Darkest Before Dawn (KGI #10)(38)

She could understand why he’d view her and the countless others he’d helped as . . . things. Not human beings with feelings or emotions. Because then if things went wrong he would feel that much more. Maybe it was the way he stayed sane. Whatever his methodology, she was grateful, because it was working. And whatever got her out of this hellhole and back on U.S. soil, she was one hundred ten percent behind.

Still she couldn’t help but glance up at Hancock when he wasn’t looking, studying the firm outline of his jaw and his chiseled features that seemed set in stone. She wondered what his story was. What he and his men officially did or if they even officially existed.

What a terrible half-life that must be, to live and yet be nothing to the world, nobody to anyone. To continually put their lives at risk for strangers they didn’t know and would never see again. Did anyone ever thank them? Truly thank them? She made a mental vow that whenever they got to wherever they were going, she was going to thank each and every one of them by name. They would know that she wouldn’t forget that they gave her a chance at life. That they saved her from certain torture and death.

And at the same time, as incongruous as it might sound, it only reaffirmed her commitment to her relief efforts. No one would blame her if she never took another assignment. If she stayed safely inside the confines of the United States and enjoyed the protection and freedoms of living within its borders. Living in the ignorant bliss that so many Americans enjoyed—embraced. Most people would think her insane to wade back into the fray after such a close brush with the unthinkable.

But there were people in need. People without others to fight for them. To help them do something her countrymen took for granted. Survive. Be free. Hancock and his men were people who took up that fight. She’d devoted her life to the cause of helping others. Just because she’d faced adversity—and overcome it—didn’t give her justification to simply step aside and quit. Allow others to assume the risk in her stead.

If anything it only made her that much more determined not to allow these *s to silence her efforts. Her family wouldn’t like it. They wouldn’t go down without one hell of a fight, as they had the first time she’d come to this war-torn, embattled region. They would need time with her—time she’d gladly grant them—so they could ensure that she was well and truly safe. Alive. Unhurt.

But then she’d pick up the banner again and nothing would deter her from her calling. It wasn’t something she could ignore, opting for a safe nine-to-five job. It was who and what she was, and to walk away was not only a betrayal of the people so desperately in need but a betrayal of herself, her ideals and her beliefs.

“Whatever it is that has you so deep in thought, it better not be a plan I’m not privy to.”

Hancock’s drawl broke through her thought process, startling her into lifting her gaze to see him studying her intently. What, did he think she was planning to run from him and escape on her own? Not likely. He was her best and only hope of getting home alive and she knew it.

So deeply entrenched in her fierce thought process was she that she spoke before censoring her words.

“I was merely making a vow not to let these *s make me quit,” she blurted out.

Embarrassed by her impassioned outburst, she ducked her head, her voice more of a mumble now.

“Most people would run home and never leave again,” she said quietly. “I’m not most people and I’m needed here. And other places. Places most people won’t go. But those are the places where the need is the greatest. And just as you have all risked your lives to save me—one person—then so too will I risk my life to help countless others. Your risk won’t be in vain. My life means something. It has purpose. I won’t go quietly, nor will I let those bastards frighten me into sticking my head into the sand and staying at home with Mommy and Daddy like a coward.”

Her tone had grown fiercer with every word until they blazed with heat to match the intensity of her emotions.

The others fell silent, the quiet stretching and blanketing the interior of the vehicle. Some looked down. Others looked away, blindly, out a window or at simply nothing at all. There was tangible discomfort and she frowned, not understanding why. Were they pissed that they were risking their lives for someone who would willingly put herself at risk all over again?

She supposed it did seem as though she were ungrateful and uncaring of the sacrifices they made. They were probably wondering why the hell they were out here in the middle of the desert risking their asses for a woman who didn’t appreciate their efforts or why they didn’t just dump her out and leave her to fend for herself.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” she said in a low voice. “But I can’t turn my back on these people. They have no one to fight for them. No one to aid them. And if I let terrorists sway me from my objective, then they win, regardless of whether I escape or not, whether I live or die.”

She plunged ahead before any could respond, not that a response appeared imminent. They weren’t exactly talkative. They made Hancock seem like a regular conversationalist, and he was a bare-minimum kind of guy at best. But his men? Had even less to say. But perhaps as their leader, they let Hancock do the talking while they did the acting.

“I don’t want to appear ungrateful for what you’ve done—what you’re doing. Nor am I being cavalier about the fact that you risked your lives to rescue me and pull me out. It may appear to you that way, but I can’t possibly explain how much it matters to me that I not be manipulated and coerced through fear or threats.”