The Equalisers: A Soldier's Oath

Once shielded behind the tinted windows of the vehicle, she surveyed Damascus Street. She could just make out the stripes of the painted water-storage tanks in the distance. Beyond that, if they were to drive in that direction, they would come upon the park and then the industrial area. She and Khaled had picnicked in that park… before. She’d never been allowed to take her son there. Khaled had rigidly dictated where and when she could take her son from the residence.

She’d wondered what he was afraid of. Asking had proven a monumental mistake. He’d lashed out at her, making her feel incompetent and untrustworthy when it came to caring for their son.

Eventually she’d learned the truth. Khaled had made so many enemies he feared their retaliation against his family, especially his only child.

Goosebumps spilled over her skin. Her son was not safe as long as he was associated with her ex-husband and his evil deeds. Somehow she had to get him out of this country. She had to find a way to ensure Khaled was never allowed custody of her child again.

Not even for a day.

On some level she felt remorse that her son would not be able to know this side of his heritage. She could try and teach him the Islamic values, but it wouldn’t be the same. That was the saddest part in all this. Ensuring his safety and having him in her life equated to tearing him from the land of his birth. It was the only way.

She couldn’t trust any member of her ex-husband’s circle, especially not his mother. Massouma was totally fixated on every detail involving her only son’s child. Once Willow took Ata away, he could never return or she would be right back at square one.

Coming to terms with that finality hadn’t been easy. She’d lived in this land for three years. Her respect for these people went as deep as the oil wells that paraded through the desert beyond the suburbs of the city. But nothing or no one was as important to her as her son.

“It isn’t easy being back.”

Anders’s comment tugged her from the depressing thoughts. The words were a statement rather than a question.

“There’s a level where I feel torn,” she admitted, surprised even as she said the words. “I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I do.”

She didn’t know precisely how, but somehow he understood how she felt. Maybe because he’d spent so much time in the Middle East during his military career, or perhaps simply because he had been betrayed himself. Did he have any idea how much his appreciation for her feelings meant to her?

That he’d managed to draw her in so deeply, so quickly, was a little scary. Still, she couldn’t deny enjoying the feeling of being protected.

“I’m glad Mr. Colby asked you to take this case.” It was the best way she knew to thank him for his perceptiveness and compassion.

The stall in traffic allowed him to look at her for several seconds before moving forward once more. “I hope you don’t change your mind before we’re finished.”

He held her gaze an extra beat, but the blare of horns prodded his attention back to the traffic.

Willow told herself to look away. It didn’t do any good. She kept staring at his profile long after he’d looked away. She recalled the way she’d felt that morning when she’d awakened next to him. Even before that, she’d slept like the dead for the first time in months.

He made her feel safe.

It was crazy. She scarcely knew him.

That he’d separated from the military in such an egregious manner should have put her off… should have her unsettled about his trustworthiness. Yet, she trusted him completely… felt fully protected in his presence.

He had stood up for the woman, a complete stranger, in the motel room next to hers. It had been so long since she’d seen an act of chivalry so impressive and selfless that maybe she was overreacting. Then again, she hadn’t had sex in more than a year. As embarrassing as that fact was, she wasn’t actually ashamed of it. She’d slept with one man in college, another after settling into her job following graduation, both had been relationships versus casual sex. Her next partner after that had been her husband.

She’d never had casual sex in her life.

Part of that was a direct result of her strict upbringing. There were times when that not-particularly-pleasant upbringing had come in handy. For instance, when she’d taken up residence in Kuwait, dressing and behaving conservatively had come naturally to her. She’d been almost thankful for her parents’s ironfisted child-rearing methods. But then those same methods had ingrained in her a willingness to trust the man she’d married when she shouldn’t have. She’d blindly gone into that relationship and followed all his edicts without once questioning anything until it was way too late.

Not that she blamed her parents for her mess. She didn’t. This was a tragedy of her own making. Still, they were not totally free of guilt here. She’d learned the hard way that lying in one’s self-made hard bed was not the only option. Even now she could hear her father’s voice echoing that sentiment, You made your bed, you’ll have to lie in it.

The muscles in her face tightened, making her jaw clench at the old hurt. No. You didn’t have to simply lie in it. There were things a woman could do, should do, when her husband mistreated her, physically or mentally.

If she’d only realized sooner what kind of man Khaled was, she might have escaped with her son before he’d suspected her disillusionment or her plans.

That wasn’t really true. If she’d suspected something wasn’t right she would have gone to him and asked, assuming he had been falsely accused, just as she did when she’d discovered the discrepancy in his finances. There was no getting around the fact that she had simply been naive. And in love.

Big mistake.

Her attention shifted back to the driver, the man she respected so much despite knowing him for a period of time more accurately measured in hours than in days. Was she making the same kind of mistake all over again?

She’d watched the way he handled that illegal business with the guns. Did she really have any reason to trust him? Sure, he seemed to sympathize with her, seemed compassionate toward people in general, but did that make him a good guy deep down where it counted?

Stop it.

They were here. He was doing his job so far. She had to stop overanalyzing every single thing. She could not afford to be distracted. Her actions could very well distract him. Allowing that to happen would jeopardize what they were here to do.

Time to get her act together and focus.

Time to behave like a mature woman who had learned her lesson about trusting the wrong man. The compromise was simple. She should appreciate Spencer Anders for his seeming compassion and empathy as well as his obvious skill at doing what had to be done in this situation and environment. All the while, she most definitely should understand that his ability to get the job done did not make him a good person.

Somehow she had to learn to separate her feelings. Respect didn’t necessarily have to equate to trust or… anything else. Like the feelings of attraction she had experienced lying next to him that morning.

She was a woman, she had needs. Those needs could not be permitted to get tangled up with the heat of the moment. Recognizing the problem was the key to moving forward productively.

She definitely recognized the problem. If she were really lucky, he didn’t. Knowing that he knew she was even remotely attracted to him would just be too humiliating.

“Our next stop is the building on the left at the coming intersection. We’re a little early.” He checked his wristwatch. “Ten minutes. We’ll park and wait in the car.”

“Is the person you’re meeting at this location an actual real-estate agent?” Anders had told her that the last guy worked on the fringes of the business as a cover for his real job—selling weapons in a country that had banned the personal ownership of weapons years ago. She had known men like that existed in Kuwait when she’d lived here—as did those who sold alcohol illegally. There was a whole underground of illegal activities here just as there was any place else.

This was, however, the first time she’d had direct dealings with the folks who carried out those prohibited trades.

“This one’s for real. I picked his agency from the listing in the local paper and called to make the appointment this morning.” He parked the SUV in a narrow alley between what appeared to be two office buildings. When he’d shut off the engine he turned to her. “There’s one more after this for cover purposes, and then we’ll drift into tourist mode.”

There was such intensity in his eyes, such determination. How could she not believe he would make this happen? She’d watched men like him in the movies, read about them in books. A hero. Every instinct told her this man was exactly that.

She had to believe.

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

For the first time since arriving at the airport and having that customs officer scare ten years off her life, she felt confident again.

Jim Colby had promised her.

The man he’d chosen for her case would make it happen. She believed that with all her heart.

Believing was something she was really good at most of the time. Her childhood had included a deeply entrenched certainty that without faith all was lost. She’d never once failed to have enough faith. Even when objectivity would have served her better, she’d stuck by the idea that faith would get her through whatever life tossed in her path.

Maybe that was how she’d survived when she’d feared her ex-husband might simply kill her to silence her. It would have been relatively easy in this society. Women certainly weren’t the ones front and center in the mainstream. Without any other family ties here, if she’d gone missing hardly anyone would have noticed, much less asked about her.

Anders opened her door, dragging her from the disturbing speculation. She hadn’t even realized he’d gotten out.