Active Defense (Danger Never Sleeps #3) - Lynette Eason
CHAPTER
ONE
SEPTEMBER
KABUL, AFGHANISTAN
Dr. Heather Fontaine strapped her feet into the sandboard and pushed off. There was nothing like the feel of the wind in her face and that peace-filled stretch of time from the top of the mountain to the bottom. It was a stress reliever like no other. With the Bamyan mountains located about three hours from Kabul and considered a relatively safe adventure, it had been a no-brainer to head there when they’d had the time off. She wasn’t a runner or gym rat, but she could hold her own when sandboarding or skiing.
An encouraging yell came from Gina Wicks, her nurse, and Heather grinned, happy to see the young widow enjoying a moment of fun. Gina’s husband, Brad, had been killed by “friendly fire” and she’d returned a couple weeks ago to finish her tour.
At the end of the run, Heather expertly shifted her body to bring the board to a halt.
“Way to go, Heather,” Gina said. “No one would know you hate to exercise.”
Heather laughed. “That’s not exercise, that’s sheer exhilaration.”
The other two friends who’d joined her and Gina grabbed their gear and they headed to the Jeep.
While Gina drove, Heather leaned her head back against the seat and shut her eyes. She was tired, but in a good way. Not in a twelve-hour-surgery-only-to-lose-the-patient way. She’d needed this. They’d all needed it. But now it was time to get back and her brain was already shifting into work mode, mentally reviewing the patients waiting for her in the recovery tent.
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, Gina was poking her in the arm. Heather opened her eyes and realized they were almost back to base. “Wow.” She scrubbed a hand down her cheek and drew in a deep breath. “I must have sacked out.”
“Girl, you sawed enough logs to last all winter in Alaska.”
Heather rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Hey, can you stop by the hospital? I want to check on a few patients.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. If you don’t mind?”
“Um . . . sure.”
The other two ladies in the back groaned good-naturedly and guilt swept her.
“No, never mind. I’ll walk over after we drop everyone off.”
Gina swung the wheel and headed for the FOB hospital. “It’s okay. It won’t take you long. I’ll drop you off first and come back and get you when you’re ready.”
That seemed to work for the others and soon Heather found herself walking toward the surgery recovery ward. The huge tents that made up the hospital might look rough and ancient on the outside, but the inside held state-of-the-art equipment for those needing it. And so many did—Afghani civilians and American soldiers, both.
She’d enjoyed being with her friends and knew she needed the mental break, but her patients weighed on her mind and in her heart the entire time she’d been away. Not that the other doctors weren’t perfectly capable of caring for them, but . . .
Heather spotted one of the doctors caring for her patients while she was gone. “Hey, Hank, hold up.”
He turned. “What are you doing here?”
“We got back a little early so I thought I’d check in. Catch me up.”
He did, then patted her shoulder. “Glad you’re back, Heather,” he said. “It’s too quiet around here without you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
He laughed. “Can I grab you a cup of coffee?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.” He darted toward the cafeteria.
Movement in the distance stalled her. She stood between the tents—to her left was the operating suite, to her right the recovery area. She tried to get a better view of the approaching figure and noted he’d caught the attention of several others.
He trudged toward them, head down, T-shirt two sizes too big and flapping around his thin frame. He passed two of the Humvees, walked between two more tents, and headed for the recovery ward.
The closer he got, the more she knew. Certainty settled in her gut. “No,” she whispered. “No!” She ran toward him. “Please! No!”
He stopped and locked eyes with her. She could see his desperation even at this distance. For a moment, he stood motionless, half a football field between them. Then he yanked off the shirt, and Heather froze as she saw the bomb strapped to his chest.
“Help me!” He grabbed at the bomb, struggled with it, trying to rip it from his body.
“No! Stop! Don’t come any closer! Bomb!”
Heads popped out from the tents.
Heather’s focus remained on the teen. He’d managed to pull the explosive