by Gail Barrett
He had seen it, all right, in excruciating detail. He still saw it every damned time he closed his eyes. He saw Sarah smiling as she hurried toward him, her blond ponytail swinging, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling, lugging a mountain of shopping bags. He saw the spring in her steps, the flush on her pretty cheeks, the way her eyes lit up when she spotted him across the room. It had been the happiest she’d looked in weeks.
And with one quick shot, she was dead.
Nadine pressed her hand to her lips. Moisture shimmered in her eyes. “Oh, Rasheed, I’m so sorry.”
“They came after me, too,” he continued, his voice faltering. His belly knotted, an awful feeling of desolation welling deep inside him, but he needed to tell her the rest. “But the other agent got us away. We eventually crossed the border into India and then flew home.” Sarah’s body had followed later under heavy guard.
“I’d been using my real name in Bangladesh. My banking background was legit—it was just the CIA part I concealed. When I came back to the States, the CIA faked my death, giving me a new background and another name.”
And as the shock of Sarah’s death wore off, the need for vengeance took root inside him, turning into full-blown rage. He’d vowed to bring down the murderers who’d killed her, no matter how many years it took.
“That’s when I asked for permission to infiltrate the Rising Light. I grew up speaking the language. I knew I could pull it off. And my parents had died by then. I didn’t have any family left, nothing that could trip me up.
“I started attending a mosque we’d been investigating in Northern Virginia, one where we thought the imam was promoting jihad. Most of the members were from Jaziirastan. I earned their trust, pretended to let them radicalize me.
“They eventually sent me to Jaziirastan. I stayed with the right people and proved my loyalty. It took a while, but they finally admitted me into the training camps. That’s where I’ve been ever since.” Working step by step through the organization, insinuating himself into the top tier of Rising Light terrorists.
Seeking revenge.
Nadine’s gaze held his. “Your wife’s death wasn’t your fault.”
“The hell it wasn’t. She’d quit her job because of me. She moved halfway around the world because of me—because I was sure I could track those funds. I knew she was miserable there. I knew she missed her friends and family, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to see it. I kept working longer hours, leaving her more alone.
“It was even my idea to start a family. She wanted to wait until she’d established her career. But I thought it would keep her busy, help cure the loneliness. Instead, it got her killed.”
He hauled in a breath, disgusted at what he’d done. He’d been her husband, the man who’d vowed to cherish and protect her, but he’d failed her in every way. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to change that now. He couldn’t redo the past. He couldn’t go back and die in her place.
And he couldn’t escape the haunting image of her execution, the constant, horrific memory that plagued him every time he closed his eyes—reminding him exactly how badly he’d screwed up.
And he refused to fail another woman again.
“We learned later that your father had ordered the hit.”
Her face turned ashen. “Are you sure?”
“We heard it from several informants.”
This time she turned away. Silence fell between them as she gazed out at the gathering night and hugged her slender arms. “And that’s why you’re trying to prove the link to him. You’ve got a personal reason to bring him down.”
“I know what he’s capable of. I can’t let him hurt anyone else.” Especially you.
Her gaze swung back to his. Compassion mingled with pain in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Rasheed. I’m so sorry about your wife. My father...he’s a despicable man.”
“Then you understand why I can’t send you in there? It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m already in danger. He’s been trying to kill me for years.”
“It’s not the same. You’ll be at his mercy. Trapped. We need to send in someone who’s trained for this.”
“But she’ll be in danger, too. As soon as he realizes it isn’t me—”
“We’ll take precautions. We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”
“But—”
“Promise me, Nadine. I don’t want you to take the risk.”
She didn’t answer. For an eternity, she just watched him, her soft gaze searching his. Then she cupped his jaw with her hand, the light touch arrowing straight to his heart.
“I’m not your wife, Rasheed. I know the risks. I’d be going into this with my eyes wide-open.”
She wasn’t his wife, all right. But she was another beautiful woman he couldn’t bear to see hurt. A woman he was beginning to care about in ways he couldn’t afford.
“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he confessed.
Her gaze remained on his. His pulse ticked up a notch. And suddenly, he was hyperaware of every detail about her—the curve of her slender throat, the flowery scent of her shiny hair, the perfect fullness of her lush lips.
His heart began to thud. The compassion in her eyes held him motionless, awakening something dormant inside him, a part of him he’d thought was dead. Longings, dreams he’d buried with his dead wife, feelings he’d had to crush to survive.
She slid her hand to his neck. Somehow, she’d shifted closer, and her breasts now brushed his chest. She pressed her other palm against his breastbone, and her mouth came nearer yet.
His muscles turned taut. His blood began to pound his skull. And God help him, but he couldn’t resist her. He needed her too damned much.
He splayed his hand over her jaw. He tilted her face toward his, his gaze devouring her mouth. And then he lowered his head and kissed her, inhaling her like his dying breath.
Her soft moan lanced his heart. Her smooth lips parted, the moist welcome firing his nerves. Her velvety warmth both soothed and aroused him, tempting him to take refuge in sexual oblivion, urging him toward the desperate need to forget.
The kiss lengthened and merged with another. He plunged his hands through her satiny hair. His mind dimmed, the reasons this was wrong rapidly fading as more primitive urges mounted inside him, the desire for comfort giving way to lust.
But even as his heart started flaying his rib cage, even as his body began to throb with that age-old need, he knew this was more than just sexual hunger, more than a basic, human need for warmth. There was something different about Nadine, something different than what he’d felt for his beloved wife.
She was the product of a violent childhood. She’d been terrorized by her family, experiencing even more fear during her years on the streets. But instead of cowering, instead of seeking the protection she rightly deserved, she dedicated her life to fighting back. Even now, with her father determined to kill her, she refused to run away. She was courageous, incredible.
The kind of woman he could love.
Shocked by the realization, he broke off the kiss. His hands trembled. His stunned gaze went to hers. He took in her deliciously blurred eyes, the rosy flush to her creamy skin, the temptation of her swollen lips. And the need she’d awakened thundered inside him, threatening the remaining vestiges of his self-control.
He had to resist. Calling on all his willpower, he pulled away. But he was vibrantly aware of every detail about her—the smoothness of her skin, the silky hair tumbling around her face, the heavenly taste of her mouth.
“Promise me,” he said, his voice rough. “Promise you’ll train the agent.”
Her eyes began to clear. “All right. I’ll train the agent for you.”
Still feeling off-kilter, he released a breath. “Good.” Needing to put some space between them, he shoved a hand through h
is hair. He’d sort through her effect on him later, when she wasn’t around to fog his brain.
“Look, I’d better go. I need to touch base with Manzoor so he doesn’t suspect anything.”
Her cheeks still flushed, she gave him a nod. “I need to check on Leila again. I want to make sure she’s settled down for the night.”
“I’ll walk you over.” He stood back while she gathered her supplies.
But as he watched her move around the room, her black hair shining in the lamplight, he realized something had changed over the past few days. When he closed his eyes now, he didn’t see his murdered wife. He saw Nadine.
And if he wasn’t careful, he’d fail her, too.
* * *
“That’s enough,” Leila protested as Nadine plumped the pillow behind her head in the clinic’s small recovery room. “I don’t need it any higher.”
“You’re sure? You need to elevate your head. It’ll help keep the swelling down.”
“I’m fine, really. You’ve done enough.”
Nadine slanted her head, inspecting her sister-in-law’s face in the fluorescent light. The implants looked intact. Her temperature and blood pressure were normal. No bruises were forming yet. As long as she took the antibiotics, as long as she followed Nadine’s orders to rest, Leila would be fine.
She wished she could say the same for her heart.
“I’ll get you a fresh ice pack,” she told her. “Keep it on until you’re ready to sleep.”
She walked over to the supply cabinet, activated another ice pack and brought it back. But even as she made sure Leila was comfortable for the night— filling her cup with water and adjusting the height on the hospital bed—thoughts of Rasheed kept swirling in her head.
It wasn’t only his kiss that had destroyed her equilibrium this time—although that had shaken her to the core. She’d never felt such a blaze of passion, such a riot of instant need. Even now little quivers kept coursing through her bloodstream, making her body thrum. But what had completely blasted through her resistance was his revelation about his wife.
She gave Leila’s blanket a final tweak. “Now rest,” she ordered. “If you need anything, anything at all, just let the guard know, and I’ll come back.”
“I will.” Closing her eyes, she placed the ice pack against her cheek.
Reassured that her patient would manage, Nadine dimmed the lights, closed the door to the recovery room and went back down the hall. Rasheed’s story had affected her deeply. She couldn’t imagine the horror he’d experienced watching his pregnant wife die. To lose someone he loved that profoundly, along with his unborn child, and then to feel responsible for their deaths... She didn’t know how he’d recovered from that.
It accounted for the guilt she’d glimpsed, that terrible bleakness that haunted his eyes. It also explained why he’d gone undercover, exiling himself both physically and emotionally, not only infiltrating the enemy, but making himself become one of them, cutting himself off from all civilized behavior to get revenge.
But while she understood it, while she respected and admired his determination, she also couldn’t fool herself. A loss that staggering had changed him. Her instincts about him had been right. Living with cold-blooded men, doing who-knew-what dreadful acts to prove he was one of them...he hadn’t escaped that ordeal unscathed.
Sighing, she exited the clinic, then paused on the cement steps. His story had made one thing abundantly clear. He was still completely wrong for her. Maybe he jerked on her heartstrings. Maybe he made her yearn to heal his pain. But that still didn’t change the facts. They had no future together—and no matter how much he tempted her, she had to remember that.
A puff of cigarette smoke drew her gaze to the side of the building. Realizing her guard wasn’t watching, she took advantage of his inattention and started down the path toward the cottage alone. Not that she could flee anywhere. The island was too secure. But even if the reprieve was fleeting, it felt good to be on her own for once, without some hulking guard dogging her heels.
Night creatures rustled in the jungle. Spotlights peeked from the low-growing ferns, casting a glow on the smooth stone path. In the distance, unseen waves pushed and pulled against the shore, their rhythm as old as time.
She was still trying not to think about Rasheed when she arrived at a clearing. In the center was a tall stone fountain, its water burbling in the peaceful night. She stopped and glanced around, unsure which path to take. The jungle looked different in the dark.
Then a man’s deep voice reached her ears. Her pulse took a leap, the precariousness of her position suddenly hitting home. She didn’t have Rasheed to protect her. She was utterly alone, at the mercy of whoever was heading her way. Scared now, she spun on her heels to hide.
But two men appeared on the path. Realizing it was futile to run, and that any sign of weakness would only make things worse, she forced herself to stand her ground. Both men wore checkered, kaffiyeh scarves. One was medium height, about her brother’s age, with angular features and a full beard. She frowned, something about him prodding a memory, although she couldn’t imagine what.
Then the other man looked up, and her heart abruptly stopped. Amir.
Panic mushroomed inside her. She struggled to swallow, but failed. Unwilling to let Amir know he scared her, she forced herself to stand steadfast, but her knees quivered so badly, they could barely support her weight.
“We’ll talk later,” the other man murmured in Jaziirastani. He turned down the opposite path and disappeared into the night, leaving her alone with Amir.
The fountain continued to trickle. The terrorist’s gaze held hers, the hatred in them chilling her gut. Memories of his fist plowing into her jaw made her insides chill, and it was all she could do not to bolt.
His silver tooth flashed as he came closer. “Where’s your lover? Isn’t he around to defend you now?”
Lover? Her heart raced. Had Amir seen them kiss? But how could he have? Unless he’d been looking through the cottage window...
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Deciding to brazen it out, she started walking toward the closest path, suddenly hoping the guard she’d evaded caught up—and saved her from Amir.
But he lunged over and barred her way. She took a quick step back, the involuntary motion betraying her fear.
Amir smiled, a terrible glee filling his eyes. “Not so fast. We have unfinished business.”
Her mind sped frantically through options. A fight was out of the question. He was too big, too fast, too strong. And she’d made a fool of him in the town, tricking him into letting her out of that shed. He was bent on reprisal now.
Seizing her only recourse, she whipped around and ran—straight into a human wall. She stumbled back, her heart beating triple time, but then her panic morphed into relief. Rasheed.
“Get behind me.” His voice was deadly still. His gaze stayed locked on Amir’s. Too grateful to argue, she darted behind him, then peered over his shoulder at Amir.
“I warned you to leave her alone,” Rasheed said.
“And I warned you to watch your back.” Without warning, a blade appeared in the terrorist’s hand, its lethal edge catching the light. Shocked, Nadine ceased to breathe.
No one moved. The tension crackling between them cranked up to a fevered pitch. “It’s time to end this,” Amir said.
“Agreed. We’ll settle this right now.”
“Knives only,” Amir added. “They’re quieter. I don’t want anyone interfering in this.”
“Your choice.” To her horror, Rasheed set aside his holster and gun. Following Amir’s example, he stripped off his T-shirt and wrapped it around his forearm to serve as a makeshift shield. Then he bent down, reached into a sheath strapped to his ankle, and withdrew a knife.
Her heart began to quak
e. Oh, God. She couldn’t let him do this. What if he got hurt?
But he’d already stepped away. The men squared off beside the fountain. Their wicked blades flashed in the light. The water gurgled and splashed, its cheerful sound incongruous with the tension pulsating in the night. Somewhere in the darkness, an owl made a savage cry.
Rasheed was taller, leaner, younger. But Amir had at least thirty pounds of muscle on him—and probably more experience, given his lifestyle and age. He’d also removed his shirt, exposing his thick, powerful neck and bare shoulders glistening with sweat. He gripped his knife in his giant fist.
The two men began to circle. Their feet crunched on the gravel, their bodies poised for attack. Horrified, Nadine stood motionless beyond the fountain, too terrified to make a peep.
Suddenly, Amir charged. Rasheed feinted and danced away. The terrorist whirled around, his expression growing even more thunderous, and attacked again.
But Rasheed didn’t dodge him this time. Their bodies slammed together, the sickening thud making her flinch. And then they fought—lunging, parrying, their arms swinging and steel blades flashing so fast that all she could do was gape.
Amir made a slash at Rasheed. Crouching slightly, Rasheed moved to the center, as if to meet the thrust. Instead, he sprang sideways, shooting his blade upward toward Amir’s eye. The terrorist barely jerked back in time.
Nadine watched in terror, cringing as they stabbed and deflected, unable to tell who had the upper hand. They never stopped, never paused. Their bodies blurred in the constant motion, their harsh rasps filling the night.
She’d seen men fight before, but never like this. Never with this savage hatred. Never with such furious speed. Never with the dreadful certainty that moments from now, one of them would die.
Rasheed dodged a crossing stab. Sweat streamed down his face, the tendons standing out in his arms. Then Amir rushed him again.
They fell to the ground with a heavy thud. They rolled in the gravel around the fountain, each one grappling for supremacy, twisting and tumbling in a heart-stopping flurry of arms and legs.