Three Courageous Words. Elle James
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the motorcade belongs to Koku, he’s not here to schmooze with the locals,” the second man down the stairs said. “He’s here to destroy it and the people inside.”
The man behind him continued speaking. “We think the trailer that just pulled up in front of the compound is full of explosives.” He kept running.
A big blond guy with massive shoulders was the last one out. “Run!”
Graham and Angela raced after the departing men. As they neared the structure on the back side of the abandoned apartment building, an explosion rocked the ground, spewing chunks of concrete, rock and splinters of wood into the air.
Angela fell to the ground and covered the back of her neck.
Graham fell on top of her, using his body as a shield to protect her. When the debris stopped falling, he was back up, dragging her to her feet.
The rapid report of gunfire sounded behind them.
The men didn’t stop until they reached a beat-up old van a couple blocks away.
The first guy there threw open the side door, leaped inside and crawled into the driver’s seat. The others piled in after him.
When Angela reached the van, Graham lifted her and tossed her in like a load of laundry. He dived in behind her, landing on top of her, and someone slammed the door shut.
Angela could barely breathe with Graham’s weight pressing her into the metal floor.
The popping noise of automatic weapons sounded close by.
“Go! Go! Go!” someone shouted.
The man behind the steering wheel shifted into Drive and spun out, leaving a layer of rubber on the street. Something hit the side of the vehicle.
Graham grunted and stiffened, letting out a string of curses.
Finally, he rolled off her and sat up.
Angela dragged in a deep breath, filling her lungs, and then pushed to a sitting position.
Two men sat in the seats up front. The bigger guy had sandy-blond hair. The driver had black hair. Three other men besides Graham crowded into the back, sitting or squatting with their backs to the walls of the van.
When her gaze came back around to Graham, he held his hand over his arm, his lips pressed tightly together.
“Damn, Buck, you’re bleeding,” one of the men said.
Angela looked again at the hand holding his arm. Blood leaked through his fingers and dripped onto the floor.
Her pulse leaped. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I was too busy getting off you so you could breathe,” he said. “Besides, it’s just a flesh wound.”
Angela moved closer. “Let me see.”
He removed his hand from the wound. Blood oozed from the injury, but not at an alarming rate. Still, she needed to stop the bleeding.
“Anyone have a knife?” she asked.
Four wicked-looking knives appeared in front of her.
She selected one, ripped the hem of the robe Buck wore and tore a length along the bottom all the way around. She folded it into a tight pad and applied it to the wound. “Use that to apply pressure.”
Buck forced a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
She tore another length off the robe and used it to tie around his arm, knotting it over the wound to maintain the pressure. Some blood soaked through, but not enough for her to be worried about it.
“When we get back to the refugee camp, I’ll sew you up.”
“Let’s get this straight,” Graham said. “We’re not going back to the refugee camp.”
Angela stared around at the others. “But we have to. All of my equipment and supplies are there.”
“We’re not even supposed to be in South Sudan,” said the big blond guy in the front seat. “We can’t go to the refugee camp. We’d be too exposed and our mission would be jeopardized, if it hasn’t already been.” He glared at Graham.
Angela sensed he wasn’t happy with her former boyfriend. But she couldn’t be worried about that. She had a job to do. “Then let me out at the next corner,” Angela said. “I’ll get to the camp by myself.”
Graham shook his head. “Not happening.”
“What were you doing leading a protest against Koku?” the big guy in the front said. “Oh, and by the way, I’m Big Jake. Diesel’s the one driving.” He then pointed to a man with close-cropped brown hair leaning against the wall of the van. “That’s Pitbull, and the one beside him is Harm.” Harm had black hair and dark eyes. Big Jake nodded to the man in the very back with auburn hair and green eyes. “That’s T-Mac. And I guess you met Buck.”
“Buck?” She frowned at Graham.
Graham shrugged. “Short for Buckner.”
“Do any of you have real names?” she asked.
“When we need them,” Pitbull said.
T-Mac grinned. “On our paychecks.”
“Well, Big Mac,” Angela said. “I need to get back to the camp outside town, as soon as possible.”
The men laughed.
“No can do,” the man in the passenger seat said. “And it’s Big Jake.”
“Seriously, I have to go back. My nurse is there. If the raiders who attacked the government office make it out to the refugee camp, they might take her. So, if you’re not taking me there, at least let me out and I’ll walk.” She moved toward the door and placed her fingers on the handle.
“Hey.” Graham reached out with his injured arm and winced but grabbed her wrist anyway. “You can’t jump out of a moving vehicle.”
“If that’s the only way to get back to the refugee camp, I’ll do it. I won’t leave my nurse to be terrorized, killed or sold into slavery.” She spoke louder. “So if you don’t stop this vehicle now, I’m going to jump.”
“Hold your horses. We’ll take you to the camp,” Diesel said. “Just let me get us far enough away from what’s going on downtown.”
“Jump from a moving vehicle?” Buck chuckled, then stopped when he realized Angela hadn’t been kidding. He shook his head. “You’re as stubborn as you always were.”
Angela lifted her chin. “It’s what keeps me going here. My stubbornness got me through medical school and my internship.”
She didn’t say it, but Buck could hear the comment she didn’t make: Unlike you.
Buck felt the cut like a knife to his gut. “I had my reasons for leaving,” he said and ended it there.
“Where’s the refugee camp?” Diesel asked.
Angela turned away from Buck and focused her attention on Diesel. “Southwest of town.”
Using less-traveled streets, Diesel drove the van to the edge of town. Before they left the cover of the buildings for the open landscape, Big Jake glanced back.
“No one behind us for now,” T-Mac confirmed.
Diesel shot out of Bentiu and into the open.
Not far from the town was the beginning of a city of tents and poorly erected shelters made of scrap plywood and tin.
“We can’t drive right into camp,” Big Jake said. “Remember,