Kabul, Afghanistan August 2021

“You going to hide in here all morning?” Torres asked, leaning against the door with one ankle crossed over the other.

“It’s only seven a.m., and I’m not hiding.” I turned the page in my book and ignored him, leaning back against my headboard, my legs stretched out in front of me.

“Looks like hiding to me.”

I wasn’t hiding. I was already dressed, armed, and ready. I just wasn’t on shift. Graham was, and he was fully capable of handling a little shadowing while Izzy and Dickface ate breakfast.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” I asked Torres, picking up the highlighter from my nightstand and marking a line, pausing halfway through. Not that I was ever going to give the book to Izzy. There were at least a few dozen of these already, all marked up and boxed. Old habits die hard and whatnot.

“Hey, I’m only in here because apparently you can’t get your shit together.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, you’d already be out there, trying to talk her out of going to Kandahar.”

“My shit is just fine.” I read the same paragraph twice before I gave up and closed the book. “And I’m realizing that it’s not my job to talk her out of anything. She has someone for that.”

Dickface. She was marrying Dickface. After everything he’d put her through, she’d still said yes to him, still put his ring on her left hand.

I rubbed my chest, right above my sternum, and felt my little good luck charm shift on the chain against my skin. It was far past time that I left it at home, that I recognized it for the bad omen it really was, but every time I took it off, I put the thing right back on.

“Yeah. Looks like you’re squared away.” Torres rolled his eyes. “Swear to God, nothing fucks you up more than that woman.”

“She’s not fucking me up.” I turned the page with more force than necessary.

“Maybe that’s the problem, then.” He pushed away from the door and walked across the room. “When’s the last time you two were in the same space and didn’t wind up in bed?”

I put my book down on the nightstand, since reading was futile when Torres got into my head like this. “New York.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you need to bring Jenkins in to take over?”

“No.” As pissed as I was, as disappointed as I was that Izzy had settled, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to see the mission through, or put her in a position where she could be hurt.

Someone pounded on my door.

I muttered a curse and swung my legs off the bed as I rose to answer it. When I pulled the door open, Graham stood on the other side.

Torres slid out, walking into the hallway. “Good, now he can deal with your moody ass.”

“There’s new intel,” Graham said, his face tight. “We’re briefing.” “Let’s go.” I slung my rifle over my shoulder and closed the door

behind me. Guess it was time to face reality and Dickface.

Maybe I had been hiding.

A half hour later, we were briefed, and I stopped avoiding Izzy and sought her out instead. Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t blink over being in a rapidly deteriorating country where my only mission was to get out as many Americans as possible.

But these weren’t normal circumstances. I had Izzy to think about.

I walked through the crowded foyer of the embassy and stepped into the conference room the congressional teams had commandeered, passing by Parker, who stood guard at the door. It took me all of two seconds to find Izzy in the organized chaos of the room.

She stood in the far corner, a telephone held between her shoulder and ear as the assistants moved files at the edge of the long table. One of them nearly knocked a laptop off the surface. Guess we weren’t the only ones on edge.

After making a quick sweep to make sure Dickface wasn’t on premises, I headed toward Izzy. She was dressed in navy-blue slacks and a blouse that was a lighter shade, her hair in a low bun that looked like it might survive a helmet.

Because wearing a helmet was the only way I was letting her out of this building.

“Of course it’s no bother,” she said into the phone, double taking when she saw me approaching. “You’re the one up in the middle of the night.”

Her eyes were slightly red, and not the I-stayed-up-all-night-being- brought-to-orgasm-again-and-again variety of red I was achingly familiar with when it came to her. She’d done a good job with her makeup, too, but the skin beneath the brown orbs was swollen. She’d been crying. She tilted her chin and held my gaze, as if she was daring me to say something about it.

“Absolutely, Senator Lauren,” she continued.

“We have to talk,” I said, keeping my voice low so the senator wouldn’t hear.

Izzy sighed. “I think there may be some security concerns,” she said into the phone. “The head of our detail needs a word with me.”

I nodded.

“I’ll ask.” She covered the microphone. “Is today’s mission at direct risk?”

“You being in this country is a risk. Three more provinces fell yesterday.”

Her eyes widened, and her knuckles whitened on the phone.

“Not Balkh Province,” I reassured her. “Mazar-i-Sharif is still standing.”

She let out a breath of relief and uncovered the microphone. “Senator, we seem to have an issue. If you don’t mind holding, we’ll get to somewhere more private.”

Izzy motioned toward the door, and I nodded, leading her out of the conference room and into a nearby empty office. I cleared the room with a

quick look, then locked the door behind us as Izzy set her phone on the cluttered desk, tapping the speakerphone button.

“We have you on speakerphone, Senator Lauren, but it’s just Sergeant Green and me in this room,” Izzy said, folding her arms across her chest. Something was off about the motion, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Sergeant Green, I understand that you’re my team’s security lead?” the senator asked, her voice surprisingly alert for it being nearly midnight in DC.

“I am, ma’am.”

“What can you tell me about the safety of Isa’s planned trip to Kandahar today?” she asked.

For a split second, I pretended that the woman in front of me wasn’t Izzy, that she was just another aide on just another mission. But she wasn’t. “Kandahar is concerning. The city’s been under siege for months, and hasn’t fallen yet, but all civilians were asked to evacuate six days ago, and the airport is under constant threat. I’m not in favor of taking Ms. Astor into that kind of environment. The team’s visas are here, and as far as I know, the plan is for them to be evac’d tomorrow by the Afghan Air Force. I see no reason for the trip, honestly. Yes, it would be a great photo op, but she can take the photo tomorrow, once they arrive in Kabul. Delivering the visas in person places Ms. Astor in unnecessary danger.”

Izzy shifted her weight and leaned against the cleanest edge of the desk. “I don’t mind the danger.”

“I certainly do,” the senator replied. “And it complicates what I need to tell you.”

I tensed at the tone in the senator’s voice.

“We received a call this evening from the coach, and it seems they’re not comfortable with the evacuation plan.”

Izzy’s brow knit. “They’re not?”

“No. They’re saying that given the status of the city, they don’t trust any of the men claiming to be Afghan Air Force, who are, of course, coordinating the trip.”

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Izzy chastised me with a single look. “I see.”

“Newcastle asked them what would make them comfortable enough to leave and mentioned that you’re in country, thinking it would give them some reassurance,” the senator continued.

I stopped myself from cursing again, knowing exactly where this conversation was bound to lead.

“They said they’ll only trust you, Isa.”

Damn it. I hated it when I was right.

“Oh.” Izzy gripped the edge of the desk. “Because they don’t trust the air force?”

“They don’t trust them to be who they say they are,” I said. “Unfortunately, that’s a common problem. I assume the team is in hiding in case the city falls?”

“They are,” Izzy replied. “They were supposed to be moved—”

“To the airport today to evac tomorrow,” I finished. “That’s why they were meeting you there for visas.”

Izzy nodded.

My mind went to work. “If I can get a female operator to take Ms. Astor’s place, would that be sufficient?”

Izzy shook her head even as Senator Lauren said, “No, I’m afraid

not.”

“We had Skype calls as part of the planning,” Izzy said. “They know

what I look like.”

Silence filled the office.

“Isa, I’m not going to ask you to put yourself in danger to get those girls—” the senator started.

“We can’t just leave them there,” Izzy interrupted, her gaze locking with mine.

“Can it be done safely . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know your first name,” the senator said.

“That’s intentional, ma’am.” I glanced at the framed map of Afghanistan on the wall, thinking about the security briefing, the threat assessments, and the girls whose only crimes would be their intelligence and education. “There are six of them?”

“And their parents,” Izzy supplied. “A few siblings too.”

I nodded. “The Kandahar airport is currently being held by Afghan special ops. If we can get the team to the airport and luck out with a secure landing zone—understanding we’d spend as little time as possible on the ground—it can be done.” I’d hate every minute of it, but we could do it.

“With minimal danger to Ms. Astor and American lives?” the senator asked.

“Respectfully, ma’am, there’s no such thing as minimal danger in this country right now, but those girls will be in considerable danger if they stay where they are.”

“Isa? I’d never demand you risk your life.”

“I know.” Izzy swallowed and moved to tuck her hair behind her ears, even though the strands were already secured in a bun. She was nervous.

“Today is the only day,” I said. “The rate this country is falling, Kabul is going to fall within the next month—if not faster—and I honestly don’t know how much longer Kandahar has.”

“Intelligence reports said we had six to twelve months,” Senator Lauren said softly.

“Things change, ma’am.”

“We’ll go today.” Izzy straightened her shoulders. “I’ll call Coach Niaz. I have her number.” After exchanging a few more pleasantries and well wishes, she ended the call.

“You have an hour to say your goodbyes to Dickface, and then we need to leave,” I said, walking out of the office and leaving Izzy behind.

Guess we were going to Kandahar.

We left every other member of Izzy’s delegation and flew out three hours later with the three operators on my team and four others, since none of the other congressional aides were leaving the embassy today. Our fleet of four Blackhawks launched, and I still wished we had more firepower.

Izzy sat across from me just like every other flight, looking out the window, and I handed over my earbuds and phone, but didn’t put them into her ears like before. I took out my book and blatantly looked away before Izzy could reject my offer.

After seeing Covington in the hallway last night, I wasn’t sure how I’d react if Izzy once again reminded me that whatever I had wasn’t good enough.

She’d been able to get ahold of Coach Niaz, and the chess team was currently en route to the airport. They were just as skittish as the senator had implied, and I couldn’t blame them. With any luck, we’d be on the ground for less than an hour, and out again before the Taliban knew we were even around to mortar.

That didn’t stop my pulse from rising the closer we got to Kandahar.

I stowed my book as we landed and slung my rucksack over my shoulders, tucking my phone and earbuds into one of the pockets of my uniform when Izzy handed them back. The distance between us was palpable, painful, and necessary. Dickface’s arrival had been a much-needed reminder that the ring on her finger meant something.

The helicopters ran down as we all filed out.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been to Kandahar’s airport, but it very well might have been the last. The destruction from the reported shelling was obvious in the broken decorative arches and piles of rubble lined against the barbed wire fence. The runway was damaged too.

The sun beat into my bare forearms as we moved as a team, walking quickly toward the terminal, where our liaison from the Afghan army would meet us. I kept Izzy at my side and my eyes moving, taking in every detail of our surroundings, and Graham covering our six.

An Afghan officer waited at the end of the walkway connecting the tarmac to the terminal, escorted by six of his own soldiers. They looked like they’d been through hell and dragged back again.

“Twelve inches,” I said to Izzy once the noise of the rotors had faded enough to hear myself.

“Not quite,” she shot back quietly, clutching the strap of her messenger bag.

“Smart-ass,” I muttered. “Twelve inches is the maximum distance you’re allowed to be from me while we’re here.”

“You don’t trust the Afghan forces?” she asked quietly.

“Some of them, absolutely.” I kept my hands on my rifle. “But I didn’t live this long by trusting anyone I don’t personally know.” And I wasn’t trusting anyone with her.

“Noted.” She glanced at me once we were halfway down the path. “And what if I have to pee? Does your twelve-inches rule apply then?”

“I’ll be happy to hand you the toilet paper.” “Graphic.” Her nose crinkled.

“You’re the one that went there. We’ll only be here for an hour, remember? Hold it.”

We made it to our liaison, and I shook the young captain’s hand while the others kept their hands on their weapons. “Are the evacuees ready?”

“They arrived about thirty minutes ago,” he said, leading us into the terminal. Two of our operators hung back to secure the entrance and recon. “We might be losing the edges of the city, but we still hold the airport road.”

“That’s good to hear.” If they lost that, there would be no evacuation route for anyone in the city. We were officially surrounded.

The air-conditioning was still working, which was a welcome relief. The floor and chairs were covered with dust, and two of the windows in my line of sight had been boarded up.

Izzy lifted her hand to the strap under her chin. “Leave it on.”

“It might scare the girls if I walk in dressed like we might be bombed at any moment,” she whispered.

“I highly doubt they’d expect anything different.” We passed by gathered groups of both military and civilians waiting for evacuation. “You might be forgetting that children here aren’t strangers to war like American kids. The helmet stays on.”

“Are you going to be this pleasant the entire trip?” She arched a brow but kept up with me step for step.

“Yes.”

“This looks good,” Graham said, motioning to an area on the right.

I looked at his recommendation—rows of chairs that formed what had been an exclusive-looking waiting area. No boarded-up windows. Glass that could be blasted open if we needed out. A direct line to the tarmac and our birds. It was exposed for a quick exit, but defensible, and we could control the environment. “This will do,” I told the Afghan officer. “Please bring the evacuees here.”

“We have them waiting—”

“Here,” I said in a tone that didn’t leave any room for argument.

He glanced out the window, toward our helicopters, and nodded, then, in Pashto, ordered two of his soldiers to escort the chess team to us.

The other operators spread out for an efficient perimeter.

“They’ll be here momentarily,” the captain said in English. “Is there anything else we can do?”

“No, thank you,” I replied. “I’m sure you have way more important things to be doing.”

“Indeed, I do.” He shook my hand again and walked off, leaving two of his soldiers behind with us.

Izzy and I stood in the middle of the waiting area. “He sent the soldiers to go get them? You’re sure?”

I nodded. “I speak Pashto.”

“Of course you do.” She shook her head. “Is that another new development?”

“No.” I scanned our surroundings, not entirely at ease. I knew we should be safe here, but Izzy would be a fantastic and expensive trophy for our enemies.

“Just something else you didn’t tell me.” Her tone was low but cutting. “The number of languages I speak didn’t seem like worthwhile space

in a letter, and I never wanted to waste your time. But apparently you—” I locked my jaw to still my words. This wasn’t the time or the place to get into it with her.

She glanced up at me, her eyes narrowing. “Just say it.” I shook my head.

“I know you’re pissed about Jeremy. I saw the disappointment in your eyes. I know you well enough to read your emotions, Sergeant Green. At least I used to.” She crossed her arms over her chest and drummed her fingers on her arm.

“You have no idea what I think about Dickface.”

“Like the nickname isn’t a dead giveaway.” Her fingers moved faster.

Anger welled up, overruling my common sense. “He fucking left you at Georgetown,” I said as quietly as possible.

“He did.”

“He forced you to graduate early, leave your friends, and enroll at a school that wasn’t even your first choice, and then he left you.” I spared a WTF look in her direction.

Torres cocked an eyebrow at me from where he stood at the nearby wall, obviously able to hear us.

“I remember. I was there.”

“Yeah, well, I was too.” I glanced at the rest of the squad, who were all doing exactly what they were supposed to be. I was the only one engaging in high school behavior and arguing with a woman who wasn’t even my ex.

“Get off your high horse. Jeremy’s not the only one who disappeared on me at one time.”

I ignored the dig because it was true. But she’d obviously forgiven him, and I’d gotten the opposite treatment. “When did you two get back together? Before New York?” It would have explained everything.

“No!” she hissed. “Not until I went to DC. My parents took me out to lunch, and he was there with his family . . .” She sighed. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t,” I agreed. “And no explanation he could give would be sufficient. You deserve so much . . . more.”

Her head whipped toward mine, and three things happened at once.

I finally figured out what was bothering me about the way she’d been holding her hands all day. It wasn’t her hands. It was what wasn’t on her hand—her engagement ring.

The chess team came down the corridor, escorted by the Afghan soldiers.

And the runway exploded.