Susan Cliff - Navy Seal Rescue

He tried on the boots. They were the right size, and almost new. Layah had waterproofed every pair with beeswax and oil, on his orders. He could argue that he was still too weak to climb, or simply refuse to leave, but neither option appealed to him. He didn’t feel secure here. His best option was to travel with Layah. He’d act as her guide, for now. He’d do whatever she wanted. A part of him was excited by the prospect.

A very stupid part of him that sometimes made his brain shut off.

He knew he shouldn’t touch her again. He was a Navy SEAL, and she was a refugee. He might be able to get away with seducing her as an escape strategy. Doing it for his own pleasure was a clear violation. It was unprofessional, unethical and unwise. Not to mention dangerous. He couldn’t afford to let down his guard with this woman. Bedding her would be hot, but he had to stay cool and keep his distance.

She’d been giving him a wide berth, so it shouldn’t be difficult. They’d hardly spoken since the kiss. She never came into his room. Maybe she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. He smiled at the thought.

At some point, he’d get a chance to sneak off on his own. He’d have the advantage in the higher elevations. He didn’t know where they were, exactly, but they had to be close to Iraqi Kurdistan. The Kurds were reliable US allies, with an army of well-trained soldiers. They would take him to an air base.

He stood, rolling his shoulders in anticipation. His injury wasn’t bothering him. He’d done little but sleep and eat for two days straight. He could feel his body recharging, gaining back the weight he’d lost. A glance in the mirror in Layah’s washroom had revealed a stranger with sharp cheekbones and a delineated rib cage, but plenty of lean muscle. He touched his flat stomach, which was still full from breakfast.

“Hungry again?” Ashur asked as they left the room.

“I don’t think you’ve fattened me up enough,” Hud said.

Ashur made a snorting sound. “You eat more than ten men, American. You will be fat as a qurād soon.”

“What is that? A king?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, a king. Do you wish to learn Arabic? I teach you.”

Hud didn’t plan on being in the country long enough to bother. “You can be my interpreter.”

Ashur flinched at this suggestion, his smile fading. Hud was reminded of his last interpreter, who’d died a grisly death. Ashur couldn’t know that, but he seemed offended. “I will never work for you,” the boy said.

“I work for you, is that it?”

“Yes. That is it.”

Hud stared back at him in silence. Ashur had a quick temper and a chip on his shoulder the size of Iraq. Hud recognized a bit of himself in the boy. He’d been angry at the world as a kid, unable to control his emotions. Climbing had been his only outlet until he’d joined the military, where he’d learned to channel his aggressions.

Now Hud was adept at staying calm and focused, after years of practice. He’d worked hard to master his mind and body. The strategies he used to maintain equilibrium had kept him sane in captivity. It was ironic, he supposed. His mother had worried constantly about his combative nature, and his affinity for danger. She’d thought climbing would be his downfall. Instead it was his salvation. His troubled adolescence had been a training ground, honing him into an elite solider who could withstand extreme duress.

Hud moved around the boy and continued outside. Ashur wasn’t a serious threat, and he wasn’t responsible for Hud’s predicament. Layah was. She stood by the gate with three backpacks at her feet. Bulky layers of clothing disguised her figure and a pale brown hijab covered her hair. She might look unremarkable from behind. Straight on, her beautiful face shone like the desert sun.

He felt a stirring of desire and resented it.

“Good morning,” she said.

He nodded curtly. They were getting a late start, by his standards. Most climbing expeditions began before dawn. He picked up his pack, which was loaded with ropes and equipment. He’d examined every item yesterday. The sutures on his shoulder tugged as he balanced the weight.

“How are you feeling?”

“Do you care?”

She lifted her own pack with a frown. “I wish I could give you more time to rest, but it is important to begin our journey now, before the Da’esh come, or the ground thaws and the terrain becomes unstable.”

He glanced at the white-capped peaks in the distance. It was the middle of spring, so he understood her urgency. Snowmelt turned the ground into slippery slush and caused rock slides. They needed the weather to stay cool and clear, but there were no guarantees. At the summit, the temperature could dip to below freezing, with swirling snowstorms and zero visibility. “Where are the others?”

“We will meet them on the mountain.”

Ashur opened the gate for them. Two men stood outside, guarding the exit with Kalashnikovs. Hud recognized them as the men who’d carried him away from the rubble of the torture cell.

“This is Yusef and Aram,” she said.

“My executioners?”

“My cousins,” she corrected. “They will not harm you.”

Hud gave both men a quick examination. Layah’s cousins appeared comfortable with their weapons, but they were no match for him physically. He could disarm one and kill the other in the blink of an eye.

“You must stay with us,” she said, as if she could read his mind. “The Yazidi have taken a great risk by giving us refuge. They know you were a Da’esh prisoner, and they will not allow you to endanger them by getting recaptured.”

“So your men won’t shoot me, but the Yazidi will?”

“If you leave our group, yes. They will shoot you to protect their families.”

He adjusted the straps on his pack. She’d chosen to begin their journey at midmorning for a reason. She wanted him to be seen by the villagers, who would help her keep him in line. “How convenient.”

“You fault me for warning you?”

“No. I fault you for threatening me with violence while pretending you’re above it.”

Her cheeks flushed a dusky rose. “I pretend nothing.”

He studied her face, remembering her heated response to their bedroom tussle. She might not be a faker, but she wasn’t honest, either. And his body didn’t seem to care. If anything, his anger and resentment had stoked his desire. He felt outmaneuvered by her, and the caveman in him wanted to flip things around. He wanted to get back on top and pin her underneath him.

But that wasn’t going to happen, so he dropped the subject and started walking. Challenging her wouldn’t improve his situation. It would only make him want to crush his mouth over hers in retaliation. He told himself it was a normal reaction. Any man who’d been taken prisoner by a beautiful woman would think about doing her, and she’d encouraged him to kiss her. She’d given him signals. Of course he was going to fantasize about getting even. Or at least, getting off.

Layah trailed behind him, followed by Ashur and the two cousins. Hud continued down the dirt road, which couldn’t have been more than a mile long. He could see a well-worn path from the village into the mountains, used by goats and sheepherders. It would take a day or more to hike beyond the grazing hills.

After a few minutes, his muscles warmed up and his tension eased. It felt good to be outdoors again. It felt good to be alive. The air was cool and the land was green. He loved climbing. He’d rather die on the side of a mountain than in a dusty tomb. Forced labor wasn’t so bad, and the scenery was excellent.

He could almost hear his comrades’ mocking voices in his head: You’re mad about getting rescued and bossed around by a sexy woman? Dude, what is wrong with you? Did you lose your balls in that explosion?