No Rules

by Starr Ambrose

  Not Donovan. He still stared at her. Maybe he was as appalled as she was at the idea of taking her along on their rescue mission.

  “We’re interpreting it wrong,” she told him, concentrating on keeping desperation from quaking through each word. “My father wouldn’t pull me into this, you said so yourself.”

  “But he did. I don’t know why yet, but…” A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “He told you to trust me.” His voice had dropped, becoming almost seductive, as he tilted his head thoughtfully. “What else did he say about the wolf and the rabbit, Jess?”

  Instantly, her imagination was inventing more of the story. The defenseless, timid prey confronting a sly predator. A predator who made her pulse pound and her breasts tingle and whom she’d been instructed to trust.

  She needed an emergency session with Dr. Epstein, right now.

  Panic flooded every cell in her body. Whirling, she ran after Evan, finding that he’d already crossed the living area and was headed down a hallway. She power walked to match his purposeful strides. “I’m not going to Egypt.”

  He glanced at her, but didn’t slow down. “I’m sorry, I know this disrupts your plans, but it can’t be helped. And it’s obviously what Wally wanted.”

  She didn’t give a shit what Wally wanted. “I have a life, Evan. Deadlines to meet. Appointments to keep.”

  “We’ll take care of notifying people for you.”

  More panic boiled to the surface at the way the Omega Group assumed control and took over her life. “You don’t get it. I don’t work for you. You can’t just order me to go to another country.”

  His look was the sort of visual reprimand one might give a child. “Lives are at stake, Jess.”

  Guilt trip. She wasn’t falling for it. “I know, that’s why I came to Chicago.” Well, not exactly. She’d come because a man in Nipagonee Falls had tried to kill her and Donovan had given her no choice. But she’d stayed here because of those two hostages, damn it. She wasn’t entirely unsympathetic. “I helped you. My part is over.”

  “I think your part is just beginning,” Evan said.

  No. Fear battered at her insides like a trapped bird trying to escape. She couldn’t be part of this for so many reasons. Evan had no idea. It wasn’t only the look on Tyler Donovan’s face, that unsettling mixture of interest and hunger that burned into her like fire. He was some sort of hormonal aberration she’d work out later. She could resist him—would resist him—and he wasn’t the type to use force on a woman. At least, she was pretty sure he wasn’t. Hell, he probably wouldn’t need to. Women probably begged to be with him.

  No, her problem went deeper than Donovan. She couldn’t go with them. Simply flying to Nipagonee Rapids had required two Valium and a session with Dr. Epstein before she could trust her life to the questionable physics of keeping several hundred thousand pounds of airplane aloft. Fear of flying, Dr. Epstein had said, another loss-of-control issue. Hell, she was fine with flying; what she had was a fear of dying. Planes fell out of the sky. It happened. And Evan expected her to fly to the other side of the world? Over an ocean? On a mission that surely involved some sort of violence?

  She hopped aside as Omega’s director turned into an office, then followed him in. He took a seat at the desk and began punching keys, his attention on his computer monitor.

  She slapped both hands on the desk, leaning close so he couldn’t ignore her. “I don’t even have a passport. I don’t mean with me, I mean not at all. I don’t travel out of the country. Ever.”

  “I’m taking care of that now. You’ll have one in a few hours.”

  The unexpected answer derailed her momentarily. “You can do that?”

  “We’ll need a photograph. I think we can use one of the surveillance photos Donovan sent.” He was talking to himself as he skimmed through images on the computer.

  She leaned sideways to see them. Several candid shots of herself covered the screen, pictures that had to have been taken outdoors with a telephoto lens. He clicked to another page and selected one with a plain background, obviously taken at the funeral home. “This’ll do.”

  Irritation slid through her panic. She’d known Donovan had been watching her, but this felt more invasive. Creepy.

  Focus, she told herself firmly. “I’m not going. You can’t make me.”

  He looked up from the computer screen finally, settling back in his chair as he studied her. “Jess, sit down.”

  “No thanks.” She wasn’t staying that long.

  He sighed. “You’re a smart girl.”

  She snorted. “Smart enough not to fall for obsequious flattery.”

  “You know what Wally told you, and you helped us figure out what it means, so you know the situation. And you’ve met the rescue team. They’re capable people, experts in what they do, and they’d never put your life at risk. I feel confident that you’ll be safe.”

  “In a city where two Americans were just taken hostage? In a country full of political unrest? Forgive me if I’m not as confident as you.”

  “They’ll keep you safe,” he repeated. “Each one of them would die before letting harm come to you.”

  “We can all die together. How comforting.”

  “Jessie.” It was exactly the way her father used to say it to get her attention. She frowned, resisting the impulse to go soft inside. He wasn’t fighting fair. “I didn’t stress the team’s experience to impress you. You need to understand that these people know weapons and tactics, not history. Especially not ancient Egyptian history.”

  Not falling for that, either. “Neither do I. I write kiddie lit. You want to know why I’m good at it, Evan? Because I have a lot of those childish fears myself. Embarrassing and childish, but there you have it. I’m not exactly the person you want in the middle of a tense rescue operation.”

  “You know more about ancient Egypt than any of our operatives, Jess. That’s why Wally went to you, why he broke a promise and a fifteen-year pattern of behavior. You know he was serious about not involving you in his life, serious enough that he stayed away all those years. He missed you every day.”

  “If that’s true, it wasn’t my fault.”

  “But he pulled you into it by telling you this story.”

  “Bad judgment, there. He was desperate.”

  “He was brilliant to the end. He put you in the story on purpose. Do you really think the rabbit doesn’t describe you? Afraid to travel, afraid of the aggressive male wolf accompanying her?”

  Only partially. She’d been afraid of the wolfish Donovan, but also strangely attracted. She flushed and kept her mouth shut, wondering just how much her spying, nosy father had revealed to his best friend about her.

  “He told you to trust Tyler Donovan. My God, I can’t believe he worked out such a clever way to hide his information with an assassin two steps behind him. He was so good at what he did, even better than I knew.” He swallowed hard and shook his head. “Never mind. The point is we need you. I don’t know why yet, but Wally knew we would. Obviously it has something to do with a vase. We’re depending on your knowledge. Two hostages are depending on you, Jess. We can’t rescue them without you.”

  What was she supposed to say, Let them die? But the thought of that plane trip, of the foreign culture she’d be thrown into, had her trembling inside. People speaking a language she couldn’t understand except when sexually harassing American women—she’d heard all about that. Plus, food she would be afraid to eat. Water almost certainly unsafe to drink. “I’ll phone it in. The team can call with any questions, and I’ll answer them, day or night.”

  “What questions? They wouldn’t even know what to ask. And who’s to say they’ll have cell service?” His steady gaze was kind but firm. “You need to be there, Jess. If you don’t believe me, believe Wally. He discovered where the hostages were and his scenario says the rabbit goes to the beavers’ lodge. She doesn’t call them on the phone.”

  Hot tears formed, threatening to fall.
Tears of frustration and defeat. Her mind screamed at her not to go, but she was trapped by a sense of responsibility. Of basic morality. She couldn’t let two people die because she was afraid of leaving her familiar world and her safe routines. Because she was afraid of life outside of a protective shell and terrified of an alpha male who didn’t hesitate to kill when necessary and who looked at her with an insatiable hunger.

  It was just the sort of thing she’d criticized her mother for, hiding from life behind her fears.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before meeting his gaze. “I’m afraid,” she said in a last desperate plea.

  “Of what?”

  She gave him the sad truth. “Everything.”

  He reached across the desk to cover her cold hand with his warm one. “Donovan will keep you safe, Jess. Trust him.”

  Defeat clutched at her ribs. Trust an admitted killer who had brought her here by force? Not for a second.

  Chapter Seven

  She stood motionless, her insides clenched into a fearful ball that might never loosen. Fighting nausea, she tried to find the peaceful center Dr. Epstein had told her to go to in her mind, but it was gone, swept away by the tsunami of panic crashing over her. She barely registered Evan’s gaze darting past her to someone passing by.

  “Avery, would you help Jess get ready please? See that she has everything she’ll need. You should be able to leave before evening.”

  Jess turned. Avery had paused in the doorway, looking her over with unmistakable condescension. “Fine.”

  “Start with shots.”

  Avery’s mood seemed to improve. “You’ll need several; better hope you don’t have a bad reaction.” She smiled.

  “I don’t need shots. I’m current on all inoculations.”

  Avery arched a skeptical eyebrow. “I doubt it. Measles, mumps, whooping cough, tetanus, chicken pox, flu, typhoid.” She looked at Evan. “What else?”

  “Hepatitis A. Rob will know if there’s anything else. I’m sorry you have to get them all at once, Jess, but it can’t be helped.”

  “As I said, I’ve had them. Taking precautions with your health is the responsible thing to do,” she said, a direct quote from her mother. When Evan still looked doubtful, she folded her arms and said, “Call Dr. Cynthia Reed in Houston. She’ll confirm it.”

  “I will. And if you’re right, good for you.” He looked at Avery and nodded toward the door. “Skip the shots for now, just give her a supply of Cipro for traveler’s diarrhea.”

  Looking disappointed, Avery motioned for Jess to follow. She did, hurrying to keep up with Avery’s brisk pace as they went upstairs. “I’ll need to go through your wardrobe and see if you have anything suitable,” Avery told her as they walked. “Then we’ll get whatever you need from our supplies here.”

  “You have a wardrobe department?” Just how big was this operation?

  “More like an extension of my closet. But we go to a lot of countries where traditional Islamic dress is mandatory for women, so I keep a lot on hand.” She eyed Jess, doing an obvious comparison between them. “Something will fit you.”

  The three suitcases that Donovan had ridiculed suddenly seemed insufficient, considering what she’d left at home. “I packed for cold weather. I imagine Egypt is hot.”

  “It’s pretty nice in November, actually, but you won’t really need to worry about the temperature. We need to cover your arms and legs.”

  “You mean because it’s an Islamic country?” She followed Avery into her room and went to a suitcase. “Can I wear long pants?”

  “If you were just a tourist, yes, but not for the cover we’ve devised for you.” Without waiting for an invitation, Avery slung another suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it with all the authority and care of a homeland-security agent at the airport.

  “Please be careful with those knits. Don’t unroll them.”

  But Avery skimmed right past most of the clothes, apparently rejecting everything. “All the cosmetics are fine, and any jewelry you have as long as it’s not cheap. Real gold and silver, no costume stuff.”

  “I didn’t bring much. I was going to a funeral.”

  The word caused Avery to pause for a moment, a brief hesitation that caught Jess’s attention. As did the flash of pain across her face. It was another reminder that these people had been Wally’s family more than she had. She felt she should address it somehow, but didn’t know what to say, and then the moment was gone. Avery tossed her padded jewelry pouch on the bed. “We’ll set you up with the look you need.”

  “What do I need? What exactly is my cover?”

  “You’ll be the well-bred, well-educated American wife of an Egyptian businessman. That way we don’t have to worry about making you blend in as much. Tyler will be your bodyguard, which gives him a plausible reason to always be with you. Women don’t walk the streets unescorted, not anyone who knows the culture, anyway. I don’t suppose you speak Arabic?”

  “No. Is that a problem?” Hope flickered that it might totally disqualify her.

  Avery squashed it. “No. It would have been nice, but Tyler knows a little, and many Egyptians speak English.” She added handfuls of underwear to the cosmetics and toiletries she’d piled on the bed while Jess bit her tongue and tried not to criticize. One long-sleeved blouse made the cut. From the third bag she selected two pairs of shoes—sensible loafers and black heels. Avery turned, giving her a critical look up and down. “You’re almost my size. We should be able to find you some warm-weather clothes that will work. Come on.”

  Jess trailed her to another room full of closets, rolling racks, and dressers that were packed with enough to stock a small store. This evidently served as their supply room. Avery began plucking clothes from a stuffed closet—an ankle-length skirt, two short-sleeved tops, and two pairs of rubber-soled shoes made more for comfort than style.

  “Won’t long skirts be kind of hot?” she asked.

  “You don’t have a choice. I’ll give you a couple short skirts and sleeveless tops, too, but as the respectable wife of a Muslim man, you can’t show your arms or legs in public. Abayas will take care of that. You’ll wear a hijab, too.”

  Jess wasn’t sure which was which, but several large scarves and dark robes were added to the pile of clothes in her arms. She looked at the pile, thinking she might as well go into culture shock now and save herself some time. The scary plane trip was only going to be the beginning of her problems.

  “Try this on,” Avery said.

  She blinked, then focused on the rings Avery held out to her. “Holy shit, is that real?”

  “Of course not. Well, not the diamonds. The gold probably is.”

  Jess laid the pile of clothes on the bed and gingerly took the wedding-ring set. Sliding the rings on her finger, she stared at the large diamond flanked by two slightly smaller ones. They caught the light and sparkled just like real ones.

  Avery frowned. “They look a little loose.”

  “They’ll be okay.” She turned her hand, mesmerized by the gaudy display of wealth. “My husband must really love me.”

  “You’re posing as a trophy wife in every sense of the word. A showpiece and a mark of his success. If you want to call that love, go ahead.”

  It was too bitchy to ignore. Jess gave her a hard look. “Maybe if you just tell me what you have against me, we can work it out.”

  Avery gave a short, bitter laugh. “If you don’t know, then you really are ignorant about love.”

  “Fill me in.”

  “Fine. Your dad was a good man. A great man. He deserved your love and respect and your lack of it pisses me off.”

  She was getting tired of hearing it from people who didn’t know the other side of the story. “He may have been a great man, but for fifteen years he was a lousy father.” It may not have been his intent, but it was her reality.

  “Or maybe you were a lousy daughter.”

  “I was…” She couldn’t even finish it. Glaring at Avery,
she said, “You don’t know a damn thing about my relationship with my father.”

  “I know he repeatedly risked his life to save others, and all you can think about is what he didn’t do for you. In my book that’s selfish and small-minded.”

  So he saved people; she was getting tired of having that thrown in her face, as if she should feel guilty for wanting his attention when other people’s lives were at risk. “Maybe while he was saving others, he should have tried a little harder to save me. There are all kinds of captivity, you know. I was a victim, too.”

  If everything Donovan told her was true, she was being unfair to her father, but she wasn’t feeling especially fair right now. She was feeling picked on.

  Avery’s lip curled with disgust. “Really? What kind of victim were you? Were you held by gun-waving lunatics who killed aid workers because they helped the wrong people? Did you see someone hold a machete to your mother’s throat and threaten to use it if your father didn’t do as he was told? Because I did.”

  Avery advanced on her, and Jess retreated a step, wide-eyed at the sudden fury. As if she’d suddenly opened a dam, Avery’s anger poured out in a flood of words. “Tell me how bad it was, Jess. Did you witness your little sister being raped in front of you? Used, then discarded like she was broken, because she was? Did you watch a twelve-year-old huddle in corners and cry in terror and beg you to kill her before the violence and degradation could happen again? Did you lie awake at night, knowing the same fate awaited you if they got tired of the younger one and help didn’t come?” Jess shrank back, but Avery leaned into her, eyes blazing. “Did you, Jess? Is that how bad it was for you? Because that’s what it was like for me, before your father and five others found the jungle encampment where we were being held and killed every one of those bastards who were holding us.”

  “You…You were a victim?”

  She wouldn’t have thought Avery could look angrier, but her jaw twitched with murderous tension at the question. “I was a hostage, along with my family and three other people, a religious group doing humanitarian work in Venezuela. I was not a victim, and I never will be. And neither will anyone else, if I can help it. That’s what Wally saved me from. So, sorry if he missed a few birthday parties and your middle-school soccer games while he was saving people’s lives and probably their sanity. I guess that was really selfish of him.”