The Princess And The Mercenary

by Victoria Paige

  A sigh came over the phone. “Sorry, babe, but twenty million dollars is too good to throw away for a good time.”

  “A good time?” Yara repeated inanely.

  “Remember what I told you?”

  “Which time?”

  “This last time.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is how you survive. Do what they say, all right?”

  “And you? Remember what I told you?” she asked, echoing his words. “Killing Nasir isn’t the way to fix what’s broken in this country.”

  “Allegiances change all the time,” Kade said. “Look. Gotta go. It’s been good, babe, I don’t want you to get hurt. Just do as you’re told, okay? They assured me you’re gonna be fine.”

  The call ended.

  “Kade?” she whispered. Her eyes grew hot as Garrison picked up the phone from the table and pocketed it.

  “I’m sorry, Yara,” Garrison murmured.

  Yara stared blankly at the tapestries on the wall. Kade sounded so cold, but he wasn’t that good an actor as to fake his emotions for her when they were together. He was just saying what these assholes needed to hear. She could play the broken girlfriend. She had faith in him and would not let him down.

  “He cares what happens to you,” the general said in the most gentle tone he’d ever used with her.

  “He used me.” She blinked to let the tears fall. She bit back a grin as all the men in the room fidgeted. Men were scared of female tears.

  “He was trying to make things right,” Boustari said.

  “How will Nasir’s death fix anything?”

  “He’s a blight to the peace process. He sends bombs into neighborhoods in Riyadh.”

  “And how about your ties with Al Qaeda?” Yara challenged.

  Instead of the general getting angry, he smiled. “This is where you come in.”

  Yara crossed her arms, her lips flattened.

  “I’m breaking my ties with them.” Boustari looked at Garrison. “To make amends for ever dealing with them, I will deliver Al Qaeda commander Jamal Al-Fayed to the CIA.”

  “So, the agency is just going to forget about what’s on the memory stick,” Yara asked Garrison. “He let Al Qaeda kill innocent people. You think I’m going to keep quiet about this?”

  “Your parents are in Ankara, yes?”

  The skin on the middle of her back prickled.

  “Are you threatening them?” she asked finally.

  “Do I have to?” Boustari raised a brow. “I have agents in Ankara with eyes on them as we speak.” The general gave her the details of their hotel and room number.

  He could be bluffing, but she couldn’t risk it. Yara swallowed the bitter taste of defeat. “What will you have me do?”

  “I will pretend to hand you over to Al-Fayed to use as propaganda or ransom. Considering who your father is, a ransom will be more lucrative for them. Al-Fayed has already put out feelers for information on your whereabouts. Apparently, they’ve sent a couple of their men after you a few nights ago, but you got away.”

  “You mean those men weren’t working for you?”

  The general shook his head. “Ever since your disappearance leaked, every mercenary and terrorist came crawling out from under a rock.”

  Yara shot Garrison a look. “You agreed to this?”

  “The local Al Qaeda chatter confirms you as a high-priority target,” Garrison said. “The agency is willing to work with the general to get to Al-Fayed, including burying the contents of the memory stick.”

  “And Kade, what did he say?”

  “He agrees it’s an excellent plan,” the general said, but Yara ignored him and was looking at Garrison.

  The CIA man looked regretful. “Kade wanted assurances that you never breathe the same air as Al-Fayed.”

  The two men exchanged glances and a tendril of fear wrapped itself around her. “And …?”

  “We’ll try our best to avoid a handoff. We’ll put a tracker on you.”

  “Oh, god, this isn’t happening.” She pressed a forearm over her stomach, starting to hyperventilate. “How can you, an agent of the United States government, willingly hand over one of your citizens to a terrorist?”

  Garrison wouldn’t look at her.

  “What is it you all say? ‘For the greater good’?” Boustari smirked.

  “Shut up, General,” Garrison snarled. He looked at Yara. “It won’t come to that. The CIA will have a Quick Reaction Team on standby. It’ll be a win-win.”

  Yara turned away from them and sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted.

  It wouldn’t be a win for the truth. Al Qaeda would suffer a blow, but the snake and murderer that was General Boustari would get a free pass. Was this how the CIA worked?

  Revulsion roiled in her stomach.

  Even if Kade and Yara lived through this, their relationship would buckle under the lies and deceit.

  They’d be over.

  “So, Ms. Emerson, are you going to help us?”

  With a heavy heart and unable to express herself vocally, she nodded.

  27

  This was a suicide mission, plain and simple.

  Kade sat inside his vehicle waiting for the guard to let him into Nasir’s compound. Sana’a was the former capital of Yemen until the rebels overthrew the coalition-backed-government four years ago, driving the nation into civil war.

  A ceasefire was called a few months ago, but now it appeared to be hanging on by a thread.

  His thoughts circled back to Yara. He hated being cold to her on the phone, but he refused to give Boustari a hint of just how much she meant to him. The general threatened her parents too and, though Kade doubted his claim, he wasn’t willing to take a chance.

  Fucking Garrison.

  He better know what he was doing.

  It twisted his gut that they’d been used as pawns by the agency. His former handler admitted the truth. The CIA always knew that the Saudi coalition was recruiting Al Qaeda fighters to battle against the rebels. The U.S. also withheld drone strikes upon request of the Saudis to let Al Qaeda commanders leave certain key cities with a payoff of cash, equipment, and weapons.

  But that alliance deteriorated in the past year when the UN proposed peace talks. AQAP felt they were going to be left out in the cold if the Nasir Rebels legitimized their control.

  In retaliation, Al-Fayed was planning attacks on different UN offices including the one in New York. The agency was scrambling to locate him. The son of a bitch Boustari proposed using Yara as bait, but also recommended that killing Nasir as a gesture of good faith to the Al Qaeda leader would flush the jihadist commander out of hiding.

  Kade had one last chance to fix this and, hopefully, win the girl. Or he’d die trying.

  His thoughts returned to the present. A rebel guard told him to exit the SUV as they proceeded to suss him for hidden weapons. It was no surprise that Garrison had Tariq’s number so Kade called Yara’s friend first, rather than simply show up in Sana’a. Without the advanced notice, he wouldn’t have gotten past the first checkpoint. A barrage of fifty-caliber rounds would have stopped his vehicle within a hundred yards.

  The situation was a shoot-now-ask-questions-later kind of tense.

  One of the guards inspecting his vehicle found his submachine gun and shot him a glare. Kade’s face remained placid and he shrugged. They did another explosive check under his vehicle and under the hood—a repeat of their protocol at the first checkpoint.

  Nasir had every right to be paranoid.

  If Kade wanted to kill him, he didn’t need weapons. But he was sure they knew that.

  Two more soldiers met him where he was told to park, and he was escorted to the main building.

  A furious Tariq was waiting for him in the grand foyer of the house. His glower softened a bit when he saw Kade’s battered face.

  “What happened to you?” Tariq’s expression wavered between a scowl and a smirk.

  “It’s been a rough few days.”
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  “Where is Yara?”

  “She’s fine. Alive. For now.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “Look, I’ll hand her over. But Garrison and I want safe passage out of Yemen from Sana’a.”

  “What happened to your friend and the general?” he sneered.

  “We’re not friends any longer,” Kade said, deadpan. “I had nothing to do with the attempt on your uncle’s life.”

  “You’re putting this all on Max.”

  He wasn’t about to throw his former partner under the bus. “No comment.”

  “This is bullshit. How do I know for sure you have Yara?”

  Kade sighed and nodded to one of the guards. “He has my phone. I have several pictures.”

  Tariq appeared skeptical until Kade showed him an image of Yara holding a current copy of the Yemen newspaper that Garrison texted to him.

  “Why not negotiate over the phone?”

  “A show of good faith. Garrison is helping hide Yara and me from the general. Uh, he wanted me to put in a good word for him and the CIA.”

  Tariq’s eyes squinted at the mention of the CIA handler. “Your agency had always sided with Saudi Arabia.”

  “And your faction keeps accepting help from Iran—”

  “I’ve heard enough of this nonsense!” Nasir stormed out of an adjacent room and stopped eight feet from Kade. Now if the man would move a little closer.

  “Uncle!” Tariq stepped in front of Nasir who jabbed an accusing finger at Kade over his nephew’s shoulder.

  “You bring your bloodthirsty soldiers into my country. Try to supplant me because of money.”

  “Let me handle this!” Tariq said sharply.

  “Why? Because of your Ms. Emerson?” Nasir snapped at his nephew. “Hasn’t she caused enough trouble?”

  “Trouble?” Kade growled, unable to stay silent, needing to defend Yara, and Nasir had just given him an opening. “Are you blind to the help she’s given your people?” He looked around noticing the fidgetiness of Nasir’s soldiers. He switched to Arabic. “You confiscate food and fuel meant for those in need to reward your cronies. I have a video of you directing your men to seize a truck of oxygen tanks meant for a hospital in Taiz.”

  Tariq’s face shuttered. “Is this true, Uncle?”

  The rebel leader’s face mottled in fury. He advanced forward. “Al Qaeda agents are using them to bomb us.”

  Kade threw back his head and laughed. “No. You are so insecure because your people love Tariq and the only way you can stay in power is to let them know who controls their lives.”

  “Guards!” Nasir shouted. “Throw this man in the prison block.”

  Kade held up his arms in a surrendering gesture but took a step toward Nasir. “How about stealing the vaccines meant for Jutab? Yara cried when she heard the people were eating boiled leaves to survive. Those children, their families—are under your jurisdiction.”

  Neither Tariq, nor the guards, made any move toward Kade as he took another step toward Nasir who was jutting his chin angrily at him. “I had nothing to do with that!”

  Kade looked around the room again. “Do you believe him? Would you lay down your life for a leader who has so little regard for it?”

  Nasir grabbed his jambiya dagger and attacked, weapon-hand slashing in a wide arc, aiming to eviscerate him. With Kade’s arms already up and cocked at the elbow, he caught his attacker’s wrist with his right hand and redirected it toward Nasir’s neck at the same time pivoting behind him, holding Nasir hostage with his own knife. It would have been so easy to kill him, but Kade would be dead before he dropped Nasir’s body to the floor.

  Tariq and the guards stood open-mouthed, shocked speechless at the turn of events.

  Kade backed away with Nasir, making sure his six was clear.

  “You can’t get away with this!” Nasir sputtered. “I have your men in prison. Kill me and you doom them.”

  His muscles froze, hand tightening on the dagger. “Who?”

  “Bob, Roarke … I forget the other two.” Tariq finally found his voice.

  “Are they okay?”

  “They’re fine,” Tariq replied. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Kade continued to shuffle Nasir toward the adjacent room, dagger at his neck. “Ensuring the good guys win. We need to talk.” His meaning was clear. He, Nasir and Tariq. “Alone.”

  Garrison barged into her room with the force of a tornado. Yara quickly sat upright, her chest muscle spasming with fright.

  “We’re leaving.” He threw an abaya on the chair. He stalked to her bed and yanked her to her feet, holding a pill between her lips. “Take this.”

  “Stop that!” She wrenched her face away.

  “It’s a tracker.”

  “Didn’t you just plant one on me?”

  “Secondary one,” he gritted. “The general … Yara, we don’t have time. I’m your only hope of getting out—”

  “Kade …”

  “Is dead. Now take the fucking pill.”

  Her mouth parted in shock and Garrison took that opportunity to shove the pill between her lips. She choked, but he held her mouth closed as she struggled against him, but would it be so bad if it was a poison pill?

  Don’t give up. No matter what happens, don’t fucking give up.

  Kade’s words came back to her and her eyes stung.

  “Suck it up. Cry later.” Garrison’s rough voice pulled her attention. The regret on his face wasn’t helping the riot in her head and her heart, but his next words broke through a grief that suddenly consumed her. “Don’t let his death be for nothing.”

  “I would bring him back to life and kill him again.” Boustari’s voice boomed from the door. Two soldiers rushed into the room aiming rifles at them. Another two stood behind the general. “Did you really think I’ll leave my prized bargaining chip so unguarded?”

  “What happened?” Yara croaked.

  The general walked into the room. “Nasir is dead.”

  “That’s what you wanted,” Garrison pointed out calmly. “Kade delivered.”

  “He got himself caught and confessed I hired him!” Boustari roared.

  “There was no other way he could get to him unless he was face-to-face,” the CIA man growled. “Nasir’s paranoid. He hasn’t left his house since the first assassination attempt. You knew this could happen.”

  “Spear was supposed to be the best. You told me he was the best. He did not even last eight hours of torture and then he confessed?”

  “He died from torture?” The ground shifted beneath her. Garrison looked at her worriedly as he propped her up.

  “They were transferring him to another prison building.” Boustari waved his hand in disgust. “A Nasir loyalist shot him. It’s all over YouTube. Yalla! We need to go.” He barked orders to his guards. He left the room and more soldiers filed in.

  Two of them came forward and zip-tied Garrison’s and her wrists behind their backs, four rifles pointed at them. Garrison must be a dangerous man to merit such security.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” Yara whispered.

  One of the guards laughed and said something in Arabic before pushing them forward with the business end of the rifle.

  “My guess? Boustari will use us to trade for sanctuary with Al Qaeda.”

  Before Yara climbed into the waiting chopper, Boustari ordered one of his men to dig out the sub-dermal tracker Garrison had injected into her arm. It wasn’t hard to locate because the skin was still red around the implant area. She winced as a knife dug into her flesh and pulled out the pin, but she was mostly apathetic.

  Kade was dead.

  Garrison looked on, jaw tensing, as the guard slapped on a gauze and taped it around the cut.

  “That needs to be sterilized later,” he muttered.

  Yara didn’t point out that, for them, later might never happen and if she were to be used as propaganda, she’d prefer to die from an infected dagger wound than face beheadin
g.

  An urgency swept through the atmosphere that had nothing to do with the helicopter blades churning, sweeping mini dust storms around the area. Military vehicles left the compound and Yara wondered if the general’s men were deserting him or they were being sent somewhere else.

  Yara scooted to the end of the bench seat as Garrison climbed in beside her and a soldier flanked his right. Crates were loaded in the cargo compartment.

  Numbness cloaked her heart and it lost its rhythm. It reeled from the devastating news that the man she loved was dead and never recovered its beat.

  She loved Kade.

  And he was dead.

  Boustari got in beside the pilot and barked a couple of orders before donning a headset. Their chopper took off and flew across a mountain range, hinting that they were still in the highlands of Taiz or Ibb. When the landscape shifted to barren flat surfaces of parched soil, rocks, and brush, she knew they were beyond Aden and were heading east to the Al Qaeda stronghold of Al Bayda.

  The chopper flew over dirt roads and avoided highways. They reached an airfield with a private hangar and a short runway. The chopper started to descend. Two small planes and three choppers sat outside the hangar. Their wirings, rotors, and seats lay strewn on the ground. Stolen, and used for parts, if Yara were to guess. A flatbed truck beside them solidified her theory.

  Another plane inside the hangar seemed to be intact but could rival the dents and marks of Kade’s battered plane that they used to fly into Yemen.

  A blacked-out Hummer drove up just as their helicopter landed.

  Nobody stepped out, but Yara had an idea who the occupant was.

  28

  Kade winced as his ribs protested beneath his Kevlar vest. The rebels didn’t have any blanks and agreeing to be shot at close range was no picnic at all.

  Two rebel helicopters—ancient Russian Mi-17s that had seen their fair share of combat and better days—left Sana’a to mount the rescue of Yara and Garrison.

  Unknown to Yara, Kade received a call from Garrison at the Maqbanah market where he quickly explained the agency’s plan. Kade suspected Garrison was able to track his burner since he’d been on the phone with him for a while.