Covert Evidence

by Rachel Grant

  The women chattered in a language she couldn’t understand, and she worked silently, scrubbing what appeared to be a child’s dress without lifting her gaze.

  She was so fucking lovely, perched next to the washbasin. Her headscarf had fallen, exposing her beautiful long dark hair, which glistened in the morning sun. Finally she glanced up and caught his stare. She flashed a tentative smile.

  If they really were newlyweds, he’d scoop her up, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her into the tent, where he’d do nothing but make love to her all day and all night. But the newlywed cover was just another lie in a life built on deception.

  Having ascertained she was present and accounted for, he crossed the camp to pay respects to their hosts. Several of the men were off with the flock, but the elder had remained in camp, sitting regally under the shade of the goat-hair tent that was his primary domain.

  At his invitation, Ian sat down with the man for a cup of tea. A while later, Ian saw Cressida return to the tent they’d been given, and he excused himself from the elder’s company. In the tent, he cornered Cressida, who appeared flustered in the light of day.

  “What’s the plan, Ian?”

  “We rest here for another day. Regroup. Then we’re going to find the entrance to your tunnel.”

  “We won’t be able to open it. It’s not like we could use it.”

  “I know. Just finding it is valuable intel.”

  “And after we find it—if we find it—how do we get out of Turkey?”

  “With the tunnel location in our back pocket, I think I can convince the CIA to send an exfil team—and we won’t need to mention we have the chip until we’re safe in the US. Last month, I set up another safe house, in Cizre. After we find the tunnel, we’ll go there. Then I’ll get in touch with my boss.”

  Her gaze flicked toward the bed, and he was tempted to suggest they fully play out their newlywed roles, but didn’t. She’d see right through him and know how much he wanted her, instead of taking his words as a smart-ass proposition from a hardened covert operative.

  He plucked the pendant from his neck. “It’s time to see what this thing holds.”

  “You think it’s more than a chip?”

  “I hope so.” He pulled a knife from his backpack and wedged the small blade into the seam. A gentle tap, and the back split open. Inside, he found the chip, a thin sliver of metal-coated plastic—it was the internal memory card from a USB drive. He closed his eyes against the flood of relief. Then, with a deep breath, he lifted the card and saw a folded scrap of paper. Cressida was written on it in Hejan’s neat scrawl.

  Hejan had left her a note?

  The woman in question reached for it, but he shook his head and plucked it from the small compartment in the pendant. “It’s for me,” she protested.

  He carefully unfolded the paper and smiled. “And for me.” He showed her his name—John—written below the fold. He scanned the contents, which were written in Turkish.

  “What does it say?”

  “What we’ve already figured out. Todros Ganem was brought to Turkey to find the tunnel for Hejan’s organization. When Todros couldn’t find it, he said you could. Because of that, you were chosen to be the mule.” But there was more, and the last bit of info in Hejan’s note caused Ian’s nostrils to flare and his vision to blur.

  He set the paper, chip, and pendant on the low table and took a step toward her. Her eyes widened, and she stepped back. Her reaction pissed him off.

  She cleared her throat. “Why do you insist on calling him Todros? No one calls him Todros. He’s Todd.”

  “Todd Ganem was your boyfriend. You lived with him. Screwed him. Loved him. Todros Ganem is a thief, a traitor, and part of a terrorist cell. Todros is his Jordanian name, and I don’t want you to forget where his loyalties lie.”

  She retreated another step but came up against the tent pole he’d been corralling her toward. She stopped and lifted her chin. “I know exactly what Todd is.”

  “Todros. Call him Todros.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “You’re jealous?”

  He planted himself before her. “Of course I’m jealous. He had all of you. Including your heart. Because of Todros, you couldn’t trust me. You didn’t tell me about the pendant. I’d happily shoot the motherfucker in the balls.”

  She shrugged. “Get in line.”

  “Do you still have feelings for Todros?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You asshole. Do you honestly think I’d make love with you if I had feelings for another man?”

  “We didn’t make love. We fucked. That’s all. And yes, I do think you’d fuck me, if it’s part of your game plan.”

  “I don’t have a game plan! I’m just a stupid academic caught up in something I don’t understand.”

  His vision was hazy as he zeroed in on the source of his anger. “I think you do have a plan. I think you didn’t tell me about the pendant because you were waiting to give it to your real partner.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Ian?”

  “Hejan said he hopes you met up with Todros in Van. If not, you need to call the number Hejan gave you again. It’s Todd’s number.”

  “I don’t understand. The only number Hejan gave me was Berzan’s.” Her eyes widened as the color drained from her face. “The text I got—the one telling me to go to the ferry dock—was from Todd?”

  “Don’t act so surprised.”

  She pushed against his chest. “Back off.”

  “Why? Are things not going according to the plan you set up with Ganem?”

  “No! Because you’re freaking me out!” She shoved at his chest again. “You’re what, six foot two? Two hundred pounds of muscle? I’m five six and couldn’t take you in a thumb wrestle. So back. The fuck. Off.”

  “Are you working with Todros?”

  Fear faded as her eyes flashed with anger. “No! I hate the bastard. Dammit, Ian, I want you! I’m falling in love with you! You stupid, blind, jealous oaf!”

  His heart squeezed. Love? Not possible. He didn’t elicit that sort of emotion in others and had a hard time believing her after she’d held out on him.

  But still, she looked so beautiful in her rage. He wanted to pull her against him, plant his mouth on hers, then toss her on the bed and make love to her until they both forgot everything but each other.

  What was stopping him?

  He wanted her. She wanted him. It was that simple.

  He caught her by the hips and scooped her up, lifting her while pulling up the wide skirt, freeing her legs to wrap around his hips. Her hot center pressed snug against his instant erection as he slipped his tongue between her lips. Her mouth opened, and she sucked on his tongue with the same urgency he felt.

  She tugged at his fly. He shifted to the bed and set her down, yanking down his zipper as he dropped to his knees between her thighs. She rolled to the side and grabbed a condom from the box he’d left next to the pallet, ripping it open as he freed himself from his briefs. He tugged down her underwear as she rolled the latex over his cock. Sheathed, he slid deep inside her. She felt so right, like her body was his home.

  She groaned in pleasure. He covered her mouth with his. Their hosts might not understand English, but hot, hard sex had a universal language of its own. He pumped into her, each stroke taking him to the edge of orgasm far too fast. She panted, and he reached between them to stroke her clitoris. The pants became a purr.

  She sucked on his tongue while rocking her hips against him. Shit. He was going to come. He increased the pressure with his thumb, and she let out a low throaty noise and clenched tight around him signaling he was cleared for takeoff. He continued stroking in time to his thrusts as he soared, no longer tethered to anything but the sound of her continuing orgasm.

  He kissed her deeply as he rode the wave back down. Cressida’s eyes fluttered open. She cupped his cheeks between her hands and kissed him, giving with the same intensity she took.

  The look in her
eyes told him everything he wanted to know. She really was falling in love with him. And dammit all to hell, his face probably said the same damn thing.

  He and Cressida were alike in so many ways. Fatherless. Survivors. He could fall in love with this woman who had the brains and drive to overcome being dealt a hand as pathetic as his own.

  Her lack of trust was no longer the issue. He could forgive her for that—hell he understood her reasons. But they had a new problem, one that made a relationship between them a risk he couldn’t afford. With the microchip in hand, the old rules were back in play.

  He was a covert operative. A soldier. He’d accepted long ago his life would be solitary. He didn’t allow himself to feel. To care. Because caring made him vulnerable.

  Caring gave the enemy leverage.

  Yet he cared about Cressida. More than he should. More than he could. And with the microchip in play again, putting her safety first wasn’t an option.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The intensity in Ian’s eyes rocked Cressida to the core. He looked at her like he had when he comforted her next to the train. With protectiveness. With fierce caring.

  If Todd had ever once looked at her in this way, she’d have told him everything in a heartbeat and invited him to join her in the research. But Todd had never gone all in, which was what she’d been desperate for, the one thing she still needed. Someone who cared about her enough to put her first.

  In an instant, the look on Ian’s face vanished.

  He pushed off her, sliding out of her body. He pulled down the full skirt, as if seeing her splayed out before him was indecent. He removed the condom and tucked himself back in his pants and said, “Thanks. But that changes nothing,” as he zipped his fly.

  The words hurt like a blow to the gut—or heart. She knew how to roll with blows but found she was unable to roll with this one. She sat on the pallet, frozen. In shock.

  Ian turned and lifted the door flap.

  His hasty retreat told her more than his cruel words had and broke the paralysis that held her mute. “Bullshit. It changes everything. That’s why you’re fleeing.”

  His back stiffened. The flap dropped from his fingers, falling closed in front of him. He stood, staring at the canvas, posture so straight he looked like he’d rejoined the Army.

  “I saw the way you looked at me.”

  “Sweetheart, let’s get one thing straight. What you saw on my face wasn’t anything but a guy who just got laid and liked it. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I want you. Hell, I want you so bad, my teeth hurt.” Slowly, he turned and faced her. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go again. But it will never be anything more than sex for me. I don’t do relationships. Understand?”

  She had no clue who he was now. He showed no hint of John. Or Ian. This was a new incarnation, and he made Ian’s harder edges look like cotton candy. She wanted so much to call bullshit again. She believed in her gut there was something else going on here, but when had she ever been right about a man?

  “You’re an asshole. Got it.” She rose from the bed, grabbed her backpack, and started shoving all her belongings inside. Whoever he was, he wasn’t worthy of the foolish feelings she’d been developing for him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I might have issues when it comes to men and relationships, but even I know I deserve better than this. I’m out. I’m walking to the nearest village. I’ll turn myself in.” She couldn’t take clothing from these kind people, and she didn’t want to spend one more minute in Ian’s company, so she yanked off the peasant blouse and skirt, not caring that she bared herself before him when she’d already been stripped emotionally. She pulled on a T-shirt and reached for her jeans. Stupid of her to have washed her other pair of Levis. Now she’d have to carry wet clothing.

  Ian plucked her pack from the ground, securing it like a hostage. “I can’t let you take off on your own.”

  That he still thought he could order her around triggered another burst of anger. “I won’t be on my own. I’m going to find my partner. Todd.”

  It happened so fast, she didn’t even have time to blink. One moment she was zipping up her jeans, and the next she was flat on her back on the pallet, pinned under Ian, his eyes blazing with anger. “Are you working with Todros?”

  Cressida pounded against his chest, but he didn’t feel the blows in the wake of the kick to the nuts she’d delivered with nothing but words.

  “Jesus, don’t you understand sarcasm? How can you possibly believe I’d work with the man who lured me out for a violent mugging? What is wrong with you?”

  What is wrong with me?

  How about that he wanted her more than air, and just hearing her say the name Todd caused a blinding burst of jealousy? Or maybe he’d been warped by years as a covert operative forced to keep emotions at bay? But most of all, he figured he was broken by the need to gouge a hole in his heart before she got too deeply inside, because it was the only way he could do his job.

  They needed an emotional firewall if he was going to complete this mission.

  He pushed up to his knees, straddling her, and rubbed a hand across his face. Cressida was right; he was an asshole. But he couldn’t change that. Wouldn’t apologize. Wouldn’t do one thing to ease the rift he’d created, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn’t be the operative he needed to be if he allowed himself to care. He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t fall in love. Not now. Not ever.

  “Finish packing,” he said. “I’m going to pay respects to our hosts, then we’re leaving.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “You’re sure as hell not going anywhere without me. You can hate me all you want, but all roads out of Turkey go through me.”

  “Where are we going?” Cressida asked for the dozenth time in the hour since they’d left the nomad camp. She was pretty damn sick of his silence and kept asking herself why she’d stayed with him. But she knew the answer to that one: without him, she’d probably die.

  “Same plan as before. We’re going to see if T. E. Lawrence really did find a Roman aqueduct in 1914.”

  She glanced askance at him but stopped after only getting a glimpse of his chin. That sexy, stubbled chin that she’d nibbled on while they’d made—no. Had sex. Hot. Intense. But only sex. Because Ian claimed he didn’t do emotions. Well, except jealousy. That was one emotion he had no problem exhibiting. “As I’ve told you several times in the last hour, we’re going the wrong direction.”

  “It was important the nomads see us head in this direction. We’ll go south after dark.”

  “We’ll need to cross the Tigris at some point.”

  He snorted. “I’m former Delta Force. I can get us across the river.”

  Why did cocky have to look so good on him?

  “So what are the odds we’ll be able to find this tunnel entrance?” he asked.

  She shoved her various irritations aside. She’d made the decision to stay with him, and they had to work together. “Lawrence’s map indicated a crumbling stone house was extant over the first tunnel entrance he found, but he capped that one, and there is no way you and I could lift the capstone. He found another entrance to the south. My guess is five hundred meters, but without a scale it’s hard to be sure. If we find both, we’ll know we have the tunnel. There’s even a chance—if we had the proper tools—we could open the second entrance. If the stone house is still there, finding the tunnel will be easy. If I’m wrong, we’ll never find it in this landscape. Not without Lidar.”

  “Does Todros know about the stone house?”

  She caught the edge in his voice as he called Todd by his Jordanian name. His jealousy hinted at feelings he denied having. Was she deluding herself? Hearing only what she wanted to hear? She’d be better off listening to his words. Like the ones he’d said right after sliding from her body.

  She shook her head to wipe the memory of his callous rejection from her mind. He’d made the rules cl
ear. He hadn’t rejected her body. Just her heart.

  “Cressida?”

  Right. He’d asked a question. She’d gone to DC for Erica and Lee’s wedding at the peak of cherry blossom time—in early April. While there, she’d popped into NHHC and studied the map key again. That was when she realized Lawrence had marked the stone house ruins and deciphered his notes on the subject. But Todd had been arrested in March, before her DC trip. “No. At least I don’t think so. I didn’t zero in on the location of the house myself until over a month after he was arrested.”

  “This could get rough. We’re heading toward the Syrian border, which is heavily patrolled these days, and refugees overrun some sections—but mostly that’s to the west. If Todros and Zack are looking for the tunnel, we’re heading straight for them. If I could tuck you away someplace safe, I would, but I need you to find the tunnel.”

  I need you. Words she’d waited her whole life to hear. Hell, words she’d hoped to hear from him. But not in the context she would have liked. He didn’t say he wanted her. He didn’t even say he liked her. No. She could lead him to the tunnel and nothing more.

  She shrugged. “So it gets rough. It’s not like I have anything else to do today.” She felt his gaze but didn’t look up. She had trouble looking at him and not searching for signs he’d lied in the tent. “I know Hejan said they chose me to be the mule because Todd told them I could find the tunnel, but I don’t see what the benefit was for them. Why me?”

  “The usual courier either joined ISIS or was killed by them. Hejan wasn’t certain. All I know is he hadn’t surfaced in months. You were the perfect replacement, really. Out here, they could easily kill you after they had the chip and the tunnel location. There would have been far fewer questions if you’d died here, so close to the Syrian border.”

  She shivered. That part might still come true.

  “I will do what I can to protect you, Cressida.” The words were softly spoken and carried emotion he couldn’t hide. “But first and foremost, my mission is to get the data to the CIA, FBI, or US Army. The intel is more important than you. More important than me. If it comes down to a choice between saving you or delivering the microchip, I must choose the chip. And you must do the same.”