Ryan walked into the room. “Funny coming from a spy.”
Ian shrugged. “Pays the bills.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Both of you, stop.”
Because she knew it wouldn’t take much to set these two at each other’s throats. Ryan hated Ian for bringing her out here. And Ian just plain didn’t like anyone who let their emotions cloud their thinking. He was the ultimate Star Trek Vulcan in some respects—or so she’d have thought if not for the chink in his armor concerning her sister.
“I’m going.” Ryan’s tone brooked no argument.
Emily got to her feet and faced him. How had she ever thought he was easygoing and fun? He’d been there for her so often, and he’d never judged. But now?
Holy shit, now he couldn’t seem to turn off the Judgey McJudge thing he had going on. It pissed her off.
“You aren’t going, Ry. I’ve been doing this without you for nearly two months, and I don’t need you guard-dogging me now. You’ll compromise the mission.”
His eyes widened. “Seriously? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? I live for the mission, sweetheart. And I’ve never compromised one yet.”
“I already have a partner on this—”
“You said you were taking extra security. It’s me and Chase, or you aren’t going.”
Her blood pressure had to be off the charts by now. Maybe if she walked over and punched the daylights out of him, she’d feel better. More likely, she’d break her hand in the process, and then she’d have to suffer for a split second of satisfaction.
“You are not the boss of me.” It sounded so childish when she said it—and yet there it was. She was furious.
His jaw hardened. “You’ve made that clear, Emily. But I’ll be damned if I let you go out there without some real backup.”
She glanced at Ian, certain he’d be pissed at that slight to his guys, but he merely shrugged. Then he waved a hand.
“Take them. It’ll free up the guys for some other stuff around here.”
Not the answer she’d been expecting. But Ian did what he wanted, and right now he didn’t want to fight with Ryan about this.
Emily stalked toward the door. Ryan didn’t move, so she pushed him out of the way. Chase stepped back and held up both hands as if he were scared of her. Of course he wasn’t, but at least he recognized a pissed-off woman when he saw one.
Now if only Ryan were half so smart…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMILY WENT STRAIGHT TO THE supply room and grabbed a freshly laundered abaya. She jerked it on with angry movements and then went to find David, the operative who usually shadowed her when she met with Mustafa.
He was in the dining area, finishing up breakfast. Emily plopped down beside him, ignoring her silent watchdogs as she did so. David looked up, his gaze going from one to the other and then over to her for an answer.
“Extra security,” she said, reaching for a piece of toast and nibbling a corner. It didn’t make her stomach turn, so that was good. She turned around to look at the men standing behind her. Ryan looked militant. Chase simply looked resigned. And they both looked imposing. “We aren’t leaving for another hour,” she said. “You might as well sit down. Or go polish your weapons.”
“Not letting you out of my sight, Emily,” Ryan practically growled.
Her heart bumped. She knew what he didn’t say—that he didn’t trust her not to go without him.
And truthfully, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t prefer it that way. But she wasn’t stupid, and Ryan and Chase were HOT, which meant something. Definitely not a bad pair to have at your back when meeting with a terrorist.
When it was time to go, they headed out to the street. David had briefed them both on procedure, and she was glad to see that they’d blended into the crowds on the street as they followed her through the city to the market.
It was early enough that the heat wasn’t oppressive, but she was still uncomfortable. And she’d been so mad she’d forgotten to strap on her waterskin. It wasn’t standard procedure since she wasn’t going out into the desert, but she liked to have water on her because of how ill she’d been lately.
She’d just have to wait until they reached the market and she could get a bottle of cool water from a vendor.
It took about fifteen minutes, but she finally reached the small café where Mustafa had dictated this meeting should take place. She’d come yesterday and he hadn’t shown, but perhaps he would today.
Emily took a seat at the rear of the shop and watched the street. The café and market were open-air, and sweat trickled down her brow in spite of the overhead fans whipping at high speed.
The proprietor brought her a bottle of water and a small coffee, though the minute the strong scent invaded her nostrils, her stomach turned. She pushed it aside and took a sip of the water.
She scanned the street, but there was no sign of Mustafa. And no sign of David, Ryan, or Chase either. She had to admit she was comforted knowing they were there, even if she’d rather it was someone other than Ryan.
They’d been friends, but they clearly weren’t anymore. That grieved her, though she couldn’t spend too much time worrying about it. What was done was done. He might forgive her when this was all over, though maybe she’d be so angry with him she wouldn’t care if he did.
He certainly had a way of pissing her off.
A man crossed the square and made his way toward the café. He wore white robes, and his face was covered. Her heart kicked up as she recognized the familiar stride of Hassan Mustafa. Relief and fear crashed through her now that he was here. What if he didn’t tell her anything about the hostages? What if he was merely toying with her and trying to get more money out of Ian?
He’d told her once that he wasn’t a true believer. “Like you were,” he’d said, “I am with them for reasons other than the cause.”
“Why stay?” she’d asked. “Why not get out while you can?”
His expression had changed, grown angry. “It is not so easily done. And I am a poor man. I need money to escape.”
And he was getting that money from Ian. Mustafa came inside and made straight for her table. It was slightly alarming since he tended to be more cautious when he approached, but he simply plopped down and motioned to the waiter, who immediately brought a coffee.
Something had happened, but she didn’t know what. Or maybe he was just growing tired of the game.
“You didn’t come yesterday,” Emily said in the Qu’rimi dialect she’d learned from Zaran.
“I could not leave my duties. And I will probably not be back after today, not for a while.”
Her heart thumped. “Why not? Is something happening? Are they moving the hostages?”
His gaze sharpened. “It has been mentioned, yes.”
“Where are they being held?”
He shrugged. “This I do not know… but I may know where they are going.”
Emily’s stomach churned. “And where is that?”
“There is a camp outside Ras al-Dura. You know it?”
Emily swallowed. Yes, she knew the camp. And Mustafa knew that she knew. It was the place in Qu’rim where HOT had found her and where she’d killed Zaran. Not that Mustafa knew that part, of course.
“That’s rather far to take a group of American hostages, isn’t it?”
His eyes gleamed black. He might not be a true believer, but he had no love for Americans. “Not when you wish to make an example of them.”
Emily caught herself clutching the fabric of her abaya in the fist she’d made beneath the table. “And when will they be moved?”
Mustafa took a sip of his coffee. “In a few days.”
Emily’s throat felt tight. “It would really help if you knew where they were being held.”
“And yet I do not.”
Emily leaned in as frustration knotted into a ball in her belly. “Why not? Are you out of favor? Do they suspect something?”
A flash of anger crossed his f
eatures before he was able to mask it. He took his pipe from his tunic and tapped it on the ashtray. “You forget yourself, Light of Zaran. I owe you nothing, certainly not an explanation.”
Emily’s gut twisted as she thought of Linda Cooper being held captive. The woman was no doubt scared half to death. She had a husband and a baby on the way, and right now she didn’t know if she would live to see her baby born.
Emily tamped down on her feelings. “I realize this. It is concern for you that drives me to ask the question. If they suspect you, you may be in danger.”
He carefully filled his pipe with tobacco. “The hierarchy is splintered,” he said as he packed the bowl with his thumb. “Some disapprove of the new leadership, and it has led to suspicion and mistrust. Taking the hostages was not sanctioned by the supreme leader. She is angry with the captain and his officers, and they mistrust the rest of us enough to keep the information a secret in case one of us wanted to inform her.”
Emily reeled from what he’d just said. It was more information than Mustafa had ever imparted at once, but Emily could only focus on one part: she. He’d said the supreme leader was a woman. Her heart began to pound. She was pretty sure this was information Ian and HOT didn’t have. After the capture of Al Ahmad, the brotherhood had undergone a massive shake-up as the factions battled for control. Zaran had once been a candidate for the supreme leadership, and he’d wanted it pretty badly.
But the Freedom Force was much diminished from the days of Al Ahmad, and nothing happened fast. Zaran and a few other lieutenants had been locked in a battle for dominion. Zaran had been winning when she’d stabbed him with his own knife.
Emily’s fingers shook as she reached for her water. There was finally a new leader if what Mustafa said was true. And she was a woman. It was nothing short of extraordinary.
And deeply, disturbingly frightening.
“Do you know who the supreme leader is?”
His eyes flashed as if he realized he’d revealed something he’d meant to keep secret. “No. She is called Raja. That is all.”
Raja… Hope.
“If taking them was not sanctioned, why do they continue to hold them?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “There are some who believe the Americans might trade Al Ahmad for these people’s lives.”
Emily’s throat went utterly dry. “That is unlikely. America doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“And yet here you are.”
It was said without irony.
“I’m here because my government wants to save them, yes. But if the Freedom Force makes this public, if they start to threaten the US directly, there will be no negotiation. Right now there’s a chance—a chance for you to get all the money you desire to leave the organization and a chance to save the hostages with a minimum of bloodshed.”
His dark eyes had sharpened. “How much money?”
Emily swallowed. She wasn’t authorized to do this, but she had to take a chance. She was as tired of the game as he was. “One hundred thousand dollars.”
Ian would burst a blood vessel, but if it got them the information, he could figure out how to explain the expense to his superiors later.
“Five hundred,” Mustafa said coolly. “What you ask is risky.”
Emily sat up straighter. Five hundred thousand? God, did they even have that much? Did she care? “I’ll need proof. There’ll be no payment without it.”
“Two days,” he said, standing. “You will come here with the money, and I will come with proof of the hostages’ location.”
“I can’t come alone with that kind of cash.”
He snorted. “As if you ever come alone, Light of Zaran. Yes, I know you have people watching us, and they will be watching us in two days as well.” He leaned toward her. “If you do not deliver on your promise, you will have signed both our death warrants—because I will not go down alone.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMILY WAITED FOR MUSTAFA TO LEAVE. She sat and sipped her water for a good fifteen minutes, her mind boiling with all she’d learned. Had she really just promised him half a million dollars for information?
She had, and Ian was going to kill her. But, dammit, the thought of Linda Cooper and her unborn child suffering at the hands of the Freedom Force was just too much to bear. Ian had an arsenal of expensive equipment, he never lacked for money or supplies, and for once he was working with the US government on this particular op.
So, yeah, he could get the money. He had to get the money.
But could Mustafa deliver? Was he merely jerking her around, or was he really going to find out where the hostages were being held?
Then again, maybe he’d known all along and he’d been waiting for just such a moment—her desperation to know where the hostages were. Had she played into his hands? Had she promised him the moon when she could have gotten away with less?
Emily took a deep breath and finished her water. Then she stood and wove her way between tables. Once outside, she started the long walk back to the compound. She scanned her surroundings, looking for anything out of place. There was nothing but people going about their daily tasks. Women with baskets of groceries, children playing in the dusty street, vendors with market stalls selling everything from vegetables to touristy gadgets. Not that Acamar had many tourists these days, but the excavation of the Lost City had brought hope they would have more—until the kidnapping.
It was always a shame when certain radical elements ruined opportunities for everyone. If the Freedom Force was spilling out into Acamar, that could be a sign they were regaining strength. It could also be a sign of discontent in the organization.
Speaking of which—a woman in charge? That was practically unheard of, or would have been just a few months ago. None of the women she’d known while she lived in Qu’rim had struck her as having even a remote chance of taking over the organization.
It was definitely a puzzle and one she couldn’t wait to share with Ian and the HOT operatives. This was what being out here was all about. Making a difference. Being useful to her country.
Emily didn’t see any sign of her bodyguard detachment, but she knew they were there, following along like the wake to her ship. Sweat rolled down the inside of her abaya and her heart pounded. She wanted to get back to the compound, but she had to stop for a minute. She walked in the shade of the buildings as much as possible, but the dust and heat were stifling nevertheless.
She pulled up and leaned back against a mud-brick building, wishing she could pull the abaya off and get more air. People passed her by without pause. Her mouth was as dry as the sand beneath her feet, and she wished she had more water.
Oddly enough, she also had to pee from all the water she’d drunk at the café. She stood there for several minutes, breathing evenly and cooling down, before she pushed away from the wall, determined to continue. The minute she was back at Ian’s place, she could take this abaya off and stand in front of a fan with a bottle of cold water in her hand.
She just had to get that far. But her head swam and she stumbled as she felt suddenly light-headed. She reached out and caught herself on the hood of a car parked on the street.
Dammit. What the fuck was this?
Hands settled on her shoulders. She started to scream, but the hands turned her in time to see blue eyes staring back at her.
“Ryan, you have to let me go,” she choked out. “Someone could see us.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he growled. “You’re sick.”
Before she could stop him, he swept her into his arms and strode down the street. She protested feebly, but he wasn’t letting her go, so she tucked her head into his chest and clung to him. In truth, it felt nice to be moving down the street without having to do the work herself.
Soon they reached Ian’s compound and Ryan passed into the interior courtyard. He still didn’t put her down. Emily kicked her legs, though her stomach boiled when she did so.
“Put me down, Ry. We’re here.�
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“Like fuck.” He turned his head and barked at someone. “She needs medical attention. Now.”
Emily clutched his tunic in her fists. “No, I’m fine. Just hot. Makes me light-headed.”
This was not the triumphant return she’d been envisioning. But Ryan didn’t stop, and he didn’t put her down. He carried her up the stairs and then stopped in the darkened hallway.
“Which one’s yours?”
“How do you know I have a room up here? I could be in one of the other buildings.”
He snorted. “You’re here. Now tell me which one before I start kicking in doors.”
Emily steamed. “Second on the left.”
Ryan strode over and opened the door, then he carried her inside and laid her on the bed. She promptly sprang upright, intending to shove him out the door, but her stomach rebelled and she went down again.
“Goddamn it, Emily, why are you fighting? You’ve got a virus or something, and you need to be still.”
“I don’t need you here to do it.” She ripped at the abaya until he came over and caught the edge, lifting it up and over her head.
He dropped it on a chair and continued to loom over her. It was nothing like the night he’d loomed over her in his apartment, all sexy and naked and hard.
“I have to pee,” she said, trying to shove the thought of a hard Ryan from her mind.
“Need help getting there?”
“No.” She stood, more carefully this time, and made her way down the hall to the bathroom. She knew Ryan was standing in her open door and watching to make sure she didn’t disappear in the other direction.
She would if she didn’t have to pee—and if she didn’t feel like hell.
When she opened the door again, he was still standing there watching her. She made her way slowly back to her room, then sat in the chair in front of the fan. There was air-conditioning, but she also kept a fan for when the AC just didn’t get the job done.
Boots clomped on the stairs, and then Jared appeared in the door along with Ian.
“What happened?” Ian asked, and Ryan sneered at him.
“You sent her out there when she’s sick. What do you think happened?”
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