Reaching up with his free hand, Van pulled the bill of his dark ballcap down a little more to help conceal his watchful eyes.
Archer’s rumbled voice filled the mic in his ear. “You sure it’s her?”
He studied the Afghani woman from the shadows.
She was dressed in a casual yet traditional garment accepted by the Taliban charge. The long dress was loose-fitting as it hung from its cinched waist, its cream-colored material flowing freely around her long legs.
The bust and sleeves were adorned with a simple pattern embroidered in threads of deep greens, orange, and brown, and she wore an olive-green hijab over her slicked-back hair.
Even from here, Van could see the dark, black strands of her hairline. Her sharp features, flawless skin, and round, intelligent eyes.
“It’s her,” he confirmed.
Logan shot back with a sharp, “We’re on our way now!”
But Van’s focus was still zeroed in on the woman absentmindedly glancing at those around her.
Beautiful.
He nearly recoiled in his seat at the unexpected thought. It was his secondwhat-the-fuckmoment of the night, and a reminder he needed to get his ass in the game and stay focused on his team’s objective.
The Dawari woman’s physical appearance only mattered in regard to making a positive I.D. He wasn’t supposed to notice her gorgeous, round eyes, flawless skin, or full, kissable lips.
Pretty or not, she was a fucking terrorist. A killer who’d arranged for the ambush that nearly killed his entire team. So, no. The fact that the woman they were after was even prettier in person than her pictures didn’t mean jack shit.
He was still going to catch her and bring her back to the United States. And Van still intended on finally making the ruthless bitch pay.
The pretty brunette with a heart made of stone stood casually while waiting in line to place her order. As if she was like any other woman on any given day. As if she wasn’t someone capable of orchestrating a man’s cold-blooded murder.
“We’re in the car and headed your way,” Logan informed him a few minutes later. “Any change we need to be aware of?”
“Nothing yet,” Van responded quietly. “She just put in her order.”
His gaze scanned the coffee shop’s small seating area, wondering if he’d missed one of Dawari’s men as they waited. But none of the people at the tables around him set off his radar.
And Van had studied every one of the terrorist bastard’s faces to the point he knew he’d never forget.
“Her people aren’t here,” he shared with the men who were blocks away.
“Maybe she’s early,” Logan offered.
Anything was possible, he supposed.
He watched and waited, assuming she’d soon take a seat at one of the tables. Instead, when their target got the coffee she’d recently ordered, the woman turned around and walked right back out the door.
Fuck!
“She just left.” Van got up, forcing himself to take slow, unhurried steps. “I’m going to follow.”
“Be careful,” Logan advised. “We’ll be there in less than five.”
He tossed his unwanted cup in the trashcan near the door as he pulled it open and stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was early spring, so the temps were still fairly cool, especially at night.
Van didn’t notice the slight chill in the air, or the breeze that carried it past him as he moved. His sole focus was on the woman walking several feet up ahead.
Like any other major city around the world, nightlife in Kandahar was filled with cars, people, and lights. Van counted on the bustle of noise and activity surrounding him to help conceal his presence from the woman he was currently hunting.
Knowing his team was already en route to his location, he decided to close the distance between them a little more. People walked past, seeming to intentionally pretend he wasn’t there.