“Served you right.”
“I was a teenager.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “Weren’t you a hell-raiser at that age?”
His face lost all traces of humor, his blue eyes turned to ink, and his jaw hardened. Yara suddenly became very, very curious about young Kade. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him as a teenager. Like he had come to being as an adult chiseled from a slab of granite.
“Shouldn’t you call for our fortune reader.” He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at her.
Yara waved at their server and pointed at their cups.
Minutes passed and their server came back with an elderly woman wearing a headscarf. She had thick brows, piercing eyes, and a hawkish nose. “This is my grandmother, Elanur.”
The elderly woman reminded her of Mamani and Mom. Before Zareen Palavi Carter became a supermodel, she was a slender teenager with a beautiful bone structure save for her hawk nose. A talent scout for a top-modeling agency convinced her mother to undergo rhinoplasty and Zareen Palavi the supermodel became an instant sensation. She was both ridiculed and worshipped for her choices from her modeling assignments, plastic surgery, and her marriage to rock star Sullivan Emerson. Yara admired her mother for weathering every tabloid story with grace. Zareen was the calm to Sully’s storm.
Kade pulled a chair for Elanur and her granddaughter left them to their readings. After two minutes of greetings and small talk, the older woman glanced at Yara’s cup. “Let’s start with yours, child.”
Elanur carefully lifted the cup, tilting it to reveal the trail of coffee sludge and then she stared at the plate. She gave a series of small nods and stared at the saucer where a perfect circle was formed by the sediment. After a few seconds, she looked at Yara. “The answer to your intent is yes.”
Even though Yara knew she shouldn’t take tasseography seriously and that it was simply a Turkish tradition pastime, she felt a measure of relief.
“It comes at a price,” Elanur added gravely. “I see several paths to your goal.” She traced the murky trails that spread out in a web. “I see huge obstacles.” The woman’s eyes unnerved her. There was a warning. “Trust your heart.”
“Uh, okay.”
Elanur turned to Kade and, if Yara wasn’t mistaken, there was hostility in the way the woman regarded him. Kade must have noticed because he’d put on his RDF again. Elanur made a long-suffering sigh before she turned his cup to look at it.
“There is no answer to your question,” Elanur said and pointed to the dregs of the coffee that seemed to form a “Y” and the broken circle at the bottom of the plate. “You are at a crossroads. And your future is yet to be determined.”
With that cryptic statement, the old woman stood up. “Be careful, child,” she said once again to Yara and then bowed slightly to Kade before turning around and walking away.
“I think she doesn’t like you,” Yara whispered.
“You think?” he muttered beside her. “Told you. Make my own fortune.”
Kade seemed more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to force this kind of tradition on him. Yara pondered the fortune teller’s words in her head. She had known it wouldn’t be easy, but the success of the mission would come at a cost according to Elanur.
What was Yara willing to risk?
“You ready to leave?” Kade asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“I think Elanur is almost done making the rounds. Let’s wait for the others.”
“I’ll have the guys bring the trucks around.”
“They’re turning on the street,” Kade told her after he checked his phone. “Let’s go.”
Yara and the rest of the group filed out of the coffee shop and waited in front of its sidewalk. The crowd was thick as tourists continued to haggle with the street vendors. Traffic was slow moving and a couple blocks up, two drivers stood outside their car shouting at each other.
“Christ,” Kade said beside her. “We could be here all night. I’ll call Max and tell him we’ll meet him at the corner.”
The group groaned. The night’s temperature had dipped dramatically, and the frosty wind chill had picked up. Yara regretted letting Max take her bags of pashmina shawls to the vehicle when he’d offered.
Kade stepped into the street, phone to ear, as he checked both ends of the thoroughfare.
Still speaking to Max, he turned and faced them, gesturing their group to head right … well … their left. Leo fell into step beside her. “Scotch after dinner? The hotel has some top-shelf ones.”
“We’re on a budget,” Yara reminded him.
Leo laughed. “My treat. I’m not expensing it.”
“Not tonight.”
“We can discuss the workshop we have tomorrow.”
Yara smiled. “I’m sure you’ve got that all covered.”
He glanced at Kade who was watching them. “Anything going on between you—”
Horrified cries cut off his statement.
Then pandemonium broke loose.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea, people falling in waves away from each other and into the street.
A dark figure on a black motorcycle hurtled straight for their group.
Fingers gripped her arms and she crashed against a food cart as a black blur flashed by.
Someone grunted and her body jarred with the force of a hard landing.
But she was okay.
Yara stared straight into Kade’s pained face.
What the hell just happened?
9
Motherfucker.
“You all right?” he asked Yara. She was lying on top of him, but all Kade could feel was the jarring impact that left him with a rare moment of confusion. His body screamed as he moved, but his mind disconnected, and he forced himself to roll Yara under him, shielding her from any follow-up attack.
Kade glanced at the chaos around him. People were hunkered on the ground, looking frightened but mostly unharmed.
“I’m okay,” she gasped. “I should be asking you.”
“Stay down,” he ordered, pushing up, wincing and then shifting into a crouch behind the toppled food cart. The sounds of the motorbike were gone. That son of a bitch appeared from nowhere.
Roarke jogged back from where Kade assumed the motorcycle disappeared.
“He’s gone,” Roarke said amidst the excited chatter of people. Kade helped Yara up from her lying position and held her close to him.
“I can’t believe this happened,” Jill said.
“Well, it did,” Kade snapped. “Back to the hotel.”
“We should’ve gone right back to the hotel after dinner,” the blonde whined.
Kade looked at Declan and jerked his head at Jill.
“On it,” Roarke muttered, herding the woman and the other aid workers in the direction of their waiting vehicles.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” Yara replied.
“Good, because we haven’t hit anything tough yet.”
“Getting almost run down by a motorcycle isn’t ‘tough’ yet?”
Kade closed his eyes briefly as he remembered the way his gut turned when he saw danger heading for her.
“It was a good drill.” He forced a smirk on his face.
“Admit it. You got scared, didn’t you?”
“Shut up,” he mumbled, uncomfortable with the way Yara was stripping him to his core. The fear he felt was different from when he worried about his men. With the risks they took it was a given that there was a possibility that someone might not return. They were pragmatic about it.
“It’s okay to care,” she added. “That’s what friends do.”
Kade mentally rolled his eyes and bent to pick up his phone but froze at the message on his screen.
That was a warning.
“You tell Boustari to stay out of my op.”
When they got back to the hotel, Kade locked Yara in her room despite her protests
and posted one of his men at her door. Kade, Max, and Roarke gathered in Max’s room and contacted Garrison.
“I just did,” Garrison said. “It pisses me off too, Spear, but dealing with Saudi Intelligence is a matter of patience and timing.”
“I don’t fucking care. They could’ve injured Yara. Blown the fucking op wide open,” he added for good measure. “If it weren’t for Yara’s friendship with Tariq, the rebels wouldn’t have allowed the aid agencies access to Taiz whether there’s a blockade or not.”
“I know that,” Garrison sighed.
“Keep him on a tight leash,” Kade said, knowing his handler didn’t have that power.
“I’ll track his movements.”
Kade knew that was the best Garrison could offer. He ended the call and, in as many times in as many days, he wanted to smash his phone.
“Why would the general send you a warning?” Roarke said.
“My theory?” Max answered. “He has someone watching us. Despite the ceasefire and the ongoing peace talks, he’s chomping at the bit to get proof Nasir is arming himself with chemical weapons, so he’ll have an excuse to bomb Sana’a into the next century.”
Roarke scowled. “Tell me again—why the fuck did we agree to do this job?”
“Greater good, my friend,” Max said. “As long as the U.S. is on the Saudi’s good side, they’ll allow us to hunt Al-Qaeda and ISIS in Yemen. Nasir is an obstacle to that.”
“Pretty sure assassinating political rivals is not allowed by U.S. law,” Roarke scoffed.
U.S. Law Title 18, Part 1, Chapter 45 section 956 to be exact, Kade thought but, like all laws, it had a loophole.
“That remains to be debated, but I call Nasir a terrorist.” Max smiled darkly. “You understood this job when you took it, Declan. We take the jobs in the gray, the morally ambiguous missions, that’s why we’re paid the big bucks. Private military contractors is a fancy name, but, at the heart of it all, we’re mercenaries.”
Roarke gave a sound of disgust and backed toward the door. “If this meeting is done, I’m outta here.”
Kade rubbed his brow and jerked his chin in a weary nod. “Yeah.”
After Roarke left the room, he turned to Max. “We take the difficult jobs, true, but no one holds a threat over our heads. We’re not even sure if there are chemical weapons in that cargo.”
“Boustari is a control freak, that’s all,” Max replied. “Nasir has been identified as a terrorist by Saudi Arabia—a U.S. ally. What else do we need to know? The rebels sent missiles into Riyadh three times. This last one killed forty people when one of the defense shields failed. Defense shields, I might add, that the U.S. provided. It’s our duty to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“Yeah, but the Saudis bombed several rebel strongholds in return, so one could speculate that it was an equivalent response.”
“It’s not our job to speculate.” Max frowned at him. “We’ve done targeted assassinations for the Saudis and Emiratis before. Why are you suddenly questioning this now?”
“I’d like to think we’re doing this to get rid of AQAP,” Kade replied. “But this reckless urgency with the way Boustari wants to get his hands on Nasir, using threats to speed up our results, tells me this is personal. Innocent people are going to get hurt.”
“What if forty people died on your watch? Care to tell me how that feels?” Max challenged. “It’s always personal, Kade.” He lifted his chin at him. “You, of all people, should know every time you look at your scars.”
Kade stiffened as an image of a dank, dark cell flashed in his mind.
How could he forget the reason he’d become a mercenary?
When Kade returned to their room, an expression of relief flashed over his man’s face..
“She give you trouble?” Kade asked.
“She wanted to go to the hotel bar.”
“The bar?”
“My guess is Butler. He came by the room.”
“Did you let him in?”
“Hell no.”
Kade nodded and dismissed his guy. He slipped the keycard in the slot and pushed the door to open. The safety stopped it.
He smiled wryly. Good girl.
Footsteps padded to the door and Yara’s amber eyes peeked at him through the opening. “Not sure I should let you in.”
“Come on, Tink. I saved your ass from getting mowed down by a bike.”
“That’s your job. That’s what I pay you for.”
Oh, is this how she’s gonna play it?
“What I don’t pay you for,” she continued, “is keeping me a prisoner in my room.”
“It’s my job to keep you safe.”
“From what? Do you think that motorbike is about us? Word on the street is it was the Turkish mafia.”
“Let me in, Tink,” Kade repeated. Speaking through the door was becoming less amusing. His shoulder throbbed and the adrenaline withdrawal from earlier was making him antsy. He needed to pop some meds, so he could get through the night in that damned cot.
“Where did you go?”
“Max and I had a chat.”
“Maybe you should stay in his room.”
“This isn’t funny anymore, Tink. My shoulder’s starting to hurt.”
The door closed, the safety released, and the door opened again, but Yara blocked the entrance.
She was dressed in a V-neck, long-sleeved tee, and gray joggers that hugged every curve.
After his initial appraisal, he kept his eyes on her face.
Don’t look down, asshole. He couldn’t hold an erection down with these damned cargos.
Then she raised an arm on the doorjamb. Her other hand hit at her hip, brow raised. She looked magnificent and tempting as hell. Her amber eyes shot sparks of annoyance at him, yet he had the urge to back her into the room, slam her against the wall and fuck her.
Hard.
Yara Emerson held a direct line to his dick. Every move, every breath, and every word from her mouth made him hard as a steel pike.
“I can’t believe you’d pull that injured card on me.”
“I did land on concrete and cushion your fall.”
Yara threw her arms up. “Geez, guilt me more, would you?”
She turned around and walked into the room, treating Kade to the sexy sway of her ass. His fists clenched as he struggled not to grab her.
“Just stating facts.” He took a step inside, exhaled deeply before closing and locking the door.
Kade headed to the couch, keeping his gaze only on his duffle as he dug through it. He didn’t wear pajamas, he usually slept in the raw, but he’d keep his boxer briefs and athletic shorts on tonight.
“Are you okay?” she asked. The genuine concern in her tone compelled him to look at her.
He cleared his throat. “Just need a shower.”
“Want me to take a look at your back?”
Fuck no. He might end up ripping her clothes off and he’d be balls deep inside her in two seconds flat.
“Yara,” he pushed through clenched teeth. “Not a good idea to be near me right now.”
Her lips parted.
His breathing turned ragged. “The adrenaline crash. I’m twitchy.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened.
“Yeah.” He slammed into the bathroom.
Time for a cold shower.
A night of blue balls.
That was what awaited him.
Not a cold shower, not even jacking off twice to thoughts of Yara’s sweet body did anything to lessen the unholy torture he was experiencing below his pelvis.
His head, the one that was supposed to be doing the thinking, was hamburger meat. He was hot all over, sweating like crazy, it was as if he had a fever. He needed inside her, just one time, to get her out of his system.
Wishful thinking.
The cot creaked as Kade shifted uncomfortably on the squeaky contraption. His shoulder was killing him, and he was afraid his back wouldn’t be very forgiving in the morning eith
er. The springs creaked again and he winced, sure he had awakened Yara, not that he thought she was sleeping anyway with all the noise he was making with his constant movement.
When he exited the bathroom earlier that evening, she was curled up on the corner of the bed, far away from his cot. He probably scared her with what he said, but fuck if he had time to analyze how she interpreted it. If the result was her staying far away from him, then it worked..
Giving up sleeping on the cot, he spread a blanket on the carpeted floor and lay on it, tucking an arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night.
Something woke him. Morning light cut through the slats of the blinds. Fuck, what time was it?
He jackknifed to a sitting position. “Fucking fuck, motherfucking fuck!” Pain electrified every muscle and joint and his back seized with a numbing pain much like a limb falling asleep. Kade had no time to take stock of what was broken or still functioning, because his brain just processed that Yara’s side of the bed was empty.
Then he heard the shower turn on and the tightness around his lungs eased.
“Fuck,” he repeated less forcefully and dragged his fingers through his hair. He did manage to sleep after he’d gotten himself off that useless cot, but if he didn’t get the blood flowing through his system again, he’d be paying for it the entire day.
So, like any good soldier would, he hit the deck and started some push-ups. His right shoulder protested but he powered through it until he didn’t feel the pain. After one hundred regular push-ups, he did several more involving the legs. He had loosened the muscles around his right shoulder, but he wasn’t going to risk it with one-armed push-ups.
He was sweating by the time he hit two hundred reps. He peeled off his shirt, got on his back and started on ab crunches. If he didn’t have Yara to mind, he might have gone to the gym or hit the pavement for a run outside. But the text message from the unknown number, proven later to be from Boustari, grated at his insides.
As he heaved himself to do another ab contraction, he thought about Elanur’s reading. Was he conflicted with what needed to get done? Were the Saudis’ goals in line with the CIA’s? But the question facing Kade now, was whether Nasir really was a threat to global security or only the Saudi’s concerns.
The Princess And The Mercenary Page 7