Cover of Darkness (25 page)

She felt bad about hurting him, but what else could she have done? It would have been much worse to give him false hopes. She loved him, but not the way he wanted her to.

Nope. That aching, heart-squeezing love was for the man who couldn't, or wouldn't, meet her eyes after things had gone too far between them last night. Studying his profile across the helo's vibrating deck as it landed, her chest hurt even more.

Next to her, Rhys nudged her. "Forgot to give you this."

He held out a chocolate glazed doughnut.

Her mood improved a bit. "Thanks."

Okay, she reasoned, chewing on the deep-fried treat. So she'd been shot down last night. But even if Dec
had
walked away and was doing everything he could to avoid her now, at least she knew he'd been as revved up as she had. Bryn did the tally sheet in her head.

He wanted her.

She wanted him.

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She was falling in love with him. Might already be there.

He...liked her a lot.

Well, at least they had the wanting part down.

Things could be worse. It could have been totally one-sided on her part. That would damn near have killed her. At least she could hope things would work out between them after this was finished.

For now, though, they all had a job to do. She was a member of a team—the weak link, mind you, but still a member—and she had to put her emotions aside. No way was she going to make things awkward. Dec wouldn't either. He was much too professional to let something as pesky as personal feelings get in the way. She had the feeling he was giving her a cooling-out period. Once they landed in Baghdad, he'd act like nothing had happened between them. And he'd probably keep acting that way until it was over.

So fine. She could handle it. Plus, she didn't want him to know how deeply she was into him. If the idea of having sex with her spooked him, her being in love with him would make him burn rubber down the highway.

After the chopper dropped them off at the airstrip, they unloaded their gear and headed to the terminal where an Iraqi man in khakis and a white golf shirt waited for them.

Maybe in his late twenties, he had a short black beard and wavy hair, a gold chain nestling beneath his collar. He smiled in welcome, revealing white teeth that overlapped slightly, and went forward to shake Luke's hand.

"This is Fahdi," he announced. "He's our civilian contact here in Baghdad—anything we need, he's our man. Right?"

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"You got it," Fahdi responded in near-perfect English, shaking hands with the others. When he caught sight of her, his eyes widened a fraction and he hesitated before offering his hand.

"I'm Bryn," she said, shaking it firmly. She detested wimpy handshakes.

His eyes were like liquid espresso as he studied her, his lashes so long and thick they belonged on a fawn. "Hello, Miss Bryn."

Luke clapped him on the back. "Bryn's our secret weapon."

He released her hand. "Weapon? You are a soldier?"

"No, I—"

"She's the woman who's going to make Tehrazzi sit up and pay attention."

Fahdi's head whipped toward Luke. "You are tugging on my foot."

Luke grinned. "No, I'm not pulling your leg. And it's up to you and the rest of us to make sure she stays safe."

The younger man glanced at her again, this time with trepidation. Was he afraid for her? Or was he horrified by the idea of having to work with and protect a woman?

"You got our ride ready?"

Fahdi seemed to shake himself, then grabbed a couple of bags and headed toward a black Suburban. When everything was loaded, Dec handed Bryn up and she scrambled into the back seat. As she'd expected, he was acting as though he'd never avoided her. Whatever helped him sleep at night, she thought with a rueful smile.

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No one said much on the ten-minute trip to the operations center in the middle of the city. Bryn stared out her window into the dusty streets as people carried their wares to and from the local market. Women cloaked in robes and headscarves carried out their daily chores, children trailing behind them. On the dashboard was a photo of Fahdi standing with a woman who barely came up to his shoulders, holding an infant in her arms, four dark-eyed kids clustered about them. It must be tough to raise a family in Baghdad with the threat of bombings every time you went to buy food, worrying that your children could be caught up in a firefight while they played outside. She didn't envy Fahdi or his wife.

"Home sweet home," Ben said, wrapping a steadying arm across her shoulders as they pulled up to a compound lined with barbed wire fences and gatehouses, uniformed Marines standing with their M-16s at the ready. Bryn couldn't help the way her heart knocked against her ribs and forced her muscles to relax. Too late to back down now.

In a courtyard in front of an imposing cinder-block building, they piled out of the truck. Pasting on a brave smile, she followed Dec into the gloom of their temporary barracks.

The instant she crossed the threshold a wave of cool air hit her. Air conditioning. Bless them.

The twins were already unpacking their gear into footlockers at the end of the metal beds lining the longest wall. The adjoining room appeared to be a bathroom, with one toilet, a urinal and cramped, not-so-clean shower.

"You can sleep against the wall," Dec told her, pointing to the far bed, and she was glad when he chose the bed next to 237

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hers. "We'll get you a curtain so you can have a little privacy."

"Thanks. Do you snore?"

"Don't think so. Why?"

"Because Ben does, so you can borrow some of my earplugs."

Luke strode in. "Everyone settled?" He dropped a duffel on the bed nearest the door, set his hands on his hips. "Just like summer camp, huh?"

Sure. The kind where arts and crafts were followed by anti-terrorism classes.

"I thought we'd get a head start, meet the rest of the team we'll be working with at the TOC."

More acronyms.

"Tactical operations center," Dec translated.

"You up to it Bryn, or—"

"I'm good." The last thing she wanted was to make them think they had to handle her with kid gloves.

Outside, the heat hit her like a slap, sucking the air from her lungs. She trailed after everyone to the Suburban Fahdi already had running, the lone female in the midst of these armed, elite soldiers. Man, she was so in over her head.

The TOC was a concrete building three floors high, heavily guarded. Each room was crammed with desks, their surfaces littered with computers and electronic devices. People in uniforms came in and out in a constant tide of motion, speaking on headsets or cell phones. Bryn felt totally out of place and instinctively planted herself beside Declan.

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Luke appeared a moment later with a gorgeous Arabic man. "This is Ali. He'll be helping us in the field when we need backup, and is pretty handy with digging up information on bad guys operating in Iraq."

Ali shook everyone's hand, hesitating and flushing when he got to Bryn. His smile was warm and genuine. She liked him instantly.

"Rhys?" A titian-haired Caucasian woman stood in the doorway, her brown eyes wide with surprise.

Rhys laughed in delight and went forward to grab the newcomer in a one-armed hug. "I'll be damned," he chuckled.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I got a promotion," she said, beaming up at him.

"You call an assignment in Baghdad a promotion?"

Her ironic smile was radiant. "Go figure."

"Guys, this is Samarra Wallace. We've worked together in Europe." He gestured to his twin. "This is my brother, Ben."

Sam studied him as she shook his hand. "Ah, the prodigal son. You're taller than I thought you'd be."

"Huh. Funny, you're shorter than I thought you'd be. The way my brother talked about you I thought for sure you'd be at least seven feet tall."

"Sorry to disappoint. Nice hat, by the way."

Ben tilted his head. "You a Sox fan?"

"Born and bred."

"Sam's our communications expert," Luke added.

Her smile widened at Bryn. "I'm very glad to meet you.

I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh. Good things, right?"

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"Absolutely."

"Well, don't believe everything you hear," Ben cautioned.

"She's a pain in the ass, like the rest of us."

"I'll keep that in mind."

As Sam raised one elegant brow, Bryn caught Ben's interest in the newcomer. His eyes flicked down to her left hand. Checking for a wedding ring?

"You'll be working mostly with the twins here," Luke told Sam. "Ben is our electronics wizard, so he can help you work on coms for our ops. Rhys'll help out when necessary, otherwise he and Ali will be with the rest of us on logistics and security. And depending on what's happening, you can keep Bryn company."

"I'd like that."

"Me too," Bryn said. "It's been a while since I've had any girl talk."

Luke consulted his watch. "Think you could feed her while the boys and I go out for some recon?"

Within ten minutes, Sam had assembled an amazing array of treats in a private office. "You
do
eat junk food, don't you?"

"Damn right I do." Bryn accepted the plate of salad loaded with fresh fruit, eying the donuts for later.

"I heard Lieutenant McCabe and his team came in for you and your father."

"Yes, thank God. It was surreal."

"I can imagine." Sam forked up a bite of strawberry. "I bet you were surprised to be asked to join Luke's team."

"Yeah. But my father would have done it for me." And she would not let him down.

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"I think you're very brave."

Bryn pushed a spinach leaf around her plate. "I don't know if brave's the right adjective. Pigheaded, maybe. But what about you? You're a contractor working for the CIA in Baghdad. Who's the brave one?"

"Nah. I'm just a techie, not an operator. I wouldn't last ten minutes out in the field." She looked up, met Bryn's gaze. "I hear you were amazing out there."

"Who'd you hear that from?"

"Luke, who heard it from McCabe." She cocked her head.

"You seem surprised."

Bryn cleared her throat and unwrapped her Snickers bar.

"It's hard to tell what Dec's thinking." A flush crept up her cheeks. "About me and all of...this."

Sam's smile was understanding. "You really like him, huh."

A deep sigh escaped her.

"It's okay, you know. It's not like you've broken some social taboo or anything. And who could blame you? I mean, look at the guy." She set down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "When Luke briefed us, I asked him how he got the lieutenant to sign up. Apparently he only agreed to come on the op to take care of you."

What?
Bryn set her unwrapped chocolate bar down. "Luke said that?"

Sam frowned. "I thought you knew."

"No. Oh God, I didn't." The wave of guilt went straight to her heart and lodged there, throbbing. Why would he do that?

He didn't owe her anything.

Sam touched her hand. "I didn't mean to upset you."

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"No, I just...I don't want him to put himself in danger for my sake." Dammit, she'd begged him not to take risks for her, and it turns out she was the reason he'd come along in the first place?

Sam set her hands on the table palms down and stood.

"Come on. We're getting out of here. Let's go back to my place for a glass of wine without the risk of contamination from the testosterone floating around this place. And the curious ears."

She tugged Bryn to her feet like they were long-lost friends. Sam felt as comforting as a pair of slippers. "Let's bounce. You can tell me all about Rhys' sexy brother on the way."

She was beginning to think Sam was a godsend. For a while she might even be able to forget she was in Baghdad to lure Farouk Tehrazzi out of hiding and that Dec was risking his life for her.

Funny how he'd forgotten what the stares felt like. He'd already done two tours in Iraq, spent most of one in and around Baghdad, but driving through the streets in the front of a Humvee with his teammates, the weight of those hostile stares hit Dec with an unease that made the back of his neck prickle. Hands tightening on his automatic weapon, he catalogued the houses in the upper-scale neighborhood, the resentment and suspicion on the faces they passed.

Not that he blamed them. Since Saddam had been overthrown, their country had been plunged into chaos. Every murder and suicide bombing created more hatred, more young men willing to kill and be killed. Like the two men they 242

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were after now. Through Fahdi, Luke had used them to penetrate one of the Mahdi army's militias. In the past twelve hours, something big had started brewing. The team had to bring them in and find out what they knew about Tehrazzi's whereabouts and plans. Depending on intel, the op would go down tonight or tomorrow night.

"That's the place up there," Luke said as he drove. "Third one on the right with the iron gate and the high wall."

Dec scanned the house for ways to get in and out. "How many people living here?"

"Six," said Ali from the back seat. "The father's an invalid, stays on the first floor. His wife sleeps upstairs, as do their four sons."

"Who are our guys?" Rhys asked.

"The eldest two. Eighteen and twenty-one. The younger ones are fifteen and eleven."

Great. So when they charged in during the middle of the night to grab their suspects, they would have to deal with a hysterical woman, an invalid and two freaked-out kids.

Again, Dec wondered about Fahdi. He was on the CIA's payroll, and Luke had taken him on as an informant a couple months ago. Luke knew his stuff, so Dec wasn't particularly worried about being set up by the Iraqi. Somewhere in the midst of all this, Luke would have someone watching Fahdi to make sure he stayed on track. Davis, maybe. But money was a powerful motivator. So was fear. Dec figured his loyalty could go either way under the right circumstances, and Fahdi didn't owe them anything. They weren't his countrymen, or 243