“I don’t...” She paused, unsure what to say. The part of her that had been running for six years wanted to cut her losses, decide Nick was a jerk who would soon try to run her life, and end things now. However, she also thought of how good and safe she’d felt dancing with him, how cute he’d been putting his jacket on her.
“It’s okay. I understand.” He stepped back. “I don’t have a right to place demands on you—your time or your friends.”
This was all so fast. Too fast. How could she trust it? Nick might be a hired gun. Ryan’s enemies searched for her and wanted her dead. She wished she could believe that was just paranoia talking and the people in Ryan’s country had long since forgotten she existed, but she couldn’t.
When Ryan’s mother flew to America to pick up his body, she’d warned Carlie to take the money she gave her and run far and fast. Her mother-in-law feared for Carlie’s life and told her never to let anyone know who she used to be. Didn’t that mean they might still be looking for her? Could she believe that Nick was just a harmless man, looking for a good time and a training partner? And maybe...love?
“I’m not saying I don’t want to see you again,” she said. “But maybe it’d be best to take things slower. How about we just try for dinner tomorrow?”
He put his arms behind his back and nodded. “Fine. I’ll agree to slower. I have a tendency to go full throttle. I did warn you that I’m worried about scaring you away.”
That didn’t sound like a man who planned to murder her in her sleep. In fact, maybe Carlie was being silly. If Nick’s goal was to kill her, she’d been at his mercy all night. He was a fifth-degree black belt; she had no hope of defending herself against him.
“You didn’t scare me away.” She stepped into him and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. It calmed her further when he didn’t move his hands from behind his back to grab her or force a more passionate kiss on her.
When she moved away, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, fishing a business card from it. “This has my cell number on it. Will you text me when you get home tonight? Just so I know you’re there safe.”
I should be ashamed of myself for doubting him. That’s so sweet.
She took the card from him and nodded. “As soon as I pull into the driveway.” After unlocking her door, she slid into the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.” He shut her door and walked back to his car, waving before climbing inside.
Carlie pulled out of the lot and was halfway home before she realized she still had his jacket on. She breathed in his cologne, excited about the thought of spending more time with him. He couldn’t be working for Ryan’s enemies, or she’d already be dead. Instead of being suspicious and overanalyzing everything, Carlie knew it was time to move on with life and let herself be happy.
Maybe she’d invite Nick to her house for dinner. He mentioned living in a hotel. A home-cooked meal would be nice. Besides, then if he wanted to dance again, no one would be there to stare at them.
Carlie turned into her driveway and put the car in park, shutting it off before pulling out her phone. She turned on the overhead light to read the number off his card. Here safe. Can’t wait ‘til tomorrow. How about I cook for u at my place?
She hit send and got out of the car, grabbing her purse and pushing the lock button. Skipping up to the house, she couldn’t stop smiling. Things were definitely taking a turn for the better.
“There you are, Carlie,” a voice came out of the darkness. “We need to chat.”
***
Nick sat in his car outside the hotel and read the message from Carlie. He couldn’t help but feel satisfied. She wanted to cook for him. That was a victory of sorts.
He tapped on the virtual keyboard on his phone: Dinner sounds good. What time? He punched send and jumped out of the car, swiping his keycard to get into the side door of the hotel and then making his way to the elevator. Sayle didn’t offer a hotel with a plush penthouse, so Nick made do with a nice two-room suite on the fourth floor.
It had been a mistake to bring up Muhammad tonight. He hoped Carlie could forgive him for that. He was suspicious of the man, but he shouldn’t have shown any interest. It put Carlie on alert, and that was the last thing he wanted. She needed to feel safe, comfortable, as though Nick would go along with anything she did. That was the only way to meet his objective.
Opening the hotel room door, Nick frowned as he walked inside. Something was wrong. The cloying scent of patchouli hung in the air, and there was a heaviness to the darkness. Nick kicked the door shut and dropped to the ground, rolling to shield himself behind the small counter to the left side. He slapped his side for his gun, only then remembering he posed as a successful businessman and had no right to be carrying one. Looked like it would be hand-to-hand combat. Fortunately, he excelled there.
A lamp clicked on near the couch. “Get off the damn floor.”
Nick wasn’t sure if knowing who was in his room was any better than assuming it was an enemy. “Good evening, Paul.” Thankfully, his voice came out calm and confident. Nick regained his feet and walked slowly to the seating area.
Paul Billings, boss of the anti-terrorist organization Nick worked for, S.A.T.O., sat in the leather armchair and jerked his head to the couch adjacent to him. “Have a seat.”
Obeying the command, he eyed Paul wearily. There was a time when Nick would have trusted him with his life. However, that was also during a time Paul wouldn’t have traveled across the country to check up on him during a mission. For thirteen years, Paul had been not only Nick’s boss, but a surrogate father figure. Something changed recently and Nick wasn’t sure he liked the changes.
“I was just about to call you, boss.”
“I decided to pay a visit.” Paul clasped his hands over his stomach and leaned back in the chair. “How’d your date go?”
“She’s invited me to dinner tomorrow.” But she had yet to answer about the time. Nick glanced at the face of his phone, realizing five minutes had passed. Wouldn’t she have waited for his answer before doing something else?
“I’m starting to worry about this mission.” Paul lifted one graying eyebrow. “What’s taking so long?”
“I’ve been doing surveillance on the target and all the people she associates with, but it’s not like you gave me much information.” Although Nick knew it could be hazardous to his health to mouth off to Paul, he was at the end of his patience with how things had been run at S.A.T.O. the past year. “You said you had other agents on this case. Let me know who they are so we can collaborate and also stay out of each other’s way.”
“You dare talk to me like that?” Paul’s blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t care how good an agent you are, if you become a liability to this operation, you will be taken out.” And there was the threat, always present. “Tell me, agent, are you questioning my decisions?”
Nick hated backing down, but Paul knew just where to prod. It was true he’d take out any agent who became a liability, no matter how good or important to a mission. Nick understood this when he joined the group. They couldn’t afford liabilities in their business or innocent people got killed. The last agent who proved to be a liability had been Nick’s job to dispatch.
“With all due respect, sir,” Nick said, not breaking eye contact, “I think the agency ran better when you told us who our allies were.”
Though he’d never understood the reason, Paul had changed the procedures for the anti-terrorist group right after Nick took care of Jason, the problem agent. In the three cases he’d worked since that time, Nick always went in with very little information, and he hadn’t spoken to anyone else within the group besides Paul. He didn’t even know if some agents he used to be friendly with were still part of the organization. Perhaps they’d all been killed.
However, the pay was good, and up until Paul ordered him to kill a fellow agent, Nick had enjoyed the work. He’d spent some good years with the agen
cy and hoped things would improve again. It wasn’t as though he could quit—that would sign his death warrant as quickly as disobeying orders. He’d accomplish nothing by starting a war with Paul.
“Never mind, sir.” Nick shook his head and forced himself to assume a relaxed pose. “You’re right, of course. Knowing the other agents on the case won’t help me with my objective.”
“Good.” His boss nodded. “Now, give your report.”
“The target doesn’t seem all too suspicious, sir, if I’m being honest. She trains hard at karate and works long hours in her shop. I don’t know when she’d have time to help a terrorist group. I haven’t seen anything to indicate—”
Paul held up his hand. “A lot can be accomplished from inside her shop. You’ve been observing the outside, but you need to get in there.”
He nodded. “That’s true. As far as people she associates with, I’ve been keeping them all under surveillance, but there isn’t much to report there either. Shelley Daniels seems only interested in landing a man. Stephen Chance is a complete jerk—arrogant, but I don’t think he’s her contact in a terrorist group.” If Nick had to guess, he thought Stephen was the other agent working Carlie’s case. Paul had mentioned the prior agent worked for months without successfully learning Carlie’s secrets.
“Anyone else she has contact with?”
Nick hesitated. It seemed stereotypical to point out the guy of Middle Eastern descent as a possible terrorist again, but he had to report all Carlie’s associates. “I was officially introduced to Muhammad Khan today. I told you about him, remember? He runs the soup kitchen the target’s involved with. I think we should look at him closer. Something seemed off about him. He’s real friendly with the target.”
“Ah. Finally something useful,” his boss said in a way that made Nick think he knew something about Muhammad. Paul grabbed a briefcase by his feet and set it on the coffee table, extracting a file from it that he handed to Nick. “Khan has an interesting history, and your instincts are good to question if he’s involved. I’ve learned he’s the nephew of Aamir Abdul.”
“The same Aamir Abdul that tried to assassinate the President last year?” Nick often wondered if that case wasn’t the reason things had changed so drastically in S.A.T.O. It seemed like Paul and President Sharp freaked out after the near miss and restructured the anti-terrorist group. Not necessarily for the better, as far as Nick was concerned.
“That’s the terrorist I’m talking about.” His boss snorted. “If it hadn’t been for us, he would have succeeded. The President’s secret service agents were useless, and the FBI didn’t even know Aamir was back in the country.”
Nick hadn’t been involved in that case, but Jason had been...and then everything changed. “So you think Muhammad’s picking up where Uncle Aamir left off?”
“Could be. They have a new method of transferring codes, something our tech guys discovered.” He nodded at the manila folder in Nick’s hands. “Take a look.”
Opening the folder, Nick flipped through several pictures of expensive-looking bracelets and necklaces. Each piece was studded with diamonds encased in what was either silver or white gold.
“Jewelry?” He glanced back up. “They can transfer code with this? What do these do, exactly?”
“I don’t understand how it all works, but somehow codes are embedded within the diamonds. They can activate bombs or hack into computers. They could disrupt security cameras or get into private records of American citizens and download dangerous information. I’m not sure what all can be accomplished with them. Those diamonds are dangerous little babbles. A woman with a piece of jewelry like this could be unstoppable.”
It sounded like science fiction, but Nick had heard enough crazy things that turned out to be true, he didn’t doubt Paul’s information.
“Imagine,” Paul continued, “dinner at the White House. Who would look twice at a lady’s bracelet? She walks right past security with everything she needs to wreak havoc in our country. Slip off to the bathroom, visit the security desk, flirt with the guards.” He shrugged. “She’d have to be trained to fight, because she obviously couldn’t take in guns or have a man with her if she wanted to avoid suspicion.”
And Carlie was desperate to level up in karate. However, she was a sweet woman and her shyness charmed Nick during their date. She also seemed passionate about helping people and gave food to the needy. It didn’t make sense that she wanted to hurt the people she helped.
“I don’t imagine Carlie—uh, the target—has anything like that. She seems pretty strapped for cash, having just opened her business and all.”
His boss remained silent, head tilted to the side. Nick cursed himself for using Carlie’s name. An agent had to remain dispassionate and impersonal when it came to their target. Carlie was not really his girlfriend—she was the objective of this mission. And if she planned terrorist actions, Nick would take her down.
He set the folder on the table, knowing he had to reassure Paul he was committed to the mission, or put his own life at risk. “I’ll look for the bracelet when I’m able. I can do some snooping tomorrow when I have dinner at her house.”
The older man stood up. “We need to speed things along. It’s imperative we know if she has that bracelet. Muhammad Khan might be up to something, covering it with charity work. If Carlie Hollis is involved, we need to stop her before it’s too late.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Nick promised.
“I know you will.” Paul slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son. Sorry I had to come in acting the hard ass, but President Sharp is anxious about this case.”
“I understand, sir.” Nick paused, uncertain how Paul would react to any expression of concern for him. Then again, Nick did care about the man, and things had been off lately. “If you don’t mind my asking, are you okay? I’ve been worried about you.”
“Don’t be. Everything’s fine. Once we wrap up this case, President Sharp will calm down and stop riding my ass.” He walked to the door, stepping into the hallway. “I sent you here because you’re my best agent and one of the only men I trust. I need this resolved quickly. I might have something in the works to help that happen, but I’ll tell you about it later.” Paul walked down the hallway without waiting for a response.
Nick turned the deadbolt, swallowing hard before loosening his tie and letting out a relieved breath. While he had always considered Paul a father figure, his boss had become a bit scary the past year. Nick worried what plan Paul had to hurry this case along, but there was nothing he could do about it. His job was to follow orders. If he wanted to stay alive, that’s what he would do.
Normally, following orders wasn’t a problem. S.A.T.O. started out as something great, a secret organization to take care of situations the government couldn’t officially become involved with. An agency completely devoted to protecting the American people from terrorists on home soil.
Officially, S.A.T.O. didn’t exist. Paul worked closely with the President and a small committee that assigned their cases. When Nick joined the group, he’d given up his civilian identity. Stewart Farnes had been erased, as though he’d never been born.
Chances were high no one giving directions to S.A.T.O. had heard of Nick, so even though Nick didn’t like the direction the group had taken the past year, he didn’t know what he could do about it. It wasn’t as though the President would listen to him, even if he could get an audience with the man. Nick had no control over what President Sharp ordered. If he was smart, he’d keep his head down and finish this job quickly.
He walked into the bedroom and kicked off his shoes, then checked his phone.
Odd, Carlie never texted. It had been twenty minutes.
Everything ok? I know u don’t want me to push, but please text back. Starting to worry.
Chapter Five
Carlie’s heart jumped into overdrive as she spotted Stephen sitting on her lawn furniture in the shadowy corner of her porch. “
What are you doing here?” On the pretext of slipping her phone into her purse, she wrapped her hand around the can of pepper spray inside. “It’s a little late for a social visit.”
“Not that you’ve been very social with me.” Stephen’s words slurred slightly. “You’re ruining everything.”
“Are you drunk?” Carlie cautiously walked up the three stairs to stand on the deck, staying beneath the porch light and far from Stephen.
He rose from the chair, swaying side to side before grabbing the banister. “I’ve had a few.”
She wasn’t sure if that made him more dangerous or less. Her phone buzzed to signal a text message, and Carlie grabbed it out of her purse. Nick.
“Is that your new boy toy?” Faster than she thought possible, Stephen launched across the deck and snatched the phone from her hand, throwing it into the yard. “I’m not letting him interrupt us again.” He pushed her against the house, and the cold siding pressed into her back. “You owe me, Carlie, and you’re going to make good on that debt.”
His booze-soaked breath washed over her face, and her stomach turned. She shoved him and he reeled backward, losing his footing and slamming onto the deck.
He laughed, unfazed by the fall. “That little prick’s not here to sucker punch me now, Carlie. I’d be careful if I were you. We both know I’m a better fighter.” With surprising agility, he jumped to his feet, proving he wasn’t so impaired that she could easily overtake him.
Though her hand trembled, she pulled the pepper spray from her purse and pointed it at him, finger on the nozzle. “Stay away from me, Stephen. You are better than me, but we both also know I don’t care about fighting fair.”
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