Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (11 page)

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough. At least then he’d be away from her, and able to do his job with a clear head.

Chapter Seven

The four men with her in the vehicle seemed relaxed enough once they passed through the final military checkpoint in their journey, but Khalia’s stomach was in knots as they drove deeper into the northern part of the infamous Swat Valley. Hunter had come to her room late last night to give her a brief rundown of emergency and safety procedures for the school. He’d listed them quickly and calmly, stressed he was only reviewing them all with her as standard procedure, and when she didn’t have any questions for him, he’d left. Surprisingly, knowing the procedures ahead of time actually made her feel more secure and she’d managed to sleep until her alarm woke her well before dawn.

Once known as the Switzerland of the region, it was easy to see why. If she hadn’t known it was Pakistan, she’d half expect to see Julie Andrews come running over the hill at any moment, dressed in a nun’s habit and singing her heart out. The high mountain peaks soared skyward, yet untouched by the coming snows, and lush, deep valleys nestled amongst the foothills. Tribal villages lay scattered here over the valley, yet less than an hour ago they’d passed the largest ski resort in all of Pakistan.

She shifted in her seat and gazed out at the scenery. Aside from the deceptive beauty she was all too aware that these were
not
the Swiss Alps. The Pakistani military had a strong presence in the valley but it was the Taliban who truly reigned here, forcing the vulnerable civilians to conform to their strict interpretation of Islamic Sharia law at the point of a gun or knife. It seemed surreal but here in these bucolic hamlets women were subjugated by men, forced into a state of near slavery and some sequestered in their homes without being able to set foot outside without permission from their husband or village elder. It was so hard to reconcile that reality with the breathtaking view outside her window.

“Another ten minutes or so,” Gage announced from behind the wheel. She was in the back sandwiched between Ellis and Dunphy—or Blake and Sean, as they’d told her to call them. She’d met them for the first time that morning when Gage had come to get her just before three. On the way here they’d stopped outside of Saidu Sharif to pick up the interpreter, Zaid. The late twenty-something Pakistani sat in the front passenger seat beside Gage, speaking only when spoken to and with the trace of a British accent. All the men were dressed in camouflage gear and ready for business. The silence inside the vehicle didn’t seem to be bothering anyone but her. Tension continued to build inside her, already bad enough that her stomach ached.

“There it is.”

At Gage’s words she leaned forward to peer through the windshield, heart beating fast and a nervous flutter in her belly. Seconds later her father’s legacy came into view. She’d only seen pictures of it until now. Seeing it in person put a lump in her throat.

By western standards the school wasn’t much. Positioned in a clearing between two small villages, the one story white cinderblock building sat in the midst of lush grazing land and held only three classrooms. It was still better than anything this area had seen for years, since the Taliban’s initial campaign against girls’ education.

Her father had chosen this location with care, making sure the playground was built at the rear of the building for added protection against snipers or other threats. Khalia squeezed her hands together in her lap and bit the inside of her cheek against the sudden rise of tears. This was the dream her father had died for. She wished he’d been here to see it made a reality.

You mean you wish he was here instead of you,
her conscience chided.

Yeah, a little, but Hunter’s final instructions to her last night were hard to forget. Even though he’d made it clear the contingency plan was only in place for an emergency, the need for its existence still weighed heavily on her mind.

“Here we go.” Gage’s voice and demeanor were perfectly calm. She wished she had half his confidence about being here. The vehicle rocked and jostled on the rough road leading toward the school. “Looks like Ray’s already waiting for you.”

She peered out the right rear window past Blake’s shoulder to see Ray standing out front of the school with a group of who she assumed were the staff members. He was smiling as he spoke to the middle aged woman beside him. Khalia expelled a slow breath, hoping none of the others noticed her anxiety. They were all experienced soldiers and probably already thought she was weak and helpless after her reaction to the bombings yesterday, so she didn’t want to prove them right.

Gage stopped a good distance from the school and pulled out his hand held radio that matched the one Hunter had given her earlier, stashed in her pants pocket beneath the robe. She had her own channel he would contact her on if necessary. “Hunt, we’re in position.”

“Roger that,” his familiar voice came back, creating a pang of yearning inside her. It bolstered her courage to know that he was out there in the cold somewhere, watching over her to make sure she was okay. “All clear.”

Setting his radio in his lap, Gage partially turned in his seat and offered her an encouraging smile. “Go ahead, hon. I’ll see you later.”

“Show time,” Blake announced beside her. He and Sean jumped out first, followed by Zaid. She gathered the unfamiliar long robe she’d changed into back in Islamabad—to avoid inadvertently offending anyone with her western style clothing and blend in more—and slid out of the vehicle, then followed the others toward the school. Again, the warm temperature was a shock after leaving the air conditioned interior of the SUV. Her battered feet were still sore, but not so painful that she couldn’t walk.

Ray met her part way to the building with the woman he’d been talking to. “Well, fancy meeting you here,” he teased and introduced her to the woman, who turned out to be the headmistress of the school and spoke a tiny bit of English.

“Salam alekum,” Khalia murmured, bowing her head slightly, extremely conscious of the scabbing sore on her cheek and temple. The woman replied the same in turn. Her face was weathered and worn, making her look much older than she probably was, but her deep brown eyes were clear and kind.

“Come,” the lady murmured once the pleasantries were over, gesturing for her and Ray to follow. When Khalia glanced back, Blake and Sean were nowhere to be seen and Gage was driving away to some undisclosed location. An awful sinking feeling took hold, like she had a bright red bull’s eye on her back. Though Ray was right beside her, she’d never felt so alone.

Pushing aside her worry, she entered the school with Ray and the headmistress. As she’d expected the interior was cold and sparsely furnished, with only a single bare bulb lighting each room. Still, it was clean and appeared to be well supplied. Each little classroom boasted a chalkboard along one wall and neatly arranged rows of desks for the students. The air inside was much cooler than out in the warm September sunshine. Khalia wrapped the shawl covering her hair and shoulders more tightly around herself as she walked through to the far side where the courtyard lay.

Outside, the sun chased away the worst of the lingering chill inside her. At the sound of hushed voices, she turned to find a group of girls assembled around the periphery of the playground. Twenty two of them in total, the oldest not more than twelve or thirteen. They wore very conservative and modest tribal clothing and they all stared openly at her. Seeing them, knowing they were risking punishment from the Taliban for being here—maybe even risking their lives—made goose bumps break out across her skin. Their bravery humbled her.

Raising a hand in greeting, she smiled and repeated the only phrase she knew in their language. “Salam alekum.” The words were hoarse but they did the job. Most of the girls broke into grins, no doubt because of her terrible accent. However, their smiles faltered when Ray and Zaid walked up to join her. Khalia wondered if they were worried the men would report them to the Taliban.

“The students are very excited to be here today,” Zaid translated to Khalia and Ray for the headmistress. “She says many of the girls walked for hours this morning to reach the school on time. Some came with their parents, but others left before dawn for fear of reprisal from local religious leaders.”

Khalia smiled at them again, outraged that they should have to worry about repercussions for pursuing an education. How could girls so young possess that level of courage? It amazed her.

Zaid gestured toward the group. “They have prepared a special song for you both today, to thank you for building this school and giving them the opportunity to learn.”

It touched her more than she could say when the headmistress assembled the group and the girls began to sing. Their joined voices caused a rush of emotion that made her eyes sting. Wherever he was, she hoped her father could somehow see this. Beside her, Ray was beaming.

When the song ended she and Ray burst into applause then each said their prepared speech on behalf of Fair Start while Zaid translated.

“Well,” Ray said to her when he finished. “Shall we let everyone start their day?”

“Absolutely.” She wanted to give these girls the keys to the world, starting with an education.

The headmistress and her two other teachers called the students inside to begin classes. Khalia and Ray split up. She stopped in each classroom and lingered as the primary grades gathered into the smallest of the three rooms to begin their first lesson. This was so different from most of the primary classrooms she’d been in back home. Here the room had a hushed, almost reverent atmosphere. Ranging from about five through nine or so, each student sat at her desk watching the teacher intently as she began to write on the blackboard. Their rapt attention blew her away.

She spent most of the morning observing lessons and passing out simple supplies like colored pencils and notebooks. In the upper intermediate classroom she walked in on a long division lesson. During a lull, with Zaid’s help Khalia asked permission to assist, and when the teacher learned Khalia was a math teacher from America, her eyes lit up.

Khalia went around the room to help some of the students. After they overcame their initial shyness about Zaid speaking to them, they listened carefully to her instruction. Straightening at one girl’s desk, a sense of unreality hit her. Miss Patterson, teaching arithmetic in an outlawed school in the tribal region of the Swat Valley. Who would ever have thought
that
would happen?

By the time they broke for recess she felt much more relaxed. The small windows set into the cinderblock framed distant craggy peaks that towered over the valley. Hunter and the others were out there somewhere, keeping watch over them all. At least for today.

In the afternoon session she joined a primary class in their reading circle. When Khalia was invited to sit in the circle, one little girl around six years old came over and climbed into her lap. The trusting gesture completely melted her. When the student beside her took her turn reading aloud from the book, Khalia leaned over to look at the foreign script on the page. Noticing her interest, the girl paused and placed her finger on a certain word. She said it aloud, watching Khalia closely.

Knowing she was being tested Khalia did her best to repeat the word, but her efforts were met with a scattering of giggles around the circle. Grinning, she dutifully repeated more words her tutor gave her. More giggles. The girl in her lap finally reached up a tiny hand to place over Khalia’s mouth to stop her from butchering their language, and peals of laughter broke out. Feigning insult, Khalia pulled back and looked down at the little urchin with a mock scowl.

The girl smiled and ducked her head, snuggling into Khalia’s shoulder. She was enjoying the cuddle, basking in a sense of pride and gratitude when the radio beneath her robe suddenly chirped.

“Khalia, come in.” Hunter’s voice.

Ignoring the bolt of alarm that slammed through her, she gently moved the child off her lap and stood, careful not to let her fear show. When she was out in the hallway she retrieved the radio from her pants pocket. She’d just keyed it when Ray appeared in the hallway holding his own radio and met her gaze. His face was ashen.

Oh, God.
Khalia’s fingers tightened around the plastic handset. “Go ahead.” Whatever Hunter was contacting her about, it couldn’t be good news.

“Evacuate the building.”

She sucked in a breath as a wave of terror broke over her.
The children.
She threw a worried glance at the primary classroom door. A threat? An outright attack? “What’s happening?” she demanded.

“Just do what I told you to do this morning,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’ll come for you when it’s safe.”

With that final chilling order reverberating in her skull she shoved the radio back in her pocket and re-entered the classroom. Everyone looked up at her. Schooling her features into a calm mask, she put on a smile infused with a confidence she didn’t feel. Zaid appeared at her side, face grim. “Tell them we have to do an emergency drill, for practice,” she said quietly. He translated and the teacher’s face froze in fear before she shot to her feet and urged the girls to follow. Khalia helped gather them into a line and was getting into place at the end of it when faint cracking sounds came from somewhere in the distance.

A few of the girls stilled and whipped their heads toward the windows. Then more cracks, these ones sounding closer, and Khalia finally realized what they were.

Gunfire.

Oh shit, oh, shit, they’re coming.

“Tell them it’s okay,” she whispered urgently to Zaid as fear threaded up her spine. This wasn’t okay, it was straight out of her nightmares. “Everyone has to stay calm, and the girls need to see that we’ve got it under control. Ray’s in the hallway with the other class and the headmistress is leading the third. Now let’s go, quick.” Her heart was already thundering in her chest. An unknown number of evil militants were about to attack the school, and only eight armed men stood between them and these innocent children.