by Rachel Grant
He tightened his fingers on her hips, keeping her behind him. Damn him for kissing her. A foolish act in broad daylight after they’d been in the same location for hours. Especially when they were closing in on the tunnel. He’d failed Covert Operations 101.
His gun was in the holster at the small of his back. Cressida could grab it. He didn’t dare rock backward to press the weapon against her hips. Zack would notice. Zack was many things, but dumb wasn’t one of them.
“I need to see your hands, Ms. Porter.”
“Screw you. If you wanted us dead, you’d have shot us already,” she said.
Ian smiled. Cressida was new to the game, but she caught on quickly, and every little rebellion that let Zack know he may have a gun but wasn’t in control would chip away at his focus until Ian could make a move.
Zack was an analyst first. He’d completed his training for covert ops but didn’t have Ian’s military background. The fool was in over his head, and Ian intended to drown the sonofabitch who’d burned him.
“Hands up, or I’ll shoot Ian in the balls.”
“Do it. I’m done with him anyway.” Ian’s heart rate shot up as Cressida stepped out from behind him. At least it rattled Zack to have more than one target to cover—which told him Zack didn’t have anyone covering his six. Or if he did, he didn’t trust his partner. One of the hazards of being a traitor.
Cressida stepped farther from Ian, visible only in his peripheral vision to his left. She let out a soft, cunning laugh. “Ian may have been using me, but I don’t really give a fuck, because I was using him.”
At that, both Zack and Ian turned to her. She grinned, and her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. “What? You didn’t think I saw you in the bar in Antalya—both of you? Jesus, I was there to pick up a microchip. You think I’m so stupid I didn’t lay eyes on the man who ‘protected’ me by holding me back from a knife fight? God. Your egos.” She rolled her eyes. “And then when you magically appeared next to me on the flight, and in my hotel… I’m working on a damn PhD, and you think I’m too stupid to pick up on these things?”
She thrust her chest out and took a step toward Ian. “But then, you were too distracted by these, weren’t you?” She squeezed her breasts. “I hate to break it to you, Ian, but these babies aren’t my best asset.” She pointed to her temple and lowered her voice to a throaty whisper. “It’s what’s up here that matters, and I’ve got more going on up there than both of you combined.” She licked her bottom lip, slowly. “I mean, look at me. I don’t even speak the language but I got you to deliver me here, where my real partner, Todd, can’t be far away.” She puckered her lips in a sexy pout and added, “And I even got laid.”
She turned to Zack. “You see, Zack, I’ll do anything to get what I want. I’ll even do anyone.” She took a step toward him. “It looks like Ian is no longer of use to me.”
Ian’s gut burned. She was playing Zack. He knew she was playing Zack. But her act…was flawless. This woman was cunning. Beautiful. Even her voice was different, as if everything he’d seen before had been a role and now he saw who she really was.
No. This was the act. The woman who’d cried in his arms last night—that was the real Cressida.
“Don’t take another step closer,” Zack said.
“Fine. But don’t you think we should take away Ian’s gun and tie him up? Because he’s looking pretty pissed right now, and I, for one, am not keen on the idea of him shooting me or breaking my neck like he did Rajab.”
“You want me to let you take his gun? How stupid do you think I am?”
She laughed. “You really don’t want me to answer that.”
Zack’s shoulders stiffened. Good. One way or another, Cressida was throwing off his game. “Cressida, you’re going to take his gun, but this is how it’s going to go down.” Zack stepped toward her. He met Ian’s gaze and slowly smiled, then shifted his gun from Ian’s gut to Cressida’s head.
Ian couldn’t stop his nostrils from flaring or hands from clenching into fists. Zack’s smile widened. “You put on a pretty show, Ms. Porter, but Ian isn’t buying it. And neither am I.”
She’d stiffened the moment Zack’s gun changed targets, but Ian was still impressed by her outward calm. He only saw her profile, not her eyes, but her voice remained low and confident. “I don’t give a shit if Ian doesn’t believe it. What he doesn’t know—what you don’t know—is I’ve been dealing with assholes like him my whole life. He sees me as a fuck, a fun entertainment, not a threat. A naïve little girl to manipulate and control. I learned how to play men like him when I was thirteen.” A harsh edge entered her voice. “I even come when they screw me.”
Cressida inched to the side as she spoke, widening the distance between herself and Ian. Zack’s gaze and pistol followed her.
“I know what you’re doing, Porter,” Zack said. “It won’t work.” But Zack didn’t realize how much she’d skewed his angle on Ian, or he’d order her to step in line.
She shrugged. “If you know anything about me, you know I’ll do anything to survive. Even fuck a scumbag traitor.”
Zack glanced at Ian, his gaze narrowing—probably as he realized Ian had inched closer. He whipped the gun in Ian’s direction again. “Not another step, Boyd.” To Cressida, Zack said. “You’ve already fucked a traitor. Haven’t you seen the news?”
“I don’t really give a damn which one of you is the traitor. I just want to find the tunnel and go home.”
It was clear Zack was torn between watching Cressida advance versus keeping an eye on Ian. He had to believe Ian was the bigger threat, but Cressida wasn’t to be ignored.
“I know exactly what gets your rocks off, Zack.” She turned, catching Ian’s gaze. Her eyes were cold and hard. “Ian was the big man in Ankara, but now he’s been burned, and look who has the gun.” Her voice lowered even more as she took a step toward him. “Wait until you see the rage on his face when I blow you while he watches.”
At her words, fury surged up Ian’s esophagus. The shock of emotion forced out a primal grunt as he held his muscles in check. He wanted to rip Zack’s head off for threatening Cressida and was pissed as hell at her for attempting this tactic.
She flashed Ian a cold smile, let out a purr-like growl of her own, and took another step closer to Zack, bringing her within arm’s reach of the traitor. “Want to know a secret? I’m turned on by the idea of fucking with Ian’s head like that. After the way he’s treated me, he has it coming.” She reached down and brushed her hand over Zack’s fly. “Glad I’m not alone.”
Zack’s gun wobbled at her brief touch but remained pointed at Ian. She laughed and stroked him again, less tentative the second time.
Zack’s gaze remained fastened on Ian—and Ian did nothing to hide his rage. Cressida was right. Seeing Ian destroyed was what fed Zack’s ego and clouded his judgment. If she could play her part, he could play his. “I’ll kill him,” Ian said through clenched teeth.
Satisfaction flared in Zack’s eyes. Cressida flicked open the top button of his fly. His grip on the gun tightened until his knuckles turned white. “On your knees, then,” he ordered.
She dropped, slowly.
Ian held back an eruption that could rival Vesuvius. He would kill him.
His vision hazed when she slipped her fingers inside Zack’s pants and made a throaty sound he’d heard her make only twice before.
All at once, Zack let out a grunt and doubled over. Ian lunged for Zack at the same time Cressida surged upward, grabbing his head with both hands and kneeing him in the face as he dropped. Zack pulled the trigger, but the shot went wild as his head snapped back and he flopped to the ground.
Ian slammed into him. The gun flew from Zack’s hand. Blood poured from his nose. Ian grabbed him by the throat.
From the agony that contorted Zack’s features, Ian figured Cressida had twisted his nuts into a figure eight before she broke his nose.
Standing above Zack now, she delivered a swift kick to h
is crotch. Ian released Zack’s throat, allowing him to curl into a ball like a potato bug. She squatted down and wiped her hand on the scrubby grass. Her face revealed the revulsion she’d been holding back. As she rose, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand as if she were trying not to heave. “I promised myself I’d never do that again.”
Again?
Later, Ian would explore that statement. Right now he had to deal with Zack. He stood and kicked Zack in the head. Once. Twice. The tension in Zack’s body eased and his body uncurled. Ian lifted the traitor by the shirt and pulled back for a punch when Cressida stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I think he’s out.”
Ian released him. Zack’s head hit the ground with a hard thunk. “If I ever see you touch another man’s junk again, I will shoot the bastard.”
“It’s okay with me if you shoot him. But don’t kill him. We need him to clear your name.”
He wanted to kiss her in thanks for her chillingly good performance, but Zack could have accomplices who would strike the moment Ian attempted something so stupid. Instead, he pulled his weapon and turned in a slow circle, searching the landscape for threats.
She was right about not killing Zack, and given that the man was unconscious, it would be straight-up murder. His gaze landed again on the double agent who’d ordered Cressida to her knees before him. He’d never been so tempted to commit homicide in his life. “We need to tie him up,” he said.
She grabbed a paracord bracelet tied to Ian’s backpack and unraveled the thin rope. They traded jobs. Ian bound Zack’s hands and feet, while Cressida stood guard. He searched Zack’s pockets, finding car keys and a cell phone, but nothing else. He shut off the phone—no point in broadcasting their location if they caught a flicker of a signal—and said, “He must have parked a distance away, or we’d have heard him.”
“What’s the plan?”
He sat back on his heels, staring at Zack’s prostrate form. Cressida was his mission now. Her safety came first. Zack’s arrival changed nothing. In fact, the idea of handing Zack to a team of Raptor operatives held enormous appeal. Without Zack in the picture, he might be able to complete the other mission, after Cressida was safe. He had the microchip. There was still a chance the courier would show up and he could force the man to lead him to his terrorist group’s ultimate leader.
“We’ll find Zack’s vehicle and drive southeast. There should be a tower in the village that’s about six klicks from here. Then we’ll wait for the cavalry, I guess.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Zack’s vehicle turned out to be an old British Land Rover with plenty of room to store a trussed-up Zack in the back between a large jack, a toolbox, and a wealth of camping supplies. Ian found zip ties in the toolbox and replaced the paracord that bound Zack with the thin strips of plastic, cinching his wrists and ankles tight to the same rear-seat mount and his neck to a different mount, limiting his movement and ensuring he would be very uncomfortable when he returned to consciousness.
They’d driven for about thirty minutes when Cressida powered up Ian’s phone and a single flickering bar appeared. The rush of emotion at seeing the little flashing graphic made her suck in a sharp breath. Ian pulled to the side of the narrow dirt track that served as a road. He glanced at the back of the truck and held a finger to his lips. They had no clue what they were going to do with Zack, so for now, if he was conscious, they couldn’t discuss their plans.
With a nod, Ian indicated she should grab her backpack and climb out. He did the same. After locking the truck, he pulled the distributor cap from the Rover, effectively disabling it.
“Are we leaving him?”
“I hope not, but I’m not taking any chances. Never assume we’ll return to any location. Always be prepared to run.” He paused and studied the landscape. “We need a place to lay low to make the call. This area is too open. Zack probably has people in the area.”
“How far is the village?”
“About two kilometers. We might get lucky and find an old barn or other abandoned structure on the outskirts.”
Luck was with them, for a change. After walking for ten minutes, Cressida spotted an ancient-looking stone shed nestled against a hillside across the dirt road. Overgrown with vines and built with the same type of stones as the bedrock, the structure blended into the landscape from the side, but a rusted metal roof gave it away.
Broken planks of wood—remnants of a door—half covered the entrance. When they slipped inside, Cressida was thankful to be out of view from the road that led into the village, even if it meant hanging out in a crumbling shed that smelled of rats and rotting grasses.
She pulled out the phone and met Ian’s gaze. “You ready? There’s a chance Trina’s phone is being monitored.” In all likelihood, Lee had secured the line, knowing Trina was the first person Cressida would call, but they had to be prepared for anything.
Ian’s gaze was intense, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words. He pressed down on the cell phone. She stiffened, tightening her grip on it. She’d twist his balls too before she let him take the phone from her.
He shook his head, and one corner of his mouth curved in a sad way. “I’m not going to stop you, Cress. I was moving it so it wouldn’t be between us when I do this.” He pulled her against him and stroked her hair, his large hand holding her head to his chest. His lips landed on her temple. “You were amazing and saved us both. When we’re far away from here, I want you to tell me what you meant by ‘again.’”
She had no intention of ever telling anyone the story of Three. Especially not Ian Boyd.
He lifted her chin and pressed a kiss on her lips. “Call Trina.”
She nodded and entered Trina’s number. With every touch of the screen, her heart rate jumped. By the time she pressed the phone to her ear to wait for the call to connect, her pulse raced fast enough to power a small city.
Trina’s face flushed and her belly flipped when Caller ID indicated an overseas call. She nodded to Keith, who speed-dialed Lee on the landline as soon as she hit the answer button. “If this isn’t Cressida, I’m hanging up,” she said in a shaking voice.
There was a long pause, a delay caused by the international call, before she heard Cressida’s clear voice. “Treen, it’s me.”
Her eyes teared at the sound of Cressida’s voice, and she flopped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Ohmygod! Sweetie! We’ve been scared to death. Where are you?”
“I’m okay. For now. But I need help.”
Keith frowned as he murmured something to Lee, and Trina remembered her script. As much as she wanted to talk to Cressida and make sure she was okay, they didn’t have that luxury. She had to assume every second of conversation could be the last. “Cress, Sean is looking for you. Right now, he and a Raptor team are in Cizre. Can you write down his number?”
Cressida’s voice was muffled as she said, “Ian, I need pen and paper.”
To Keith, Trina said, “She’s with Boyd.” Into the phone, she asked, “Cress, is Boyd an ally?”
The pause was too long for Trina’s comfort, but it could be the international delay. “Yes.”
Of course, the man must be right next to her. Listening. “Okay, answer correctly if he’s not coercing you…” She closed her eyes and tried to think of something simple but innocuous. “Who hosted the party we went to with Todd last summer?”
There was only one answer that meant Ian Boyd could be trusted. All Cressida had to do was say any other name and they’d know if Boyd was a threat. “Dr. Patrick Hill,” Cressida said firmly.
Trina let out the breath she’d been holding. “Okay.” She recited the phone number. “Call Sean. He can get you out of Turkey.”
“Got it.” Cressida said good-bye and hung up.
Trina stood in her living room, staring at her phone. She’d been waiting for that moment for days, and it was over so quickly. Her body shook, and she didn’t know if relief or fear caused the tremors.
Keith�
�s arms circled her from behind, and she turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m scared, Keith.”
“If anyone can get her out, it’s Sean. He’s my best operative.”
She nodded. “I just feel…helpless. I wish we knew Boyd. I wish we were certain we could trust him.”
“Cressida trusts him, doesn’t she?”
“She said she did.”
He smiled. “Then we can trust him too.”
“What if she’s wrong? It’s not like she has a great track record.”
“Given what we’ve been able to piece together of their week in Turkey, Cressida knows if Boyd is one of the good guys by now.”
Disconnecting the call with Trina was hard. Hearing a warm, concerned voice, knowing her friends were trying to help her had triggered relief and guilt. She met Ian’s gaze. “Keith has already sent a Raptor team to Cizre. Sean Logan is one of the operatives. They want me to call him.”
“You have good friends.”
She nodded and dialed Sean’s number. He answered immediately and said, “Cressida Porter, it’s about damn time.”
She let out a hard laugh as a rush of emotion hit her for the second time in as many minutes. She was far too emotional these days. “Sean, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.”
“Same here, Cress. I’ve been worried. We all have.”
She cleared her throat. “Thanks. Listen, I’m handing over the phone to Ian.”
“Boyd’s a friendly?”
She met and held Ian’s gaze as she said, “Yes. I trust him with my life.”
Ian’s jaw tensed, and his nostrils flared slightly. She wondered what was going on in his mind. It might be best, when this was all over, if she forgot she’d ever met Ian Boyd. She couldn’t see how she could maintain contact with him and not want him.
She handed him the phone, then settled down on the dirt floor to listen. He told Sean about Zack, trussed up in the Rover, and described their location. Cressida had been in something of a fog after dealing with Zack, and had lost track of the distance they’d traveled. She hadn’t realized quite how close to the Syrian border they were. When Ian estimated their distance from Cizre, she sat upright in shock.