by Dianna Love
She wanted him, too, but if she gave in to her body tonight would she be able to face herself tomorrow?
His fingers grazed her cheek and, to her detriment, she shivered at the contact.
“Are you going to stand there and tell me you don’t miss us, Sabrina?”
“No, but neither am I going to put aside what happened and act like nothing has changed.”
“Nothing should have changed between us,” he argued.
“But it did.”
A look of sad resignation crossed his face before it settled into irritation. “Does your stubborn pride keep you warm at night?”
That’s all it took to back her away from committing emotional suicide. “I could ask you the same about your conscience unless you’re ready to give me the names of everyone who knew about the UK mission.” She waited a beat, hoping just once he’d bend his inflexible belief in the agency.
His jaw hardened.
She had her answer. “No? Just as a I thought.”
“The minute I know who tried to kill you, you’ll know. I can’t promise he’ll still be breathing by the time you get to him. Not after I spent two years wondering if you were alive or dead.”
He meant every word. She didn’t want to believe him, but her damned heart had trusted him once and wanted to trust him again. And if she was completely honest, she was lonely, but for only one man’s touch. Her heart and her loyalty warred. Giving in to Gage would be betraying Josh, Dingo and the others on that team who had barely escaped with their lives that night.
Josh’s female contact had bled out in his arms.
Her team, no, her friends had placed unquestioned faith in her, and she’d given hers to Gage. She said, “You want me to trust you but you don’t trust me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then why won’t you share what you know about the UK op so we can figure it out together? From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re protecting someone.”
Gage put his fist up against his forehead, eyes closed. “One of these days you’re going to realize—”
“What?”
He lowered his hand, sounding worn around the edges. “That you aren’t the only one with wounds from that night.”
She saw something that she’d never seen in Gage’s eyes. Vulnerability. He was tearing her heart apart again. “I can’t do this with you right now, Gage.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.” Sabrina stepped away, anything to break the tension rolling off him. “I have an agent—”
“Who disappeared from the Trophy Room two days ago.”
She caught herself before she asked how he knew. His resources trumped hers all over the place. “What else do you know?”
He could have evaded, but he didn’t. “That a female agent on your team disappeared after busting a DEA operation. Same agent?”
She had a feeling he already knew the answer to that and wanted to see if she would play straight with him. “Margaux has been after the Banker since he killed our liaison on the FBI case against Ryder last year. She listened to the hit go down on a live cell phone call and took it personally. She got bad intel from a snitch that had been solid for three years. Now the DEA’s out for blood.”
“They’re the least of her problems.”
Just the way he said that gave Sabrina a whole new level of worry for Margaux. She asked the question she didn’t want to hear the answer to. “Why?”
“We’ve been after the Banker for three and a half years. No one has gotten close to him and survived.”
Sabrina leaned back against the counter next to the sink. Easier to breathe over here without every inhale drawing in Gage’s scent. “Margaux’s tough to kill, and I’m not ready to give up on her being alive.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. If she’s dead, you’ll find out soon enough because the Banker makes an example of anyone who crosses him. But she entered the Trophy Room alone. No sign of being coerced.”
Sabrina stood up straight. “She was after intel. Had to be.”
“Who is Margaux?”
Sabrina had worked miracles to wipe out Margaux’s identity and technically did not owe her anything now that Margaux had walked away, but she’d given her word to protect her. Plus, Margaux was still her friend and Sabrina cared what happened to her. If Sabrina told Gage what she knew about Margaux, would he feel duty bound to share that information?
He sure as hell didn’t feel the need to share anything on the UK with her.
When she didn’t answer, his chest moved with a sigh of an ill-fated messenger. “We’ve been working with the FBI on the Banker for a while, because it was only a matter of time before he entered the US. The FBI learned of instructions for a meeting with the Banker being passed off at the Trophy Room. A woman entered dressed as a call girl known as Violet. The real Violet was tied up in her apartment the whole time this was going down. There are witnesses who saw the impersonator walk up to a Russian mercenary called Dragan Stoli who’s in this country to meet with the Banker.”
This could only be more bad news, but Sabrina asked, “What’s this woman’s status according to the FBI?”
“The woman who impersonated Violet is suspected of working for the Banker.”
Sabrina scrambled for an argument. Margaux had been made up so well only Nick had recognized her that night. “There’s no evidence that Margaux was the one who—”
He held up his hand. “We both know it was Margaux. Her fingerprints haven’t shown up in any database, but a file was delivered anonymously to the FBI. There were photos of Margaux being made up to look like Violet and the makeup artist has already given a statement to the FBI, confirming a photo of Margaux as the woman she did a makeover on four hours before the Trophy Room fire. As of now, Margaux is persona non grata and an enemy of the state.”
What the hell, Margaux? How was Sabrina going to be able to help her if she couldn’t tap her government resources?
“But if you hear from her, have her contact me. I’ll take any lead on the Banker or Dragan. No promises, but if Margaux helps take either one or both down, I’ll do what I can in return.” Gage stepped up close and put his hand on her cheek. “I know how you are about protecting your people, but you need to distance yourself from her or you’ll go down with her.”
She stepped back. This was the difference. His people were CIA agents. Hers were her family. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything, but I’ll bring her in myself before I put her in the crosshairs of the FBI or the CIA.”
“She’s already in the crosshairs.”
CHAPTER 17
Logan watched the Quonset hut his kidnappers used for a headquarters. He didn’t have to look over at Margaux—that was the name she’d gone by back in France—to know that she was in trouble. He could hear her trying to keep her breathing shallow and quiet.
Her right hand had swollen until she couldn’t close her fingers.
He’d fed her all the water they had and sweat poured out of her.
Once Logan had found the camp, he’d had to make a wide arc to get Margaux to the rear of the Quonset without drawing any attention. Hunkered down this close, he could hear voices through the screened windows.
Their kidnappers now had at least ten men again based on what Logan had translated from the shouting going on in the hut. Most of the men were out hunting for Logan and Margaux, but three had just returned to camp and their leader was stroking out over their returning empty-handed.
They had more men coming soon with dogs that could track.
There was no time to get Margaux away from here and she wouldn’t get much farther without antibiotics he hoped like hell were in a First Aid kit in that hut. As it was, she’d never make it to any place he’d consider safe enough to leave her and he’d figured out that she’d rather suffer and stay with him than be left alone. Not much for the outdoors.
He felt a tug on his shirt and turned to where she sat on the ground next to where he
squatted. He leaned close to her and whispered, “What, Sugar?”
“We’ll wait until night when they’re asleep.”
“You need antibiotics now.”
She cursed. “Is that why we came back here ... and risked getting caught?”
He squatted down so he could put his arm around her shoulders and speak right into her ear. “We’re not going to get caught. As soon as those three leave, you’re going to cover my back while I take out the leader and get what we need.”
She thought on that a minute and turned to him, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear. “I’ll walk ... into the yard. Draw him out. You pick him off.”
No fucking way. Instead of arguing, he just shook his head. “The leader won’t step outside that building.”
“How ... do you know?”
He made up something on the fly. “I’ve been listening to them. I understand the language.”
She swallowed hard. Her face was so pale it glowed in this shaded spot. He’d never forget the way that same face had looked when he’d made love to her in Paris. How could you forget a woman who was pure passion? One you lost yourself in every time you were buried deep inside her?
That hadn’t been part of the plan back then.
He’d needed her fourth-floor apartment that gave him the perfect location for watching a target. He’d ended up with a woman who made him want to break all his hard-and-fast rules about remaining alone.
Suspicion was a natural part of his being, and for the past hour, he’d been seeing their time together in Paris through different eyes. Had she really been an American on a work visa? Or had she been one hell of a trained operative back then at the age of twenty?
He’d been so sure he had seduced her.
Had it been the other way around?
He’d checked on her at her job their first couple of days together, then decided she didn’t present a threat. Not to his mission.
His heart had been another story.
Someone inside the Quonset hut let loose with a vicious curse.
Logan turned back to listen. The leader barked out orders in guttural Spanish. He ordered the three men to go back out to search for the escaped prisoners. He warned his men not to forget what would happen if all of them did not make their deadline in two more days.
What the hell was that deadline all about?
The three men cursed and complained but walked out then refilled their canteens from a pump attached to a barrel. Logan licked his lips, craving a drink, and that barrel had to be filled with treated water.
He hadn’t told Margaux that he’d used the last tablet two hours ago when he’d found a stream. If he didn’t get her meds soon, water wouldn’t matter.
Once the men disappeared in different directions, Logan gave it twenty minutes to be sure they were far enough not to hear gunshots through this thick vegetation.
Margaux caught his arm. “Help me up.”
Those three words had to be tough for her.
This was the same woman who’d refused to accept any money he offered her in France to help with her expenses. She took nothing that smacked of dependence. She was also the woman who had destroyed him for other women. She’d been so sweet and loving, just as mysterious and secretive back then, but he hadn’t cared.
Maybe he should have taken a closer look, but being with her had been the only time he’d ever felt alive.
For a short time, he’d actually started thinking about what it would be like to have someone for more than a few nights. He’d been so sure of himself and his skills that he’d taken all she’d given, never doubting that she was only a bartender, and never expecting to see her again.
She’d been the one to state the no-strings-attached rules.
Nine days was all it had taken to become addicted to her scent, her laugh and the feel of her in his arms.
How the hell had she ended up in this situation?
In spite of suspicions clawing at his mind, he would get her out of here alive or die trying. To do that, he wanted to leave her sitting here where she’d be safe while he went inside to take care of business. But he couldn’t trust her to stay back, so he hooked his arm around her waist and lifted her easily to her feet. He was exhausted and losing what physical ground he’d regained by drinking water and sleeping, but she was fading.
This changed his original plan for getting inside the Quonset hut that had included her. He couldn’t risk it now. Not in the shape she was in.
When he had her standing, he cupped his hand to her ear. “I’m going in. You stay back and cover me.”
“No.”
His temper flared but he managed to hold onto it by a thread. “We have one chance to do this before anyone else shows up and having you with me will divide my attention.”
He expected her to snarl that she could take care of herself, but she couldn’t right now. He should put her out and forfeit traveling faster by carrying her. He could do it, render her unconscious with one quick move to the pressure points in her neck, but she’d given him her trust. That was a commodity he was starting to realize Margaux held more precious than anything else.
Her gaze sharpened and she surprised him by admitting, “You’re right. I’d slow you down.”
Cupping her chin, he kissed her gently and said, “Wait for my word, okay?”
“I will. Hand me my pistol.”
He lifted the pistol out of her holster and put it in her good hand. Her other one had blown up like a red clown hand. He had no idea how she wasn’t writhing in pain on the ground.
He eased through the undergrowth and wove his way first to the window where he peeked in to see the leader sitting down to an MRE he’d opened, which meant he’d be distracted eating.
Logan helped Margaux position herself in the ten-foot space between the window and door. Then he moved quietly to the side of the back door the men stepped through to pee outside.
Logan led with the Vektor pistol and eased the door open. The place reeked of body odor and nicotine. He slowly pulled the door wide enough to step inside without making a sound. Until the damn door squeaked.
The leader turned with his gun in hand, firing.
Logan snapped off two shots, hitting the kidnapper center-chest with both shots. He crumpled to the floor.
Margaux stepped inside. “The sat phone’s on his hip.”
Logan was already reaching for it while Margaux checked to make sure the leader was neutralized, when the base radio crackled and someone called in that his group was a mile out and would be there in two minutes. Fuck. Reinforcements coming in and had to be in a truck to get here that fast.
He clipped the sat phone on Margaux’s hip. “A truck’s on the way here with reinforcements. We need to move fast. Go straight that way.” He pointed out the back of the hut. “For fifty yards and wait for me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find the First Aid kit and leave them a gift. Longer I talk, less time I have to get out.”
She cursed lividly, turned and headed out.
Logan did a fast visual sweep. One wood chair and a heavy table were off to the side with a lamp and fan run by a generator Logan had seen at the edge of the camp. There was little in the way of electronics or paperwork.
The kidnappers had come here for one reason and hadn’t planned on staying long. Crates of ammunition and food supplies were piled around. He grabbed grenades from an open box, stuffing what he could in his pouches and setting one on the desk.
He found a hefty, two-foot-square aluminum First Aid kit he dropped by the back door along with the full canteen that had been on the table.
A sharp male voice burst from the radio, demanding a reply from Felix.
Logan shoved the heavy table so it was in position ten feet from the door. He found a length of rope piled in the corner, a roll of duct tape, and a small propane stove that had a twenty-pound propane tank. Perfect. He took the grenade from the desk and taped it to the thick edge of th
e wooden table. He tied the rope to the door handle and threaded the other end through the finger hole on the grenade pin.
A truck motor groaned, coming down the dirt road.
Logan pulled the pin on the grenade, keeping his thumb on the spoon—the detonation lever. Then he threaded the straightened pin back into its hole and carefully let go, judging the weight of the rope against the pin. It held with just the right tension, and he stepped away.
Door opens, pulls the pin out of the grenade and the spoon releases.
Boom, baby.
A Jeep rolled into the yard with six men armed with AK-47s. Two men walked over to the water tank with canteens while the others climbed out and stood with their weapons ready.
The driver looked around and shouted for Felix.
He’s in here. Come and get him.
Logan cranked open the propane to give his little surprise an extra kick, then grabbed the First Aid kit and canteen on his way out the back.
He slung the straps across his body and ran through the brush, searching for Margaux everywhere.
When he’d reached fifty yards, he slowed. Had she passed out and he missed seeing her?
She pushed aside a palm leaf and hissed. “Here!”
He grabbed her and dove behind a tree for cover. She cried out in pain in spite of his trying to protect her arm.
The explosion shook the ground and sent a burst of fire into the air. Logan had her head tucked up against him. “I’m sorry, Sugar.”
She said something he didn’t think he wanted repeated, took a couple of hard breaths and said, “I’m good. Let’s go.”
She wasn’t good, but they couldn’t stop yet. Not until he got to high ground.
He stood, pulling her up as he did. She sidestepped then got her footing as he dragged her forward.
Gunshots zinged past him.
He yanked her ahead. They were east of the hut and those shots had come from the south, probably a search party returning from the river.
She growled, “Let go, dammit. I can keep up.”
Not for long she couldn’t. He held tight to her good wrist. More shots were fired, hitting trees near them. At least two men following. When he found a tree four feet thick, he pulled her behind it with him, wrapping her up close with one arm.