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  Mark blows air through his cheeks. “Not much we can do but roll with it.”

  “Okay. You go for the front door. Get everyone out. I’ll find Bashur.”

  “No. Once again, you’re not thinking.” Mark shakes his head. “We go together until we figure out what’s going on inside.”

  Pocketing my useless phone, I ask, “Why do you keep asking me for suggestions and then choose something else?”

  “Holding out hope, Ash. Sooner or later, you’ll come up with a good one.” He laughs again. “Let’s get this over and done with.”

  —

  Quiet surrounds us like a blanket as we approach the front door of the house. Too bad that blanket isn’t pitch black. Being out in the open like this is unnerving. I’m listening to every sound and slapping a label on it—cricket, owl, coyote, no footsteps. My ears tell me one thing while my gut speaks the truth. Trouble is brewing, and it’s only a matter of time before it reaches us.

  As we draw nearer the front door, calamity arrives with a familiar click and a cold barrel against my temple. A side-glance to my left confirms my worst fear. And then the voice comes at me like a growl. No cordial greeting this time around.

  “So nice of you to return home, Lieutenant.”

  I'm getting really tired of this fucker forgetting my rank.

  Bashur’s men relieve Mark and me of our weapons while keeping their own aimed at us.

  “We have much to discuss, Lieu—”

  “Cut the bullshit, Bashur! Where’s my wife?” I snap.

  Hot foul breath crosses my face as my adversary approaches. “How about I take you to her, Asher?” The man pronounces my name like it’s toxic. “Time for her to learn who you really are, anyway. Let’s go.”

  Walking with hands raised over our heads makes for a slow procession, but it affords an opportunity to think. A thousand thoughts go through my mind as we retrace our steps over the path headed toward the outbuilding. First and foremost, is not doing this in front of Rihana. My wife has never seen me weak. Outside of those crippling nightmares, she only knows me as a strong, capable man. A man who would do whatever’s necessary to protect his family.

  Determined to do this in my own way, I stop walking. The soldier behind me collides with my back side with a loud oomph.

  “Move!” he shouts and presses the barrel of his rifle into my spine.

  Ignoring his demand, I shout, “Answers, Bashur! I need fucking answers!”

  The man whirls around as the rest of the group comes to a stop. “Funny thing. I need those, as well. Who should go first?”

  Mark opens his mouth to say something but slams it shut when I cut my eyes toward him. Instead of answering him, I lower my hands and watch Mark do the same. “First, my wife.”

  “Better deal, Asher Jones, tell me where you stashed the Helix.”

  I'll go to my grave before I divulge those details.

  I step forward, and the five men with Bashur turn their guns on me. Disregarding the threat, I continue moving closer to my enemy. “Not until you fill me in on some things.”

  “Like?”

  “Like why did you kidnap Rihana? This had nothing to do with her.”

  The corners of Bashur’s eyes crinkle as his yellowish teeth are revealed. “That is where you are wrong. This has everything to do with anyone associated with your family. Rihana is what your government likes to call collateral damage.”

  A knot starts forming in my stomach as I remember what Steve said about an innocent family being killed on a mission. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m sure your grandfather told you about that ill-fated mission in Kandahar.”

  “My step-grandfather,” I correct.

  “Doesn’t matter to me.” Bashur leans in, and I’m assaulted by bad breath again. “The point is you and your grandfather have a history of destroying families. Perhaps losing yours as a young man was just karma seeking justice.”

  My hand slowly fists.

  “Don’t do it, man,” Mark says beside me. “He’s not worth it.”

  “Spoken by the man who has always been by your side. A little too close if you ask me.” Bashur crosses his arms. “My marrying Rihana will make things easier for you two.” His eyes bounce from me to Mark and back again. “We’ll raise Viyan and you two can continue your… Is it right to call it an affair or a relationship?”

  I lunge for Bashur. Mark grabs my elbow and pulls me back as five rifles click.

  “Asher, don’t let this man get to you. He doesn’t know shit.”

  That may be true, but he knows enough to piss me off. Over the years people—idiots like Bashur—have implied things about my connection to Mark. In the beginning, I questioned it as well, but then I accepted it for what it was—an honest-to-God friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. We’re close because of the shit I went through. We stay close despite it.

  Calming down, I shirk out of Mark’s grip. My anger is replaced by confusion. I ask, “Why me? Your issue is with Steve. I’m not even his blood.”

  “Like I said, it doesn’t matter. He cares enough about you. My goal has always been about destroying what he loves. No one thought twice about my family. No one thought twice about how I would feel.”

  What could I say to that? It’s exactly how I felt when I lost my parents and brother. People only assumed shit about me—still do.

  Bashur continues, “Do you honestly believe Rihana entered your life by accident?”

  I know she didn’t. The first time I saw her was a coincidence. The second time was the day I enlisted with Riza. I was leaving the building when two men attacked her. We became friends and grew close. So close that she trusted me to take her to a meeting at a mosque. It was there that I met Bashur, and she revealed the deception. So none of this is news.

  “Like tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Do you know I kept up with your grandfather? Learned about his wife and her family? It's how I discovered he had a troubled grandson who spent time with the Riza Corps.”

  A kernel of news.

  When I don't respond, Bashur says, “Here's one you don't know. Your wife-to-be had her own job—canvassing the recruiting offices around New Detroit. When she found you, she was to set up a meeting.”

  The nugget grows a pair of hands and punches me hard, knocking the wind from my lungs. My knees buckle. If I had a chair, I would have collapsed on it. “Does she know about Kandahar?”

  “No. It's a good thing we chose to deceive her too. Otherwise I don't think she would have gone along with the plan.”

  Fuck no! Rihana wouldn't…

  Why was everything in my life a damn lie? No. Correction. Almost everything. Because I am certain Rihana loves me. It doesn’t matter how or why we met, only that we did.

  And I believe Mama Sibley and even Steve love me. Mark cares about me. We’re, like, brothers. So almost every other thing that is important in my life is part of a sick, twisted master scheme. The universe must really hate my ass.

  “Have you heard enough, Asher? The not-so proverbial clock is ticking down.”

  He’s right about that. But I need a little more clarification before I bring this fucker to his knees.

  “Why Habib? Jabari?”

  Bashur steps away, paces for a moment, and then turns back to me. “A little truth? Habib and his father don’t like you. Never have. When I told Asif my issue with your family, he agreed to help. Did you know that Jabari was supposed to marry Rihana?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “The most important thing Riza taught me is that soldiers learn by example. It doesn’t matter what classes and speeches they throw at us. If you exhibit the right traits, the soldiers will follow you.”

  —from “Reflections on Riza” by Lt. Asher Nicholas Jones

  My gut hurts like I’ve been stabbed. All I see is red. Nobody would have told me that betrayal has a taste—it’s putrid and foul like decay. I sway slightly.

  Bashur smiles at my
discomfort. “Jabari never got over that slight. He’s been in love with Rihana since they were children, but she never cared for him. He always scared her for some reason.” Bashur’s eyes sweep over me. “You might like to know that they’ve had an interesting reunion. Rihana’s still…” The bastard chuckles. “Let’s say she’s still a little shy around her future husband.”

  Future husband?

  I lunge for the asshat, but soldiers grab my arms. Struggling against my captors, I grit my teeth and say, “If he hurts her…”

  “What will you do?” Bashur sneers. “This is the end of the road for you. Once you are dead, Jabari will be free to claim his bride. I’m sure he will enjoy fucking the taste of you out of her mouth.”

  My hatred for this man and his rhetoric gnaws at me. Common sense takes a backseat, and I strike out, delivering a well-placed kick to a kneecap. The motion catches both soldiers off guard. One goes down while the other loosens his grip. Without hesitation, I grab the holstered weapon when the standing soldier leans forward.

  The sudden sound of rifles loading garners my attention. Not many options for a guy when faced with a barrage of weapons. Instead of lowering the damn gun, I aim it toward Bashur.

  The fool laughs. “Don’t be stupid. Before you can squeeze the trigger, you’ll be dead along with your friend. Put it down.”

  My gaze bounces from man to man—all part of Bashur’s team—before it lands on Mark. He gives me a subtle head shake. The only warning he’ll give.

  An impatient soldier lowers his weapon, but instead of disengaging, he aims and shoots the ground near my feet. Automatically, I flinch and grip my gun tighter. Putting it down isn’t an option. If I do, I’m a dead man.

  Bashur exhales loudly and rakes a hand through his hair. “Fine. We’ll play this your way, Lieutenant.” To his men, he instructs, “Stand down.”

  With one eye on my enemy, I move closer to Mark. Together we reposition ourselves so that the open field is at our backs. Now we can see the house. That’s when I notice someone at an open upstairs window along with the shadow of a weapon. Sniper? For whom?

  “We’re wasting time!” Bashur shouts. “Now, one more time, where is the Helix stashed?”

  This man is so fucking sure of himself—of me. It makes me sick. Was I that screwed up as a kid to fall for his rhetoric?

  Dragging my gaze from the possible sniper, I say, “Funny thing, Bashur. Like, I’m not at liberty to give you that information.”

  His face turns bright red, and his jaw works side to side. “What do you mean you cannot tell me? Your mission is completed. Where are they?”

  Mark nudges me in the side. I glance up and see the curtains hanging outside the window. From this distance, I can’t make out who the person is holding the rifle. He’s not broad enough to be a soldier. My hope is that Zared made it to Steve’s gun locker.

  I cock my gun and inch closer to Bashur. He holds up his hand as his men raise their weapons again. “Answer my questions, then maybe I can tell you about the Helix.”

  “I’ve answered them. Why are you…” His voice trails off, and then his gaze swings toward the house. In Kurmanji, he tells his men about the sniper. Somebody grabs Mark.

  Bashur looks around nervously, his eyes bouncing from each of his men. “Take Lieutenant Jones’s friend with you. Secure the outbuilding.”

  Possibly where Rihana is being held. I’ll have to trust that Mark will free her.

  I listen to the footsteps crunching across the dry desert floor behind me. Seconds later, I see Mark disappearing into the dark with a soldier poking a gun into his back. For a fleeting moment I worry about my friend, but it’s not necessary. He’s been in worse situations. As for me? Well, this shit ends now.

  Once we’re alone, Bashur returns to his questioning, “Now, Asher, you will tell me where to find the Helix.”

  “Don’t worry about them. They’re safe.”

  “You really are a difficult man. Have you forgotten about Rihana?” He clenches his jaw and his fist simultaneously. “Wouldn’t you like to see her one last time?”

  “I plan to see her plenty of times. Let her go.” I steady the Glock with both of my hands.

  Bashur shakes his head. “Rihana is where she needs to be, but if you’re not going to tell me what I need to know—”

  “Salk turned you in,” I interject. “Told us every fucking thing.”

  The man I was so foolish enough to place my trust in looks up at the sky. “Your leaders know nothing.”

  “They know enough.” I step closer and place the barrel against Bashur’s temple. “The U.N. is sending someone to cart your motherfucking ass away!”

  That is, if Zared got my transmission before hell erupted.

  Bashur snarls, “You stupid kid, officials have nothing to arrest me for. When they arrive, I shall turn you and your friend in for treason.”

  “That's where you're wrong! I recorded Salk’s confession, and it went straight to the U.N.”

  “You did not,” he sneered.

  “Care to find out?”

  Bashur draws in a deep breath, and his eyes bulge. Fear? I sure hope the hell it is. If he’s scared enough, he’ll tell me what I want. “It’s over, Bashur. Where’s Rihana?”

  “Not till I say it’s over.” His jacket pocket moves, and I prepare to shoot. “Don’t do it. You might blow things up.”

  When Bashur removes his hand, I see the detonator in his palm. Shit! He could depress the button before I squeeze a shot off. Not good, not good.

  Unfortunately, my attention should have been on the sniper. Before either Bashur or myself can act, a single shot rings out. The slug crashes into Bashur’s shoulder. The detonator flies from his hand as the man falls backward toward the ground.

  Following the device’s trajectory, I lunge low and attempt to scoop it up. Too late. A red light blinks on its surface.

  Fuck!

  “Run!” I yell.

  As I scramble to my feet, Bashur’s bloody hand grabs my ankle and drags me down. Kicking because my life depends on this, I struggle out of his reach. Just as I rise, the ground shakes and I’m flying through the air. Vibrations course through me. Once again, my hearing is muffled.

  Minutes later, the smoke clears, and I roll onto my back. The outbuilding is flattened—just a pile of twisted metal and concrete. All of the closest structures have been destroyed, as well. My hearing slowly returns, and I hear people screaming.

  Slowly, I stand. Zared and my step-grandfather reach me. Talking to them has to wait. Search the ravaged landscape was my priority.

  A hand grabs my elbow before I can move. “Wait! Let me get some of my crew out here to help.”

  I shrug out of Steve’s grasp. “Do whatever you need to do, but I’ve got to find my wife!”

  Near the edge of the destruction lies Bashur’s body. A metal support beam pins him to the ground. Checking for a pulse is a wasted effort. His lifeless eyes stare into the void. A part of me wans to feel some bit of remorse. Buy why? The man doesn’t deserve my sympathy.

  Turning in a circle, I’m happy to see the house and the barracks intact. The screams are coming from the wreckage of the outbuilding. Undoubtedly, Bashur’s men are trapped within the rubble. If Jabari and Rihana’s brother were inside… A gratuitous loss of lives.

  “Aza!”

  Looking up, I see Rihana running in my direction. Tears stream down her dirty face. Mark, standing behind her, watches from a safe distance.

  Catching my wife in my arms, I tell her, “I’m okay. I’m okay, Ree.”

  She steps back. Her hands move over my face and chest like she doesn’t believe I’m here. “Oh, Aza.”

  Wrapping my arms around my wife, I say, “It’s over, baby. It’s all over.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Look around this city. Tell me what do you see? I see despair and abandonment. Closed centers of education. Boarded up homes. Crime and our people living in squalid conditions. The oppressor, thi
s government, has cast all citizens aside. We are all being deprived of a meaningful, hope-filled life.”

  —from the Honorable M. Raman Bashur,

  Kurdish political & religious thinker

  Tired, dirty, and glad to be alive, the three of us drag into the main house. Gone are Bashur’s men—taken care of by members of the team. Mama Sibley rushes to us as soon as we enter the kitchen.

  “You’re all right?” Her eyes dart from Rihana to Mark and then land on me. “Anybody hurt?”

  Hugging my grandmother, despite the filth she returns the gesture. “We’re all good, Mama Sibley. I just, like, want to see my daughter.”

  As if I summoned her, Tru walks in with a crying Viyan on her hip. “She heard the explosion. I had to bring her down.”

  My daughter reaches for me, and I don’t hesitate to grab her. “I’m okay, Viyan.”

  Everything would be okay from this point forward.

  —

  It will be a few weeks before all the clutter is cleared and my step-grandfather is able to rebuild the ruined buildings, but reconstruction won’t restore what Bashur tried to take from us. Only time and maybe a few prayers would fix that. Until that happened, I planned on making the most of every moment I had with my family and friends—the few I had left.

  Clean but hungry, I head into the kitchen where I find Mark sitting at the counter with a beer in hand.

  “Hey, man, hungry?” Opening the fridge, I say, “I was about to fix myself a little something.”

  “Sure.” He tips back the bottle and drains the contents. “Can you get me another one of these while you’re in there?”

  Pulling a carton of eggs from the fridge, a package of tortillas, a glass container of salsa, and a package of meat, I ask, “You don’t mind steak and eggs, do you?”

  “Real meat?”

  “It’s the only thing my step-grandfather imports. Homemade salsa and tortillas courtesy of the housekeeper.” I place everything on the counter and pull a skillet from the rack over my head.