Restore Page 8

  “Agreed.” I resume walking toward the structure. “Just find him. I’ll talk to him about it.”

  —

  The outbuilding door stands open with a few men of Middle Eastern descent guarding the entrance. “As-Salaam-Alaikum,” the taller man greets.

  Fletcher must be feeling sociable today. He replies, “Wa-Alaikum-Salaam.”

  All I do is nod which draws a questioning stare from my fellow mercenary.

  Lowering his voice, he says, “When this is over, we should talk.”

  “I—”

  “I don’t care what you have planned. We’re talking.”

  “Whatever,” I say and pick up the pace.

  In front of us, two more of Bashur’s men occupy chairs at a long folding table. An old-fashioned whiteboard on a rolling stand is behind it while the man of the hour struts around the open space like it belongs to him.

  His dark, dangerous gaze bounces over to us. “As-Salaam-Alaikum.”

  When I keep quiet, Fletcher cuts his eyes toward me. Against my better judgment, I join him in the standard reply.

  “Take a seat, Aza, and we’ll get started.” Bashur stares in our direction for a moment. “I don’t recall inviting Mr. Fletcher to this meeting.”

  Fletcher gives a quick bow. “Forgive the intrusion, Mohammad, but any meeting involving Aza must include me. As of this morning, the Alliance has promoted me. I am now your main contact within the organization.”

  Bashur presses his lips into a thin line, lifts his chin, and strokes his beard. “This is news to me.”

  “You shall receive an update within the hour,” Fletcher assures him as he takes a seat.

  “Very well.” Bashur claps his hands and looks at me with a glow in his eyes. “This meeting is to finalize our mission. Now that young Aza has returned, we should have all that is required.”

  If this imbecile thinks I’m about to hand him the notebook’s pages, he’s crazier than I think he is. Rihana and I discussed this ad nauseam—only give Bashur the details we want him to know. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Fletcher nudges me with his foot—all part of my act.

  I shrug half-heartedly.

  “Aza, do you have the location of the Helix?”

  “Possibly.” I pause for a beat or two and watch the sweat bead on Bashur’s forehead. “We have two locations to check out.”

  Fletcher clears his voice. “One location is back in Michigan. The other is here in the territory.”

  “We require an exact location,” Bashur starts. “Without it, we cannot free the captives and expose the project.”

  Lifting my palms up, I let my gaze wander.

  “If I may…” Fletcher jumps in. “The good captain hasn’t quite been himself since returning from Michigan. This is why I’ve been promoted.” His eyes, full of false disdain, sweep over me. “I have discussed the mission with Mr. Winters. We will take two teams of men—Mohammad you will lead one and I, the other.”

  Bashur perches on the end of the table. “Who is on the teams?”

  “You will take the soldier from Senegal and the one called Red.”

  “And my men?”

  “Take whomever you wish.” Fletcher points to me. “Captain Jones is with me. Mark Carter is headed back to the territory as we speak.”

  Nodding, Bashur adds, “My team will check out the most likely location.”

  My hands clench. If this ass thinks he’s taking over… “Your team will go to the location in the territory.”

  Fletcher’s gaze flings to me. “I thought Bashur was assigned to Michigan.”

  “No. We’re going to Michigan. We’re familiar with the area and can search it quicker.” What I haven’t told Fletcher is that the notebook rules out Colorado as the location. According to the notes, all candidates for the Helix were transferred to Michigan.

  “Makes sense to me. Aza, my team will leave this evening.” He looks around the room. “I think we are done here.” Bashur’s forehead wrinkles, and he frowns at me. “Unless someone needs to talk…”

  “Nope. I’m good.” I push to my feet and stalk toward the door.

  In a matter of minutes, Fletcher joins me outside. “Wanna explain what that was?”

  Walking toward the newly-constructed barracks, I say, “I told you I read the notebook.”

  “Yeah. You also told us that what we’re looking for is in Colorado.”

  “Was in Colorado. Meet with Aoki. He has the coded notes. Maybe he’s cracked it by now and can tell us exactly where in Michigan we’re going.”

  “Okay.” Fletcher sinks his hands in his pockets. “Permission to speak freely?”

  “Always.”

  “If shit had a face, it would look like yours.”

  “Say what?” I have to admit I’ve never heard that before.

  “It’s obvious you haven’t slept much. You were disrespectful back there.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see Bashur’s men still located near the door. “Just didn’t feel like being sociable.”

  “Not buying it. There’s something else going on, other than your hatred for Bashur.”

  “There’s nothing—”

  “When I entered the military, I was married.”

  News flash. “What happened?”

  “War. Rebels killed my whole family.”

  “Sorry to hear that. How long were you married?”

  “Only five years.” Fletcher pauses. “During that time, however, my wife never had to worry about my faithfulness.”

  “You heard?”

  He nods. “All men are tempted, but prayer helps fortify us.”

  Religious rhetoric.

  Praying has never helped me much. If it did, my parents and my brother Shiloh would still be alive. Prayer didn’t save my first love nor my niece and nephew. Bottom line, prayer is for the weak hearted, for those who want someone to save them. I’ll save myself, thank you.

  Rihana encouraged me to pray when I confessed to her. And now one of my soldiers suggests doing the same thing. Did they not understand that sometimes you have to provide your own paths, pull yourself out of the mess you make?

  “Sorry, Fletch. I don’t have a lot of faith in prayer. I’m good without it.”

  “Sorry, but I disagree.” He stops me before we enter the barracks. “The way I see it is, you’re lost in the desert. Prayer can help you find your way. I make Salat five times a day. You claim to be a convert to Muslim. You must embrace the practice, Aza. It’s a necessary part of our religion.”

  “Well, there’s a lot I haven’t embraced in my life.”

  “Only an excuse.” He jerks his head toward the door. “The good doctor is in her office. Handle your business, but don’t forget what I said. If more citizens embraced prayer, maybe this country wouldn’t be hanging by a thread.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “You might say, Mohammad Raman, what do you mean by these words? Our lives are bleak and hopeless. We cannot get from under our oppressors. Well, I am here to tell you that you should not give up hope. It is always dark right before the light of day.”

  —from the Honorable M. Raman Bashur,

  Kurdish political & religious thinker

  Dr. Kapernecki gives me a clean bill of health. Other than being seriously sleep deprived, she sees nothing that will make her delist me from active duty. But she won’t give me anything more than some natural remedies and suggestions to help me sleep. If none of that helps, then she’ll consider giving me a medical solution.

  As I’m walking to the house, I see Bashur racing away from the guesthouse.

  What the fuck?

  Red meets me halfway down the path. “Fucker didn’t get past me.”

  “Where’s my wife? My kid?”

  “They’re with your grandmother.”

  “Go back and keep an eye on them. I’ve got this.” It doesn’t matter what Fletcher says or what the Alliance wants. Mohammad Raman Bashur is about to meet his maker.

 
; —

  Stepping across the threshold of the outbuilding, I don’t see anyone in the main room. I open the door to my right. Simple cots adorn the far wall. Locker-style cabinets separate each cot, giving the men their own living quarters. A door at the end of the narrow room opens.

  “Aza, As-Salaam-Alaikum,” he greets.

  “Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,” I reply through my teeth.

  Bashur rubs his hands together. “Do you have more information for me?”

  “No.”

  “Then what brings you here?”

  “We need to reach an understanding.” I clench my fists.

  The backstabber locks eyes with me, no sign of awareness coming from him. “About?”

  I want to cross the small space and punch the shit out of him. Resisting temptation, I announce, “Why were you trying to see my wife?”

  The man’s lips curl up like flames. “To offer her guidance, nothing more. Your current mental state might be difficult for her to understand.”

  “My wife understands me just fine.”

  “All the same… Rihana has come to rely upon me. I have been a source of comfort for her in your absence.”

  I’m seeing crimson. Baring my teeth, I take a step forward. “Stay the hell away from my family, Bashur.”

  His head rocks back, but the smile doesn’t budge from his mouth. “Someone should be the voice of reason for Rihana. How will she ever know the truth about you?”

  Cracking my knuckles, I say, “No more filling her head with shit.”

  “Or what?” He leans against the door frame. “Trouble in paradise?”

  It takes me all of two seconds to traverse the space between us. I slam my palm against the wall next to his head. “The only trouble will be what happens to you if you don’t back the fuck up.”

  “Threatening me?”

  “No. I’m promising you. Come around my family again, and I’ll kill your motherfucking ass!”

  Bashur laughs. “You cannot tell me where I go or who I speak to. When it comes to the lovely Rihana, she will eventually choose the man over the boy.”

  This situation can go one of two ways. Either I respond like a foolish kid on the playground or I drop it. The former might leave one of us dead. The latter is the intelligent choice and doesn’t jeopardize the mission.

  My eyes sweep over Bashur, sizing him up as I walk backward. “Don’t mess with me. You might think I’m a boy, but I assure you it will be a man taking you out.”

  His jaw and fists clench simultaneously. “Slink away like the boy that you are.”

  Before I exit the room, I say, “We’re done here.”

  It’s time for lunch with my family.

  —

  Instead of finding Rihana and Viyan in the kitchen with Mama Sibley, I hear their voices coming from Steve’s study. When I enter the room, everyone—Steve, my wife, and Zared—looks up at me. My step-grandfather is typing at a holographic computer.

  “What’s going on?” I ask of no one in particular.

  Zared says, “I broke the code.”

  “Really? Where’s the Helix housed?”

  “North Woods.”

  Well, I’ll be damned. I speculated on the possibility when we rescued Tru, but wasn’t able to check it out.

  Steve’s fingers move over the keyboard. “I have a team ready to go, Asher. Carter will meet you in Michigan.”

  I want some down time, but it makes sense to get this done as soon as possible.

  Zared speaks up, “I might be able to pinpoint the location you should start your search for the Helix. There’s a map in Tru’s notebook. I’ve been combing old records, and I’ve got some coordinates to work with.”

  “Great.” I clap my hands and get ready to stand. “I guess I should pack my gear—”

  “I have changed my mind. You are not leaving here without me,” Rihana warns.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “No, Ree. I won’t put you in danger.”

  “You will not be putting me in danger. We can be stronger together.”

  “No, Ree.”

  Her eyes dart to Steve. “Tell him.”

  “Tell me what?”

  He presses his lips together before finally speaking. “Your wife has trained with my men. If you’re worried about her safety, you shouldn’t be. She can take care of herself.”

  I rub my brow. Too much has happened in my absence. I never imagined my wife training for combat. “What about weapons?”

  “She trained as a sharpshooter,” my step-grandfather says.

  Rihana lifts her chin and adds with pride, “And I’m very proficient with a knife.”

  Don’t get it wrong. I’m not chauvinistic, but Viyan needs her mother. I shake my head. “I still don’t like it.”

  “And I do not like you leaving without me. If you do this, you do it with me.”

  “What about Viyan?”

  “We’ll take care of her,” my grandmother responds as she enters the room. “I’ll be by her side whenever the security team isn’t. I promise you that nothing will happen to my great-granddaughter.”

  “Am I being outvoted?” I ask, glancing around the room.

  Rihana stands beside my grandmother. Their strong postures scream ‘don’t mess with us.’

  I look over at Steve. He shrugs.

  “Okay, okay, okay.” I hold up my hands. “I know when I’m beat. Rihana, you’re in.”

  She smiles.

  “Steve, can we have a word? In private?”

  He nods. Zared and Rihana stand and leave the room.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sitting down, I think over what I’ve heard about Bashur. “I hope nothing, but I don’t trust Bashur or his men.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. What has he done?”

  “This afternoon I saw him rushing from my place. Red said Bashur didn’t get inside. I had a discussion with Bashur. He said I couldn’t stop him from speaking to Rihana.”

  “An unfortunate truth. Do you have anything more to go on?”

  “According to Rihana, Bashur wants to marry her.”

  Steve’s eyes widen. “Sadly, that’s not news. The man wants you dead.”

  “Now you see my problem?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Joining Riza Corps was supposed to teach me discipline and strength of character. Instead, I learned distrust, and phobias became constant companions. ”

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

  Steve gives me an unblinking stare as he connects the dots and considers the possibilities. “Hell, I’ll take down Bashur my damned self before that happens. I promised Sibley to protect you and your family.”

  “Letting Rihana come with me won’t do that. I can’t watch my back and hers.”

  “Understood. I’ll talk to her. In the meantime, I think the three of you should move in here.”

  I nod.

  “I’ll speak to Maria. She’ll make up your old room. Are you okay with Viyan in her own space? I’m thinking about the room beside ours. It’s just big enough for her.”

  “That’ll work. Thanks. I have to see my wife.”

  —

  Rihana is alone in the kitchen, staring into a cup, most likely tea, and muttering to herself.

  “Ree?”

  She pinches her lips together before lifting her head. “Aza.”

  “Praying?”

  She nods. “Figured we could use a little divine help. Can we go home now?”

  “Only to pack a few things for overnight. We’re moving in here for tonight. In the morning we’ll leave for Michigan.”

  “I will be ready.”

  “About that…” It’s better to get this conversation over and done with. I’m expecting Rihana to fight me on it, but she has to stay here for all of our sakes. “Ree, I need you to say here with Viyan—keep her safe. Sibley would love—”

  Rihana grasps my hand. “No, my love. My place is beside you.”

  “B
ut—”

  She raises her hand, cutting me off. “Did I ever tell you that my family fought in the Peshmerga?”

  The Peshmerga was the military forces for Iraqi Kurdistan before the Iraqi Civil War decimated the country. They were responsible for the captures of significant individuals while defending their land and their countrymen. As far as her family still overseas, Rihana rarely mentioned them.

  “No.”

  “Mostly my uncles served, but there have been aunts and female cousins in the Peshmerga. They never saw any front-line action, but they were behind the scenes handling logistical matters. I admired their contributions. My Aunt Zerî constantly complained, along with other women, that she wished she could really fight. She had all the training, but the men would not let them fight. Women were allowed to plan tactics and maneuvers. They could even manage, but no active fighting.”

  “So you want your chance,” I affirm. It isn’t a question.

  “We have spent a year apart. I do not want to be separated from you anymore.”

  “But Viyan needs you,” I insist.

  “She needs the both of us, but if we do not stop Raman, there will be no us. He is a determined man and will not stop until he accomplishes his goals—including making me his wife.”

  “That won’t happen. I won’t let it.”

  “My helping you is my way of fighting against him for us. Do not make me sit on the sidelines. Do not determine my fate for me.”

  To be honest, I never thought of her fighting as a way of standing up for our relationship. Most important, though, I never thought about her fighting as giving her a voice. No woman should have to sit back and let someone else decide her fate.

  Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, I stare into those dark eyes like a cup of espresso. What did I do to deserve such an amazing woman? She’s my friend, lover, and confidante. She’s soft and sexy when I need her to be and tough as nails when she needs to be. And to think I nearly threw this away on a whim, a longing based on desperation.

  Leaning forward, I cup her face and kiss her deeply. A lusty feeling of warmth passes over me. Unless I plan on taking my wife on the kitchen counter, I have to stop. Now. Dragging my mouth from hers, I stare into her eyes and start to say something. She silences me with a finger pressed on my lips.