Dangerous To Love

by Toni Anderson, Barbara Freethy, Dee Davis, Leslie A. Kelly, Cynthia Eden, J. Kenner, Meli Raine, Gwen Hernandez, Pamela Clare, Rachel Grant

  Cressida inched to the side as she spoke, widening the distance between herself and Ian. Zack’s gaze and pistol followed her.

  “I know what you’re doing, Porter,” Zack said. “It won’t work.” But Zack didn’t realize how much she’d skewed his angle on Ian, or he’d order her to step in line.

  She shrugged. “If you know anything about me, you know I’ll do anything to survive. Even fuck a scumbag traitor.”

  Zack glanced at Ian, his gaze narrowing—probably as he realized Ian had inched closer. He whipped the gun in Ian’s direction again. “Not another step, Boyd.” To Cressida, Zack said. “You’ve already fucked a traitor. Haven’t you seen the news?”

  “I don’t really give a damn which one of you is the traitor. I just want to find the tunnel and go home.”

  It was clear Zack was torn between watching Cressida advance versus keeping an eye on Ian. He had to believe Ian was the bigger threat, but Cressida wasn’t to be ignored.

  “I know exactly what gets your rocks off, Zack.” She turned, catching Ian’s gaze. Her eyes were cold and hard. “Ian was the big man in Ankara, but now he’s been burned, and look who has the gun.” Her voice lowered even more as she took a step toward him. “Wait until you see the rage on his face when I blow you while he watches.”

  At her words, fury surged up Ian’s esophagus. The shock of emotion forced out a primal grunt as he held his muscles in check. He wanted to rip Zack’s head off for threatening Cressida and was pissed as hell at her for attempting this tactic.

  She flashed Ian a cold smile, let out a purr-like growl of her own, and took another step closer to Zack, bringing her within arm’s reach of the traitor. “Want to know a secret? I’m turned on by the idea of fucking with Ian’s head like that. After the way he’s treated me, he has it coming.” She reached down and brushed her hand over Zack’s fly. “Glad I’m not alone.”

  Zack’s gun wobbled at her brief touch but remained pointed at Ian. She laughed and stroked him again, less tentative the second time.

  Zack’s gaze remained fastened on Ian—and Ian did nothing to hide his rage. Cressida was right. Seeing Ian destroyed was what fed Zack’s ego and clouded his judgment. If she could play her part, he could play his. “I’ll kill him,” Ian said through clenched teeth.

  Satisfaction flared in Zack’s eyes. Cressida flicked open the top button of his fly. His grip on the gun tightened until his knuckles turned white. “On your knees, then,” he ordered.

  She dropped, slowly.

  Ian held back an eruption that could rival Vesuvius. He would kill him.

  His vision hazed when she slipped her fingers inside Zack’s pants and made a throaty sound he’d heard her make only twice before.

  All at once, Zack let out a grunt and doubled over. Ian lunged for Zack at the same time Cressida surged upward, grabbing his head with both hands and kneeing him in the face as he dropped. Zack pulled the trigger, but the shot went wild as his head snapped back and he flopped to the ground.

  Ian slammed into him. The gun flew from Zack’s hand. Blood poured from his nose. Ian grabbed him by the throat.

  From the agony that contorted Zack’s features, Ian figured Cressida had twisted his nuts into a figure eight before she broke his nose.

  Standing above Zack now, she delivered a swift kick to his crotch. Ian released Zack’s throat, allowing him to curl into a ball like a potato bug. She squatted down and wiped her hand on the scrubby grass. Her face revealed the revulsion she’d been holding back. As she rose, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand as if she were trying not to heave. “I promised myself I’d never do that again.”

  Again?

  Later, Ian would explore that statement. Right now he had to deal with Zack. He stood and kicked Zack in the head. Once. Twice. The tension in Zack’s body eased and his body uncurled. Ian lifted the traitor by the shirt and pulled back for a punch when Cressida stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I think he’s out.”

  Ian released him. Zack’s head hit the ground with a hard thunk. “If I ever see you touch another man’s junk again, I will shoot the bastard.”

  “It’s okay with me if you shoot him. But don’t kill him. We need him to clear your name.”

  He wanted to kiss her in thanks for her chillingly good performance, but Zack could have accomplices who would strike the moment Ian attempted something so stupid. Instead, he pulled his weapon and turned in a slow circle, searching the landscape for threats.

  She was right about not killing Zack, and given that the man was unconscious, it would be straight-up murder. His gaze landed again on the double agent who’d ordered Cressida to her knees before him. He’d never been so tempted to commit homicide in his life. “We need to tie him up,” he said.

  She grabbed a paracord bracelet tied to Ian’s backpack and unraveled the thin rope. They traded jobs. Ian bound Zack’s hands and feet, while Cressida stood guard. He searched Zack’s pockets, finding car keys and a cell phone, but nothing else. He shut off the phone—no point in broadcasting their location if they caught a flicker of a signal—and said, “He must have parked a distance away, or we’d have heard him.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  He sat back on his heels, staring at Zack’s prostrate form. Cressida was his mission now. Her safety came first. Zack’s arrival changed nothing. In fact, the idea of handing Zack to a team of Raptor operatives held enormous appeal. Without Zack in the picture, he might be able to complete the other mission, after Cressida was safe. He had the microchip. There was still a chance the courier would show up and he could force the man to lead him to his terrorist group’s ultimate leader.

  “We’ll find Zack’s vehicle and drive southeast. There should be a tower in the village that’s about six klicks from here. Then we’ll wait for the cavalry, I guess.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Zack’s vehicle turned out to be an old British Land Rover with plenty of room to store a trussed-up Zack in the back between a large jack, a toolbox, and a wealth of camping supplies. Ian found zip ties in the toolbox and replaced the paracord that bound Zack with the thin strips of plastic, cinching his wrists and ankles tight to the same rear-seat mount and his neck to a different mount, limiting his movement and ensuring he would be very uncomfortable when he returned to consciousness.

  They’d driven for about thirty minutes when Cressida powered up Ian’s phone and a single flickering bar appeared. The rush of emotion at seeing the little flashing graphic made her suck in a sharp breath. Ian pulled to the side of the narrow dirt track that served as a road. He glanced at the back of the truck and held a finger to his lips. They had no clue what they were going to do with Zack, so for now, if he was conscious, they couldn’t discuss their plans.

  With a nod, Ian indicated she should grab her backpack and climb out. He did the same. After locking the truck, he pulled the distributor cap from the Rover, effectively disabling it.

  “Are we leaving him?”

  “I hope not, but I’m not taking any chances. Never assume we’ll return to any location. Always be prepared to run.” He paused and studied the landscape. “We need a place to lay low to make the call. This area is too open. Zack probably has people in the area.”

  “How far is the village?”

  “About two kilometers. We might get lucky and find an old barn or other abandoned structure on the outskirts.”

  Luck was with them, for a change. After walking for ten minutes, Cressida spotted an ancient-looking stone shed nestled against a hillside across the dirt road. Overgrown with vines and built with the same type of stones as the bedrock, the structure blended into the landscape from the side, but a rusted metal roof gave it away.

  Broken planks of wood—remnants of a door—half covered the entrance. When they slipped inside, Cressida was thankful to be out of view from the road that led into the village, even if it meant hanging out in a crumbling shed that smelled of rats and rotting grasses.

  She pulled
out the phone and met Ian’s gaze. “You ready? There’s a chance Trina’s phone is being monitored.” In all likelihood, Lee had secured the line, knowing Trina was the first person Cressida would call, but they had to be prepared for anything.

  Ian’s gaze was intense, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words. He pressed down on the cell phone. She stiffened, tightening her grip on it. She’d twist his balls too before she let him take the phone from her.

  He shook his head, and one corner of his mouth curved in a sad way. “I’m not going to stop you, Cress. I was moving it so it wouldn’t be between us when I do this.” He pulled her against him and stroked her hair, his large hand holding her head to his chest. His lips landed on her temple. “You were amazing and saved us both. When we’re far away from here, I want you to tell me what you meant by ‘again.’”

  She had no intention of ever telling anyone the story of Three. Especially not Ian Boyd.

  He lifted her chin and pressed a kiss on her lips. “Call Trina.”

  She nodded and entered Trina’s number. With every touch of the screen, her heart rate jumped. By the time she pressed the phone to her ear to wait for the call to connect, her pulse raced fast enough to power a small city.

  * * *

  Trina’s face flushed and her belly flipped when Caller ID indicated an overseas call. She nodded to Keith, who speed-dialed Lee on the landline as soon as she hit the answer button. “If this isn’t Cressida, I’m hanging up,” she said in a shaking voice.

  There was a long pause, a delay caused by the international call, before she heard Cressida’s clear voice. “Treen, it’s me.”

  Her eyes teared at the sound of Cressida’s voice, and she flopped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Ohmygod! Sweetie! We’ve been scared to death. Where are you?”

  “I’m okay. For now. But I need help.”

  Keith frowned as he murmured something to Lee, and Trina remembered her script. As much as she wanted to talk to Cressida and make sure she was okay, they didn’t have that luxury. She had to assume every second of conversation could be the last. “Cress, Sean is looking for you. Right now, he and a Raptor team are in Cizre. Can you write down his number?”

  Cressida’s voice was muffled as she said, “Ian, I need pen and paper.”

  To Keith, Trina said, “She’s with Boyd.” Into the phone, she asked, “Cress, is Boyd an ally?”

  The pause was too long for Trina’s comfort, but it could be the international delay. “Yes.”

  Of course, the man must be right next to her. Listening. “Okay, answer correctly if he’s not coercing you…” She closed her eyes and tried to think of something simple but innocuous. “Who hosted the party we went to with Todd last summer?”

  There was only one answer that meant Ian Boyd could be trusted. All Cressida had to do was say any other name and they’d know if Boyd was a threat. “Dr. Patrick Hill,” Cressida said firmly.

  Trina let out the breath she’d been holding. “Okay.” She recited the phone number. “Call Sean. He can get you out of Turkey.”

  “Got it.” Cressida said good-bye and hung up.

  Trina stood in her living room, staring at her phone. She’d been waiting for that moment for days, and it was over so quickly. Her body shook, and she didn’t know if relief or fear caused the tremors.

  Keith’s arms circled her from behind, and she turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m scared, Keith.”

  “If anyone can get her out, it’s Sean. He’s my best operative.”

  She nodded. “I just feel…helpless. I wish we knew Boyd. I wish we were certain we could trust him.”

  “Cressida trusts him, doesn’t she?”

  “She said she did.”

  He smiled. “Then we can trust him too.”

  “What if she’s wrong? It’s not like she has a great track record.”

  “Given what we’ve been able to piece together of their week in Turkey, Cressida knows if Boyd is one of the good guys by now.”

  * * *

  Disconnecting the call with Trina was hard. Hearing a warm, concerned voice, knowing her friends were trying to help her had triggered relief and guilt. She met Ian’s gaze. “Keith has already sent a Raptor team to Cizre. Sean Logan is one of the operatives. They want me to call him.”

  “You have good friends.”

  She nodded and dialed Sean’s number. He answered immediately and said, “Cressida Porter, it’s about damn time.”

  She let out a hard laugh as a rush of emotion hit her for the second time in as many minutes. She was far too emotional these days. “Sean, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.”

  “Same here, Cress. I’ve been worried. We all have.”

  She cleared her throat. “Thanks. Listen, I’m handing over the phone to Ian.”

  “Boyd’s a friendly?”

  She met and held Ian’s gaze as she said, “Yes. I trust him with my life.”

  Ian’s jaw tensed, and his nostrils flared slightly. She wondered what was going on in his mind. It might be best, when this was all over, if she forgot she’d ever met Ian Boyd. She couldn’t see how she could maintain contact with him and not want him.

  She handed him the phone, then settled down on the dirt floor to listen. He told Sean about Zack, trussed up in the Rover, and described their location. Cressida had been in something of a fog after dealing with Zack, and had lost track of the distance they’d traveled. She hadn’t realized quite how close to the Syrian border they were. When Ian estimated their distance from Cizre, she sat upright in shock.

  In heading for the nearest cell tower, they’d unintentionally continued on course for the aqueduct.

  She glanced around the old stone shack, her mind racing. She leaned toward the wall to inspect the mortar between the stones, then reached for Ian’s backpack and pulled out a knife with a sturdy blade. She pressed the edge in a chink between rocks and broke a small chunk of mortar free, then studied her sample in a ray of sunlight that shone through a hole in the rusted roof.

  The mortar could be ancient. She’d visited several ancient sites in Istanbul and Antalya to study the concrete so she might be able to identify the ancient Roman variety if the need arose. The mortar in her hands was composed of crushed stone aggregate bound with lime, a combination used for centuries, but the ratio of aggregate to binder had changed over the course of two millennia, and the composition in her hands was consistent with the mix used in antiquity.

  She twirled in a slow circle, studying the shed, then zeroed in on the southeast corner. She dropped to her knees and scraped the dirt floor with the knife blade, finding the edges of a massive flat stone. Using her headscarf, she wiped across the surface. The coarse weave worked well to dislodge decades of soil. With the rock exposed she grabbed a flashlight from the pack and laid it flat on the ground, so the light spread across the stone, revealing pits and chinks in the deceptively smooth surface. The mark was there, etched into the flat rock.

  “Cressida?” Ian said.

  She startled, realizing he was no longer on the phone with Sean. She twisted to face him without leaving her corner.

  “We need to head for the rendezvous with Logan’s Raptor team.”

  She shook her head, feeling dazed. “We’re here.”

  His brow furrowed. “What?”

  “We made it. This is it. We’ve found T. E. Lawrence’s stone house.” She pointed to the exposed flat rock. “That’s the entrance to the tunnel. Lawrence etched his initials into the rock, just like he’d marked it on the map.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ian had never imagined they’d be faced with this decision. With Zack tied up not too far away, they were at risk here, but if they’d located a tunnel into Syria and took control of it, preventing it from falling into either the Syrian government’s or ISIS’s hands…

  Forget Raptor, with this intel, he could get the CIA to send in an exfil team. The CIA could get him back inside the U
S, whereas Raptor might have problems in that area.

  This find was…potentially huge. A backdoor into Syria could change the balance of power in their ongoing civil war. The ethnic Kurds of Turkey wanted to join their Kurdish neighbors in Northern Syria and Iraq to form a geopolitically united Kurdistan—a secular, pro-West democracy in the heart of the Middle East. A tunnel like this could bring them one step closer to that goal.

  The Kurds in Syria had declared complete autonomy from Assad’s regime and the separatist rebels. They fought for their own country, their own freedom, using the name People’s Protection Units—Yekîneyên Parastina Gel in Kurdish, known by the initials YPG—and had been, until the rise of ISIS, in control of northeast Syria, not far from the Turkish city of Cizre. YPG still held the majority of the territory, with skirmishes moving boundaries back and forth on a daily basis.

  They should leave. Now. And yet…if Cressida was right…

  He looked at her and knew, for the first time in his life, he’d found someone he wasn’t willing to risk. At least, not anymore. “We have to go.”

  “If we find the second entrance, it will confirm this is the tunnel. Maybe we can dig out the other opening with the tools in the Rover. The aqueduct was a series of qanats, just like Gadara. The other entrances are likely to be shafts filled with dirt and rock.”

  “After we’re back in the US, we’ll tell the CIA the location of this entrance. It’ll be enough.”

  She frowned. “It may surprise you to know that I wasn’t hoping to find this tunnel for its potential espionage and military uses.” She shook her head. “It a piece of history. Engineering and construction that was done before the invention of the compass. Before TNT. Do you have any idea how hard it would be to tunnel for miles and stay on course without a compass? If this tunnel is anything like Gadara, it may have taken a hundred years to build. This is an historic wonder. To be studied and learned from.”

  He could hear her passion for the topic in her voice. “I’m sorry, Cress, but this tunnel is strategically important. Two thousand years or two days old, it doesn’t matter. What matters is the location is a secret, and it crosses an international border in a heavily disputed region.”