Her eyes flew wide. “Surgery? All they told me when I showed up to the reunification site was that she was here. It took me about an hour to realize it was her flight, and then I’ve been running everywhere.” She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, reopening them when it seemed she had some control. “Tell me what surgery.”
I gestured to the chair next to mine, and we both sat. “She ruptured her spleen in the crash and broke two ribs, along with getting a concussion. She was bleeding internally.”
She nodded, absorbing the information with a calm I respected. “Okay. And you signed for the surgery?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” I handed her the clipboard. “I’m hoping you’ll know most of that.”
“I can do this.” She stared at the forms like they were in a foreign language. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“I hope so. She was conscious right up until I handed her to the paramedics.” I resumed flipping my wallet in my hand and watching the clock.
“Oh God, she’s allergic to—”
“Penicillin,” I finished for her. “She told me. They know.”
She sat back in the chair and stared at the door, the one the surgeons had been coming in and out of the last few hours. “Lucky she was sitting next to you.”
“I’m not sure I’d call anything about today lucky, except that we’re somehow alive.”
“That’s the luckiest you can be.”
The door to the left swung open, and two uniformed men walked in wearing camouflage. My stomach hit the ground.
“Nathaniel Phelan?” one of them asked, scouring the room.
“That’s me.” I lifted a hand and stood.
“Hell of a day you’re having. Are you cleared by medical to leave?” one of them asked.
I nodded. “Just needed stitches.”
“Good. Let’s get you out of here.” He motioned to the door.
Picking up the clear bag of my personal items, I walked over to them. “Is there any way we can wait? The woman I was sitting next to is in surgery.”
They shared a look, and I knew it wasn’t going to go my way. “Is she your wife?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Mother? Sister? Daughter?” the other asked.
“No. I’m just worried about her.”
Sympathy knit his brow. “I’m sorry, but we’re tasked with getting you out of here, and if she’s not next of kin or a blood relative, we really need to go. Orders are orders.”
My chest tightened, and I nodded. “One second.” Serena was still filling out forms when I reached her. “I have to go.”
She looked up at me, her eyes a shade lighter than Izzy’s. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
“Just . . .” I shook my head. Fuck my life, I couldn’t even ask her to call and tell me if she made it out all right. “Just tell her that I didn’t want to go, but orders are orders.”
“I will. Thank you.” She reached out and took my hand, squeezing it. “Thank you. I can’t say that enough.”
“Nothing to thank me for.” Taking a deep breath, I walked back toward the soldiers, then followed them out.
Isabeau would be okay. She had to be. I refused to believe that fate, or God, or the cosmic energy of the universe would make her go through all of that and not come out of it alive.
But I would never know.
“We can get you on another flight, or a bus if you’re not . . . you know . . . keen on flying at the moment. Or I’m sure they’ll give you a waiver, and let you postpone basic,” one of the soldiers said as we made our way out of the hospital.
“No.” I gripped my bag harder. Everything I owned was now in it, and I had absolutely nothing to go home to. “No, I’m ready now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
NATHANIEL
Kabul, Afghanistan
August 2021
“Change your mind,” I ordered Izzy when she opened her door the next morning. Fine, maybe it was more plea than order. Sleeping hadn’t been an issue for me in years, but I’d tossed and turned all night after she told me why she was really here.
Searching for her sister was going to get her killed. Every step Izzy took outside this embassy was a calculated risk, and we’d prepared security for her precise itinerary, not for hunting a needle in a haystack. American photojournalists made excellent propaganda targets for the enemy around here, and with the country destabilizing, the odds of finding Serena in the window of Izzy’s visit were grim.
“Good morning to you too.” Izzy cocked an eyebrow at me and held open her door so I could enter. “Give me about three minutes, and I’ll be ready.”
“Ready to change your mind?” Fuck me, she smelled good. The scent was straight out of every dream I’d had over the last decade.
“No.” She buttoned what looked to be a linen blazer up to her throat and packed a scarf in her tote bag with a pair of overear headphones. “Ready to get on the helicopter. Is Mayhew ready?”
“Already downstairs.” The junior aide was so much easier to deal with than Izzy, but then again, I’d never been in love with him, so that probably influenced my opinion.
“I see you’re dressed for a funeral again.” She eyed my all-black combat gear.
“As long as it isn’t yours. Tell me something. What exactly was your plan coming here?” I leaned back against her door.
She glanced down at my M4. “You really have to carry that everywhere?”
“Yes.” I didn’t bother to tell her about every other weapon I had strapped to me. “Now what was your plan, Isabeau? Just show up here and start calling out Serena’s name?”
A blush rose up her cheeks as she shouldered the tote and faced me, lifting that stubborn chin of hers. “Something . . . like that.”
I let my head fall back against the door for a heartbeat. “I’ve always known you would do anything for her—you’d do anything for each other—but this is ludicrous. How long has she been in country?”
“Five months. She was offered the opportunity to end her assignment early when the rather”—she winced—“abrupt handover of Bagram indicated a larger . . .” Izzy searched for the right words.
“Shit show was about to go down?” I supplied. “Because that’s what’s happening.”
“Withdrawal was never going to be pretty.” Her chin lifted a good three inches. “I just didn’t think Serena would be stubborn enough to stay, especially after the embassy staff was reduced back in April. But she’s . . .” Izzy shrugged.
“Serena.”
Izzy nodded. “If I can just find her, I can talk some sense into her and get her out of here.”
“Do the other members of your delegation know what you’re up to?”
“No.” She gripped the straps of her bag so tight I half expected them to start screaming. “And I know you aren’t going to tell them either.”
I pushed off the door and flat out invaded her space. “And what makes you think that?”
She looked away, and her throat worked before she dragged her gaze back to meet mine. “Because you owe me.”
“I. Owe. You?” My eyebrows rose. Apparently, she remembered New York a little differently than I did.
“After leaving me in—” She closed her eyes and blew out a slow breath through puckered lips that claimed every ounce of my attention.