Ric groaned. He placed his elbows on the table and ran his hands through his hair before setting his chin in his hands. The storm in his eyes lessened a bit, as they remained glued to hers. His lips twisted into an ironic grin. “It’s so taxing.”
Mel rubbed the goose bumps on her arms, grateful for the chance to sever their connection. “What? The mission?”
“No. The mission I can handle.”
“Then what?”
“Worrying about you,” he said softly before chuckling.
Once again, her gaze fused with his. She sensed the weight of those three words in the deepest part of her soul. He might have chuckled a bit after his confession, but it did nothing to lighten the intensity growing between them. As their gazes lingered on each other, Mel considered his earlier statement. Had she been forcing an argument between them? She racked her brain for a moment when she hadn’t been as contrary as he suggested and realized she “forced an argument” more times than not.
She feared how her heart sung when he was near. He had several things going for him. For one, he was a Santiago. Both his brothers were federal agents and Ric had chosen a profession where he put his life on the line for the freedom and the safety of Americans and their allies. At any given moment, like his brothers, they could and would sacrifice their lives for the greater good. After she spoke with both Genie and Audrey — the wives of Rafa and Ale — she learned the Santiago brothers had extensive juvenile records. Each man had seemed to have shaken the stigma of delinquent pasts.
Second, Ric had never given her a reason not to trust him. She was keen on the signs of duplicity after having experienced a person who’d mastered the techniques. If anything, Ric had come through for her more than once. He was willing to risk his safety for hers, juggling both the responsibilities of her protection and his mission.
And he’s a great kisser.
Okay, not really a valid reason, but if what Hakeem said about him was true, then Ric was a man of genuine sincerity — a true friend with a compassionate and loyal heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The space between his brows creased. He scanned her face with a confused look. “For what?”
Mel blasted a breath and rolled her eyes. She stabbed her fork into some weird vegetable thing and raised it to her lips. “You know what.” She took a large bite in hopes of delaying any further conversation.
He grinned and shook his head. “Well, I appreciate that, but I don’t blame you.”
“I nearly single-handedly derailed your mission.”
“Wellll, I wouldn’t say ‘nearly.’ I had everything under control—”
“What?” she practically shrieked.
“And I still have control of the situation.”
Mel laughed heartily at his cocky self-assuredness. She almost took another bite of the delicious mystery vegetable when she remembered her first attempt to escape Abdul’s tent. Everything was out of her control when she tripped and landed on the floor, wasting precious seconds and allowing the men to find her— “The floor!”
“What?”
“I tripped over something in the tent, beneath the rug near the bed. It was very slight, but it was there and my foot got caught and I fell.”
“Could be the rug wasn’t smooth.”
She shook her head vigorously. “Uh-uh, no. My foot hit something hard.”
“And you think it’s relevant?”
She ignored her first impulse to believe he meant to be condescending. “Look, I searched all the obvious places where he would hide my badge. Maybe there’s something hidden near his bed, underneath that rug.”
He took his time and chewed a piece of steak before he responded. “There’s one place you haven’t checked.”
“Where?”
“His person.”
The idea Abdul would be walking around with her badge was preposterous. “What purpose would it serve to have it with him?”
“So snoopy people like us won’t find it in his sock drawer.”
If he wasn’t so cute, she’d have reached across the table to knock him upside his head. The slow grin he gave her mitigated her temper and allowed her to enjoy the levity of the moment, but it was brief. His grin soon faded and he was back to business.
“I’ll check it out.”
“How? His men saw us. Abdul knows we were there.” She pointed to the bump on her lip. “What’s your plan for getting back in?”
“I won’t be there.”
“You won’t?”
He took a sip from a water bottle he’d placed on the table earlier. “Nope. I’ll send in a man.”
Mel sucked in a breath. “You can’t mean Hakeem? He won’t know what to do, how to improvise—”
Ric held up a hand to silence her. “First off, Hakeem is very good under pressure. We’ve had quite a few close calls. His skills might surprise you. And second, no, it’s not Hakeem.”
“Then who?”
“Someone whose supposed to be there.”
Chapter Nine
Ric dialed the number to headquarters on his satellite phone. He hadn’t checked in in over two days. In a few more hours, he’d be considered dead, captured, or gone rogue. He should have made contact sooner, but unfortunately, he hadn’t had much to report. Hakeem was still working his angle with a few of the sheik’s temporary employees and Ric had had his hands full with the lovely Melody Lewis.
How was he supposed to explain Mel? His boss would excoriate him for compromising the mission with his decision to protect her. One life for the hundreds at the embassy? Ricardo, have you lost your mind? he’d say. And in the days Ric had to think of a satisfactory excuse, his mind was still blank. Blank because he knew deep down he couldn’t explain this in any way that would be acceptable to the boss.
He’s gonna threaten me with desk duty. The one fear his boss believed Ric possessed. Not firefights, not being double-crossed, not that time he survived a boat capsizing in shark-infested waters off the coast of Mozambique. Until recently, working in the office would have put him on suicide watch, but meeting Mel presented a new perspective on the life he led. The thought of leaving her was more troublesome now than working behind a desk.
After taking a deep breath, Ric slowly exhaled as he waited for the call to connect. He’d have to remain calm, despite his boss’s objections, and only then could he present a logical defense. Maybe he’d leave the part about claiming Mel for his own out of the sitrep.
Upon command, he voiced his pass code and waited for confirmation. Before long, Ric heard the gruff voice of his boss over the grainy sat-phone reception. “It’s about time.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Don’t give me that, Santiago. You know protocol.”
“And I’m not overdue for another…” He paused to glance at his watch. “Three hours, ten minutes, and twenty-nine seconds.”
“You’re a prick.”
“You want the briefing or not?”
“Get on with it, then.”
Even though he was convinced he wasn’t being observed, Ric scanned the area around him. He was on the outskirts of the camp, near the food services tent. Abdul’s men would undoubtedly be elsewhere as they rarely socialized with the workers. “I have a lead on the facilitator.”
“The sheik? How long has he been a source?”
A long time. “I can’t confirm it’s him, yet, but someone in the company has facilitated weapons shipments, has access to money…” He hoped he could dissuade his boss’s first inclination to blame Sheik Hassan.
“Are you sure the sheik isn’t providing top cover for this man? Is it just one? How many actors do you expect are involved?”
Still unsure which insurgents traveling into the UAE were actually part of the plot, Ric couldn’t confirm the number, but he assumed they all were participating in some capacity. Ric provided additional biographic details about Abdul and a few of the men of whose allegiance he commanded. His decision to keep hi
s association with her concealed stung his conscience. If his mission went sour and he needed an extraction, that wouldn’t be the time to suggest to his boss to update contingencies. It won’t come to that.
For starters, he would be two steps ahead of Abdul. Intelligence analysts surmised there were only a few phases left in Abdul’s operation. He’d already recruited the men necessary to conduct the attack, and it was up to Ric to identify the explosive device and disable it if possible. Other operatives were on the ground in the UAE, tracking the movements of men who had traveled from Yemen and Oman believed to be involved in the plot. The only question was why Abdul would be in Saudi Arabia, so far from the embassy?
Fatima’s death.
Abdul couldn’t have predicted Fatima’s unexpected passing. It was entirely possible that her death had actually delayed the plot as the sheik expected Abdul’s presence here in the desert for a period of mourning. Strange, for a billionaire sheik to take solace in the desert, but Hassan was different, in several respects, than other Arab nobility Ric knew. And Ric was grateful for his quirks.
There was enough food to feed the sheik for another day or two and then he’d give the order to pack everything and they’d drive to the nearest airport, where Hassan’s private jet would fly him and his inner circle back to London to resume his business duties. Ric estimated he had less than forty-eight hours to piece together the exact time and method of attack and relay that information up the chain of command before it was too late.
“I’ll call when I know more.” Ric ended the call as he made his way around the massive “kitchen” tent. A young server’s hand shook as he placed the cigarette to his lips and inhaled. Ric frowned. The guy was nervous. How could he trust him with the slightest bit of subterfuge?
Mehmet tossed the cigarette aside and rubbed at the matted stubble on his chin. Casually, Ric continued his walk toward the man and he rushed toward Ric. With two hands raised no farther than his waist, Ric motioned for the man to slow down.
“If Abdul sees me talking to you—”
“Then we’ll make this quick. You spoke with Rafiq earlier, correct?”
Mehmet nodded. “But I want something.”
They always do. “Okay, what is it?”
“You are the sheik’s friend, yes? Can you get me a job in the UK?”
The UK? Terrorists were known to travel from the Middle East to cells operating across Europe. The UK was a hotbed for some of the most dangerous European terrorists. “Why the UK?”
Mehmet’s features softened as he hesitated to answer. The moment he spoke, Ric understood the haze in his eyes and the wistful smile on his face. “I miss her.”
“Her?”
“Alima,” he whispered. “I love her, and I don’t want to die out here in the desert.” His eyes became wild and he gripped Ric’s arm. “Please! If you can help me…”
It was always about a girl. “You’re Abdul’s cousin and he has the ear of the sheik. Why not ask him for assistance?”
“You don’t understand!” he cried frantically. “I want to be free of him. You have a large company, yes? There must be a job for me. I can cook or clean. I don’t care.”
Ric narrowed his eyes as he studied the young man. He wasn’t more than twenty-one and working for the sheik, even if it was in the kitchen, would lead to greater opportunities in the future. Many of Hassan’s workers were promoted or transferred to different companies with an excellent reference. “I don’t understand. Abdul is well-liked—”
“Hated, you mean. Men do not cross him. If they do, you never see them again.”
Mehmet closed his eyes, shook his head, and mumbled under his breath. Ric allowed him the time to compose himself.
“I did not want to work here, but my family does not refuse Abdul.”
“It seems he wanted to do you a favor. Why else would he choose you?”
“Because I’m old enough to die. He would not take children and would the sheik employ them?”
Old enough to die. Instinctually, Ric believed the boy was being forced into training to become a suicide bomber, but he decided to bait him. “You seem to be thriving here. The job isn’t difficult and there are plenty of women.”
Mehmet’s shoulders sagged and his face twisted into desperation. “You don’t understand! I will not be here for long. Abdul will send me to train.”
“Train for what?”
Mehmet hesitated to respond. His eyes darted around. Fear crossed his features.
“You can trust me. Right now, Abdul doesn’t really like me for taking the woman he brought into camp.” Ric chuckled to add levity to their conversation. He wanted to ease Mehmet’s agitation, to loosen his tongue. “I just want to make sure my father’s companies won’t be damaged by Abdul’s business deals in Somalia. He’s made some what my father would consider…questionable associations.”
“He’s a terrorist!”
He yanked the man by his collar, and Ric hauled him around the other side of the tent. “Lower your voice,” he said through gritted teeth. He released his grip and practically launched the guy into the side of the tent. “You do understand the danger we’re in? If we’re overheard—”
“I apologize. I wasn’t think—”
“We could get killed. If Abdul is who you say he is. Do you understand?” He stepped forward. The fear in the man’s eyes fed his irritation and his desire to drive the point home. “Those type of men…they kill without a second thought.”
“I know! That is why I want to leave. I can still work for the sheik—”
“You think you’re safe with the sheik? Abdul’s men work right alongside you.” Mehmet had backed away from Ric’s advance, but Ric halted his movement with a fist to the collar once again. Ric yanked him forward so he could hear what he had to whisper. “If you don’t watch yourself, you’re a dead man,” he said harshly. There was little chance Mehmet would grasp the severity of the situation without Ric being direct, and his life — and the lives of Mel and Hakeem — would be forfeited if he didn’t do his due diligence and make the danger crystal-clear to the guy.
“Okay, let go!” Mehmet struggled to remove Ric’s hand from his shirt and didn’t succeed until Ric released him.
“Now, explain your accusation.”
Mehmet visibly swallowed before he released a shaky breath. “I overheard one of Abdul’s men discussing a shipment of rockets from Oman.”
“And?”
“And they are already in the UAE.”
“Who’s the supplier?”
The young man vigorously shook his head. “I do not know, but Abdul paid for them.”
“When did they arrive?”
“The man said the shipment was confirmed yesterday.”
Any hope of intercepting the weapons died with this news. The rockets would be in the hands of the attackers. “Who confirmed the shipment? Did you get a name of the contact in the UAE?”
Another shake of the head.
Ric released a frustrated breath. Abdul didn’t need to be at the embassy for the attack to take place. If he had a satellite phone, and Ric assumed he did, he could have already given the order. “Anything else?”
Mehmet shrugged. “Only that ‘the awakening’ will happen tomorrow or the next day, I’m not sure.”
Patience already past thin, Ric took a step toward the guy. “‘The awakening’? What is that supposed to mean? If you’re holding back—”
He raised his hands in defense, eyes wide with fright. “No, no! Nothing about…” He trailed off into silence as his eyes locked with Ric.
Ric stared back evenly and waited for the man to explain himself.
“They mentioned your woman.”
It was Ric’s turn to swallow. His dry throat forced him to clear his throat. The day was a typical scorcher, but Ric didn’t notice how his shirt clung to his sweaty skin just seconds before. Even with perspiration running down the sides of his face, his blood turned to ice.
His life meant no
thing if given in service to his country. For years, he gave little thought to whether or not living a long life was important. In his line of work, retirement was a rarity. It never shocked him that his life could end decades before the established life expectancy of a healthy American male who regularly worked out, ate right, and didn’t smoke. The only regret he refused to dwell on was his mother would never know the particulars of his death — or why he chose a profession where his life would be forfeited. She’d want to know why it mattered so little to him and the image of her in tears, like she’d been when he was barely five years old with his throat slashed, was something he couldn’t bear to conjure. So, he didn’t think about it. He just lived each day as dangerously as possible, and loved every thrilling minute of it.
Until two days ago when he’d met Melody Lewis. Life — her life — was suddenly more precious than he could imagine. The change in him had been instantaneous. If he didn’t survive, neither would she. And after what she’d told him of Rafael and Alejandro, his regrets would be numerous if this mission ended with a star on the memorial wall of the CIA. “What about her,” he breathed.
“They have plans for her.”
Ric steadied his breathing in an attempt to stem his rising temper and impatience. “What plans,” he grounded out.
“Um…” He cleared his throat. “They don’t need her. Someone from Somalia will replace her so they, ah, plan to rape your woman and then bury her here in the desert.”
Ric didn’t know how long he’d stood there and stared at his source, but when he returned to reality and blinked, the man had scurried away. The sun was setting now and he had to return to Mel, whom he left in the care of Hakeem. After her discovery in Abdul’s tent earlier in the day, and Abdul’s subsequent attack on her that afternoon, it was clear that Ric couldn’t let her out of his sight. Hakeem had duties to attend to as part of the sheik’s waitstaff, as well as his clandestine activities for Ric. There’s too much to do and we’re running out of time. At least the method of attack was clear: rockets. With the attack occurring possibly tomorrow or the next day, Ric had a decision to make: leave now or try to stop Abdul himself.
Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) Page 13