Bound to be Tested: Emergence, Book 3 Page 21

  Jude waited another minute and then spoke to his commanding officer again. “We need to move, Stanton. What’s the word?”

  “I can’t get anyone from unit four even individually.”

  “So we move in.”

  “Yes. On three. Everyone respond please. Units one, two, three and five, do you copy? On three we move in.”

  The leader of each group confirmed he got the message, and Stanton gave the signal. “One, two, three.”

  Jude stood, his legs stiff from crouching for so long. He kept low but moved at a near run for the side of the building. His gear was heavy. He hadn’t worn it in months. And it would hardly protect him from the kind of artillery Sharik would be carrying.

  He hit the side of the building at the same time as everyone else. They had the place surrounded. It made his stomach roil. What the fuck was Sharik’s game? That bastard was on Jude’s last nerve. He touched his pocket to confirm his grenades were still attached. He had two. All of them did. It was part of their uniform. But no one else in his unit was planning to use theirs. That was between Jude and his God.

  He’d love for this fight to turn out another way, but the deck was stacked against him. Abdul Sharik was going down today one way or another. And Jude knew his best bet was to beat the man at his own game—suicide bomber.

  Jude held his rifle with his right arm and pointed at the entrance to the building with his left. Men on the other side of the door nodded at his signal.

  Jude glanced both ways, making sure the truck he was inching behind wasn’t a trap.

  Jude held up three fingers consecutively, indicating the men closest would go on his count. When he got to three, Jude and five other men jumped in front of the door. It was a flimsy metal closure. Nothing they couldn’t kick in with their feet, and they did. In two solid roundhouses from his strongest men, the door swung open.

  The entrance was dark and Jude waited a second to enter, letting his eyes adjust. His men scattered into the warehouse, flanking him.

  Someone clapped. Just one person, as though they were at a fantastic stage performance, but all alone. Suddenly overhead lights came on. “Welcome, my friend. So glad you decided to join us.” Sharik’s voice, which Jude had only ever heard a few times, reached in and grated on his nerves.

  The man stood in the center of the wide-open space of the warehouse, pacing around in a circle. Four other men with high-power weapons stood ready to shoot.

  Sharik stepped around as relaxed as if he were having a dinner party. He didn’t carry a weapon that Jude could easily see. Though Jude knew the man was armed in some capacity.

  Men were spaced around the room at every corner. People were going to die here today. Jude was going to be one of them. He regretted that some of his men were going to go down too. There would be no way to avoid it.

  However, none of that was nearly as important as the squirming body tied in a sitting position to a chair in the middle of the center circle.

  Sharik looked to his men. “Where are our manners?” His English was halting, but nearly perfect. “Have a seat, Sergeant Cavanaugh. You’re just in time for the show.”

  Jude kept his gaze on the struggling person on the chair. No sound came from the bag. Whoever was inside was gagged and might not be getting enough air.

  God almighty, Jude hoped the rest of his men had a plan that involved some sort of rescue. The last thing he wanted was a dead civilian on his hands.

  The hostage squirmed again, violently, making the chair fall over. The person hit his head hard and stopped moving.

  Fuck. Hopefully the hostage was knocked unconscious, not dead.

  Sharik spun on his heel at the commotion. But when he leaned down to right the chair, a bullet rang out across the room. Whoever was in the bag was better off supine. Righting whoever it was would only make him a target. Jude’s men knew that. The warning shot ricocheted off the wall behind Sharik. It came from the open doorway.

  They’d been instructed to take Sharik alive if at all possible. Jude had never expected that to be a choice, but he’d do his best to follow orders until it was no longer realistic.

  Sharik righted himself, holding his hands up. He chuckled. “All right, boys. No need to get feisty. I was just going to help our friend here.”

  “Leave him be,” Jude said. “Unless you want to leave here in a similar body bag, I suggest you leave the hostage alone. Your beef is with me, Sharik, not the hostage.”

  Sharik stepped back, a smirk on his face. “How nice of you to come, Sergeant Cavanaugh. I knew you would join us. After all, it’s a party.” Sharik spread his arms wide, indicating the entire space was his domain.

  Another shot rang out and hit Sharik in the leg. A second followed, hitting his other leg before he realized he’d been hit the first time. Sharik screamed and fell to his knees. “You’re a dead man, Sergeant Cavanaugh.”

  “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.” Jude flinched as gunfire rang out all around him.

  Jude ducked behind a stack of pallets and aimed at every bastard in the room who wasn’t Sharik. It wasn’t hard considering the man now lay on his side on the floor, moaning in pain. He was only a few feet from the hostage and dragged himself closer an inch at a time.

  The last thing Jude wanted was for that rat bastard to get to the hostage and kill someone innocent. He switched his aim and shot a warning round at Sharik’s extended arm.

  Sharik wailed and used his only free limb to hold the injury.

  Men fell all around him as his Special Forces unit picked off Abdul’s supporters. Many were probably American citizens, planted years ago and lying in wait for an opportunity such as this.

  Jude’s team flooded in behind him and spread out. Through his earpiece he could hear his commander reminding everyone to take Abdul alive if at all possible.

  Jude kept one eye on Sharik and one eye on his surroundings. He worked his way around the edge of the wall until he could pounce on Sharik from behind. And then he took his opportunity.

  Sharik screamed when Jude landed. Jude dragged the man toward the closest wall and held him against his chest as a human shield. He gripped his chin and stuttered into his ear, “You fucking bastard. Is this how you wanted to die today?”

  Jude was still confused about Sharik’s motives. After all, the man had been a sitting duck.

  Sharik chuckled as though Jude had told him a joke, not the voice of man suffering from three gunshot wounds. “You don’t get it, do you, Cavanaugh?”

  Jude squeezed his face harder. “I guess I don’t,” he gritted out. “Why don’t you enlighten me, you fucktard?”

  “I don’t give two cents about dying. As long as I take you down with me, that’s all that matters.” He laughed manically, yanking his chin free and tipping his head back into Jude’s chest.

  The room was loud. Bullets rained everywhere.

  “Better tell your men to be careful. I have it on good authority that pretty lady over there is something special to you.”

  Jude froze. “What the fuck are you mumbling about, asshole?”

  Sharik nodded at the still form of the hostage. “If she didn’t already kill herself first.” He laughed again. “She was feisty. I couldn’t keep her still.”

  Jude saw stars. He held Sharik and shook his head, trying to clear it. Lori? Was that even possible? He’d left her in Jason’s hands this morning. No way.

  He needed to shake the feeling and do his job. Sharik was playing with him. Jude knew that. And even if Sharik wasn’t and he’d somehow gotten his slimy hands on Lori, Jude still needed to concentrate on the job. The hostage would have to wait until the job was done.

  Jude set his pistol to Sharik’s skull and pressed hard enough to leave an indentation.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “And why is that?” Jude gritted out.


  “This room is rigged to blow. In fact, it’s a wonder your men haven’t set off the explosives themselves with all that gunfire. You shoot me, you kill us all.”

  Jude tipped his gaze to Sharik’s free hand, the one that had been shot. Sure enough the man held up a remote device—and he was barely holding down the button.

  Jude glanced at the body lying tied to the chair. What if it is Lori?

  It all came clearer now. Sharik hadn’t come here just to kill Jude. He was on a suicide mission, as were all his men. Their instructions—to take out Jude at any cost.

  And therein lay the crux of every mission in the Middle East. These bastards didn’t have any value for their own lives. They preyed on others with ease, because dying to them was a means to an end. It wasn’t something they had any hesitation about. But what gave them the upper hand was knowing the value Americans did put on human life.

  In fact, they found it humorous that in the United States, even the most loathsome evil were kept alive, not slaughtered like cattle.

  Jude stared at the button, Sharik’s finger beginning to shake with the stress of holding it down with his damaged arm. “What’s it going to be, Cavanaugh? Either you surrender to my men or I kill all of yours.”

  Sharik was crazed. He didn’t give a fuck that his own people would also die in an explosion. Jude narrowed his gaze on Sharik. “My men are willing to die for their country if it means keeping the likes of you from taking any more innocent lives.” God how he hoped it didn’t come to that.

  Jude knew the only reason Sharik was bothering was to make Jude’s last moments more unbearable. Jude’s gaze shifted to the unmoving body on the floor again. The sack covered the person entirely. It was the right size to be Lori. Fury made his blood boil, and now wasn’t the time for that.

  He needed a level head. He had to make a decision. If Sharik were to be believed, no one would survive the explosives, but with so much gunfire, Jude doubted the explosives truly existed. His best bet would be to fake as if he were going to take himself and Sharik out with a grenade and hope no one else died when Sharik released that button.

  He held Sharik in one hand and set the pistol on the floor with the other.

  It was time to dance. Jude yanked one of the grenades from his pocket and held it in front of Sharik’s face. “I have my own explosives, asshole. You wanna tango? You have judged me wrong this day, my friend.” Jude released Sharik and pulled the safety pin on the grenade. He didn’t bother to hide it. He just held it up in Sharik’s face. “Hasta la vista, mother fucker.” He released the striker lever.

  The look in Sharik’s eyes as he tried to scramble away was priceless. Not only was he beyond surprised to find how little Jude valued his life, but he demonstrated how much he valued his own with his mad scramble to escape.

  His eyes went wide. He released the control he’d been holding and dragged himself backward.

  All Jude could think was, Holy mother of God, I hope I’ve judged this situation correctly. After years of researching this asshole, he knew him as well as anyone. And Jude was gambling all his knowledge on this one moment in time.

  The remote clattered to the floor with no explosion following its release. Relief flooded Jude. Time stood still while Sharik tried to escape the grenade. Jude stared him in the eye and counted down the seconds before the explosion would occur. As soon as those crucial seconds passed, Sharik would be onto him.

  Sure, the commanding officer had wanted to take Sharik alive, but the second that asshole reached for the prone hostage, Jude whipped a second gun from his back and fired two rounds into the enemy’s head.

  Sharik fell to the ground, the life ebbing out of him in the same way it had months ago. This time it was real. No man survived two close-range shots to the head.

  Shots still rang out, some coming precariously close to the hostage.

  Jude tossed the fake grenade and crawled over to the sack, shoving Sharik’s body out of his way. He tore at the rope holding the person inside before realizing he needed a knife and grabbed his sharp blade from his side scabbard.

  He made quick work of cutting the ropes free and sliced carefully into the sack. Before he could reveal the entire person, red curls fell into his hands. He tore frantically, barely noticing the lack of gunfire around him. She lay facedown, and he searched for her pulse before flipping her over.

  Be alive, baby. Please. He couldn’t bear to see her face if she were dead.

  A faint heartbeat was all he needed to breathe, and he gathered Lori’s body up against his chest and held her tight. He pulled the wadded gag from her mouth, and she moaned and muttered something incoherent into his vest.

  Jude froze. Her voice wasn’t right. It was strained. Off. Too deep. He pulled her down to hold her in his lap and gasped. Her head lulled and her eyes flickered open—but this woman was not Lori.

  Tears ran down Jude’s face. “We need a medic over here,” he screamed.

  Who was she? An innocent local caught in the wrong place at the wrong time?

  Two men ran forward and took the frail woman from Jude’s lap. They gently laid her flat and checked her vitals.

  Ike stepped up and pulled Jude to his feet. “You know her?” His brow was furrowed.

  “No,” Jude whispered. “No.” But something still felt weird. He glanced around the room. Most of his men seemed to be standing. None of the enemy.

  Ike stepped in front of his gaze. “You all right, man?” He set a hand on Jude’s shoulder. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “I might have, Ike. I might have.” Jude shook his head and stared back at the woman who eerily resembled his woman. A chill raced down his spine. All those times he’d felt someone watching him in the woods behind the house… Maybe he hadn’t been crazy. Maybe this bastard had seen Lori and had kidnapped this lookalike to fuck with Jude’s head. How long had Sharik been holding this woman hostage?

  “Good thing you’re about to retire.” Ike chuckled. “I might have had to turn you in for being unstable.” He grew serious again. “Hey. You did good work. And that grenade trick was fucking awesome. You should have seen the look on that bastard’s face as he tried to get away.

  “Here’s what I don’t understand—how did you know the remote was a fake?”

  Jude lifted his face to look Ike in the eye. “I didn’t. It was a gamble. But I saw no evidence of any explosives in here. And I never noticed him holding the remote before that moment. I think he pulled it out to use as leverage. He failed.”

  “Fuck. You’re one risky dude.” Ike’s eyes widened in disbelief and respect. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this job for one day.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m on vacation.”

  Ike cringed. “I think you might want to put in for a little more time.” He set a hand on Jude’s shoulder as they left the warehouse. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “Nah, man. I have to be somewhere after we debrief.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He chuckled. “Is she hot?”

  “That she is.” Jude stepped outside and lifted his face to the sun. It was warm out. He spun around and watched the sky for a minute. He’d tempted fate a second time and won. He surely didn’t have more lives. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a second grenade. This one was real. He felt it between his fingers and thanked God he’d chosen the fake.

  Several troops had pulled up in jeeps, and Jude jogged over to one, anxious to get back to the base, debrief, shower and get the hell back to Lori.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It took six hours for Jude to make it back to Jason’s house. He held a dozen roses and had a nervous gait he was well aware of. Lori had every right to kick his ass to the curb and send him packing. But he was here to fight for her, and he wouldn’t go down without trying.

  Jude knocked at the door and it swung open so fast he flinched.
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  Jason stood just inside, his phone to his ear, his shirt open, his hair disheveled, his face frantic. For a second Jude thought he’d caught the man having sex. And then he changed his mind.

  Jason’s mouth fell open. The phone fell away to his side without him telling the caller goodbye. He stepped past Jude through the door and spun around outside. “What the hell?” Jason asked.

  Jude lowered the roses. Something wasn’t right.

  “Where’s Lori?” Jason asked.

  “What the fuck do you mean, where’s Lori? I left her here with you.”

  Jason stopped looking around and turned to set his confused gaze on Jude. “She’s not here. Why the hell are you here?” He stepped back inside.

  Jude followed, shutting the door behind him.

  Jason lifted his arm to his head and seemed to realize he was holding a phone and in the middle of a call. “Shit. Carlton?… No, it’s not Lori, it’s Jude… I don’t fucking know yet… I’ll call you back.” He hung up and put the cell in his pocket.

  “Explain to me how you don’t know where Lori is?”

  “Explain to me how you’re here at my house less than twenty-four hours after shattering that woman for the second time.”

  “Fair enough.” Jude deflated. He entered the living room and set the roses on the coffee table. “I deserve that. You know I can’t tell you where I’ve been, but suffice to say, I’m done now. It won’t happen again.”

  “And you somehow miraculously tempted fate again?”

  “It would appear that way, yes. Now what happened here?”

  “I don’t know.” Jason started to pace. “You dropped her off, and I took her directly to the guest room to sleep off the stress and exhaustion. I busied myself all morning and she never emerged. At about one, I went to wake her up to try to get her to eat something and she was gone.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, fuck.”

  The foreboding he’d felt earlier returned. Had he pushed her so far off the deep end she might try to take her own life?