Fight Fire With Fire. Amy J. Fetzer

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СКАЧАТЬ “He doesn’t look good.” She unwound her head scarf and a braided rope of shiny dark hair spilled down one shoulder. She met his gaze. Beneath arched brows, whiskey colored eyes stared back at him.

      “Sweet mother a’ Jaasus .” She was younger than him.

      “I get that a lot.” She gestured at Sam. “What do you need to do?”

      “Set his leg again and get a tighter splint on it.”

      She nodded as her gaze bounced around the interior. “Let’s get busy. I don’t know how much time we have.”

      Though the pop of gunfire was lazier now, Riley wasn’t ignoring the help, or the danger of staying put too long. He instructed, glad Sam was unconscious or he’d be screaming to the heavens. After unbuckling her utility belt, she got behind Sam, her legs and arms wrapping his torso and hips as Riley grasped his calf and ankle. On a count, he pulled. Even drugged, Sam arched with silent agony. Riley ripped the flight suit more and pushed the bone down, forcing it to align closely. Blood oozed from the gash. He met her gaze and nodded.

      “It’s set. Well…better than it was.”

      She eased from Sam and unclipped her canteen, offering it.

      He cleaned his hands and the wound, then Riley worked against the cold. With the needle poised over Sam’s flesh, he shook too much to stitch. “For the love of Mike.” He dropped the needle, sanding his hands, blowing on them. She quickly grasped them both, wrapping her scarf around them, then brought his fists to her lips. She breathed hotly against the fabric, and Riley felt the warmth sting his icy skin. She rubbed and breathed, her gaze flashing up. He felt struck, her soulful eyes hiding so much.

      “Better?”

      He nodded, unwound the scarf. “The rest of me is a bit chilly still.”

      It took a second for that to sink in and she made a face. He chuckled, then said, “Get yourself on the other side, woman, and let’s make some quick work here.”

      She snickered to herself, yet obeyed, holding Sam’s skin closed as he stitched. She still wore gloves and though she was dressed warmly, he noticed everything was cinched down, nothing to catch, and her rifle would collapse. It was a weapon he’d seen in spec, a prototype of the MP5. Not in production, yet she had one. And if the bodies outside indicated, she knew how to use it. It was at her right, by her knee with a bullet chambered.

      “You’re Company.” CIA. Probably attached to NATO.

      He had to give her credit, she didn’t look up or make even a single nuance. If she was any good, she wouldn’t give anything away.

      “Tell me how an Irishman got to be in the Marines.”

      Okay, he could go that direction. “I was a runner for the IRA and my older sister caught me. Dragged me home by my ear, she did.” His lips curved with the memory as he took another stitch. “My parents, fearing for my immortal soul, sent me to America to live with relatives.” He shrugged.

      “So dodging bullets comes easy, huh?”

      “Yeah, I guess.”

      Then he went and chose a career in it. He glanced at Sam, knowing this would cost him what he held dear. His Marine enlistment. But he couldn’t let the one man who treated him like a friend instead of his superior die in the frigid Serbian forests.

      “I saw the jet go down.”

      His gaze briefly slid to hers.

      “He was doing some amazing flying before the missile hit. I’ve been behind you for a day.”

      “So you’re the reason the patrol didn’t catch up to us?”

      Bless her, that blank expression didn’t change a fraction.

      “Thank you for our lives.” He clipped the thread. “I’m Riley.” He held out his hand. She bit off her glove and shook it. Her skin was warm, her palm smooth and dry.

      “Safia,” was all she offered with her disarming smile.

      He wondered why someone so young was in the field alone. She helped him work the inflatable air cast over Sam’s upper thigh, then wrapped him in rags and curtains Riley’d found to keep him warm. Sam’s fever would spike and he had to get him some antibiotics. He’d used his last just now.

      The woman unwound from the floor, strapped her belt back on, then dug in her pack like a purse and blindly reloaded her magazines. He recognized C4 packs and some gadgets he didn’t. She was a little fire team all by herself, he thought, smiling. Armed, she went to each opening. He reached for his gun when she disappeared out a gap in the wall. He waited, chambering a bullet and aiming.

       Tell me I can’t be that much of a sucker. Icy wind spun through the building. Seconds ticked by. She reappeared and stopped short, then cocked her head. She smiled almost appreciatively, and he lowered his weapon. She moved to him with an elegance that defied her crude surroundings and the two pistols in her belt. Her exotic features and tanned skin puzzled him. Without head scarves, she looked completely out of place.

      Then the radio hooked on her belt buzzed and she brought it to her ear, listening. The language sounded Albanian. She didn’t make contact, only listened, then said, “We need to go. I’ll help you to the border.”

      Riley opened his mouth to say he didn’t need her to risk her life again.

      “Don’t argue. The Serbian patrol after you have already murdered seventy women and children along their way. Brutally.” Her accented voice snapped with anger as she wrapped her scarves. “Those soldiers don’t care about life or freedom. They wanted him.” Her voice softened a notch. “To display for the press…preferably dead and bloodied.”

      He agreed. The reports out of this region were an abomination to humanity, and while nobody was happy about not going after one of their own because of some negotiations going on, Riley just couldn’t live with it. But a one-man rescue wasn’t the smartest move he’d ever made.

      Sam stirred, moaning, and Riley grabbed the preloaded syringe.

      “No. No more drugs. We need him mobile. It’s now or never.” Waving him to hurry, she crossed to the opening, weapon at her shoulder. She aimed up the street and sighted, then suddenly said, “Get him up, now!” then vaulted over debris to get to him. “They found us!”

      Riley tried. “Come on, cowboy, time to run.”

      She helped him get two hundred pounds of man off the ground, and he shouldered Sam, then drew his weapon. Out the rear of their haven, she led them to the alley behind.

      Sam focused on her, then gave him a sluggish smile. “Trust you to find the only woman within miles, Donovan.”

      “It’s the accent.” Riley grinned and winked at Safia. “Gives them all sorts of wily thoughts.”

      She rolled her eyes, a smile coasting her lips. “Everyone has an accent. We go that way.” She nodded left and advanced. “And stay in the alleys—”

      A blast struck the building across the street, fiery debris rocketing into their hideout and knocking out remaining windows. The supports СКАЧАТЬ