and probably already thought she was weak and helpless after her reaction to the bombings yesterday, so she didn’t want to prove them right.
Gage stopped a good distance from the school and pulled out his hand held radio that matched the one Hunter had given
She shifted in her seat and gazed out at the scenery. Aside from the deceptive beauty she was all too aware that these were not the Swiss Alps. The Pakistani military had a strong presence in the valley but it was the Taliban who truly reigned here, forcing the vulnerable civilians to conform to their strict interpretation of Islamic Sharia law at the point of a gun or knife. It seemed surreal but here in these bucolic hamlets women were subjugated by men, forced into a state of near slavery and some sequestered in their homes without being able to set foot outside without permission from their husband or village elder. It was so hard to reconcile that reality with the breathtaking view outside her window.
“Another ten minutes or so,” Gage announced from behind the wheel. She was in the back sandwiched between Ellis and Dunphy—or Blake and Sean, as they’d told her to call them. She’d met them for the first time that morning when Gage had come to get her just before three. On the way here they’d stopped outside of Saidu Sharif to pick up the interpreter, Zaid. The late twenty-something Pakistani sat in the front passenger seat beside Gage, speaking only when spoken to and with the trace of a British accent. All the men were dressed in camouflage gear and ready for business. The silence inside the vehicle didn’t seem to be bothering anyone but her. Tension continued to build inside her, already bad enough that her stomach ached.
“There it is.”
At Gage’s words she leaned forward to peer through the windshield, heart beating fast and a nervous flutter in her belly. Seconds later her father’s legacy came into view. She’d only seen pictures of it until now. Seeing it in person put a lump in her throat.
By western standards the school wasn’t much. Positioned in a clearing between two small villages, the one story white cinderblock building sat in the midst of lush grazing land and held only three classrooms. It was still better than anything this area had seen for years, since the Taliban’s initial campaign against girls’ education.
Her father had chosen this location with care, making sure the playground was built at the rear of the building for added protection against snipers or other threats. Khalia squeezed her hands together in her lap and bit the inside of her cheek against the sudden rise of tears. This was the dream her father had died for. She wished he’d been here to see it made a reality.
You mean you wish he was here instead of you, her conscience chided.
Yeah, a little, but Hunter’s final instructions to her last night were hard to forget. Even though he’d made it clear the contingency plan was only in place for an emergency, the need for its existence still weighed heavily on her mind.
“Here we go.” Gage’s voice and demeanor were perfectly calm. She wished she had half his confidence about being here. The vehicle rocked and jostled on the rough road leading toward the school. “Looks like Ray’s already waiting for you.”
She peered out the right rear window past Blake’s shoulder to see Ray standing out front of the school with a group of who she assumed were the staff members. He was smiling as he spoke to the middle aged woman beside him. Khalia expelled a slow breath, hoping none of the others noticed her anxiety. They were all experienced soldiers and probably already thought she was weak and helpless after her reaction to the bombings yesterday, so she didn’t want to prove them right.
Gage stopped a good distance from the school and pulled out his hand held radio that matched the one Hunter had given
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