Heartsick over the untimely death of her mother, Allison Caldwell is blindsided again by the secret revealed in her mom’s will. Her supposedly dead father is alive, and she and her two sisters must find him in order to settle the Caldwell estate.
Robert Rivera, private investigator and former Navy SEAL, alerts Allison to new intel identifying her father as a P.O.W. in Afghanistan. With her sisters out of the country pursuing leads, Allison insists on heading to the war-ravaged country to find him. Robert doesn’t want his naïve client to take the risk. He knows what danger lays in that godforsaken land…he’s lived through it. Barely.
But Allison is determined to go, and Robert can’t let her travel alone. Reluctantly appreciative, Allison quickly realizes how much she needs his guidance and protection, and how deeply she longs for his love. Robert struggles to understand her effect on his battle-weary heart.
The path to Allison’s father is blocked by terrorists, traps and treachery—all demons of Robert’s past. Can he survive a second round with the enemy and keep Allison out of harm’s way?
Information:
Title: Entice Me (A Caldwell Sisters Series)
Author: Lucianne Rivers
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: 76 pages
Re-release Date: November 2013
ISBN: 978-1-62266-243-2
Excerpt:
© 2011 Lucianne Rivers
Chapter One
Allison Caldwell hadn’t expected to be nervous. She sat in an uncomfortable chair in front of the private investigator’s desk. Robert Rivera sat in the power position behind it.
The inscrutable expression on his sun-browned face and the set of his wide shoulders imbued Ally with a sense of caution.
She crossed her arms. “Neither of my sisters is in the country, Mr. Rivera—”
“Robert,” he said.
“Robert,” she replied hesitantly, figuring he was at least fifteen years older than she. “I think I should pursue this lead regarding my father’s whereabouts in their absence. You say he might be in an Afghani prison. I’d like to know for certain.”
Rapid and somewhat desperate thoughts zipped through Ally’s mind. If, indeed, Zach Caldwell was alive and not dead as his family had been told, then his captivity in a war-torn country might explain why he’d abandoned the wife and daughters he supposedly loved.
“Did your acquaintance say how long he’s been there?” Ally asked.
Robert shook his head. “No.”
“Are you sure your information is accurate?”
His pale gray eyes narrowed a bit, as if he wasn’t used to being questioned. “I traced the phone call your mother received before she passed away. It definitely came from Afghanistan.”
A man had called Ally’s mom just weeks before she died and told her Zach Caldwell was still living. The caller hadn’t identified himself.
“What leads you to believe my father is a prisoner there?”
“According to a colleague of mine from my navy days, his name showed up on a terrorist roster of POWs.”
Prisoners of War.
Ally imagined her father among tortured detainees in solitary confinement.
“But with the new, US-friendly establishment, wouldn’t he have been released by now?”
“Your father’s not in an officially recognized detention center. If he is a POW, he’s in some terrorist hideout.”
Jesus. Even worse.
“I think you can understand why going over there alone would be incredibly risky,” he said.
“How will I be able to find him if I don’t go look for him?”
“I have some leads.” He frowned. “Dangerous leads.”
Robert was a retired Navy SEAL—no doubt he had many contacts that had military intelligence. “So you’re one of those superhuman military guys, right? You swim, fight, and parachute out of airplanes.” She’d seen a television special about the navy’s elite force.
He gave her a curt nod. “Special operations forces, yes.”
That sent a chill of irrational excitement through Ally. Robert was a man’s man. Although she’d met him only twice, she deemed him to be unlike any man of her acquaintance. He oozed masculine confidence, which was both thrilling and terrifying.
Robert was more her older sister Margo’s type. Margo had recently been promoted to a detective in the Santa Fe Police Department, was an Olympic-style weightlifter, and a serial dater.
Ally usually went for the tamer kind of male, someone with more sensitivity and less muscle.
Perhaps she was wrong to assume that a man’s brain shrank in direct relation to his amount of brawn. However, her theory had yet to be disproven since her disastrous and short-lived career in college dating.
Robert seemed smart enough, and certainly astute. But Ally doubted he understood what was at stake for the Caldwell family.
Ally’s mother had left a will stipulating that one of the three Caldwell sisters must find their father so the family estate could be settled—divided between siblings, Ally, Margo, and Jane, and their father Zach.
Jane was in Guatemala, and Margo in the Virgin Islands, both searching for the right Zach Caldwell.
Now a third candidate had turned up.
So Ally was going to Afghanistan. She had to.
“I’m booking myself on the next flight over there.” Ally straightened in her seat.
Robert’s expression hardened. “You can’t just go into a war-ravaged country searching for someone based on potentially incorrect intel.” His voice was low and rumbling.
“Don’t you trust your sources?”
He crossed his muscular arms over his well-built chest, his posture mirroring hers.
“Not enough to have a twenty-five-year-old woman fly into a danger zone and hostile enemy territory. Alone.”
“I’m going.”
“No.”
Robert stood and rounded the desk, stopping a foot in front of her, smelling of clean clothes and soap. His body was formidable, and the energy emanating from his six-foot-four frame kept her riveted in her seat. He had an imposing presence and a still strength. Ally guessed he’d been an effective military leader. He certainly intimidated her.
She stood and backed away from him a step, gazing into his unblinking eyes. “Do you think my father is over there?”
“Fifty-fifty shot.”
“Those are good enough odds for me to take the risk.”
He tensed. “I can’t let you do that.”
She bristled. “I don’t believe you can stop me.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Maybe not, but I can withhold any further resources, drop your case, and demand immediate payment on the balance of your account.”
Ally thought quickly. Her bank account was healthy, yet wouldn’t stretch to paying Robert and fund an excursion to Afghanistan. Besides, she’d planned to use her savings to hire a part-time ranch manager so she could go back to college and finish her bachelor’s degree.
A quick pang of loss warred with Ally’s sense of duty. Her sisters would help pay Robert’s fee when they returned. She could wait until they came back and delegate the search to either of them, but the thought of their father suffering in a prison camp derailed that train of thought.
She needed to leave. Right now. Before her sisters returned and found out what she was planning. Margo and Jane would try to stop her from going. They still viewed her as the baby in the family, which, technically, she was. But Ally had proven her capabilities by making a successful business of the Caldwell ranch, turning it into a thriving retreat center. She’d undertaken that responsibility while attending UNM-Taos part-time and earning an associate degree in business.
Ally didn’t feel like the baby. And she was going to Afghanistan.
“Have your assistant send me an invoice.” Sweat broke out on the back of her neck as she stepped back, gathered her purse and jacket, and headed for the door.
She got no response from Robert except a charged silence that was broken when the door closed behind her.
***
Ally found little to like about winter at the Five C Ranch. The hard New Mexico earth lay frozen and impenetrable beneath her feet as she walked toward a storage shed on the last of her rounds. In the days after her mother’s death, Ally had attempted to break ground on a new vegetable plot, taking out her anger and grief on the unyielding land. She picked up a discarded pickax, which she’d forgotten to put back in the shed, and contemplated the plans she had made.
Despite the advice of Robert Rivera, she’d made arrangements to travel to Afghanistan—immediately. Thankfully, she had a current passport. Her mother had insisted that all her daughters apply for passports on their eighteenth birthdays, even though they’d never traveled out of the country. Until now.
There were no bookings at the inn for the next three weeks, and Ally had arranged for the part-time groundskeeper to check on the ranch while she was away. Within the hour, she would leave for Albuquerque where she’d catch the first flight on her long journey.
She mentally reviewed her checklist—house secured, guest accommodations locked, fridge empty of all perishables. Had she forgotten anything?
Ally had never been away from home for long, just camping or short vacations with her mother and sisters. Even after becoming an adult, she had stayed close to home, choosing to commute to college instead of living away.
Now she was headed to the Middle East. She shivered with a tinge of anticipation and fear. Was she prepared for this trip?
Knowing that women were expected to dress conservatively in Muslim-influenced Afghanistan, she’d filled her suitcase with long-sleeved tops and full-length pants and skirts. Her hiking boots would prove practical, and she’d found one of her mom’s old shawls in case she needed to cover her hair.
Unbearable sadness had overcome her when she went into her mother’s bedroom to look for the shawl. Two weeks had passed since her death, and everything in her room remained untouched. Ally’s heart ached at the thought of going through all her mom’s beloved personal possessions. She couldn’t imagine a time when she and her sisters would be emotionally strong enough to divide everything between them.
Her throat tightened at the thought of her mother, the perpetual weight of grief bearing down on her. Would she ever be happy again?
Right now, that seemed impossible.
She’d lost the most important person in her life.
After hanging the pickax in the shed, Ally padlocked the door and headed back to the house, a chilly breeze whipping through her hair.
The morning sun lit the dry terrain, covered in cacti and chamisa bushes. They’d gotten little snow this year and Ally dreaded the resulting summer drought.
At least they no longer farmed the acreage, having sold off some of the more arable land years earlier to build the retreat center and accommodations. She missed having animals and activity around, remembering them fondly from her youth, but the responsibility of keeping livestock was far too much for one person.
Satisfied that she’d accomplished everything on her list, Ally wrote her sisters a note and left it on the hall table in the ranch house. She bid the place a silent good-bye, locked the house, then loaded her suitcase in the car. After settling in the driver’s seat, she pulled out of the driveway and onto the dirt road leading to the highway. Her eyes burned with the familiar sting of tears as she watched the ranch recede in the rearview mirror.
Jane and Margo had promised her that she would be left in charge of the ranch, despite the division of her mother’s estate. Ally would still have a place to call home. But home was a shaky concept right now. The Five C Ranch was down to three Cs, one of whom would never return.
Ally had an easier time contemplating the sadness of the familiar than worrying about what faced her in Afghanistan. The daunting thought of searching for her father in a war-torn, male-dominated society almost paralyzed her, yet she had to do right by her mother and sisters. Could she find her father and bring him home?
Two hours later, and already emotionally exhausted, Ally peered out the smudged window of the airport’s park-and-ride shuttle as it pulled up to the curb at departures. She lugged her suitcase off of the shuttle then made her way to the check-in counter.
“I see you’re going through with this.”
The man’s voice rumbled from behind her.
Ally turned. Her stomach clenched at the sight of Robert Rivera staring her down. He had a large rucksack slung over his jacket-clad shoulder. His hair spiked up and away from his brow, adding to his rugged appeal.
“You’ll need a chaperone,” he said. “A man. Preferably an army of men.”
She bristled at the antiquated term chaperone, yet she supposed that he was right.
“Are you offering?” She could use a man who understood the meaning of “serve and protect.”
He spread his hands wide. “I’m not here by coincidence.”
Ally frowned. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“I told you I had resources.”
Of course he did. And she could really use his assistance.
“Why don’t you cancel your flight?” he asked. “I’ll fly solo and keep you posted on my progress.”
His offer was tempting, but she had committed to doing her part to find her father. She’d arranged everything so she could be away, and she wasn’t about to go home now.
Ally shrugged. “I’ve got nonrefundable tickets.”
He stood still, his eyes searching her face. “You’re going to make the trip no matter what, aren’t you?”
She gulped. “Yes.”
One corner of his mouth curved up. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
No.
Ally nodded and moved forward in line.
She’d never been away from home without someone in her family. Now she faced an arduous trip with a stranger. Thanks to his resources, he had the same itinerary she did, including adjacent seats on all of their flights. They would fly to Dulles, near Washington, D.C. A layover of several hours would be followed by a thirteen-hour flight to Dubai and another eight-hour layover. The final hop to Kabul, Afghanistan, would take three hours.
Ally wondered what jet lag would feel like.
“You’re probably used to flying halfway across the world,” she said.
He hefted her heavy suitcase onto the scales as if it weighed nothing.
“Is it true you can take a combat nap for a couple of minutes and wake up good as new?” she asked.
“Not good as new, but close.”
After they checked in, Ally’s soon-to-be-useless cell phone rang. She answered the call from her sister Jane, but the connection was incredibly bad. Ally had no idea if Jane had understood when she’d revealed her intended destination. It was probably better if she hadn’t. The last thing Ally wanted was for Jane or Margo to follow her to Afghanistan out of some misguided need to protect her. She could do this by herself, her confidence bolstered with Robert along.
They headed toward the security checkpoint. Ally caught a glimpse of a sign warning of a heightened level of vigilance as the National Terrorism Advisory System’s threat level, despite the recent assassination of the Al-Qaeda leader, Bin Laden. Ally’s heart lurched. Her insides knotted with doubt, yet she refused to let Robert see her second-guessing herself.
He guided her through each stage of the security check, dumping her water bottle in the process. “Take off your shoes too.”
She did as he indicated and put her sneakers in the gray plastic tray.
“When you go through the scanner, raise your arms above your head.”
“I read about this,” she said, nodding toward the machine. “So I wore my good underwear and shaved my underarms.”
Robert glanced at her, eyebrows raised, then his lips turned up in a small smile.
Perhaps he wasn’t used to straightforward women, but that was a Caldwell trait.
Robert shrugged out of his jacket, his muscles stretching the long-sleeved, navy tee beneath. Ally doubted he had an extra inch of fat anywhere on his body. She didn’t work out regularly, yet had always been slender, her arm muscles developed from years of yard and housework. Ballet classes taken as a child and teen had strengthened her legs and core muscles, and she’d maintained that strength. She could only imagine how much time Robert spent keeping in shape. A lot, no doubt. He had the body of a much younger man, and a better one than most.
Ally guessed him to be in his forties, mainly because of the silver appearing in his almost black hair. He reminded her of a gray-eyed George Clooney—unquestionably handsome.
They managed their way through security without incident, then boarded the plane. After settling in her seat, reality gripped Ally. She prayed that they’d be safe during their trip, and that the risk would be worth draining her bank account.
If she found her father, it would.
She had no vivid memories of Zach Caldwell, yet recalled the pain of growing up without him. Even so, her mother’s pain had been worse. Ally remembered the Christmas when she’d been ten years old. Her mother had sat by the fire, holding a picture of Ally’s father and crying. When asked about her tears, her mother had explained how hard it had been to go on after receiving word of his death, that she had missed him ever since, and that she loved him still.
“There’s one thing I want you to remember, Ally.” Her mother had held the picture to her heart. “True love does exist.”
Those words became etched in Ally’s young mind. She respected her mother’s wisdom. If her mom had believed in true love, then Ally believed in it too—even though she’d never come close to finding it.
She had dated Gerard, who had been an athlete in college. They’d met at a party and gone out a couple of times before he’d kissed her. He’d had a great smile, a supple body, and she knew of several girls who were jealous because they were dating.
Is this love? she’d wondered. She had certainly liked the way he touched her. Making love with him had been… sweet, but Ally had no other experience to compare it to.
She and Gerard had been a couple for eighteen months until she’d discovered him cheating with two other college girls.
Yes, two.
Anger had been her primary reaction, not sadness. Certainly not the whole-body, everlasting sense of loss her mother had seemed to experience.
Not love then.
Not even close.
She glanced at Robert in the next seat, for which he was far too large. His left leg jutted out into the aisle, his right knee bent and pressed tightly against the seat in front of him. Seeming to sense her stare, he faced her.
“What is it?”
She shook her head, noticing that his ear was slightly cauliflowered, perhaps from a battle injury.
“Have you ever been in love?”
His brow creased. “What?”
“I was just thinking about how much my mother missed my dad, even after twenty years. I’m wondering about the existence of love.”
He raised an eyebrow, eyes wary. “I was married once.”
Ally had assumed he was single, but only because he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She’d been too preoccupied to give his marital status more thought. “For how long?”
“Seven years. I have a son.” He cleared his throat. “He’s fourteen.”
“Where is he?”
“With his Mom in D.C.” He managed a rueful smile, revealing white teeth.
“I see.”
“I was away a lot when he was little. For work. That’s the reason Joanie left me.”
Ally had heard her mother lament that her father was away a lot before he had supposedly died. “When did you leave the navy?”
“I retired at thirty-five.”
“And when was that?”
His eyes narrowed. “Six years ago.”
A sixteen-year age gap. Ally recognized the direction her thoughts were headed. Was she attracted to Robert?
He watched her face as if waiting for a response.
“And that’s when you became a private investigator?” she asked.
“A couple of years later, yes. Anything else you’d like to know?”
She laughed, but her gaze remained set on his. “You never answered my question.”
He glanced away. “About being in love?”
“Right.”
He pursed his lips and appeared to carefully consider his answer. “I thought I was,” he murmured.
“With Joanie?”
He nodded.
“What was it like?”
He took a deep breath. “Magical at first.”
She leaned toward him. “Electric?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Do you miss her?”
He nodded. “Sometimes. I miss what we had. It was pretty powerful.”
“But you divorced.”
She was leaning close enough to catch his spicy scent, and was too rapt to pull away. His nostrils flared a little and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing about her. She hoped she smelled as good.
“I was away for months at a time,” he said. “She got lonely and withdrew.”
“So maybe it wasn’t true love?”
He smiled again—a sad, half smile. “Ah, you were asking about true love.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth then slowly moved back to her eyes.
“I was,” she whispered, her heart racing.
“I’ve got the rest of my life to investigate that theory.”
She stared at him, cheeks hot, mesmerized by the intensity she saw in his eyes.
“Well, that’s good,” she muttered. She broke eye contact and took an in-flight magazine from the seat pocket and gazed blankly at the pages. She felt him watching until an attendant came by to take drink orders and he turned away.
Ally’s heart ran a marathon the entire time.
For a second there, she’d wondered how it would feel to kiss him.
***
They’d flown from Albuquerque to Dulles to Dubai and finally landed in Kabul. The journey seemed interminable to Ally, but now she was in Afghanistan… one step closer to her father. Getting through security checks at the airport would have been a nightmare if Robert hadn’t been there to handle the armed guards and bag examinations.
Nerves and excitement mingled in Ally’s gut.
Thankfully Robert had obtained visas for them through his friends at the US embassy, a critical detail she’d overlooked.
They braved the frigid winter air between the terminal and the cab, which took them from the airport to a hotel downtown. The city was unlike anything Ally had ever seen. Miles and miles of buildings sprawled across a valley surrounded by snow-covered mountains.
“It’s breathtaking,” she whispered, glancing out of the car’s tinted windows.
“It’s dangerous.”
“Have you been here before?”
He stilled. “Yes.”
“On a mission?”
“There are things I can’t talk about—regarding work.”
“Oh, right. Of course.” Ally shifted in her seat. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
He glared at her as if warning her not to ask too many questions.
“You have?”
He looked past her, out the window. “Yes.”
“What’s it like?”
He blinked several times. “Difficult. Automatic. It changes you.”
“I’d imagine it does.” She bowed her head. “I thought someone had killed my father.”
He turned his attention to her. “I managed to get my hands on his military records.”
She sat straighter, curious to learn all she could about Zach Caldwell. “And?”
Robert stared at the driver for a long moment. Ally guessed he was gauging the man’s interest in their conversation. The radio blared, so the driver would have to struggle to hear them regardless.
“It’s likely that your dad’s role was different than most soldiers’.” Robert’s voice came out low, tinged with the tone of secrecy.
“What do you mean?”
“His file reads like mine did.”
She leaned close enough to him to feel the warmth of his body. “What does that mean?”
Robert put his mouth close to her ear. “He may have been in Special Ops.”
Ally’s skin prickled with goose bumps. “Could that explain his disappearance? Unless he’s been held captive here for the past two decades, he’s got lots of years to account for.”
“You think he abandoned you.”
“It seems that way, doesn’t it?”
“I couldn’t comment.”
“Of course not.” She drew back and rested her aching shoulders against the seat back.
Hello, jet lag.
Robert turned his head sharply in her direction. “I meant, I don’t know enough to make any educated guesses.”
Ally closed her eyes. “I want to know if it’s likely that a man in the service would be asked to leave his family for a mission—to go undercover or something.”
“Not a married man, no.” His voice was almost a whisper.
She opened her eyes and glanced at him, her lip quivering. “I see.”
His expression softened and his steely eyes filled with something akin to compassion. He really was beautiful. Her gaze dropped to his mouth again. His top lip was narrower than the bottom one, both equally tempting.
Ally’s thoughts had taken her in an unexpected direction. “Just clarify one point for me, ’kay?”
He gave her a ghost of a smile. “’Kay.”
“You said that my father’s army records don’t classify him as deceased, correct?”
He nodded. “In 1991, he was reported as being absent without leave.”
“As in, AWOL?”
“That’s right.”
“But not dead. Does that mean the military has no idea where he’s been, or is?”
“If he was Special Ops, the file on record probably means very little, in truth.”
“Argh,” she groaned. “I can see it’s going to be hard to get a straight answer out of you—or anyone.”
“That’s why we’re here, so we can look for straight answers.”
He had a point.
She glanced as his sun-browned hand resting on the black seat covering. “Are you native New Mexican?”
“Yep. Born near Espanola. Raised on a farm there.”
“Really?”
“Left as soon as I could to join the navy.”
“Why?”
Robert shook his head and a deep crease formed between his eyebrows. “My father was a mean son-of-a-bitch. I wanted to get even.”
“By getting tough?”
He shrugged. “The fantasies of an angry teenage boy…”
“Did you?”
“About a year into training, I realized a couple of things.”
“Like?”
“Putting my father in the ground wouldn’t mean laying my anger to rest.”
“That’s pretty enlightened for a teenage soldier.”
“Sailor,” he corrected, with a small smile.
She sighed.
“What?”
“The only time I’ve been on water was when I went out on a friend’s motorboat on Abiquiu Lake the summer that I was sixteen.” She grinned at the memory. “Joey Valdez tried to untie my bikini so it would float away when I dove in.”
“He probably had a crush on you,” Robert quipped, raising his hand to massage the back of his neck. He peered out of the tinted windows into the encroaching Kabul evening.
He seemed incredibly edgy. Supertense.
“He gave me my first kiss.” A quick blush warmed Ally’s cheeks. She wondered why she’d even mentioned that.
Robert faced her. His intelligent eyes flashed as he studied her face. “You’re just telling me all sorts of things, aren’t you?”
“Is that embarrassing for you?” she asked, knowing the converse was more accurate.
He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. After a long moment, he shook his head. “Not in the least. It’s adorable.”
Chapter Two
Allison Caldwell was adorable.
And Robert was hooked.
Color flared in her smooth cheeks then faded. He wondered if she knew that all of her thoughts flickered across her face, visible to everyone.
Or perhaps just to him.
He preferred that idea.
Being so attuned to a twenty-five-year-old woman was unusual for Robert. Being attracted was incomprehensible.
He considered himself a rational man. Career military. He didn’t get rattled by young, vulnerable, female-rancher types. No doubt a textbook male midlife crisis is what had his interest piqued.
When she stared at him with all that trust and admiration in her large blue eyes, he felt seven feet tall and just as broad.
His cock was responding in similar fashion.
He thought about kissing her but figured if he tried to turn the relationship from a surprisingly easy camaraderie to something sexual, she’d probably be offended. Her innocent eyes would widen with distaste instead of respect. Their considerable age gap should be enough of a deterrent for him.
So why did he want to touch her?
The car pulled up to the front entrance of the Hotel Merena situated opposite Zarnegar Park on the site of the former Zarnegar Palace. Robert had picked the Merena, not because he required stellar accommodations—he’d slept on solid ground for days on end—but because it was known as one of the safer places for travelers.
Allison leaned across him to peer out the window on his side of the car. A strand of her long, gorgeously thick brown hair drifted onto his thigh. He took a long draw of her intoxicating scent. She smelled like an exotic flower he had yet to place, and his dick hardened in response.
Jesus.
The car stopped and Robert shifted his position to open the door, hurrying to block her view of the telltale tenting of his pants.
“Stay here.” His request sounded more like an order. Judging from Allison’s look of surprise, she thought so too.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, her tone slightly mocking.
“I’m accustomed to giving orders,” he explained apologetically, wondering if he’d ever justified issuing a command.
“So I could tell.” She smiled and winked at him.
Okay, she had to be flirting.
He turned his attention to the familiar sights of Kabul. Although the curfew had been lifted since his last visit, there were no pedestrians on the streets in the darkening night.
The driver popped the trunk, and Robert got out of the car. Outside he rounded the vehicle, surveying the black windows of the surrounding buildings.
Wary of eyes watching from passing cars, he quickly paid the driver, then opened Allison’s door and gestured for her to get out. He grabbed their bags, ushered her into the upscale lobby, and checked in. Robert had booked two rooms with an adjoining door, just in case of trouble. Downtown Kabul was probably as safe as Afghanistan got nowadays. Still, he would take no chances with Allison Caldwell’s welfare.
Tomorrow they would head out of the city and east to Kunar Province. The region bordered Pakistan and was favored by insurgent groups. Robert’s blood froze at the thought of the place. He’d nearly died in Kunar six years ago during his final mission with the Teams, so he knew firsthand what could happen there. He should leave Allison here where she’d be less likely to end up in the crosshairs of a terrorist sharpshooter. But he could already tell that convincing her to stay would be near impossible.
They took the elevator to the fifth floor and found that their rooms lived up to their five-star rating. Plush, Arabic-patterned tapestries adorned the walls in an otherwise modern space. The beds were king-size, the furnishings sleek.
Allison appeared awed by the lush decor. She gazed about, lips parted. “How much is this going to cost me?”
“It’s cheap by US standards.”
“Good,” she replied, her shoulders visibly relaxing. She turned to him. “I have to be careful with resources. I’m planning to go back to school.”
He nodded. Her bank account would take a mighty hit when she paid for his services and expenses. Perhaps he’d give her a discount. She looked as if she could use a break.
He lifted her luggage onto the rack. “To study what?”
“Business. I don’t have a bachelor’s yet.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
She yawned.
“Think you can sleep?” he asked.
She took off her jacket and laid it on a chair. “You’ll be next door, right?”
He nodded, resisting the urge to offer to stay in the room with her.
“Then yes, I’ll sleep.”
She gave him a shy smile, and he’d be damned if his heartbeat didn’t skyrocket.
He opened the door to his adjoining room and checked his watch, which he’d set to Afghanistan time. “We need to leave by oh-six-hundred; six a.m.”
She nodded.
“Allison, the place we’re going is dangerous, even now.” He wished he could tell her how damned dangerous. Even though the failed counterinsurgent mission called Operation Black Death had been reported in the media, he wasn’t allowed to say much about it.
All he could do was protect her as best he could. And he hoped to do that with more confidence than he felt.
He used to feel invincible—before he’d witnessed the gunning down of three of his teammates on some godforsaken Afghani mountainside. Their pursuit of a high-ranking Al-Qaeda leader had resulted in a clusterfuck that three of his best friends hadn’t survived.
And Robert had not yet recovered. Hell. He never would. There was no recovery from a nightmare like that.
And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t prevent Allison from being blown up by a car bomb, or gunned down by a sniper.
He shouldn’t have allowed her to come.
“Is there anything I can say that would make you stay in this hotel?” he asked. “I could make the trip out of Kabul and report back.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I’ve come this far. I’m going the rest of the way.”
“I could tie you to the bedpost.” He tried not to smile.
“The maid would find me tomorrow.”
“Not if I put out the do-not-disturb sign.”
“You’d have to gag me to keep me quiet.”
He leaned a weary shoulder against the doorjamb. “True. But that’s not beyond the bounds of possibility.”
Her mouth gaped. “You’d do that?” She seemed surprised, but not afraid.
His mood turned serious. “I can’t stress enough the risk we are about to take.”
She sat on the bed and stared out the window, its heavy drapes open to the night. City lights flickered beyond the floor-to-ceiling panes.
“I understand,” she said. “Do you need me to sign a waiver?”
He groaned. “That’s not my point.”
She leveled her gaze at him, her eyes looking wiser than her years. “I know what you mean. But I need to do this.”
His gut clenched.
He’d called in some major favors to get the alleged location of Zach Caldwell. Of course, the man was rumored to be in the mountains near the village of Asadabad, the same fucking place he’d almost lost his life six years before.
There was no way on God’s sweet earth he was taking Allison to that shithole. Even if it took a rope and a gag, he would make her stay in Jalalabad, a densely populated city halfway to their destination. Jalalabad was close enough for him to make excursions into the mountainous countryside and crowded enough that he hoped she could stay there safely.
The highway to Jalalabad had been reconstructed by the new regime and the one-hundred-mile stretch, which used to take eight hours to traverse, could now be driven in two hours. From there, Asadabad was fifty miles beyond on a rapidly deteriorating road.
Robert closed the partitioning door with a click, leaving Allison to prepare for bed.
Bed.
The thought seduced him, but first he’d take a shower. Exhaustion seeped into his aching muscles with sudden intensity. Hot, high-pressure water sprayed from the showerhead, giving him temporary relief.
He used to have a high tolerance for enduring pain, lack of sleep, and emotional duress. But Operation Black Death had changed him for life. Robert and his colleagues had been fleeing from an ever-swelling enemy army. He’d seen his buddies gunned down just before he’d been hit by a rocket-propelled grenade.
After Robert had regained consciousness, he trekked for endless miles with two broken ribs and a leg wound, depleting every ounce of will and strength he possessed. By the grace of some benevolent god, and with the assistance of several Afghanis, he’d found his way to Camp Hope, a US Marine Post.
It was hard to reconcile the evil men that had killed his team of Navy SEALs with the well-meaning, ordinary Afghanis who had helped him.
It made him question everything.
Back in the US, after his body had recovered and all the inquiries were done, he’d retired and moved home to New Mexico.
And now there was Allison, a farm girl, raised like him in the verdant northern part of the state. He doubted she’d appreciate the conclusions he had drawn about her—sheltered, innocent, naive—but those were the very qualities that attracted him.
The connection he was making with Allison reminded him of a similar connection he’d made as a child. Robert had been curled up behind the barn, recovering from a vicious beating from his father. A sparrow had landed next to him, even though sparrows usually stayed out of sight. He and the bird had watched each other in silence.
Eyeballing the bird up close, he’d felt a sense of bonding and belonging. He realized that there was more on earth for him to relate to than his mean father. That sparrow had given Robert the will to keep going, to endure, to fight to stay alive.
Allison seemed to have a lot in common with that sparrow. No doubt she preferred to stay out of sight at The Five C Ranch and to live quietly. He imagined that her sisters—a detective and a news anchor—usually got the attention.
Perhaps it was Allison’s connection to the land that caused him to see in her the spirit of a wise soul, tuned into to a greater force. And when she looked at him, he felt a deep bond to her and to the world.
A bird. A young woman.
A reason to endure.
Something he’d been missing for a long time.
***
The rented pickup truck was as inconspicuous as Robert had hoped to find, painted a nice boring brown. The tires looked sound and the tank was full. Robert had paid for a canister of gas, which he’d stowed in the truck bed along with a cooler, food, and several gallons of water.
Dehydration was not an option.
Ever again.
Allison met him in the parking lot, rolling her suitcase behind her. He put it in back then covered everything in the bed with a blanket he’d purchased on his early morning trip to retrieve the vehicle.
“I got your message,” she said, suspiciously eyeing the truck.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Hop in.”
She climbed into the front seat and he followed.
They left the city, passing military camps and industrial sprawl. Smog hung low over buildings and factories, and the smell of soot blew in through the heat vents. A few miles beyond the urban jungle, they entered a narrow valley.
They crested a hill and seemed about to drop off into space when the road below became visible once more.
“Wow,” Allison murmured.
Robert shared her sentiment despite the knot in his stomach. The Kabul River appeared as the valley widened, its waters an icy blue, green fields bordering the riverbank. Beyond, the majestic mountains formed a beautiful backdrop for a dangerous land. He clenched his jaw as they drove past a burned-out shell of a car abandoned just off the shoulder of the highway.
An hour into the journey, Allison nodded toward some boulders by the roadside. “Why are those rocks painted white?”
“It means those fields have been cleared of mines.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed.
Farther along, the landscape changed. Palms, olive trees, acacia, and sugar cane appeared, giving the surroundings a Mediterranean feel.
Soon they entered Jalalabad, a city of almost one million people. They drove through streets teeming with all types of vehicles. Cars and trucks sped next to rickshaws, and exhaust fumes mixed with the exotic smells of spices and cooking.
Robert had called from the hotel in Kabul to make reservations at a timeworn bed and breakfast located in a suburban neighborhood that had been wealthy prior to the war. Upon arrival, the gracious host led them through an enclosed courtyard, its centuries-old walls constructed with intricate stonework.
The winter sun shone, and a chilly wind ruffled Robert’s hair. Allison walked beside him, her head covered with a modest scarf. She looked around with curious eyes, taking in every detail.
Robert resorted to his old habits—looking for exits and gauging the safest escape route from the premises.
Seemingly immune to his stress, Allison traced her delicate hand over the dry water fountain in the center of the courtyard then followed the host into a darkened hallway.
She would soon learn that he’d booked only one room for the two of them—reserved under the names of Mr. and Mrs. Rivera. He didn’t want to take a chance with her safety and needed to be more watchful of her now that they were outside of Kabul. Sharing a room with her made that a much easier task. He would take the floor.
Their room was simple with the expected tiled floors and tapestries. The heavy curtains were drawn back, but sheer muslin drapes hung over the windows, blocking the view of the street outside. The home’s ancient stone walls muffled the sound of traffic from a main road a couple of blocks away.
“How old is the house?” Allison asked the host.
“Five hundred years,” he said in broken English.
“Wow,” Allison whispered.
Robert guessed that it had been a family home until recent years when the economy had demanded that the owners turn it into lodging for strangers.
“Thank you,” he said, nodding to the host and dismissing him.
“Where’s my room?” Allison asked, her eyes narrowed.
“I couldn’t take the risk of having you out of my sight.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
He smiled. The stunned look on her face was priceless.
“You can have the bed.” An ornate screen stood in one corner and he pointed to it. “I’ll put that between us if you like.”
She tipped her head and studied him, unblinking. “Okay, Robert. I’ll bow to your experience.”
The dappled light from the window fell on her long skirt and headscarf, giving her the look of someone from an old painting—ethereal and mysterious.
Robert was drawn to her, no doubt. He just wasn’t sure why.
“So what’s the plan for today?” she asked.
“You can stay here, and I’ll make some inquiries about my intel.”
“That’s it?” She challenged him with a look. “I stay here?”
“Unequivocally, yes.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I’m paying you to escort me, not to shut me out.”
“You’re paying me to keep you safe.”
“Which does not involve me doing sweet damn all while you do the work. That’s not how my mother raised me.” She widened her stance and stood her ground.
He glowered at her, realizing his posture mirrored hers. “I’ll make you a deal, Allison.”
“What’s that?”
“Give me one day on my own out there, and if I make no progress, you can come along with me after that.”
She opened her mouth as if to protest, but then closed it and sighed heavily. “Fine.”
“There’s food in the cooler.”
She watched him as he checked the locks on the door, investigated the bathroom and glanced out the window. All second nature to him as he assessed the security of the room.
“Don’t leave the room, please.”
“Why?”
“You never know who or what you could run into out there.”
“Are you paranoid?”
Yes.
“No. But, I am the professional here, and I need to be as confident as possible about your safety.”
She sighed again.
“Deal?”
She walked to the bed and sat on the edge. “I didn’t even bring a book.”
“If boredom is the only thing you suffer while we’re here, I’ll be ecstatic.”
Robert was already second-guessing his decision to come back to Afghanistan. But short of allowing her to make the trip alone, he hadn’t seen another alternative.
Unfortunately, she’d become more of a distraction than he’d expected.
“Lock the door behind me, okay?”
She didn’t reply, just lay back on the bed and nodded at the ceiling.
***
The local bazaar swarmed with people, mainly men, selling textiles, metal sculptures, and bowls. Robert wound through the crowd until he reached his destination.
He stepped into the once-familiar restaurant—long and narrow, dark in the back. A counter lined one wall and several male customers wearing robes sat there drinking coffee and eyeing Robert. He passed them, heading toward a door at the rear. As he approached, the door swung open, revealing a local man sporting a full beard. The man’s eyes flared in recognition and he waved Robert into the back room.
“Robert, my friend,” he said in soft tones.
“Amar.” Robert gripped the man’s hand and shook it hard.
Six years had left some lines on his friend’s face. Amar was a native Afghani with a deceased American mother. He’d gone to college in the States, and at the height of the war, had served as an informant to the US military and Afghan police.
“It has been too long,” Amar said. “Please, sit.”
Robert took a wooden chair while Amar poured coffee for them.
“I was surprised to hear from you,” Amar said. “But very glad. You look well.” He handed Robert the ornate glass of coffee, then sat opposite him at the rickety table.
“You’ve grown a beard.”
Amar smiled. “But you have not? Didn’t you SEALs prefer to blend in with the locals?”
Robert rubbed his palm against his two-day whiskers. “This was a last-minute trip. No time.”
“You’re looking for the father of this girl, yes? Zach Caldwell.” Amar had been Robert’s source for the list of POWs on which Caldwell’s name had appeared.
“Have you heard anything else regarding his whereabouts?”
“Nothing since our last e-mail.”
“Caldwell is definitely near Asadabad?”
“Most certainly.”
Robert couldn’t decide if he was relieved or terrified. “Are the Mountain Tigers still active?” The name of the insurgent group who’d ambushed his team tasted bitter on his tongue.
“Perhaps. They go by many names these days.”
Robert sipped the pungent coffee, ignoring the sugar dispenser on the table. Amar had slipped several spoonfuls into his coffee, as was the custom.
“If you have the gear, I’d like to get going,” Robert said.
“Certainly.”
Amar reached into a nearby trunk and pulled out a vest intended for military use. The vest was a replica of the one Robert had worn during Black Death, and likely contained many essentials for desert survival. He envisioned reentering terrorist territory and his spine froze. His pulse slowed to a deadly thud. It had been too long since he’d trained at recon. Too long since he’d realized that no amount of training could save you if the enemy had you in his sights.
“And the ammo?” Robert asked.
“Outside.”
Amar led him out the rear door into an alleyway, lifted the lid of a rusted Dumpster, and removed a duffel bag.
“Your weaponry, my friend.”
Robert had requested several handguns, a rifle, and an automatic. If he’d been able to afford a rocket launcher, he would have ordered one.
Back inside the restaurant, he was shocked at the sight of Allison struggling in the arms of two of Amar’s workers. She looked furious and frightened. Or maybe Robert was projecting. Before he could reach for one of his newly acquired weapons, Amar spoke.
“This is Zach Caldwell’s daughter, I imagine. You can let her go.”
The men released Allison and she joined Robert, gripping his arm until it hurt. She stared at him, appearing shell-shocked. He resisted biting out a curse. Her obvious terror was a sufficient I-told-you-so.
Not only had she broken their agreement, she’d also allowed Amar’s colleagues and God knew who else to see her with Robert—something he’d hoped to avoid.
In her favor, Allison had worn a head scarf and modest clothing, but her pale skin shone in the dim lighting like a neon sign flashing, “I don’t belong here.”
Robert’s adrenaline surge receded and he imagined the hideous things that could have happened to her if she’d taken a wrong turn. She’d obviously followed him, but what if she had gotten lost?
Making sure his hands remained steady, he took her by the elbow, nodded at Amar, and escorted her outside.
“Keep your head down.” Alert, Robert’s wary gaze darted about as he silently guided Allison along the narrow side streets, avoiding the bazaar, until they arrived at the inn.
As soon as they entered their room and shut the door, she broke his grip and faced him.
“Before you say anything, I know I messed up.”
“That’s an understatement.” His voice came out rough, his tone curt. She’d just scared the shit out of him. “Those men were armed.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I know. I should have listened.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I guess I wasn’t. But we’re trying to find my father.” A tear streamed down her cheek. “I just wanted to help.”
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