Cover of Darkness (13 page)

Luke inclined his graying head. "Were you?"

Unable to speak, Bryn held her breath and waited for him to elaborate.

"A message was posted this morning on their website."

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This guy had his own website? What a wonderful world cyberspace had created. Scumoftheearth.com.

"If you're up to your job, you'll be aware that Tehrazzi has issued a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for her."

She gasped, eyes flaring wide. "What?" She glared at Ben.

"Did you know about this? Why didn't you tell me?"

His shoulder muscles were taut against the fabric of his dress shirt. "What agency are you working for?" he challenged Luke.

"CIA. Under contract." His lips curved in a humorless smile. "You could call me somewhat of a...Tehrazzi expert."

Bryn's mouth went dry.
Oh, Jesus
.

"In that case, do you know where he is?" Ben demanded.

Luke arched a brow. "More or less. My point is, he is as relentless as he is dangerous, and this threat to the lady's safety is to be taken seriously. She needs protection twenty-four-seven until she's back home, and even then it wouldn't hurt to have a detail keep an eye on her until the cell is destroyed."

Ben swore and started barking orders to his security team over his radio.

Oh God. This couldn't be happening. Not on top of everything else. No, no...she wanted this to be over. She wanted her life back—the life of independent Bryn McAllister who lived on the beach and fought for the children in her caseload.

"Bryn?"

She blinked up at Luke, who was watching her intently.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

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"Y-yes," she stammered. She had a bounty on her head.

Depending on how popular the terrorist's website was, she could have a whole lynch mob after her. Her chest tightened.

Ben set his radio down on the desk, resolve stamped all over his face. "It's going to be okay, Bryn," he reassured her, his eyes on hers. "You're safe here. I'm making sure of that."

She nodded, unable to think of a single thing to say, wishing Dec were there to guard her. Then a horrifying thought occurred to her. What if someone had already infiltrated security and was here in the house?

Luke must have known what she was thinking because he laid his hand atop hers and said, "I'm gonna work with Ben on this and make sure we've got everything covered. Nothing will happen to you."

Again, she nodded, only this time she swore the joints in her neck creaked.

Ben uttered another curse. "I'm going to fix her a stiff drink and take her up to her room."

"No," she protested, coming out of her stupor. "I don't need it. I want to know—"

"Let's go," he commanded, gripping her uninjured elbow.

Digging in her heels, she lowered her voice to a stern whisper. "Ben, stop treating me like a two-year-old." She tugged her arm away but he kept dragging her along.

"You're coming with me," he growled, and she smelled the cinnamon gum he was chomping on in agitation. "You're tired, and I don't want you keeling over on me. I need you to lie down for a while, and after Hutchinson and I have discussed this, I will personally brief you, okay?"

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Why even bother posing it as a question? She knew Ben, knew it was futile to argue with him when he had that determination about him. He would carry her over his shoulder if he had to, so what choice did she have? She heaved an irritated sigh and glanced back at Luke, heart beating fast. "I want to know everything."

"Of course. I'll be in touch."

With as much dignity as possible, she allowed Ben to escort her from the library, murmuring her excuses to her guests, hating their expressions of sympathy. No doubt they thought she was overcome with grief and had to seek out her bed like some nineteenth-century female in a fit of vapors.

She ground her teeth together, scanning each face in the crowd. If anyone tried to grab her this time, she'd make them regret it. Nothing tripped her radar.

Ben took her straight up the stairs and into her room, strode across to the window and pulled down the blinds, even sitting her down on the canopied bed before pinning her with a hard look. "You stay put until I come and get you."

His words triggered the memory of Dec saying almost that exact thing to her before all hell had broken loose in the desert.

"No buts, Bryn." His face was stern, hands on his lean hips. "You don't set foot outside this room until Hutchinson or I come and get you. Understood?"

Suppressing a shiver, she wrapped her arms around her waist and gave him a baleful look. "Yes." She wasn't an idiot.

She understood the danger she was in.

At least, she thought she did.

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Her compliance drained some of the tension from his shoulders. "Thank you. I'll post someone outside, and I'll handle this as quickly as I can." He shut the door behind him.

Alone in the spreading silence, she glanced around her.

Her king-sized bed stretched beneath her in luxurious splendor. Its blue and cream French toile dressings and bedspread matched the draperies framing the tall picture window that overlooked the rose garden, as well as the thick Persian rug anchoring her bed and antique armoire. She'd been so excited about this room when she'd chosen its theme and furnishings. It had always seemed like a hotel suite when she'd come here on vacation. Now, despite its feminine elegance, it seemed as much a prison as that filthy hole Declan had pulled her out of.

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Day 7, Beirut

Noon

Dec stared hard across the hotel dining room table at Luke Hutchinson and folded his arms across his chest. "No."

"That's it? Just no?"

"All right. How about no way in
hell
?"

The corner of Luke's mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile. "I need her, whether you're in or not."

Dec scowled. "Hell."

Signing up for a covert op with the CIA was one thing—it was another to involve a civilian, and a female at that. "You guys must be desperate to even dream this shit up."

"Yep."

"And you must have pulled some pretty big strings to get me assigned for this."

Luke's shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. "I know some people."

Yeah, he sure as hell did. Wouldn't surprise Dec if the guy played golf with the Deputy Director of the CIA and the head brass at SOCOM. The legendary Luke Hutchinson evidently pulled strings like a marionette master.

Dec sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Bryn is still recovering from her injuries. And her father's funeral. She's not up to this, even if she did have the training."

"Don't underestimate her."

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"Oh, trust me, I'm not." Dec took a sip of his beer, sizing the guy up. How can you tell if someone has served time in special ops? Watch how they position themselves in a room.

He and Luke had both instinctively headed for the table at the rear corner, and were now sitting with their backs to the wall to maintain clear lines of visibility, even though they were in a relatively safe environment. Their kind of training never went away. Bryn did not belong in that world.

"I was in the field with her for two days, remember? She's no quitter, I'll give her that, and she's got guts. But this is way beyond her capabilities."

Luke gave an easy shrug, leaned his chair against the wall.

"I don't think it is. And that's for her to decide anyway."

"The hell it is." Dec pinned him with a stern glare. "I've worked with female agents before, but never in the field during a military op. And Bryn McAllister is not an agent."

"She doesn't need to be. Her black belt is a plus, and we'll give her a crash course on the rest of what she needs."

Whatever the real reason Luke needed Bryn for this, Dec figured it had to be damn good. Not that Luke was going to tell him what it was. CIA officers worked with their contractors on a need-to-know basis, and Luke obviously didn't think he needed to know.

"So why me?"

"Because she trusts you. You were the one who galloped to her rescue, guarded her until the extraction took place, held her hand when she was wounded and made the effort to go see her in the hospital afterwards. You even came back to make sure she wasn't alone when her father died. So that 125

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makes you her hero. She's already psychologically attached to you."

Christ, Dec didn't like this at all. If that was true, it sure as hell didn't help that he'd kissed her and told her he would look her up when he got home. Luke probably didn't know about that part, but Dec was already way too attached to her.

So how the hell could he take on this assignment? His objectivity was shot to shit when it came to Bryn McAllister.

With her as the team's principal, they all had to maintain professional distance from her emotionally, or people would make bad judgment calls and start getting killed.

As he mulled over that happy thought, Luke regarded him with those miss-nothing eyes. "If you're worried about your objectivity, don't be."

Dec couldn't help the flush creeping up his neck.

"I don't require the same rigid SOP you're used to on this mission. That being said, I expect you to be a professional."

Meaning even though he suspected Dec had some level of feelings for Bryn, so long as he kept them to himself and did his job, he was welcome on Luke's team. Dec didn't find it all that reassuring.

"That's the other reason I wanted you, Lieutenant. I know she's going to be more than just another principal to you. The way I see it, that will only make you more motivated to do your job." He leaned his well-muscled weight into his chair, linked his hands behind his head.

His posture made him seem deceptively relaxed, though Dec knew better. Any hint of danger, and he'd be off that chair quicker than a coiled rattlesnake.

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"You're a SEAL. I trust your capabilities and your discipline. Your service record glowed so much it damn near hurt my eyes. And we've both got personal reasons for wanting Bryn safe, so really, I'm as compromised as you are.

She'll trust me, but you'll make it that much easier."

What personal reasons did Luke have? "How do you know she'll trust you?"

"She's a friend of the family. She knows me."

No she didn't. Dec bet less than a handful of people really did. The guy looked as cool as ice. And how could they even be discussing this? The idea of putting Bryn in harm's way after all she'd been through boiled his blood. Asking her to hunt down a dangerous, high-profile link in the Islamic extremist terror network made his protective instincts come blazing to the surface.

"And what makes you so damn sure she'll listen to you, anyway?"

Luke's deep brown eyes met his, devoid of emotion. "I'm a pretty convincing guy."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? What did the manipulative bastard have up his sleeve that would make Bryn even consider taking the job? He didn't like the possibilities.

"So are you in, or are you out?"

Guy didn't give an inch. Those eyes of his could win millions at a poker table. Unreadable eyes, the kind that belonged to someone who could kill without flinching, without remorse. Did his own eyes look like that? If they didn't already, they would if he stayed in the game long enough.

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Not a comforting prospect, but he wasn't going to sit back and abandon Bryn. "If she swallows your bullshit and says yes, then I'm in."

"Good. I'm making you my 2IC."

Dec preferred being in charge, but he could tolerate being second in command with a guy like Hutchinson. So long as he did everything in his power to keep Bryn safe.

Dec followed him out of the lobby to the rental car and watched as Luke methodically checked for booby traps or explosives before getting in and starting the engine. They drove in silence to Daoud's compound in the heart of the city.

Beirut must have been beautiful once. Modern architecture nestled against ancient buildings under the hot Arab sun; palm trees dotted the streets lined with cafes and shops displaying an array of exotic items; signs written in a mixture of Arabic, French and English. A cultural jewel in the Middle East, once bustling with tourism and commerce. But now the signs of war were everywhere, from the collapsed buildings and bullet-riddled exteriors to the increasingly impoverished and disenchanted citizens.

Bryn's father had lived in luxury, sealed off from the decay and shells that had destroyed much of the city during the decades of civil war and the most recent clash between Hamas and Israel. Pulling up to the gated compound, Dec noted with approval how tight the security was. Luke showed some ID to the guard at the main gate, and the little Renault whined its way up the drive to the modern, gleaming, two-story, white stucco house. At the grand entrance, a butler led them inside.

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They found Bryn outside in the courtyard next to the sparkling turquoise pool wearing a black string bikini, smoothing sun block onto her limbs, careful of the angry purple scars on her arms. The stitches must have only just come out and the marks looked damn sore. All the blood seemed to flood out of Dec's brain at the sight of her in that skimpy bathing suit, showing off the sleek lines of her back and hips. A radio next to her played American music and with her back to them, she didn't hear them approach.

"Miss Bryn," the butler announced.

She swung her head around, shading her eyes with one hand. More healing scars covered her inner arm and upper chest, down her ribs on the right side.