loop.”
Desperately trying to steady his breath, his heart hurting, Gabe whispered roughly, “Thanks, Chief Phillips. I owe you a whole helluva lot on this one.”
“I’m sorry this happened, Gabe. I’ve got the entire platoon on standby. If anyone is gonna find those slimy bastards, it’ll be us.”
“Thanks,” he choked out, all his strength deserting him as he hung up the phone. His stomach roiled. Turning, Gabe barely made it to the kitchen sink where he vomited up everything he’d eaten the night before.
* * *
“W AKE HER UP !” Mustafa ordered his men. His leg was continuing to leak blood. The American whore had caused his wound. Not caring if the woman was still unconscious an hour after they’d arrived at the second cave on the other side of the mountain, Khogani wanted something done to stop his pain.
One of the soldiers took a bucket of water, throwing it on the woman who lay sprawled out on her back in the sand of the cave. They’d stripped her of the Kevlar vest and took her .45 pistol and holster away from her. They’d found a knife hidden within her trousers, strapped to her right ankle. As the water splashed savagely against her bloodied and swollen face, she moaned. Mustafa stood there, his arms crossed. She began choking. Smiling a little, he watched the whore’s eyes open to slits, her hair soaked, her face pale.
“Get her up!” he growled, snapping his fingers.
Instantly, two of his soldiers curved their hands beneath each of her armpits and hauled her up to her feet. Her knees collapsed beneath her, and she cried out. Blood was dripping out of her nose, the red splotches hitting the front of her uniform and boots.
“Shake her! I want her awake!”
Bay felt pain in her arms as she was jerked around. Her head snapped back and forth. She tried to compensate, everything spinning around her. Gasping, her lungs heaving, she gagged and vomited.
Khogani snarled and strode forward. He wrapped his hand into her loosened hair, jerking her head up. “Look at me, whore!” he yelled into her face in Pashto.
Bay grunted, pain tearing across her scalp. Her eyesight was blurred, and she was seeing double. Her knees kept giving out. She felt the grip of men’s hands on her upper arms, shaking her savagely, trying to make her stand on her own. Angry black eyes glared back at her. The man’s bearded face hovered inches from her own. She smelled garlic and goat on his breath, and it made her even sicker.
Trembling, Bay tried to stand, tried to make her knees work for her. Pain increased as he viciously tightened his fingers into her hair. She gave a little grunt as he forced her head back, fully exposing her throat.
“Whore! Either you wake up or I’ll slit your infidel throat here and now!”
His hot, rotten-smelling breath made her gag. Adrenaline suddenly shot into her bloodstream. Her ears were ringing, his Pashto threats distorted. Gasping, Bay made herself look into his angry, small black eyes. It was the same Taliban soldier who had ridden the black horse. Bay recognized the sneer on his lips, his yellow coated, rotten teeth.
Mustafa cursed and released her hair. Stepping back, he settled his hand on the butt of his curved scimitar blade. His eyes slitted as he watched her struggle to stand instead of continually collapsing. Her left eye was nearly swollen shut. He smiled, watching her fight into conscious awareness. He flicked his wrist, telling the two soldiers to release her.
She staggered, caught herself, and then locked her knees, swaying unsteadily. When she slowly raised her head, her wet hair framing it, she glared fearlessly at him.
“You are a doctor, are you not?” he snarled, jabbing his finger down at her rucksack sitting at his feet.
Bay blinked, fighting to remain upright. Dizziness made her want to fall to the left. She saw the murderous hate in the man’s eyes and knew he was good for his word to slit her throat. Swallowing painfully, she rasped in Pashto,
Desperately trying to steady his breath, his heart hurting, Gabe whispered roughly, “Thanks, Chief Phillips. I owe you a whole helluva lot on this one.”
“I’m sorry this happened, Gabe. I’ve got the entire platoon on standby. If anyone is gonna find those slimy bastards, it’ll be us.”
“Thanks,” he choked out, all his strength deserting him as he hung up the phone. His stomach roiled. Turning, Gabe barely made it to the kitchen sink where he vomited up everything he’d eaten the night before.
* * *
“W AKE HER UP !” Mustafa ordered his men. His leg was continuing to leak blood. The American whore had caused his wound. Not caring if the woman was still unconscious an hour after they’d arrived at the second cave on the other side of the mountain, Khogani wanted something done to stop his pain.
One of the soldiers took a bucket of water, throwing it on the woman who lay sprawled out on her back in the sand of the cave. They’d stripped her of the Kevlar vest and took her .45 pistol and holster away from her. They’d found a knife hidden within her trousers, strapped to her right ankle. As the water splashed savagely against her bloodied and swollen face, she moaned. Mustafa stood there, his arms crossed. She began choking. Smiling a little, he watched the whore’s eyes open to slits, her hair soaked, her face pale.
“Get her up!” he growled, snapping his fingers.
Instantly, two of his soldiers curved their hands beneath each of her armpits and hauled her up to her feet. Her knees collapsed beneath her, and she cried out. Blood was dripping out of her nose, the red splotches hitting the front of her uniform and boots.
“Shake her! I want her awake!”
Bay felt pain in her arms as she was jerked around. Her head snapped back and forth. She tried to compensate, everything spinning around her. Gasping, her lungs heaving, she gagged and vomited.
Khogani snarled and strode forward. He wrapped his hand into her loosened hair, jerking her head up. “Look at me, whore!” he yelled into her face in Pashto.
Bay grunted, pain tearing across her scalp. Her eyesight was blurred, and she was seeing double. Her knees kept giving out. She felt the grip of men’s hands on her upper arms, shaking her savagely, trying to make her stand on her own. Angry black eyes glared back at her. The man’s bearded face hovered inches from her own. She smelled garlic and goat on his breath, and it made her even sicker.
Trembling, Bay tried to stand, tried to make her knees work for her. Pain increased as he viciously tightened his fingers into her hair. She gave a little grunt as he forced her head back, fully exposing her throat.
“Whore! Either you wake up or I’ll slit your infidel throat here and now!”
His hot, rotten-smelling breath made her gag. Adrenaline suddenly shot into her bloodstream. Her ears were ringing, his Pashto threats distorted. Gasping, Bay made herself look into his angry, small black eyes. It was the same Taliban soldier who had ridden the black horse. Bay recognized the sneer on his lips, his yellow coated, rotten teeth.
Mustafa cursed and released her hair. Stepping back, he settled his hand on the butt of his curved scimitar blade. His eyes slitted as he watched her struggle to stand instead of continually collapsing. Her left eye was nearly swollen shut. He smiled, watching her fight into conscious awareness. He flicked his wrist, telling the two soldiers to release her.
She staggered, caught herself, and then locked her knees, swaying unsteadily. When she slowly raised her head, her wet hair framing it, she glared fearlessly at him.
“You are a doctor, are you not?” he snarled, jabbing his finger down at her rucksack sitting at his feet.
Bay blinked, fighting to remain upright. Dizziness made her want to fall to the left. She saw the murderous hate in the man’s eyes and knew he was good for his word to slit her throat. Swallowing painfully, she rasped in Pashto,
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