Guarding the Soldier's Secret Read Online Free

lifted her gaze—and her chin—in a way that was almost a challenge. “I know because I remember them.”
    Yancy put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her close in a one-arm hug. “This is Kabul, honey. It’s a very big city—like New York or Los Angeles. Probably there wouldn’t be many sheep or goats or donkeys here in the middle of the city. But I promise we’ll make sure and find some tomorrow when we go out in the country—okay?”
    “Okay...” Clearly, her daughter was only somewhat appeased.
    Changing the subject, Yancy said, “Hey, are you hungry? I know I am. How about we go back to the hotel and see if they have any ice cream.”
    “Pistachio?” Laila’s golden eyes sparkled up at her with that wicked humor that never failed to wrench at Yancy’s heart and bring back memories of a time she hoped someday to forget.
    She’s so like him. How am I ever going to be able to forget, with her as my constant reminder?
    With one arm resting lightly across Laila’s shoulders, Yancy lifted her head to survey their surroundings, hoping to determine the best and shortest route back to the main street where, presumably, they could flag down a taxi. But she found she couldn’t see much because of the press of people that surrounded them.
    Which was odd, because a moment ago she could have sworn there were only a few straggling shoppers here, dawdling about among the stalls. Now she and Laila appeared to be completely walled in by a crowd of people.
    No, not a crowd. A group of men. Tall, bearded men, all dressed in traditional Afghan costume.
    As the bolt of awareness shot through Yancy’s brain, it triggered a wild montage of the warnings, cautions and instructions she’d heard time and time again when preparing to venture into volatile and unpredictable regions of the world. More than once she’d covered the story when a colleague had been abducted—or worse—and there had even been some close calls that were hers alone, the memories of which were all too vivid. She’d never really been frightened then—at least not that she could remember. But it was different now. Now there was Laila.
    She tensed and strengthened her hold on her daughter’s hand, at the same time nervously checking to make certain no stray locks of her own dark red hair had strayed from beneath her scarf. Keeping her eyes averted, she quickened her step.
    Without any overtly threatening moves or gestures, the knot of men moved with her, keeping pace.
    Yancy’s mind raced, searching for explanations but capable only of shooting off questions. Who are they? Taliban? What’s happening? Why are they doing this? What do they want with me? Are we about to be kidnapped? What have I done?
    Or...is it Laila they’re after?
    Her heart banged against her ribs. Her scalp sizzled; she could actually feel her hair lift and stir against the silk fabric of her scarf. She could almost hear Hunt’s voice... They’ll find her again, sooner or later...
    Oddly, the thought had a calming effect.
    Laila? They can’t take her. They will have to kill me first.
    She drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. Think. You have one advantage: you’re a woman. They won’t be expecting resistance from a woman. Plus, they won’t want to touch you, a strange female, if they can avoid it. You know the moves—they won’t expect that, either. Strike fast, strike hard, break loose.
    Then both of us run like hell.
    They’d reached the outskirts of the bazaar. Beyond the human barricade that surrounded her, Yancy could hear cars moving slowly, tires crunching on the hard-baked ground. She could hear laughter, music coming from a car radio, the impatient beep of a horn. She wondered if one of those cars was meant for them . She imagined a sudden shriek of brakes, hard hands shoving her into a waiting vehicle, Laila screaming...
    Or, infinitely worse, Laila being wrenched from her grasp. Then the slamming of car doors, a gunned motor and