by Tracy Brody
Forty-Four
The medics had told Angela which hospital they were taking him to, so where the hell was she? Tony couldn’t call her since he’d turned his phone over as evidence.
He swung his legs over the side of the hospital bed. Waves of pain shot through his chest and radiated to his side. He gritted his teeth to get through the agony.
Okay, he’d give it another half hour, then he’d find a phone and call the Bureau. Then the police. Hell, despite the scary fist-sized—and spreading—bruise, he’d walk out bare-chested, though it could make getting a cab tricky. She had to be somewhere. He eased his legs back onto the mattress—but he wasn’t closing his eyes. And if the nurses tried to give him pain meds again, he was getting out of here, paperwork or no paperwork.
When the door opened after what seemed like an eternity, he put on his game face, ready to throw down with whichever doctor or nurse tried to keep him here. Instead, Angela appeared.
“Thank God. I was afraid they’d taken you in.” He switched from combat mode to stand-down.
“No, but they did have a lot of questions.”
“Have you got my clothes?”
“They’re in the car. Are they releasing you?” She winced at the bruise as she came to his side.
“Now that you’re here, I can go.”
She cocked her head, studying him, then pressed the call button.
Damn.
“Can I help you?” The nurse sounded exasperated.
“Is Sergeant Vincenti being released?” Angela fixed him with her no-bullshit stare.
“We’re preparing his Discharge Against Medical Advice papers now.”
Busted.
“That won’t be necessary. He’s spending the night.”
“Come on. They can’t do anything for cracked ribs.” He struggled to sit up, only her hand pressed on his shoulder and pushed him back. It took an effort not to flinch.
“Well, I can’t leave town yet. Grochowski needs to have the Bureau’s investigators go through the evidence, and the police need your statement. Did they send someone over?”
“Yeah, a local detective.” A prick. “I told him the FBI would be handling the investigation due to security issues. He insisted on running a GSR test to see if I fired a gun. You worried?” With Angela here, he started to relax.
“No. Grochowski said he could overlook the breaking and entering considering the circumstances. Released me on my own recognizance. He did ask me to stick around until tomorrow. And you need to take it easy.” She pressed the call button again. “Can you bring Sergeant Vincenti some pain meds? Make it a big-ass needle.”
“Ha, ha. I’ll sleep better away from this place. We can get a hotel room. You don’t like hospitals.”
“Not when I’m the patient. But if you end up with a collapsed lung, they’re better able to help you than I can. Deal with it. My turn to sit by your bedside.”
He’d be pissed if it were anyone else insisting on keeping him here. He guessed he could take a dose of meds now that she was by his side. “You can climb in and—”
“With your cracked ribs? I don’t think so.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Angela leaned over. Her lips brushed his on the first pass. Then her tongue wet his lips. His right hand copped a feel of her breast. She stopped him when he attempted to slip his hand under her shirt, but didn’t stop kissing him until the nurse came in.
The glint in the nurse’s eye warned him she aimed to deliver a little karma of her own over his being a difficult patient. However, Angela being safe made it worth the pain when the needle jabbed him in his ass. The blonde in scrubs departed with a masochistic smile.
“You know, with Jarrod dead, he can’t hurt you or say anything to anyone.”
“We also don’t know how much information he gave to the Vasquez family. Names. Background. He had to convince them he had the right target. It’s why I wanted him alive.”
Shit. They were screwed with Jarrod alive and could be just as screwed with him dead. Could be. Maybe they’d find something in their investigation. The pain started to fade, and numbness took hold of his brain, lulling him to sleep.
“Don’t let them cut me open or change my face.”
“I won’t. I like you the way you are.”
Her face became blurry, and the room got darker. “Stay with me.” His lips were thick, the words slurred.
“I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
“No, I …” I mean forever.
Forty-Five
Tony clipped a shooting target to the line, then put on his ear protectors. It was good to be at work, even if this morning’s five-mile run made him think over not sleeping in and lounging around with Angela for another day or two. Spending time together while he’d been sidelined the past week kept him from going stir-crazy, though they still danced around a final decision on their future.
He emptied the magazine, smoothly reloading his Kimber to fire again. The air hung thick with smoke, and the sound of gunfire surrounded him. He pulled in his target to examine his hits. Though shooting produced a slight throb of pain, his cracked ribs hadn’t affected his aim.
Striding to the table holding the ammo, Tony stood next to Mack and reloaded his emptied magazines. Chief Lundgren’s shrill whistle pierced the air. The gunfire died out while the operators got each other’s attention. Lundgren motioned for the men to follow him.
While a sudden changeup in their daily training didn’t necessarily mean anything, Lundgren’s brisk pace toward the command post triggered an urgency that made the rest of the team hustle to keep up.
Inside the conference room, Colonel Mahinis waited. An image of two men, both in traditional Middle Eastern garb, projected on the board.
Mack stopped to analyze the picture. “Is that El Waddi?”
The colonel nodded.
“Who’s that with him?” Dominguez took a seat at one of the long tables.
“We don’t have a clear shot of his face,” the colonel said, clicking to another image of Mohand El Waddi, an Arabian sheik known for funneling millions of dollars from his oil profits to extremist groups. The next picture showed the profile of the other man.
Tony’s body went frigid. “That’s al-Shehri.”
“We don’t have a good enough picture to run facial recognition; however, Intel believes it is Samir al-Shehri. They were spotted by a CIA operative just after ten hundred hours our time,” the colonel said.
“Where?” Lundgren asked.
“Hotel in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.”
Not exactly a friendly country from which to extract a non-willing detainee, Tony mused.
“They went to a room together. After their meet-up, El Waddi stayed, but al-Shehri—if it’s him—left the hotel. The operative was able to tail his party to another hotel.”
Yes! Goosebumps erupted on Tony’s arms.
“Probably not staying at the same hotel for security reasons. El Waddi has reservations for two more days. We don’t have information on al-Shehri. It’s likely he used an alias, but the Agency is trying to get a photo to run facial recognition to confirm his identity. In the event it’s him, we want a team in place. We can’t afford to lose him again.” The colonel paused to let that sink in. “Charlie Company is on short call, but I’d like Bravo to come up with a plan and—”
“Hell, yes,” Lundgren stated. “We want this.”
The team echoed his sentiments.
Except for Tony.
“May have to shadow him to a new destination where we can do a grab-and-go.” The colonel surveyed the group.
“Not a problem. We’ve got a vested interest in this.” Lundgren crossed his arms in an authoritative manner that said Charlie Company would spend their time hanging around at Bragg.
“I figured as much.” The colonel showed a rare smile. Throughout the room, heads bobbed in agreement. “That file’s all we’ve got for now. Start working up your plan. Intel wil
l feed you anything else we get. I’ll brief Charlie Company when they get in from the field.”
The colonel handed the files to Lundgren, who handed a folder to each man. The team scurried to take seats.
Except for Tony.
Chief Lundgren and the colonel stared at him.
He didn’t speak. Not yet. He swallowed, moving the lump lodged in his throat down an inch. “Are you going to need me on this?” Damn, did I really ask that?
“Your ribs bothering you?” Lundgren asked.
“No. The ribs won’t slow me down.” His hand rubbed over the bruised area. “It’s Ang.”
“I thought she was doing well considering ...” Lundgren’s genuine concern made this harder to put out there.
“She’s doing good and hoping Doc Rivers gives her the okay to go back to work soon. But, with the whole pretending she’s dead, she’s not going back to D.C. We want to give things a shot, so if I could transfer to Lewis or MacDill, she could go to the Bureau’s Seattle or Tampa office.”
“You want to leave the team?” Surprise tainted Colonel Mahinis’s question.
Mack’s head jerked up. “What?”
The entire team’s attention locked on Tony.
“I don’t want to leave this team, but I will if that’s what it takes for me and her to be together. Charlotte is too far to commute. It might not be the top tier, but at least I’d stay in a Special Ops unit.” The job wasn’t enough anymore. Not since Angela turned his world inside out. He’d go on loan to the SEALs in DEV Group if needed. Hell, he’d join the Air Force, Marines, or work as a freakin’ mall “cop” to keep her in his life.
“Isn’t it early to make that kind of commitment?” Lundgren asked.
“I want her to know I’m all in. If it doesn’t work out, I could come back, if you’d have me.”
“She works great with our team,” Dominguez said.
“Even though she’d be an asset, we’re not adding a woman to the team,” Lundgren stated, clearly amused.
“She’s using my language CDs. Her Pashto is already nearly as good as yours.” Tony threw that out there since they desperately needed women translators to deal with Afghan locals.
“Besides the rules and regs, she’d be a distraction.”
“I know.” Damn, did he know. “Maybe it’s time to move to the next phase of my life, and if this is what it takes …” He couldn’t live with the what-ifs if he let her go.
“With where we’ll be, we’re going to need you on this. You’re our best shot at getting close to al-Shehri. We need to grab him without it becoming an international incident. Can you wait to decide until you get back?” Lundgren pressed.
“Alternative is to go ahead and send Charlie team,” Mahinis reminded them.
Pressure weighed on Tony. The timing sucked. He didn’t want to let the team down. He wanted to get al-Shehri. But he needed time to convince Angela they could have the future they both wanted despite the threats from her past.
If he deployed now, he could come home to an empty house. An empty future.
Every member of the team was top-notch and highly trained. Only he was the one with the best ability to blend in where they were going.
Where they were going.
He’d already decided. Yes, he had to see this mission through. Then he could leave the team with peace about it.
Tony passed through the kitchen to the family room. He heard Angela repeat a phrase in Pashto.
Startled at seeing him, she pulled off her headset. She paused the program on her laptop and set it beside her on the couch.
“Accent sounds good,” he said.
“Thanks. Words are similar to Arabic, but the different sentence structure takes some getting used to. What time is it?” Her brow wrinkled as she glanced around.
“Almost fifteen hundred. Something came up. I need to go out of town.”
“Today?”
He nodded. “We got a lead on al-Shehri’s location.”
“Seriously?” Angela leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Is he in the States?”
“I can’t say,” he answered, though he shook his head.
“But you get to bring him in?” Excitement shone in her eyes.
“Hopefully. Sorry I won’t be here to take you to see Doc tomorrow.”
“I can manage fine on my own.”
He forced a smile as her independent nature roared. Working on her Pashto kept her mind occupied, but he knew she needed to feel useful. “Will you promise me you’ll be here when I get back?”
“How long will you be gone?”
Tony shrugged, not liking that she’d responded with a question instead of the promise he needed. “A few days, at least. Likely longer.” Hopefully not longer, but al-Shehri was enough of a high-value target that if they did find him, they’d stay on his ass as long as it took to get him.
“I’m expecting Doc to release me, then I can have Kathryn check on openings.”
“Has she mentioned anything in Seattle or Tampa?”
“She’s waiting until I’m cleared to contact them. Don’t want to have to explain I’m on leave after being shot. Fewer questions the better with establishing a new ID.”
“Are you willing to wait for an opening there?”
“She knows those are my top choices.”
Tony fought against the escalating frustration. “I want us to be able to discuss this, not to come back and find you gone.”
“If something is open, I’ll let you know where I am. It’s not like I’m going to disappear.”
He broke eye contact, wanting to believe that. The Bureau hadn’t found anything else on the communication between Jarrod and the Vasquez family. Nothing beyond the texts on a disposable cell phone with pictures of her and the obituary identifying her as FBI. It’d been sufficient for Vasquez to pay Carswell half a million dollars. There hadn’t been anything out there to identify Carswell and make the family suspicious that he was also dead. Tony hoped it was enough to reassure Angela.
“I love you.” He spoke it with his voice. His eyes. His heart slowed as if it might stop. He meant it with all his being.
“I love you, too.”
It reassured him that she didn’t hesitate to say it back. But was it enough? Did she trust she’d be safe. Did she trust him?
“Come on.” He tugged on her hand. “I’ve got an hour to pack before I have to leave. I can pack in fifteen minutes.”
“Mmm. You have something in mind for the other forty-five minutes?”
“I have someone in mind.” He pulled her with him to the bedroom. Time for a reminder of what she’d be missing out on if she left.
Forty-Six
The team remained seated as the jet taxied to the private terminal adjacent to the King Khalid International Airport in Riyadh, but their energy crackled in the cabin.
Tony gave Mack and Chief Lundgren another once-over. He kicked himself for not bringing colored contact lenses, but if they kept sunglasses on, no one would see their blue eyes. The ghutra cloth covered their hair, and Tony had applied make-up to darken their fair skin. From a distance, the mascara on their eyebrows and fake facial hair looked natural.
The one problem he couldn’t do anything about was the chief’s height, which tended to draw a second glance. Attention they didn’t need.
The rest of the team had been easier to camouflage by simply donning the traditional white thwab and headdress and some foundation. They just had to make the short trek through the terminal to the vehicles the Agency had waiting for them. That part should be easier than most of their missions. They still needed to get eyes on al-Shehri before they could formulate a plan to bring him down once and for all.
Tony had waited so long for this. Was risking so much. The Intel had to be good. He couldn’t let al-Shehri slip away again.
The moment their pilot lowered the steps to the tarmac, heat blasted into the body of the aircraft. Welcome to Riyadh, where a hundred-and-ten degrees was the norm. Still,
better than Kandahar, with its IEDs and mortar attacks to contend with. As long as local authorities didn’t pick them up, they’d be good—but finding al-Shehri was likely to come with a slew of complications.
Each of them grabbed their suitcase and the bags with their gear and weapons from the jet’s cargo hold. They passed through the Saudi Aramco terminal without a problem, finding the two white SUVs the Agency left for them in the lot.
Even with the dark-tinted windows, the interiors of the vehicles were like a furnace after a short stint parked in the sun. Mack started the engine of the one he slid into and cranked the air conditioner to full blast while they loaded their bags. When Tony climbed in the back seat with Grant, it still had to be a couple hundred degrees. It only added to the fire in his belly. Let the hunt begin.
From the airport they passed through a mix of architectural styles, and closer to the city, palm trees lined the streets. In the distance, several impressive modern buildings rose above the rest to stand out against the skyline.
“The building with the hole is the Kingdom Centre. El Waddi is staying there in the Four Seasons Hotel.” Lundgren pointed out the windshield. “We’ll do a pass-by, but head to where our CIA contact is staking out al-Shehri.”
After a quick loop around the Kingdom Centre, Lundgren plugged in the GPS coordinates to take them to their destination. The further they went, the more the atmosphere changed. Less Western influences. The few women, covered from hair to toe and most with veils, struck Tony as odd and oppressive but signaled to him that he had to get in the right mindset for this role. Accomplish this mission, and he could get home to the woman who mattered most.
The way Grant stared out the window, taking in the sights, amused Tony for some reason. Their recent tour in Afghanistan had been Grant’s first time in the Middle East, and Kandahar offered a stark contrast to Riyadh.
“You’re right about half the men dressing in these robes,” Grant said.
“Modest dress is required even for men, and they’re ready for daily prayers,” Tony said. “Does make it easier for us to blend in, but a bitch to follow a target in a crowd.” Out of habit, he leaned over to check the side-view mirror. It took him a minute to pick out Rozanski driving the other SUV. With the vast majority of vehicles being white, it would be just as easy to lose a vehicle they were tailing.