That takes me aback. “I didn’t know that.”
Kynan’s silent as he regards me. Finally, he leans forward in his chair, rolling it slightly to his desk. He folds his arms across the top, then leans toward me. “Why is it important for you to know now?”
And it hits me. The information is private. Technically, he’s not allowed to share more with me than what he already has. But if I provide him with a compelling reason, he might just bend the rules a bit so I can have some peace. He just wants to know what the source of my angst is.
I sigh deeply, my lungs decompressing harshly. Leaning back in my chair, I admit, “Malik and I have become close.”
“I’ve noticed,” he replies.
That has me sitting straight up again. “What? How?”
Kynan shakes his head. “Nothing overt. I just can see the way you two interact with each other—how a bond has developed. I just assumed it’s the start of a good friendship.”
Taking a minute to consider the repercussions of full honesty, I decide I have nothing to lose.
More importantly, I have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m confident in how I feel about Malik… or at least I was until last night.
“It’s more than friendship.” Kynan’s eyebrows shoot high. Immediately, I start shaking my head in a backtracking kind of way. “It hasn’t progressed to anything… um… intimate. But it could. I mean… I want it to… or I did until last night. Malik came over for dinner, and well… we kissed. But he said we needed to talk before it went anywhere, and…”
My words trail off as I slide my gaze down to my lap. As hot as I was to have answers just ten seconds ago, it seems abhorrent to me to repeat Malik’s claim that he was responsible for Jimmy’s death.
“What did Malik tell you?”
It’s with great effort I raise my head to meet Kynan’s eyes. “He told me that he should have protected Jimmy and Sal, who were behind him. But he assumed they were safe, so he concentrated on shooting at the gunmen overwhelming the British soldiers who were pinned down in the open. He said he was responsible for Jimmy and Sal’s deaths.”
My last words come out on a sob, which has Kynan rising from his chair and hurrying my way. He sits in the chair next to me, angling his big body toward me. My hands are immediately drawn into his. He squeezes them in a silent request for my attention.
I had not even realized my focus had drifted away again, but it’s my way of avoiding the truth that he’s clearly going to lay at my feet right now.
“Here’s what I will tell you,” Kynan says very deliberately. “Our team—which had joined up with British and Australian forces—was ambushed by an overwhelming number of what we believe were members of the Islamic State. It was a fast and furious firefight. There was very little cover to take. From all the interviews we conducted, bullets were flying everywhere. What I’m getting ready to tell you is going to discount Malik’s rendition of events.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you want to know what happened, so I’m going to tell you the version from every other person who escaped from there, including our own Tank Richardson, because I believe Malik has his own perception of events.”
For the first time since our talk last night, I feel a glimmer of hope. Kynan is all but insisting Malik’s story is part fact and part personal opinion. He’s telling me to discount it right now.
“Malik had a decision to make,” Kynan continues. “He was confronted with identifiable enemy targets to his front. There were team members—and yes, the British soldiers were every bit as much a part of our team as Jimmy and Sal were—under heavy fire. Jimmy and Sal were also providing cover for those men. They were doing the exact same thing Malik was doing—and that was based on their intensive training—which was to confront the enemy who could be seen. They had neither the time nor the means to figure out if anyone was behind them. We’re talking about only a matter of seconds to make that decision. In my opinion—which, remember, I was a member of the British Royal Marines—they all made the right call.”
“Malik did the right thing?” I ask, trying to summarize the load of information into a singular idea.
Kynan nods. “I believe he did. Tank believes he did. The British Special Forces members Malik saved believes he did. It’s only Malik who feels he should have been watching Jimmy and Sal’s backs at the exact moment the enemy snuck up behind them.”
“Then why would he say he was responsible for Jimmy and Sal dying?”
Kynan gives my hands a squeeze, and I see the sorrow etched over his face. “It’s called survivor’s guilt, Anna. We all wish we could do more in those instances.”