Kabul, Afghanistan August 2021
To put it as mildly as possible, the country was falling the fuck apart.
And Isabeau refused to leave.
She was about to lose that choice.
We’d been back in Kabul twenty-four hours, and the embassy had descended into what could only be called chaos. For every person within its walls, seeking shelter, or a way out of the country, there were ten outside the gates demanding entrance. I could only imagine what the temporary site being established at the airport looked like.
We were at the center of a mountain of stockpiled powder kegs, just watching the flickering flame of the lit fuse race toward us. Destruction was imminent. It was only a question of when.
“Herat,” Webb said, gesturing to the surveillance picture of the fallen province projected onto the wall of the conference room we’d commandeered in the basement of the embassy. All but one of us had been gathered for the noon briefing. Graham was sticking to Izzy on my orders. Webb clicked, and the next picture appeared showing the same scene in a different province. “Lashkar Gah, which as you know, means the entirety of Helmand is now in Taliban hands.”
My jaw clenched.
The already-tense atmosphere around the conference table went up a notch, but no one said a word. We’d all spent enough time in country to know that the initial estimates of how long the government would remain in
control were way too generous, but to watch it fall apart on our watch was beyond words.
“Add Kandahar to the list,” he said, clicking again. More of the same flooded the screen. Two of Afghanistan’s three largest cities were now in the hands of the Taliban.
The special ops guys at the airport—
“Unit 03?” Parker asked, voicing my exact thoughts as he leaned forward in his seat across from me. The twitch of his black mustache was the only sign of his agitation.
“Holding the airport for now,” Webb replied. “But it’s not looking good. They’re cut off, and air is the only evac route. They’re low on food and ammunition.”
“So basically, fucked,” Black said. “They’re fucked.”
“Afghan Special Forces is working on something,” Webb replied. “If our orders change, I’ll let you know.”
Which meant we weren’t going to be allowed to do shit. My jaw clenched. They were pinned down, surrounded, and starving.
“Moving on . . .” Webb clicked for the next picture, showing just how many provinces had fallen, and I took any feelings I had about the Kandahar situation and shoved them where they belonged—out of my head. Every province the Taliban had reclaimed was highlighted in red, and there was a shit ton of red.
“There’s a lot of red between us and a certain photojournalist,” Torres mumbled from behind me.
Like I needed to be reminded.
“As of last night, three thousand of our troops are on the way, and all civilians, Afghan allies, and diplomats are under instruction to leave.” He glanced my way and I nodded, catching his meaning. “Our information indicates that an additional thousand boots of the Eighty-Second Airborne are going to be authorized today. Keeping the airport secure is the primary objective.”
The next picture appeared, showing the growing crowds outside the airport.
Yeah, that fuse was headed our way, all right.
“In the last two days, forty-six flights have gotten out, and as you can see, demand is considerably higher than supply,” Webb continued.
“Fucking Saigon,” Elston muttered, rubbing his hand down his beard.
I reached for my water bottle and drank, refusing to let that knot of anxiety in my throat grow any bigger. Izzy had to get out. Once she was on a plane, I could concentrate on what needed to be done.
“And last but not least.” Webb clicked the next picture, an overhead shot of Kabul taken by drone, showing the congested roadways leading into the city, and marking the checkpoints already captured by the Taliban on the outer rim of the small province. “The enemy is approaching the gates. I think it’s safe to say that President Ghani is no longer in control.”
We were about to be put into the same position as Kandahar. Chairs squeaked as bodies shifted weight around me. “Mazar-i-Sharif?” I asked.
“Holding,” Webb replied. “But we’re not sure for how long.” Seemed to be the general consensus about everything around here.
“Now that most of the congressional teams have evacuated, our mission will be shifting,” Webb said as he handed out orders. The unit split into squads of four, which was nothing new to us, some assigned to high- value individuals for evacuation, and others to various tasks.
The briefing ended and everyone rose.
“Green,” Webb said as I pushed my chair in, and I nodded, hanging back as the others filed out of the room. The door shut before he spoke again. “Regarding Ms. Astor.”
“I’ll get her on the first plane.”
“Senator Lauren received her request to remain and be of use to the ambassador.” He cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m going to kill her.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose.
“Senator Lauren found the request . . . noble . . . and agreed, only insofar as we can get Ms. Astor out safely when the time comes, and I think we can both agree that the time is coming rapidly. Oh, and if we could make sure to get a photographer to catch a couple shots of her aide working diligently, since we didn’t take the obvious opportunity presented to us with the girls’ chess team.”
“Right.” Fucking politicians with their fucking PR.
He shut his laptop, and the projection turned to a blank blue screen. “Is there anything I should know about why your charge would request to stay in a country that is obviously disintegrating?”
“Her sister is a photojournalist on assignment in Mazar-i-Sharif.” I scratched the four-day growth of beard I had going. “Ms. Astor is loath to
leave until her sister, also Ms. Astor, has, and stubbornness seems to be a genetic trait in that family, and Serena’s interpreter’s visa isn’t approved yet.”
“Hmm.” His eyes narrowed slightly, which I knew from experience meant he was taking in the information and calculating how it affected the mission. “I’m not in the mood to deal with a pissed-off senator or hand the Taliban a new source of YouTube material.”
“Me either.” That wasn’t going to happen to her.
He nodded. “Keep your usual team with you. It would be nice to get both sisters out, especially given their high profile, but our priority is the younger.”
“Noted.” My chest tightened. I cared about Serena and didn’t want to leave her behind, but I wouldn’t sacrifice Izzy for her. The problem was that Izzy wouldn’t agree.
I left Webb behind and headed out, finding Torres leaned up against the wall outside the door, waiting for me.
“How you doing?” he asked, keeping step with me down the dimly lit hallway.
“Fine. Can’t you tell?”
“I’ve seen air traffic controllers with less anxiety wafting off them, but if you want to go with fine . . .” He shrugged.
“I do,” I grumbled, climbing the stairs into the crowded lobby, then continuing up to Izzy’s suite. Her conference room had been taken over by embassy staff, all doing their best to process as many interviews as they could to complete visas.
Graham stood guard outside her door, and his dark brows shot up when he caught sight of me walking his way.
“You might want to check with Webb, but I think you get twice the imminent danger pay for walking in there,” Graham said, glancing sideways at Izzy’s door.
“And I’m telling you to look again!” she shouted, her voice carrying through the door.
“See? Pretty sure she’s firing live rounds.”
“She doesn’t scare me,” I lied, a corner of my mouth lifting. “Get the others up here. We’re still on Astor duty,” I ordered.
“On it.” He took off.
I took a deep breath and walked into the suite. Izzy had dragged the landline telephone over to where she sat on the couch, files spread out on the table in front of her.
“And I’m telling you that form was submitted, so look again,” Izzy snapped, not even bothering to look up at me. “Taj. T-A-J Barech. He submitted his application in April.”
Serena’s interpreter.
I sat back on the windowsill to her left, where I could see both her and anyone coming for her through the door.
“Yes, I know you have eighteen thousand applicants in the pipeline.” Izzy white-knuckled the receiver with a still-ringless hand and yanked on her hair, dragging it over one shoulder to get it out of the way.
That little strip of skin she’d just revealed on her neck had my instant attention.
She’d loved it when I’d kissed her neck.
What the hell had happened between her and Dickface that he’d flown off without his fiancée? Or did that term no longer apply to them? I’d promised myself I wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t pry into shit that wasn’t my business, but this was Izzy.
“And I understand that,” she continued, drumming the fingers of her right hand on the edge of the couch. “But as difficult as it is for you to process these as quickly as possible, I can promise you it’s infinitely more difficult to be an interpreter who publicly worked with US forces sitting in Afghanistan right now, praying your visa gets processed in time to evacuate.”
Damn, she was beautiful when she was angry. I was just glad the anger wasn’t directed at me. Yet.
“No, I will not relax, and I’m not calling you from my cushy office in DC. I’m in the embassy in Kabul.” She yanked the receiver away from her ear and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.
“Need me to take over?” I offered. “I’m the trained killer in the room, remember? Not that you’re not doing an admirable job of slaughtering the State Department.”
She shot me a glare and put the phone back to her head. “Oh, you found it. Good. Can you tell me what the holdup is? Because I’m holding his completed file.” Her eyes flew wide. “You’re missing what?” She
thumbed through the file on the table. “His record of military service is here. Twelve years translating for various units—” Her shoulders fell.
I pushed off the windowsill and moved to her side, reading the file over her shoulder.
“His letter of recommendation.” She sighed, searching the papers again. “It’s not here either. How hard can it be to get one of those?”
My stomach twisted. Hard enough.
“You’re going to want to put that call on speakerphone,” I said softly. “Because you think you can—”
“You need a general or a flag officer,” I replied. “Know any of those?” Her mouth snapped shut, and she poked the speakerphone button,
setting the receiver down.
“—and until we have that letter, our process is at a standstill, Ms. Astor.” The man’s superior tone lifted my hackles. “And we have thousands ahead of him who have their paperwork complete. Even if you could get the letter of recommendation submitted, moving him to the top of the list would be unfair, and given the shortage of interview appointments
—”
“I can figure out the damned interview,” Izzy interrupted, color rising in her cheeks.
“If I can get that letter of recommendation over to you within the next few hours, can you process his file or not?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, but who am I talking to?” the man asked.
“Sergeant First Class Green,” I replied. “I’m with the Joint Special Operations Command.”
Izzy’s gaze jumped to mine.
“Could you process the file within twenty-four hours if you had the letter?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.
“I’m sorry, are you implying you can even get a letter here within twenty-four hours?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Because we’re a little overwhelmed here at the moment, and I don’t have time to keep a file on the back burner just waiting to see if a letter magically appears.”
“I can have it to you within—” I checked my watch and did the time- difference calculations. “Two hours. Can you process the file to interview status or not?”
“If it arrives.” If eye-rolling was verbal, that would have been one. “I’ll make a note in the file that you’re sending it. What unit did you say
you were with?”
“Thirty-Third Logistics Group out of Bragg.” Izzy’s mouth dropped open.
“Logistics, huh?” The sound of typing came through the speaker. “Yeah, you know us. We’re always the ones getting shit done.” “Right. And who can I expect this letter to be coming from?”
“Someone way above your pay grade,” I answered. “You get his email?” I asked Izzy.
She nodded.
“Good, then we’re done here.” I hit the button and ended the call. “What are you going to do?” Izzy asked as I closed Barech’s file and
picked it up.
“I’m going to solve the one problem I can.” I carried the file to the door and opened it, finding Graham, Parker, and Elston already waiting. “Get this to Apex,” I told Elston, referring to Webb’s call sign as I handed the redhead the file, “and tell him that we need him to wake up the general for a letter of recommend.”
“Will do.” He took the file and disappeared down the hallway. “Sergeant Black.” I looked at our medic. “I need the status of every
checkpoint between here and Mazar-i-Sharif, and which ones are going to let an American photojournalist through without needing . . . convincing.”
“On it.” He nodded once and took off in the same direction Elston had taken.
“Sergeant Gray, find someone who can get a dependable cell phone into Serena Astor’s hands.” It was worth a try.
“You got it.” He went the opposite direction, leaving the hallway empty despite the mayhem going on below us.
Awareness skittered up my arms as I backed into Izzy’s room and shut the door.
“What’s wrong?” Izzy asked, smoothing the lines of her wrap-style blouse as she stood. It was emerald green and brought out the depth in her eyes, but I kept that observation to myself.
“This five minutes?” We were on day nine. We were officially tied for the most consecutive days we’d spent together. “Nothing.”
“And that’s worrisome to you.” She walked barefoot to the kitchenette and pulled two bottles of water from the fridge, then threw one at me. I caught it. Had to admit, I kind of loved it that she always thought of me,
even when she was pissed at me. “I can tell, because you have that pinched look right here.” She touched the spot between her brows. “It’s your tell.”
“I don’t have a tell. They beat it out of me years ago.” I twisted the top and took a drink to keep my eyes off the sight of her throat working. What was it about her neck that had me nearly feral?
“Hmm.” She set her bottle down on the counter. “Well, I guess I know you better than they do. Now what’s wrong? You know, besides the obvious.”
“You mean the fact that you seem to have chosen Kabul as your place of residence during a military overthrow of the government?” I put my own bottle down and walked into the center of the suite so I wouldn’t do something stupid like lift her to that counter and kiss her until she remembered that she’d loved me at one time.
“Yeah. Other than that.” She perched her ass on the arm of the sofa. “I have a feeling.” I shrugged.
“Oh, we’ve moved on to discussing feelings? Look how much we’ve matured.” A smirk tugged at her lips.
The remark, though clearly teasing, hit a nerve. “From what I remember, I was the one completely open with my feelings the last time we met.”
“And from what I remember, you were the one who asked me to ignore our history so we could both get our jobs done here.” She stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles.
“Yeah, well, that’s getting more difficult by the hour,” I admitted, refusing to look at the way her pants hugged her hips, her thighs. “We’re in the calm before the storm,” I told her as I crossed the room to look through the windows into the courtyard below. There was nothing peaceful or artistic about it now. It had been turned into a corral, another waiting room, with a winding line of desperate people.
I turned to face her, preparing myself for the coming fight. “This place is about to blow, Iz. You can’t stay.”
“I don’t see you leaving,” she said casually over her shoulder. “We are not the same.”
“Well aware.” She looked away.
“The senator has given permission for you to stay insofar that we can assure your safety and get you out.” I moved, putting myself in her line of sight. The glare she gave me made me wish I were wearing my Kevlar. “Iz,
it’s getting uncomfortably close to pushing that limit. I’ve seen the maps. By tomorrow, Kabul is going to be the only exit point from this country.”
She took a shaky breath and straightened her shoulders. “Then it’s a good thing we’re already here, isn’t it? I’m not leaving without my sister.”
My jaw flexed. “I’m doing everything I can to get Serena out, but my orders are for you. And when the time comes, I will put your ass on a plane whether or not you tell me you’re ready to leave.”
“What are you going to do, Nate?” She stood, folding her arms. “Throw me over your shoulder and carry me kicking and screaming?”
I moved forward, consuming her space, until we stood toe to toe and she was forced to lean back in order to keep glaring at me. “If I have to, yes. You have no idea the lengths I will go to in order to keep you safe.”
“Because I’m your assignment.” The statement was an accusation.
“Because that’s all I’ve done since I met you, Isabeau.” My hands curled with the need to touch her, to pull her against me and beg her to leave.
“She’s all I have, Nate.” She held her ground as the air between us charged just like it always did. “I’m a trophy to my parents, and a memory to you, and . . .” She rubbed the empty finger on her left hand. “Serena is the only person in this world who’s been there for me unconditionally, the only person who’s never deserted me, and I’ll be damned if I leave her to die. If I go, there’s no one left here who cares about her. We both know what will happen to her.”
“You’d prefer to die with her? Because that’s a very real possibility. There are over four hundred miles of hostile territory for her to get through, and that’s if she agrees to leave. Every air resource we have is committed. I can’t just call her an Uber and send for her, and we can’t wait. You can’t wait.”
Her lower lip trembled, and I muttered a curse. “I deserve a day,” she finally said.
“A day?” I repeated.
“For all the years I spent waiting for you, the least you can give me is a damned day to see if she’ll leave. Twenty-four hours.”
I straightened and retreated a step like she’d slapped me.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes flew wide, and she covered her mouth with a hand. “Nate, I’m sorry. That was wrong.”
“And if she’s not here in twenty-four hours, will you agree to stop being a general pain in the ass and fighting me about leaving?”
“Will your team be leaving with me?” Her eyes shifted into a pleading expression so familiar that I had déjà vu.
“You know I can’t.”
And there it was. The look I’d always put on her face eventually.
Disappointment and misery. “You’ll stay while this place implodes.” “Careful, Iz. You say that like you care what happens to me.” I put
some space between us.
She followed after me. “I have always cared what happened to you!” Except when she didn’t.
“That’s something you’re going to have to get over.” I forced a shrug. “If I wasn’t here, I’d be in Iraq, or a dozen other places you’d never even know about. I heard what Serena said, that you went to work for Lauren because she was pushing legislation to end the war.” My heart swelled and broke at the same time. “And I’m not arrogant enough to think that had anything to do with me, but just in case it did, just in case you’re living your life chasing that goal, then Izzy, you have to stop. Even you aren’t powerful enough to end every war. There will always be a need for guys like me to do the things that make it possible for you to sleep at night.”
Even if she was sleeping next to a man who didn’t deserve a single hair on her head.
“You deserve a life.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at me like the last three years hadn’t happened. Like we were still fighting for weekends and every chance to see each other, denying that we were in a relationship when we’d both known we were.
“I have a life.” One she wanted no part of.
“A real life, Nate.” She moved forward, lifting her hand and then resting it lightly above my heart. “A home. A future with . . .” She bit into her lower lip and then sighed. “With whomever you choose.”
The walls of my defenses cracked, and pain came flooding through, drowning my self-made promises to keep my distance and my mouth shut when it came to her love life.
“And is that what you have with Covington? A future? A home?
Because I fail to see the allure.” So much for professionalism.
“The allure?” She jerked her hand away. “He was there.”
