Striking Distance

She drove him to the airport, where Nate was waiting to say good-bye. Javier checked in his duffel bag and guitar case, and the three of them stood talking, the minutes seeming to race by until it was time for Javier to go.

He and Nate embraced, slapping each other on the back.

“Thanks, bro. You’re the best friend a man could have. Do me a favor and watch over Laura, okay?”

“You got it. She’s welcome at the ranch any time.” They shook hands. “Happy hunting, Corbray. Damn, it was good to see you.”

“I’ll be back.”

Nate glanced over at Laura, raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you will be.”

And then it was time for Laura to say good-bye.

She sank into Javier’s embrace and held him tight, savoring the precious feel of his arms around her. She turned her face up to his and kissed him, unable to hold back her tears. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to stay safe. I love you, Javier Corbray. My world wouldn’t be whole without you in it.”

“I promise.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t know when I’ll be in touch again, but you’ve got my numbers. I’ll answer e-mails when I can and call you whenever I get the chance. If you need anything, call Nate or McBride.”

She nodded, sniffed, tried to smile.

He ducked down, kissed her. “I love you. Remember that, okay? No matter what,

bella

, you remember that.”

Laura nodded, then watched, her heart aching, as he turned and walked away.

CHAPTER

31

Two months later

JAVIER CROUCHED DOWN, his suppressed HK416 raised and ready, NVGs giving him a clear view of the darkened street beyond. He watched for motion, for any sign that they’d been noticed, covering for Ross as he placed an explosive charge on the locked front gate. They took cover.

BAM!

A dog across the street barked, roused by the blast.

The gate swung open.

They moved swiftly and silently toward the front door, the men lining up on either side, staying out of the line of fire.

Javier tested the handle, found it unlocked. He nudged it open and caught a glimpse of an empty hallway.

He entered, Desprez and the rest of the team following him in a tight line. They cleared room after room, finding mostly sleeping women and children, Javier making a mental inventory of people old enough to offer resistance—men, women, older boys.

They found him in a room upstairs. He lay asleep on the floor on a bed of cushions, an AK propped against the wall near his head, a young woman sleeping beside him—one of his wives. Javier confiscated the AK and handed it to Reeves, who was watching his six with Tower, the rest of the team downstairs to cover their exfil route.

Javier moved in on the bastard and jabbed him in the head with the tip of his suppressor. “Wake up, motherfucker.”

Salman Al-Nassar’s eyes opened, and he sat bolt upright, staring wide-eyed at Javier, reaching for the missing AK and muttering something in Arabic.

“Look at him,” Javier said to Tower. “It’s a nightmare—and it’s real.”

Tower barked something at the bastard in Arabic.

Javier stuck with English. “I know you understand me, so listen very carefully. We don’t want to hurt any of the women or children here, but if you fuck with us, we’ll take this place apart—starting with you. Have I got your attention?”

Salman nodded, sweat beading on his forehead. “Yes.”

“You know why we’re here?”

The man nodded again. “You came for the girl.”

“Wake the woman. Tell her to be quiet. Send her to get the girl.”

The man shook the woman beside him and woke her, covering her mouth to keep her from screaming. She stared wide-eyed up at Javier as her husband spoke in rapid Arabic. She climbed out of bed and hurried past Javier and out the door, her long, dark hair hanging down her back, Tower following behind her.

Salman glared at Javier. “My brother is going to be a martyr.”

“Your brother is a murdering, raping terrorist asshole. He’s going to rot in hell. Keep talking, and I’ll make sure you join him.”

From somewhere nearby, he heard a woman cry out.

And then Tower was there, a sleeping toddler in his arms, dark hair spilling over the blanket, her little face so much like Laura’s that Javier didn’t need a DNA test to know this was Klara.

A woman appeared in the doorway, a distressed look on her face. She spoke in Arabic to the man, who hissed at her. She fell silent.

Javier walked over to her. “Safiya?”

Her eyes went wide.

He held his rifle against her chest and glared down into her face, letting the full force of the hatred he felt for her come through. He asked Tower to translate. “Tell her that this little girl was never hers to take or hold. Tell her that it is only for the sake of her children that I don’t pull this trigger right now.”

Tower translated, but the translation went on so long that Javier was pretty sure the man had added a few thoughts of his own.

Trembling, Safiya sank to the floor, terror on her face.

Javier turned back to Salman. “This ends here, dawg. You or any of your terrorist buddies try to harm Laura Nilsson or her baby girl, and I will personally hunt you down and rip your balls off. Got that?”

Salman nodded.

Javier turned to Tower and Reeves. “Time to go.”

* * *

LAURA BENT DOWN so that Karima Al Zahrani could kiss her cheeks.

“You have restored Ali’s memory, Laura. Please know that you are always welcome in our home.”

“Thank you.” Laura forced the words past the lump in her throat. “It was the least I could do.”

Laura had spent the past few weeks putting together a feature package about Ali—his life, his dreams, his accomplishments—her way of helping Denver face the murder of an i

It was a balm to her heart to see smiles on their faces.

Yusif offered her his right hand. “Thank you, Laura. You are a woman of good heart.

Ma’salaam.

”

Farewell.

“Thank you. And farewell.”

Then Hussein Al Zahrani, Ali’s uncle, stood. A proud man and devout, he did not offer to shake her hand. Instead, he stood before her, a sheen of tears in his eyes. “As Ali was my nephew, so you are my niece, Laura. If there is anything you need, call upon me. I will help you if I can.

Inshallah.

”

God willing.

“Thank you. You are very gracious.

Ma’salaam.

”

Under the watchful gazes of Ali’s father and uncle, she walked to her car. The night was warm, the sky bright with stars, the air scented with lilacs. Winter had finally given way to spring. She made the drive back to The Ironworks through quiet streets, her mind turning to Javier as it always did.

God, she missed him.

Two months had gone by since he’d left for Coronado. She’d gotten a few e-mails, and he’d called twice. He hadn’t been able to tell her where he was or what he was doing, but it had been wonderful to hear his voice. She’d been certain the last time they’d spoken that he was out of the country. It might have been the bad co