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Something flared behind her eyes, and he damned himself for not thinking before he opened his big mouth. Yes, he’d do it for anyone, but the suggestion had been so much more than the casual offer from one stranger to another.
As she said goodbye and closed the door on him, he had his first inkling that he might be headed on a dangerous course. He couldn’t save the world, he’d already proved that to himself and everyone around him. He’d left Dutch Harbor eight years ago a scared and messed-up kid. He’d returned an even more screwed-up man. One who could barely take care of himself, much less anyone else. He’d do well to keep that in mind before making any other big promises he couldn’t keep.
Like promising a little boy he’d be fine? That he wouldn’t die like his mother and father had?
Mark set off for the lobby, a wave of exhaustion going through him. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that promises were the stuff of fairy-tales—not worth more than the hot air used to voice them. He’d broken one too many of them over the course of his life.
But not any more.
He pulled off his clothes and slid beneath the bulky covers of his bed, the chill from the sheets clinging to skin like the ice that sometimes coated the props on his plane.
No more promises from him. Not to Toby. And especially not to Sammi.
Mark frowned as he peered over the steaming surface of the desert. The wind from his chopper’s rotors whipped a woman’s dark hair around her face as she pushed toward the aircraft. Even from a hundred yards away, something about her looked familiar.
The wife of their translator, who was now dead at the hands of insurgents. His eyes went to the bundle she carried in her arms.
A bomb!
The thought scrabbled through his mind, sending fear spiking through his veins.
The medics had just raced to help several downed soldiers who’d gotten caught in the crossfire, leaving Mark alone.
She moved a few yards closer. Mark motioned for her to stay away that it was too dangerous for her to be here, but she shook her head, taking another step. The swirling currents caused the cloth to fall away from the top portion of the object, allowing Mark to catch a glimpse of what was inside. Instead of a hardwired mass of explosives, a small face appeared, a vicious smear of red across his temple… his cheek.
Ahmed, her child!
Without thinking, he shoved open his door and hopped down to her level, blocking the wind with his body like he’d done with Toby earlier.
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