Free Wild, Tethered, Bound by Stephanie Draven Page B

on that, sir?” the surly sergeant whispered.
    Nick—whose late-night poker games with enlisted men were getting him into trouble with the brass—just smiled. But in spite of his bravado, Nick was acutely aware that his life was on the line—their staggered formation alone was a grim reminder that they had to keep outside of one another’s blast radius just in case someone set off an IED.
    Getting his bearings, Nick paused beside an old tree with exposed roots all tangled together like bones beneath his feet, and squinted into the dark canopy of leaves. Nick kept imagining trip wires glittering like spider webs in the occasional patch of morning sun. What the hell? Was he bugging out?
    That’s when Nick’s sharp-eyed scouts gave the signal up ahead. They’d spotted something. Nick saw it, too. A flash of white amidst the leaves, a blur of limbs in motion, and then it shot skyward into the canopy. Nick told himself it was some bird—no human being could leap into the trees like that. His finger steadied on the trigger nonetheless and a moment later, he heard a woman’s whisper just behind his ear.
    “What are you doing in my forest?”
    Jesus Christ! Nick spun to face her as a cacophony of shouts erupted from his soldiers. How had she ever gotten this close without his realizing it?
    “Put your hands where we can see them!” Nick yelled this in the local language, as it was one of the few phrases he knew how to say in just about every dialect.
    The beautiful woman staring down the barrel of his gun should have been frightened, but instead, she calmly and majestically lifted her pale arms, as if she were some kind of goddess. The scouts gave Nick a signal that everything was clear. She wasn’t some kind of distraction for an ambush, so he lowered his rifle and got a closer look at the woman he’d almost put a bullet in.
    She wore a short white tribal gown that bared her arms and she looked to be alone and unarmed. Her nut-brown hair flowed freely over her shoulders, and captivating blue eyes peered at him above her cheekbones.
    In spite of all his training, Nick could not help but stare in shock. It wasn’t her features that startled him, for many of the local Nuristani were said to have descended from Alexander’s Macedonian–Greek army and some extremely fair. In fact, some of these rugged mountaineers still worshiped ancient gods like Dionysus.
    But nothing Nick had learned about their strange local culture could explain her. “Are you hurt?” Nick asked, because he could think of no other reason a lone woman would be wandering these woods, much less without a head covering. When she didn’t answer, he said the only other words he knew in the local language. “I’m Lieutenant Nick Leandros of the United States Marine Corp. We’re here to help. Do you need assistance?”
    “Lieutenant Nick Leandros.” She repeated his name with an imperious stare. “What I need is for you to leave my forest.”
    She couldn’t possibly be speaking English, but he understood her perfectly well. And from the looks on their faces, his men understood her too. Since the translator wasn’t necessary, Nick said, “We’re not here to stay, ma’am, but we do have a few questions.”
    “You’re soldiers,” she said, her condemning gaze falling upon each of his men in turn. “So I imagine you’re going to ask me whether I’ve seen the Taliban fighters that exchanged fire with your forces the other night.”
    Now the sergeant broke in. “Actually, we’d like to set up a shura with your menfolk—a meeting with local leaders. Where are they?”
    “I don’t have menfolk, ” the woman snapped and gave Sarge a peremptory glare that silenced him.
    For some reason, this only emboldened Nick. “Well, have you seen any jihadists?”
    “Sir—” the sergeant started to interrupt with a warning, and Nick knew why. They’d been trained to avoid even talking to Afghan women. It could be considered a grave insult and breed