Chapter Five

Not much got to Johnny. He liked to think he was a balanced soldier who’d seen a lot in his military career. Any challenging experiences in the field usually got resolved by physical work when Johnny returned home to his Wyoming cabin. The empty solitude had a way of flushing away the blackness of war from one’s soul.

Looking into those troubled blue eyes and the sound of Lizzy’s sobs echoing in that dingy room had him wanting to put a fist through the wall. Johnny paced the hallway, waiting for the local men to liberate her from their obsolete confinement.

Javid Ibrahim watched him carefully from down the hall. Johnny paused, then approached him. “Thank you for rescuing them.” He swallowed before continuing. “Without your help, they would’ve been stoned or beaten to death.”

Javid nodded once. Johnny reached into his back pocket. “If you ever need any—”

“I need you to look after Miss Steyn.”

“Excuse me?”

“I see the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you.”

“I won’t be seeing her again.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Her soul is a rare one, she is pure of heart. She deserves nothing but peace and kindness.”

Johnny agreed but didn’t know how to respond. Max walked up and thumped him on the shoulder. “Ryker has the key. They’ll be slipping out of the rear alley. I’ll meet you at the truck.”

Johnny looked away. If he hesitated, he’d storm in there and carry her out like a territorial caveman, so he left the team to their job and exploded down the stairs, slamming through the back exit.

Once inside the vehicle, he scanned for potential threats.

Lizzy’s American citizenship saved her from the same fate as the others. If she was from any other country it wouldn’t have been that easy. Pakistan’s good relations with America had played a major role in the negotiations.

Thankfully due to her passport origin, MIT headquarters had been given the green light and assigned the closest team to the rescue. MIT3, under the command of Devon “Ryker” Stone, operated out of Afghanistan, had flown in their assistance.

Without MIT3’s interference, Lizzy would’ve been thrown into a local prison and Johnny would have arrived too late. It would have been weeks or even months before they’d gained access to her.

Peshawar prison conditions could easily break a trained operative, never mind a civilian. And God only knows how they’d treat a Western woman. Johnny wouldn’t relax until she was out of country.

MIT3 were transporting her to an undisclosed location for the night, a safe house they occasionally used. Johnny had the coordinates. In the morning, she’d fly out to Kenya on a private jet.

Max approached the truck and slipped into the passenger seat. “Any potential threats in the area?”

“Nope. Looks like the zealous troublemakers have retired for the night. There are a couple of stragglers out front, across the way.”

Max grabbed a gummy worm from an open packet and shot Johnny a look that had him glaring back.

“Don’t look at me with those zombie-ass eyes, I’m about to lose my shit.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Max shoved fruity worms into his mouth.

“Sure, you weren’t, just spit it out.” He waited impatiently for Max to swallow.

“The last time you’ll ever see her, and that’s how it goes down?”

“I can’t do this roller-coaster shit anymore. That woman lights a bonfire in my brain. No one has ever burrowed that far into my head. I haven’t had contact with her in months, and she still has the ability to trigger every caveman instinct that I possess.”

Max looked out the window. “Hell, I’m not good at this touchy-feely stuff. What do you want, Johnny? Where do you see yourself in five years? Sitting on the farm in Wyoming? Who’s sitting next to you?”

“Don’t ask me that, because I want something I can’t have.”

The door opened, and Ryker emerged. Phoenix followed behind, carrying a fragile Lizzy. It should be him, not Phoenix holding her. Her skin was still as soft as he’d remembered. One stroke to her cheek in that dark room, and he’d wanted to drag her into his arms.

That option wasn’t on the table, not since Johannesburg. Lizzy was right. He had neglected to protect her. Because of his failure to tell her who he really was, or to warn her of the potential risks surrounding her friend, he’d almost gotten her killed in a gunfight. Her choice to banish him from her life wasn’t unwarranted. She deserved to be safe.

The remaining MIT3 members watched their six. The alley remained quiet as the team settled her in the back of a white van. Once the vehicle pulled off, Johnny pulled in behind, planning to follow them out of the square, and then circle away towards the private airfield they’d utilized earlier in the night.

Max wouldn’t let up. “You’re working with a team, yet you’re living in a separate space in that giant macho head.”

“I know. Lizzy has a hold on me, and I’m trying to move on. I can’t do this anymore, it’s unhealthy.”

Max snorted. “Well then talk to the lady.”

“It’s my fault she took the job with JetHaven and moved to Kenya. If I’d told her sooner who we were, then maybe she wouldn’t have run away.”

“So, you’re saying this is just about responsibility? That you flew here on a six-hour trip because of guilt?”

“Ah, shit. Screw you.” Johnny punched the wheel, then turned left instead of right, ignoring Max’s resulting grin.

***

Phoenix laid her on a soft mattress. Lizzy protested and immediately sat up. “I need to shower.”

“Don’t you want to eat something?”

“I can’t think of food, I need to get clean.”

“We’re here for the next five hours. Get some shut-eye and I’ll wake you an hour before we leave.”

Lizzy ignored him and shifted to the side of the bed. Phoenix laid a hand on her shoulder. “Easy, Puddin’, the shower isn’t going anywhere. You need to rest.”

“If the lady wants a shower, she gets a shower.” John stepped in the room and Lizzy stilled then turned away.

“You left me there.”

“I never left, I was there the whole time.”

Her leg ached, and Lizzy stretched it out gingerly.

Phoenix sat on the edge of the bed and grasped her thigh. “Where does it hurt?’

“What are you doing?” John moved around the bed.

“She has muscle spasms from sitting so long.”

“You mean sitting in the freezing-ass cold. Because no one on your team thought to find her a damn jacket until I arrived. Take your hands off her, I’ve got this.”

“I’m the medic on 3.”

“Well then, make yourself useful and look at her wrist. I’ve got the leg.” 

“The two of you are like mother hens. I have a bruised leg and some cramps, big deal. I sat on a chair for eight hours, I didn’t go to fricking war! Get out of my way, I need to use the bathroom.”

John and Phoenix reluctantly stepped back as she hobbled to the bathroom. “Don’t you boys have soldiery things to do? Climb a fence? Crawl under barbwire? Go do that and leave me the hell alone!”

***

“Well, that went smoothly,” Phoenix said, rocking back on his heels.

Johnny walked to the bathroom door. “Max is swinging past the hotel to pick up your things. When he gets here, I’ll leave your bag outside the door.”

A grunt was the only response. 

“You’re not her most favorite person. What did you do? Dump her ass in a past life?”

Johnny rounded on the cocky medic. “I’ll dump your ass at the bottom of a ravine if you don’t back the hell off.”

“Why should I? She’s cute, and…available.”

“She’s been through a shitload and I’m not referring to Peshawar. If you exploit that vulnerability, you and I will have more than just words.”

“I can still hear you!” Lizzy yelled. “Vulnerable, my ass! Take your posturing somewhere else and leave me in peace.”

Phoenix grunted and slapped Johnny on the back as he walked out the door. 

Johnny sank onto the comfy duvet and rested his worn-out head. 

Thirty minutes later and the water was still running. Max walked in and deposited the trolley bag on the bed. “Is she still alive in there?”

“Hell, if I know.” Johnny rolled his ass into an upright position. 

“When you’re ready, there’s a whole spread of food in the kitchen. I’ll be out there, with the boys.”

Johnny ran a hand over his head and nodded. 

“Lizbug, are you doing okay?” Nothing. He tapped on the door. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in.”

The water turned off. “Hold your giant horses, I’ll be out in a minute.” The sink faucet turned on. “Fudge berries! I need my damn stuff.”

Johnny was grabbing her luggage when the bathroom door swung open behind him. “Just hand it over.”

He froze. A large towel engulfed her tiny frame, leaving just her arms and shoulders exposed. The scratched-up skin had his attention. Marks inflicted by men intent on killing her, beating her into the ground. It had been so close. Red-rimmed eyes challenged him to look away; instead he lowered the carry-on and stepped forward. 

Lizzy narrowed those same eyes, snatched the bag away and scuttled back into the bathroom.

“Oh no, you don’t. Get back here. Those lacerations need to be looked at.”

“Hand me antiseptic ointment through the door. I’m sure swarthy warriors like you carry medical kits the size of small tanks.” 

“Please let me help.”

“John, for the love of God. I need a moment to myself, without large men looming over me. I need space.”

Her voice broke on the last word and he gritted his teeth in frustration. Yeah, being mauled by a gang of rabid men would justify her claustrophobic freak-out. Space was what he gave her. He popped the heavy military-issued medical kit through the door. Plenty of ointments and antibiotic salves lined the pockets.

Lizzy knew what to do. She’d almost completed a nursing degree a few years back, until her ex-fiancé, Ivan Chasov, flew off the handle and tried to kill her. The psychological damage from the incident must have had her spiraling into a lost haze. Johnny didn’t know the details of that night.

Out of respect, he’d stayed away from investigating her harrowing past; it was her story to tell. But three months ago, Ivan Chasov had been released from prison, and the bastard was on Johnny’s radar. Intel indicated that Ivan had moved up to Nigeria, and was currently working with a subcontractor for an oil rig near Lagos. 

Finally, Lizzy emerged, looking washed out. Her skin shone pale against a neon pink off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that spelled RAD on the front in giant lettering. It hung mid-thigh over black leggings. She still had an obsession for the eighties and nineties.

That quirkiness was what attracted him to the blonde bombshell in the first place. Lizette Steyn was a puzzle he could never quite figure out.

An energetic tomboy one minute, then a retro fashion model the next, adorned with flashy jewelry and happy colors. Sparkly, then serious. Kind yet highly strung, with a fragility that ran parallel with a tough-as-nails streak. His Lizzy was a messy ball of twine made up of contrasting colors and textures.

Hell and shit. Lizzy was not his, not by any stretch. Six months ago, she’d made very sure of that.