8

What? Too stunned to protest, Khalia sprawled flat on the pavement. The breath whooshed out of her as Hunter’s hard weight landed on her back, squashing her against the burning hot sidewalk. Someone near her screamed. A split second later she heard the loud bang of an impact, then the still air was ripped apart by a violent explosion. The force of it tore over her like a raging wind, whipped through her body like a shockwave. Her eardrums and lungs felt like they’d exploded from the pressure. For a split second the sidewalk rolled and bucked beneath them as if they were on a boat.

It took a moment for the truth to sink in. A bomb.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Hunter was still on top of her, his arms crossed over her head and face to shield her. She didn’t dare move. People were screaming, running past them, even over them. Hunter grunted when someone stepped on him, but he didn’t budge from his position atop her. She could hear the sound of glass shattering close by, hitting the ground somewhere behind them with a sharp crash. The smell of smoke and burning wreckage was already

thick in the air, as well as an audible roar that pulsed against her throbbing eardrums.

When the mass of panicking people around them began to thin out, Hunter’s weight finally lifted from her. She sucked in a shaky breath, her compressed lungs aching with the effort, and dared to lift her head. Only to witness a scene straight out of hell.

The truck had plowed straight into the front of the building, leaving a gaping hole where flames now poured out, belching huge clouds of toxic smoke. All the windows in the lower floors were blown out, in addition to those in the buildings on either side and across the street. People were running everywhere, shouting, their faces awash with panic. In the openings of the shattered windows she could see people sticking their heads out of the fiery building to look around. Some were waving articles of clothing out of the openings with frantic motions. They were trapped, she realized. Trapped in that crippled, burning building. Fear and helplessness gripped her.

A hard hand cupped her jaw, turned her head. She blinked up into Hunter’s concerned face. He was saying something to her, frowning.

“I’m okay,” she managed shakily, and got to her hands and knees. He grabbed her beneath the arms and hauled her upright as though she weighed nothing. When she was on her feet he kept hold of one upper arm and she was thankful because her legs wobbled. All around them people crowded into groups, gawking at the awful spectacle before them. As she watched, the first victims start to pour out of the ruined building, covered with blood and soot.

Two men emerged carrying another and laid him down on the sidewalk away from the falling glass and debris. It took a moment for Khalia to realize the man was missing his right arm at the shoulder. She stared in horror at the lump of glistening bloody flesh sticking out of the sleeve, the blood pulsing out of him while someone tore off their shirt and frantically wrapped it around the severed limb. The wounded man’s mouth was wide open, his eyes squeezed shut in an expression of unimaginable agony.

Khalia’s stomach lurched and she tore her gaze away.

The wail of distant sirens rose over the cries of the wounded and the roar and crackle of flame. She felt a tug on her arm and looked up into Hunter’s grim face.

“Let’s go,” he ordered in a voice made even scarier by his fierce expression.

She wanted to. More than anything she wanted to turn and run as fast as her rubbery legs would carry her. “The wounded,” she began, feeling the first tremors of shock ripple through her muscles. It was almost a hundred degrees outside, yet she felt like she was freezing. “We have to help.” They had to do

something. People were trapped inside. Hunter had training, and they were close enough to the victims to maybe get some of them out.

Rather than answer, he began dragging her in the opposite direction. She stumbled, realized she’d lost a shoe and glanced back. It was nowhere to be seen, swallowed up by the mob still gathered on the sidewalk, holding their hands to their faces in horror and disbelief, some crying and wailing. The sounds made her skin crawl in primal reaction. Fire trucks and police vehicles were beginning to show up on scene, sirens and lights going. “Wait,” she insisted, yanking against his hold. His fingers were like iron bands around her upper arm.

“We’ve gotta get the hell out of here,” he shot back, walking faster. Khalia kicked off her other shoe to save herself a broken ankle as she struggled to keep up. “Suicide bombers like to wait until the first responders show up to the initial blast and then—”

More screams. Hunter jerked his head around and she followed his gaze just in time to see a second white delivery truck racing toward the stricken building. A scream built in her throat, but never escaped.

Hunter swore and tackled her again, this time bringing her down to the sidewalk with a bone-jarring thud. She cried out as he landed on top of her, slamming her ribs and hip bones into the unforgiving concrete. His arms came up over her head to shield her, the force of them scraping her cheek and temple against the rough surface. Before she could draw breath another explosion tore through the air, even stronger than the first one. Her teeth clacked together when the shockwave rolled through the ground.

More screams. Closer this time. Terrified and blood curdling. Heavy things slammed into the ground nearby. The heat of the blast washed over her, stinging her skin. Hunks of burning metal whipped past them, gouging out chunks of pavement and concrete where they landed. Khalia was too afraid to move. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Seconds later Hunter got up and lifted her once again. Her heart was slamming out of control. She grabbed hold of his shoulders for support and cowered against him, darting glances around to see what was happening. She saw people stumbling around with burns and bleeding wounds. The carnage was horrific. Her whole body started shaking.

He grabbed hold of her hand, clamped his long fingers around hers and yanked forward, away from the scene. She fell, scraping both knees and her free palm. He scooped her up again, tossed her over one broad shoulder, and ran. Khalia clung to the back of his shirt for balance. Every running step sent her midsection slamming down on his shoulder. All she could do was tense her stomach muscles and hold on. She kept her eyes closed and fought the urge to

cover both ears with her hands because she needed to keep her grip on Hunter or she’d fall.

Through the weird numbness creeping over her she could still hear those terrible screams rising up and shuddered. Hunter was talking to someone over the walkie talkie, shouting instructions she didn’t catch. Her hands dug into his shirt, fingers frozen there like talons. Were more bombers still coming? Did they have other targets in mind across the city? Any courage she’d thought she had was gone. She should never have come here. What the hell had she been thinking?

After an unknown amount of time Hunter stopped and slid her off his shoulder to her feet, steadying her with a firm grip on her waist when she swayed. She blinked up at him, trembling all over. They were now blocks away from the bombing site, on a road with hardly any traffic.

He leaned his face close to hers. “You’re okay. Gage is right there,” he panted, skin streaked with sweat and grime, not a hint of fear anywhere in his expression. She followed his pointing finger down the road to see the two black SUVs roaring up. “Come on.”

When he grabbed her hand and pulled again, she followed, her legs wooden but at least functioning. Together they ran to the waiting vehicles. Gage jumped out and popped open the back door before climbing back behind the wheel. Hunter shoved her headlong into the backseat and climbed in behind her, slamming the door shut behind them.

The instant it closed he was on top of her again, flattening her facedown against the leather seat. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Hold on,” Gage said as he reversed and shot the vehicle backward at an alarming speed, the engine revving high and loud. Above her, Hunter took her hands, setting one against the doorframe and the other against the back of the front seat.

“Brace yourself,” he commanded.

For what? she wanted to yell but couldn’t get the words out and did as he said. A second later Gage cranked the wheel hard to the right. The truck spun in a sickening half circle, sending Khalia sliding along the slippery leather toward the door.

She cried out and pushed back with her straightened right arm, but Hunter was there. He caught her, bolstering her with his weight and strength as he struggled to hold them in place against the wild swing of the vehicle. The squeal of tires registered for a moment, then she heard Gage shift the transmission and they were driving forward once again, racing away from the scene.

A tense minute passed before Hunter finally let her up. She slowly peeled

herself off the seat and pushed into a sitting position with shaky arms. Her scraped cheek and palms stung and she’d be covered in bruises by morning, but at least she was still alive and in one piece.

She still couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.

A hard arm reached around her waist to drag the seatbelt across her body and snap it into the buckle. Immediately she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stem the violent shivers wracking her and risked a glance over at Hunter. His gaze was intense, the look in his eyes frightening, but that didn’t scare her as much as what she heard him mutter under his breath when he looked away from her to stare out the window.

“Welcome to Pakistan.”