The young one on the roof! Flame rolled to his left, felt another round tear into his flesh. He heard a loud clattering sound as he fought the pain and struggled to bring his own weapon to bear. Can’t let him finish me! He thought of Kimberly, helpless in her hidey-hole less than a hundred yards from this very point. Gotta take him out now!

  Flame fought his weapon into position, gritting his teeth as pain rolled over him. He managed to get his rifle pointed at the young man on the roof—a man who, he saw, was now unarmed, his weapon lost to recoil and gravity.

  All the man could do now was hold onto the roof’s peak with both hands, and watch Flame, eyes full of fear.

  Flame thought of Kimberly, thought of all the men he had seen killed by boys younger than this one, thought of what would happen if the tanker reached its destination.

  Then he squeezed the trigger, putting three rounds into the crying youngster.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Kimberly was exhausted. She had spent hour upon hour hidden under a pile of sodden and leaking wood while a battle raged all around her. It was nerve-wracking—doubly so after Flame made a brief appearance to give her a rifle she didn’t know how to use. He told me to just point it at the entrance and hold the trigger down if somebody showed up, she remembered. I guess he was worried that someone would find me.

  No one did and, for what seemed an eternity, the world had gone silent as the gunfire ceased and the rain softened.

  Kimberly began to doze off—then was awakened by a new flurry of shots, quite close this time. She’d gripped the rifle hard then, kept the barrel aimed at the tiny opening into the outside world.

  The gunfire stopped—and the rain once again began to beat down on the crisscrossing trees that covered her. She began to consider going out, and finding out just what was happening…

  Then she heard it.

  “Kimberly…” It was Flame’s voice—but not Flame’s voice.

  He’s hurt, she realized. Hurt and in pain! Instantly, Kimberly was clawing her way out of the hole she’d hidden in for so long. She pushed the rifle aside, forgetting that it was loaded and had the safety off. Ignoring the weapon, she wriggled and shoved her way through the tiny opening, eyes tearing as she emerged into the brightening afternoon.

  Flame was kneeling in front of her, face ashen, blood running down his side.

  “Kimberly.” His eyes found hers. “I need some help…”

  “What happened?” She rushed to his side, her brow furrowing as she saw two gaping wounds. “God, that looks bad!”

  “Not as bad as it looks.” He forced a smile and touched her face, the fingers of his right hand gentle as the stroked her skin. “But I need to get the bleeding stopped.” He pointed to his right. “Your house…”

  “Is it safe to go there?”

  “All the gunmen are dead.” Flame coughed. “But the job’s not finished—I still have to stop that tanker from going back to sea…”

  “You’re shot,” She got his arm over her shoulders, levered him upright. “You can’t stop anyone!”

  “Get the bleeding stopped.” He leaned into her. “I’ll do the rest.”

  “Not without me.” She helped him move toward the house. “I’m not going to hide in some hole again.”

  Flame said nothing. For the moment, he lacked the strength to argue.

  ***

  Madani smiled as he put the microphone down. Alfarsi’s little flotilla was nearby now—less than twenty minutes away. They would soon be here to pull his stricken tanker free so he could sail it into the heart of the American Satan and fulfill his destiny.

  I wonder where Ghafur is, he asked himself as he peered into the rain that still pelted down. Surely he’s finished off the lone American by now!

  Madani had great faith in the abilities of his lieutenant. Ghafur had done outstanding work in both Afghanistan and Syria, and there was no reason to think he would fail now.

  But it doesn’t really matter, Madani told himself. I am going to sail into the American port as soon as this ship is free—with or without Ghafur’s help. He nodded slowly. If he makes it, all the better. If he doesn’t… Madani shrugged. It will happen by the will of Allah.

  He dropped into the captain’s chair, waiting for the storm tide and the help that would soon appear.

  ***

  He’s a lot heavier than he looks, Kimberly told herself as she half-led, half-carried Flame back to the Forrest house. I hope he doesn’t pass out. She glanced at his face, and was pleased to see that his eyes were sharp and clear as he forced a smile. I don’t think I could manage to carry him on my own.

  It took nearly ten minutes to make it to their destination. During that time, another band of rain swept over the area, soaking both Kimberly and Flame to the skin. That wasn’t so bad, she told herself as the rain slowed and the sky lightened overhead. At least it got some of the muck off. She looked at Flame, and saw blood still running from one of his wounds. I don’t know how good it was for him…

  Flame seemed to gain strength as they entered the house.

  “Let’s go to the couch, honey,” he said, his voice still hoarse. “I’ll make a mess but it’s the best place to do what has to be done.”

  She led him across the hardwood floor and lowered him onto the leather couch.

  “Get me whatever first aid kit your father bought for this place,” he grinned at her. “As careful as he is, I’m sure it’s a good one.”

  “It’s in the master bathroom.”

  “Good.” He held her arm for a moment. “I’m also going to need whatever aspirins or pain killers you can find, needle-nose pliers if you have one and a box of tampons.”

  “Tampons?”

  “Good for wounds like this.” He gestured to the hole in his chest. “Fibrous paper stuff stops the blood flow—helps it clot.”

  “I’ll see what’s around.” She started to turn away, then: “Flame, you can’t go out there again—I mean…”

  “Way back in BUD/S—that was a training course—one of my trainers told me that…” His speech trailed off, and he closed his eyes, remembering. “At the darkest moment of the mission you have to be calm, composed and ready to bring your tactical skills, physical power and all your inner strength to bear.” He nodded slowly. “And if you do that, you can change the world.” He looked her in the eye. “I’ve always tried to live by that concept—and I don’t plan to quit just yet.”

  “I’ll get the stuff.” She hurried away, suddenly certain that he was going to find a way to finish his mission no matter what it cost him.

  No matter what it cost her!

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The rain was coming in bands by the time Dana and the others reached Miami. “How much further?” she asked Aesop.

  “Almost to the bridge.” He glanced back at her. “From there, it all depends where the break is.”

  “I hope we get some kind of communications before then.” She glanced down at her phone which still showed no bars. “It’ll be a lot easier if we know where the damn island actually is in relation to the bridge.”

  “My brother Mike might know.” Aesop nodded toward the cop cars ahead of them. “He’s in the lead car now.”

  “Any way to talk to him?”

  “Not until we get to the bridge.” Aesop shrugged. “Couple of minutes more.”

  “Good, make sure…” She stopped as her phone rang. “Wait a minute!” She grabbed the instrument, clicked the answer indicator. “Eric?”

  “Thank God.” His voice showed his relief. “I’ve been trying to reach you for more than an hour!”

  “We lost telephone signals when the storm went through.” She put the phone on speaker so everyone could hear. “Seems to be working now.”

  “Good, use it as a hotspot again and get on your computer—there are some things you need to see.”

  Dana quickly did as he asked, booting up the internet and once again starting Skype. A few minutes later, Bivens was staring at her from the laptop’s screen.

  “Is your laptop still slaved to my computer?” he asked without any greeting.

  “I think so…”

  “Shrink the Skype window.” He waited while she did so. “Do you see a satellite image?”

  Dana nodded. “Yes, looks like the same island—and the tanker is still there.”

  “Now, I’m going to zoom out a bit.” The image on the screen shrunk, showing more water and, an instant later, a small flotilla of boats. “Do you see the small craft?”

  “Yes.” Dana leaned forward. “Looks like…” She touched the screen with her finger, counting. “Fifteen—no, sixteen of them.”

  “There are four more a little further behind.” Bivens zoomed in on one, the image partially obscured by some still-heavy clouds. “This one holds a man called Faris el Alfarsi—ever hear of him?”

  “The Persian.” Dana turned the name over in her mind. “I remember reading something in a briefing paper…”

  “DIA thinks he’s running a terror cell somewhere in the Caribbean.” Bivens pulled back a bit more so that Dana could see both the small boats and the tanker.

  The boats were heading toward the tanker.

  “I’ve intercepted several radio calls between Al Farsi and Madani Al-Dhakheel on the tanker.” His Skype image nodded. “Seems the two of them are working together on this particular plot.”

  “The small boats are going to run interference for the big one.” Dana nodded in return. “We expected something like that.”

  “More.” Bivens glanced at his notes. “They’re going to help pull the tanker off the island.” He looked at Dana. “I’ve tried to give all this to the Coast Guard but the DC office says they’re ‘far too involved in humanitarian efforts’ to do anything about it.”

  “Figures.” Dana glanced out the windshield—a sign told her that the Seven Mile Bridge was only two miles away. “I’ll call the admiral and fill him in. Before I do that, however…” She looked into the screen. “Do you know just where Kimberly Key is? And how I get there?”

  “Sure,” Bivens smiled. “I’ll set up a map and a full set of directions—just check back after you talk to the admiral.”

  “Got it.” Dana smiled. “And thanks.”

  ***

  It took a few minutes but Kimberly eventually returned to the living room with everything that Flame had asked for wrapped in a couple of clean towels.

  “Very good, babe.” He smiled for her and carefully removed his shirt, wincing as dried blood pulled free. “Neither of these wounds is very serious—they didn’t hit any vital organs or break any bones. The problem…” He winced again as he changed position enough to see the two holes, and pointed at one of his wounds. “It's this one. The bullet is still inside.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I’m going to continue bleeding unless we can get it out.” He looked at her. “Did you get the needle-nose pliers?”

  “My dad had two of them.” She unrolled the towel and displayed the items she had found. “Is either one okay?”

  “This one,” Flame said decisively, and picked up a long and slender tool. “This one should do.”

  “Okay.” She leaned closer. “What next?”

  “Next,” he handed her the pliers. “I need you to use this thing to pull the bullet out of my side.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You want me to do it?”

  “Kimberly, I trust you.” Flame touched her cheek. “It’ll be tough—really tough. I know that, but I also know that you’re a pretty brave girl.”

  “Flame, I…”

  “You’ve got to do it, Kimberly.” He kept his eyes locked on hers. “It’s the only way.”

  She took the pliers, body suddenly numb. “Should we put them over a fire or something?”

  “I’m not too worried about infection right now.” He smiled at her. “After this is over, maybe.” He lay back a little, stretching the skin over the wound. “Go ahead, find the bullet and pull it out.”

  She nodded and leaned forward. Blood was still slowly oozing out of the hole in her lover’s chest and she took a moment to wipe it away with one of the towels she had brought before she slowly inserted the pliers, concentrating with every fiber of her being.

  Now I know why mothers want to kiss their children’s hurts to make them feel better, she thought. It would be so much easier if the world only worked that way! She winced as the pliers brushed against one of Flame’s ribs. I know this must be agonizing. She snuck a glance at the big SEAL’s face in time to see him clench his jaw to choke down a cry. And I know it’s got to be done. She probed a little deeper, felt the very tip of the pliers touch something hard. But I wish I wasn’t the one who had to do it.

  She bent over and kissed the skin just over the wound she was working on. It can’t hurt, she told herself as she worked the pliers around the bullet…

  ***

  Flame never quite passed out as Kimberly dug the bullet out. He came close, however. Close enough that, for a fleeting moment, he found himself in a familiar place—standing ankle deep in water inside a now not-quite-so-dark building.

  “Quite a girl you have there, bro.” Manny was standing alongside the open door, bright sunshine silhouetting him against the rectangular opening. “I mean, how many rich kids would even think of sticking their fingers in the gore and feeling around for a bullet?”

  “She’s doing a pretty good job, too.” Mo appeared alongside Manny. “As good as a field medic could do with the equipment she has.”

  “Don’t lose her, buddy.” Manny shook his head. “And be careful how you handle the rest of this clusterfuck—you can still get yourself kakked.”

  “Take care of yourself, lover.” Mo smiled. “And take care of your new lover as well!”

  Then they were gone—faded into the light—and Kimberly was standing over him, a jacketed slug held tightly in the jaws of the pliers, a worried look on her face.

  “I’m all right, honey.” Flame forced a smile. “Really.” He reached out to touch her. “Now get the tampons…”

  She hurried to open the box.

  “Just push them into the wounds—they’ll soak up a lot of blood but that’ll let things clot faster.”

  “Not yet.” She held up a tube of Neosporin. “First…” She put the mouth of the tube over the wound and squeezed, forcing as much of the ointment into the hole as possible, and then repeated the procedure on his other wound. “That should help a little.” She then reached into the box of tampons and gingerly pushed them into place, watching as they quickly turned red with blood.

  “It’s okay,” he quickly reassured her. “They’re supposed to do that.” He forced himself to sit upright. “Now if you’ll give me all the antibiotics and painkillers you were able to find—and a couple of bottles of water to wash them down.” He smiled grimly. “I can get back to work.”

  “Do you have to?” She looked into his eyes. “I mean, you’ve killed all the gunmen—what else can they do?”

  “They can sail that tanker into any port they want and set it off.” He took her hand. “Thousands—tens of thousands of people could die.” He lifted it to her lips. “I can’t let that happen.”

  “Then I’m going with you.” She handed him a bottle of Aleve and a handful of Ampicillin tablets before hurrying to the fridge for every bottle of water she could find. “And don’t think you can leave this house without me right alongside you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Because it is not going to happen.”

  Flame looked at her—and smiled sheepishly. “Yes ma’am,” he muttered.

  ***

  Dana’s eyes were locked on the laptop’s screen as her car sped across the Seven Mile Bridge. Bivens’ imaging showed that the tanker was still stuck on Kimberly Key—but it also showed her that help was only a few minutes away.

  “How long?”

  “If Eric’s information is correct…” Aesop checked the road ahead. “We’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

  “I’m not so sure of that,” Bremby muttered, braking hard.

  “What’s wrong?” Dana sat up, looked over his shoulder at the road ahead where both police cars were braking hard. “Why are we stopping?”

  “Look.” Bremby nodded his head toward the road ahead. As they rolled to a halt, they could see that there was a ragged break in the road and a gap—perhaps ten feet across—beyond it. “I don’t think we can drive any further.”

  ***

  “Is that better?” Kimberly had watched, still worried, while Flame swallowed a handful of Ampicillin and an equal number of Aleve—afterwards, his color a little better, he had retrieved a handful of energy bars from his bag and quickly consumed them.

  “Not too bad.” He forced a smile and touched the wounds on his side—both had stopped bleeding. “You did a pretty good job on these.” He pointed to the deeper wound. “Look, its already stopped bleeding.”

  “You should get stitches, see a real doctor…”

  “Later.” He sipped some water. “After this is over.” He looked into her eyes. “Are you sure you want to come with me? It’s going to be really dangerous.”

  “I’m not going to lose you, Flame.” She put an arm over his shoulder. “No matter what.”

  “Okay.” He swallowed the last of the water and stood, swaying for a long moment before regaining his balance. “I think I…” He looked at the girl alongside him. “I think we can do this.” He smiled and picked up the AK-47 he’d left leaning against the side of the couch. “We’re going to have to suit up first.” He nodded toward the door. “Come on, the storm is almost over—we have to finish this soon!”

  Outside, he led her straight to the Crawford's house. Once there, he didn’t allow her to go inside, rather, the two of them bypassed the back door and went around the corner to the side of the house.

  “This guy was a tough bird.” He nodded toward the old fighter, his body huddled under the bush that had sealed his fate. “Help me get his clothes off.”