Honor Reclaimed (HORNET #2)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Oh boy, had she ever been wrong. Pissed didn’t even begin to cover it.

Phoebe had never seen the usually mild-mannered woman so livid, and honestly, it was a bit frightening. Zina may look like a runway model, but she sounded more like a lioness protecting her cubs. In a tone that dared Seth to argue, she ordered him to give her his team’s contact info and stay in the courtyard. Then, with a fuming glare at Phoebe, she stormed inside. She didn’t slam the front door—that would be too undignified and would scare her girls—but the soft click of it closing behind her was somehow even worse.

Phoebe bit her lip and glanced over at Seth, who had borne the gale force of Zina’s rage without so much as a blink. “I’m sorry. I knew she’d be angry, but I thought she’d take it out on me.”

He nodded. His jaw was clenched so tightly she swore she heard his back teeth grind—but not out of anger. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his skin despite the chilly day, and his hands trembled at his sides.

Good God, he was terrified and trying not to show it. Had Zina’s tirade brought on another flashback?

She wanted to reach out, entwine her fingers through his, let him know he had nothing to fear. No, dammit. She was supposed to be keeping her distance. For both their sakes.

She hurried toward the front door. “I’ll talk to her.”

She didn’t wait for a reaction and ducked inside. Pausing in the foyer, she leaned against the cool wood of the door and swore under her breath. Keeping her distance was going to be harder than she thought. Seth Harlan had stolen a small piece of her heart two years ago when he stoically withstood the public lashing caused by her article, and she didn’t want distance. She wanted to help him. Wanted to make up for the pain she’d caused him.

“Is he an American soldier?” a voice asked in Pashto.

Surprised, Phoebe pushed away from the door and spotted Tehani Niazi coming down the stairs. “Who?” she asked, even though she knew exactly who.

“I was watching from the window,” Tehani admitted. “He looks like a soldier.”

“He’s…” How do you explain the difference between Seth and the type of soldier Tehani meant? She didn’t think she knew enough of the language to do so, in any case. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

Tehani crossed the foyer to stand in front of Phoebe, her hands tucked behind her back. “Can you take me to see him?”

“Oh.” She winced, imagining Zina’s reaction. No, thank you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

But Tehani wasn’t deterred. She lifted her chin, showing a glimpse of the stubborn streak that ran through her core. “I have something I need to give him.”

Phoebe reached out and straightened Tehani’s slipping head scarf. Such a strong, brave, determined girl. It was impossible not to love her. “All right. I’ll introduce you to him, but let’s keep it a secret, okay?”

Tehani nodded.

Phoebe started to stand but then thought better of taking an Afghan to meet a traumatized former Marine without first knowing what the girl meant to give him. Last thing he needed after facing Zina was to be surprised.

“Tehani,” she said, pulling the girl’s gaze away from the door. “First, can you show me what you have for him?”

Tehani produced a battered folder from behind her back and held it out. Phoebe recognized it as the same one she’d carried with her few belongings from her village. She’d been so protective of it she hadn’t wanted anyone even to touch it. That the girl now trusted her enough to let her see inside made Phoebe’s eyes burn with suppressed emotion.

“Thank you.” She opened the ragged cover, and when her gaze dropped from Tehani’s face to the folder’s contents, her chest seized. “Oh my God. Where did you get this?”

“Zakir gave it to me. He told me I had to give it to an American soldier. He said it was very important.”

Phoebe leafed through the pages, then started at the beginning again and read more carefully to make sure she was actually seeing what she thought. No, she wasn’t delusional. This was indeed a military report on at least two dozen arms deals and several suicide bombers, including the unidentified woman who attempted to bomb the American embassy three weeks ago. Dates, names, and places—all written by a precise hand and sometimes accompanied by photographs. And one particular name all but leaped off the page and smacked her in the face.

Jahangir Siddiqui.

The front-runner in Afghanistan’s upcoming presidential election.

Holy. Shit.

Seth released a breath and consciously made himself relax as the door shut behind Phoebe. He shook out his hands, worked his jaw. He couldn’t say what it was about the encounter that had bothered him. It wasn’t that he thought Zina could hurt him, wasn’t even that she was angry at him for disrupting the shelter’s peaceful existence. She had every right to her anger.

Still, it had thrown him back into a very dark place. And now that he could think straight, that really pissed him off. What had happened to all of his fucking progress?

The shelter’s front door flew open, and Phoebe sprinted toward him with a girl on her heels. She didn’t say anything when she reached him—just shoved an open folder into his hands and, wide-eyed, jabbed a finger at the pages.

“What?”

She gasped in a great exhale as if she’d been holding her breath. “Jahangir Siddiqui is Tehani’s husband.”

He tried to read the first page in the folder, but she was still jabbing at it wildly. “Okay. Who’s Tehani?”

“I am,” the girl said in Pashto.

He caught Phoebe’s hand before she put a finger through the paper in her excitement. “This girl is Siddiqui’s wife?”

“Yes, and he’s behind the rash of suicide bombings. Look. He’s using his wives. And look. He’s buying arms, making bombs.” She poked the papers again. “And we have proof! We need to tell someone. We need to stop him.”

“No.”

Her mouth snapped shut. “No?”

“No,” he repeated. “Not yet, at least. It’s too dangerous. Where did you get this information?” It read like a highly classified military report.

“Zakir gave it to me,” Tehani said.

A little thrill curled in Seth’s gut. “Zakir… who?”

“Zakir Rossoul.” She frowned in thought. “But I don’t think that’s his real name. I heard him talking on his radio in English when he helped me escape, and he called himself…” She hesitated, then said in carefully halting English, “Sergeant Zak Hendricks.”

Jackpot.

Seth closed the folder. “We need to get my team here right now.”

“Wait,” Tehani said and reached into the pocket of her dress.

Seth couldn’t help the automatic tightening of his shoulders. Goddammit, this girl meant him no harm. He needed to stop jumping at shadows, or he was going to make a mistake. And a mistake in this country meant death.

The girl held out her hand, a small flash drive in her palm. “Zakir told me it was very important I give this to an American soldier because my husband is trying to buy a nuclear bomb.”

It took him a second to translate that last part, and he looked at Phoebe for confirmation. “Did she just say nuclear bomb?”

“Yes,” Phoebe breathed. “She did.”