Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4)

by Sidney Bristol

  His mother would love her, just like he did.

  He slid out of the room and took the stairs two at a time down to the kitchen once more. This time it was empty. The whole building was silent and a little eerie with just the six of them plus two staff members. He spent a minute digging around for some of his favorite finger foods and something to drink. They’d have a long flight home tonight, and more than likely they wouldn’t have food service on whatever transport Zain had scrounged up for them.

  Once he had enough food he carefully picked his way back up to the third floor.

  They still had a few hours to kill. They could eat, nap, fuck, and repeat at least one more time for good measure. Or just sleep. He didn’t care so long as she was there.

  Luke shouldered the door open.

  “Hey, I was thinking…” He kicked the door closed and frowned at the empty bed. “Abigail?”

  There was no splash from the bathroom, no rustling of clothing.

  Instead, dread ate at him with no warning.

  He set the platter and jug down on a tiny table near the door and circled around the bed into the bathroom.

  “Abigail?”

  Silence.

  The bathtub was empty.

  The towels were piled in the hamper.

  Her clothes were gone.

  There was no sign that she’d ever been there.

  “No, no, no!” He vaulted over the bed and yanked the door open. “Abigail?”

  A door opened and both Marco and Ian leaned out.

  “Problem?” Ian asked.

  “Have you seen Abigail?”

  “Not since…yesterday.” Marco stepped into the hall and pushed another door open.

  Luke had feared her leaving them last night and even that morning, but when he’d seen her, when she’d still been there he’d taken it as a sign. That she was staying. That she’d chosen him.

  They went room by room, pushing doors open, calling her name. They woke Felix up, but besides him there wasn’t another soul on their floor.

  Luke flew down the stairs, Marco and the others on his heels. They pushed open every closed door on their way to the war room. Zain sat in a chair, his phone in hand and a headset on. If Luke had to guess, he was talking to his girlfriend back home.

  “Abigail’s gone,” Luke said.

  “Babe, going to have to call you back.” Zain sat up, his focus on them. “How long?”

  “Maybe ten minutes? Fifteen?”

  They crowded around the security monitors while Zain tabbed back through each feed a good half hour.

  “Perimeter wasn’t breeched,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What you’re saying is—she left on her own.” Luke’s stomach knotted.

  “There, I think that’s her.” Luke pointed to a figure walking away from one of the street cameras. It was the right size and shape. If it was her, she’d found pants somewhere and a long sleeved shirt. That was probably one of his hats from his go bag.

  “She’s gone.” Luke straightened.

  “Sorry, man.” Zain sank into the chair and pivoted toward him.

  “How’d she get out?”

  “I don’t know.” Zain spread his hands. “If I were her…? Out a window. We have all the entrances covered. She couldn’t have botched the feeds. So she’d have to go out another way, one we aren’t watching. Which means—we need more security.”

  Luke scrubbed a hand over his face.

  She couldn’t be gone. She just couldn’t.

  He knew what came next.

  Abigail would go after Zach alone, because that’s what she did. Her MO was all about limiting the loss of life. He should have seen it. The sad way she’d looked at him… That was her goodbye. She’d been telling him she was leaving; he just hadn’t heard her because he’d gotten lost in what he wanted.

  Well, he had news for her.

  He wasn’t that easy to lose.

  And he wasn’t about to leave her to face down the devil alone.

  15.

  Abigail waited for the all clear signal before she crossed the road and entered the nondescript, older building through a side entrance. The store front boasted used tech, from cell phones to computers, while the back of the shop was much more.

  The young man waiting for her never said a word. He didn’t even look her directly in the face.

  He flipped the locks and led her through the racks of surplus merchandise to the back of the storage area. An older man sat at a workbench, the guts of an iPad scattered in front of him.

  “You’re late,” he said.

  “I had to be careful.” She shed the coat and reached for the hanging clothes bag. “For me?”

  “Everything you asked for.”

  “The money go through?”

  “As always.”

  “I need some drugs. Painkillers, if you have them.”

  “Like what? Morphine?”

  “No.” Morphine would make her itchy. Sleepy. She just needed the edge taken off. Her rib was broken, but something else wasn’t right. Until she was clear of Luke, she didn’t have the luxury of seeing a doctor. “Something that won’t knock me on my ass?”

  “Easy.”

  She didn’t have the time for modesty. Luke would begin searching for her the moment he realized she was gone. She had to be out of the city by nightfall and across the border by midnight. While the cool, rational part of her knew all of this, her heart broke into pieces.

  Hearts lie.

  But hers wasn’t. It was dying.

  “What do you know?” she asked.

  “About what?” The old man might appear nothing more than a poor shopkeeper, but it was a front. All of this was. He was the single-most connected man in this region of Egypt. In her earlier days, she’d made use of his services to the point she’d received preferential treatment. These days, they were strangers again.

  “Anything.” She toed off the boots and tossed her shirt off, exchanging it for the tight fitting, athletic shirt in the bag.

  “You remember Nador?”

  “The mercenary who set up in Libya?”

  “That one. He was spotted in town earlier today.”

  “I thought he had a feud with what’s-his-name?”

  “What’s-his-name?” The old man snorted and cracked a seldom-seen smile. “He’s dead. Nador killed him, but he wasn’t able to expand.”

  “Huh.” She stepped into a loose pair of pants and crammed her feet back into the boots. She needed to blend in, to belong, and to do that she had to dress the part.

  Abigail could ask about Zach, but it would be useless. Zach was a seasoned field agent and he knew where operatives like her got their information. He’d avoid the well-used watering holes, the suppliers and concierge services that supported their clandestine work.

  “I’ve got your burners and laptop here. The cash money is in the pocket.” The old man gestured at the bag near his feet.

  “Thank you.” She situated the caftan style dress on her shoulders and belted it.

  “I thought you were out of this business.” He leaned back and pulled his glasses off his face.

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. You should get out while you’re still young enough to have a life. Don’t be like me, old and stuck in my ways.” He twirled the glasses in his fingers.

  Abigail didn’t know if she’d survive the week. If she could end this in such a way that Yael was presumed dead, then maybe she could have a go at it. Luke would know how to live one hell of a life. He’d give her years of laughter and smiles, full of those awful one-liners he liked to dish out. And she’d enjoy them.

  In her dreams, for now. For however long she could still dream. She was broken in ways that might not be able to be fixed.

  “Do you know of the Aegis Group?” she asked.

  “American security firm.” The old man’s mouth twisted up.

  “I’ll pay you for location information from here on out. They have a headquarters—”
>
  “I know where. You plan on going after them?”

  “No, but it’s worth it to me to know what they’re doing, who has a beef with them, and where they are.”

  “I can do that.” He shrugged.

  “Normal rates?”

  “Let’s see what the information is worth.” He grimaced.

  In other words, he didn’t expect the intel to mean or matter much. He was a fair man, which was why Abigail—Yael—had liked using his services. Even though if the old man realized who and what she was, or had been, he’d kill her on sight.

  “Until we meet again.” She slung the heavy bag across her shoulders.

  “Or we don’t. Safe travels.”

  She nodded before exiting and retracing her steps to the entrance. A scarf wrapped around her head was her best disguise. Not that many would know to look for her yet. Very soon she wouldn’t be able to travel like this. Maybe it was time to think about cutting her hair, though she balked at the idea. There were other, more invasive alteration techniques she had no qualms about using. When the time came. But that wasn’t now.

  Abigail wanted Zach to know it was her when she put an end to his life.

  “Tell me one thing.”

  “What?” Luke stared at the idling truck.

  “Why are you fighting so hard for a woman who just left you?” Marco’s stare bored into Luke. “I don’t see you going after Dianna.”

  Luke had never loved Dianna. He’d liked her. They’d had a good time together. But he’d always known that with her, the end would be the same. She’d leave him after she healed. Once she could pick up the pieces of her life.

  Abigail was different.

  Wasn’t she?

  “Zain still has you on this flight. You can go with us.” Marco hefted his bag up on his shoulder.

  Marco had a point. Ever since Luke had made the choice at the hotel to stick to her, she’d been trying to shake him. The difference was he’d begun to see a change in her. The way she looked at him. It’d started with the night she’d asked him to make love to her.

  She was leaving him, because in her warped sense of honor, she was protecting him.

  Well Luke didn’t need protecting.

  “Nah, man. I’m staying.” He backed up and watched the last few guys load up.

  Luke waved the guys out of the courtyard. Marco gave him a middle finger salute, while Ian and Felix flapped their hands. Zain hardly looked Luke’s way. Luke would no doubt have a call from Admiral Crawford before the hour was up, but there was nothing any of them could do to stop him. If he took personal time to stay in Egypt a bit longer to try to pick up Abigail’s trail, that was his business. He hadn’t taken a fucking vacation day since he’d grabbed the redeye to Florida to hang with his mom on her birthday. Last year.

  He secured the courtyard doors, making sure they were locked up tight, and let himself back into the compound. Salma and the boy who kept the place running were nowhere to be seen. He had the run of the place. Which only underscored just how alone he was.

  Abigail was gone.

  She’d left him.

  Hell, he’d known this was coming. She’d been trying to get him to leave her since the beginning. When he wouldn’t leave her it only made sense that she’d split.

  The way he saw it, everyone in her life always wanted something from her. Her ex-husband had wanted to turn her into a spy. Mossad had wanted her to get close to bad people. Terrorists wanted her to do horrible things. And her enemies wanted her dead.

  In everything she said about herself—all that Baron had tried to throw at him—he’d never heard what she wanted. Except to put an end to those people who’d tried to blackmail her. And even then it was to protect her now-dead mother.

  Luke would find her. Even if it took years. Eventually he’d land on some bit of information. He was lucky like that. What he’d do then, he wasn’t sure. But he’d find her, and she wouldn’t be alone anymore.

  The war room was quiet, the screens flickering, the chairs empty.

  Typically, he was the guy doing what he was told. Zain was the puppet master behind it all, but now it was him.

  His biggest question was where to start.

  He knew more than the average person about Mossad and other clandestine operations around the world. His tours of duty made him familiar with the areas, customs, and how to not step in a steaming pile of shit. But what did he really know?

  Not a lot.

  Nothing in comparison to Abigail.

  What the hell was he doing?

  If an entire intelligence agency couldn’t find her, what luck did he have?

  Luke scrubbed one hand over his face and sank into what was usually Zain’s chair.

  What was he really doing here?

  Why was he still here?

  He leaned back in the chair and stared at the shadow patterns on the ceiling.

  Why?

  Was he infatuated with her? Did he have some sort of crazy notion in his head he could save Abigail? She sure as hell didn’t want to be saved. Then what?

  Ever since he’d met her, he’d been trying to protect her. From the Smiths. From the Jordan intelligence. From her ex-husband and Mossad. She’d never asked to be protected. He wanted to. To ease her burden. To help her. To mean something to her.

  Why?

  Because every other woman in his life had taken what they wanted—and left.

  Abigail had left, but she hadn’t taken.

  Should he let her go?

  It was the question he didn’t want to ask. The one he wanted to shout down, but he had to ask himself.

  Should he let Abigail go?

  She was a trained spy. This was the life she’d led, regardless if it had chosen her, or her it. What use could he be to her?

  His gut said his place was next to her. Helping her. Being there with her.

  She’d never come out and said it, but if he was reading between the lines correctly, she’d undergone every one of her missions—alone.

  Well this time she didn’t have to be alone. That was what love was. Being together. Sharing the burden. Even if that burden was revenge.

  He stared at the screens while that answer settled inside of him.

  Luke was going after Abigail. That was all there was to it. Love didn’t have to make sense. He didn’t have to have a nice, neat answer to why he had to be there with her—he just did.

  It was time to do what he could. Abigail might have an idea of where to start, but Luke had resources. Zain had given him access to a lot of the company toys, at least until the big boss yanked it all back. Luke had to make use of what he could now.

  His first searches were all precursory. He could recite Yael’s kill list by heart now, so he began by digging into each death and the associated data, names and evidence, looking for a clue, a thread, something that would lead him back to Abigail. What he found were conspiracy theories and holes big enough to sail an aircraft carrier through.

  She was good.

  And he had no fucking clue what he was looking for.

  His SEAL training was of a whole different nature than what it took to be a God damned spy.

  The truth was…he needed her ex.

  The one man he couldn’t possibly loathe more than anyone—maybe even more than his uncle.

  Abigail had torn the contact instructions to bits after the call earlier.

  Had that just been that morning?

  Shit.

  Luke scrubbed his face.

  How did he go about getting in contact with a high level officer in one of the most secretive intelligence agencies in the world?

  Leave a damn message.

  Aegis Group had contacts all over the world, thanks to the wide variety of guys they employed. Sadly, that did not extend into an organization as sophisticated as the Israeli intelligence unit. Instead, Luke pulled up their webpage and used the good, old fashioned “Contact Us” form.

  Baron knew who he was and what he knew. Or at lea
st some of it. Luke was also willing to bet Baron had tracked their location already, but he still used a secure SAT phone for the contact information and a dummy email address. A few lines of seemingly gibberish text with several key words thrown in, including Baron, Pit, Yael and Zach, and he hit send.

  He had about as much hope that Baron would bite as he did wishing for the stars with a penny and a fountain, but it was worth a shot.

  Next up, Luke compiled a list of suppliers, people he could call for information or equipment when his Aegis tools were shut off. He had money, but he’d also need to be open to doing some side jobs to get the kind of information he wanted. A guy with his skills and track record was a commodity to trade within this part of the world,

  With his net cast wide, Luke went back to the beginning.

  Amman.

  Zain hadn’t been able to place the bomber. Even twenty-four hours after they’d sat in this room and studied the way the man was dressed, his face, they still knew next to nothing about him.

  He tabbed through the security tapes, looking for another image of the man. Something that would unfold his secrets.

  Luke’s head throbbed hours later.

  Still no leads.

  Just more still images, glimpses of the man, but never a good look at him. He always turned his head right before he came into the frame.

  Wait…

  Luke tabbed the footage back.

  Was that…?

  He brought up the video of the bomber with the chairs. It was as close as they’d ever gotten to him.

  Close enough to see his hands.

  And the ring on his pinky finger.

  The same ring Abigail had noted that night in the restaurant where he’d played that silly game with her.

  What were the chances that the dinner guest that night—a supposed oil tycoon—was the same bomber on this footage?

  Luke went back further until he found the restaurant security tapes. Again, the man sat where there wasn’t a direct view of his face, but Luke remembered him.

  He hadn’t had the facial hair. He’d been slightly balding. Thicker through the middle. Maybe even shorter.

  Which meant the one image of his face they had was wrong.

  A glue-on mustache, a wig, some sort of body altering disguise, even shoes with lifts…

  The Smiths hadn’t noticed he was the same person.