Ignited (Titanium Security Series) (27 page)

“And what do you do with the rest of it?”

He didn’t want to answer that, but he wouldn’t lie to her and shatter this fragile intimacy between them. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Khalia stared at him for several long seconds, then surprised him by leaning up to place a slow, soft kiss on his lips. His hand automatically tightened on her hair but she eased away before he could deepen the contact. Her left hand kept up that gentle caress over his bare back, sweeping from shoulder blade to hip. She was quiet for a long time, the only sounds in the room their quiet breathing and the hum of the air conditioning unit beneath the window.

“I don’t know what to do now,” she said finally. “My whole reason for coming here was to finish what my father started, and instead…”

“Don’t,” he murmured, squeezing her tight and wishing he could stop the wheels in her head from turning. “Don’t do that to yourself. It won’t help anything.”

She blew out a steadying breath, and when she spoke her voice was rough. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know.” He kissed her temple, tucked her in close to his body, wishing there was something—anything—else he could do to take the pain away. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not your responsibility anymore. You came over here and tried to make a difference, which is a hell of lot more than most people in your position would be willing to do.” Every time he thought about it, it amazed him. Seeing that sort of conviction and courage from a civilian was damn rare, at least in his experience.

“I wanted to get those guys. I wanted them to pay.”

He understood her need for vengeance perfectly. “And they will. I promise you.”

A tiny nod against his shoulder. “Tom knew my father. Did you ever meet him? You never said.”

Hunter tensed, knowing he was on shaky ground. “No, I never met him.”

“He was a good man, we were really close. The media’s made him out to be some sort of rich, reckless philanthropist who acted without thinking, and they’re wrong. He wasn’t like that. Stubborn and too opinionated sometimes, but he wanted to make a difference. He lived his life trying to help others.”

All he could do was nod and frantically search for a way to change the subject. “I heard a lot about him.” He knew everything about the man, actually. He’d made it his business to know everything.

Khalia’s hand paused on his back. He heard her swallow. “I think what I hate most is that they tried to use him to turn people here against Americans.”

Dammit, he didn’t want to talk about this. The memories were too fresh. “I know.”

“They used his death like a propaganda campaign, spurring riots—”

“I
know
what they did, okay?” Hunter pushed away and sat up, turned away from her and sat on the edge of the bed.

The sudden silence was so complete that he could hear his pulse drumming in his ears.

“Okay,” she said at last, her voice wary, as though she was afraid of upsetting him again. Then quieter. “Sorry.”

Ah, Christ. He dragged a hand through his hair and down his face, regretting his lack of control. Letting out a deep sigh, he half turned to look at her. She was propped up on one forearm, the covers clutched over her breasts, her expression uncertain. He felt like a douche.

“No, look, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said, and swung his legs back onto the bed. He leaned his back against the padded headboard, took a deep breath and released it slowly before he continued. “You asked me earlier how I handled ‘the rest of it’. Well, not very well, as it turns out.” Khalia was silent, watching him so intently that he couldn’t hide the truth from her any longer despite the potential landmine he was about to step on.

“A good buddy of mine was killed in one of those riots,” he said at last.

Her swift intake of breath sliced through the quiet. “Oh my God. I didn’t know—”

“I realize that.”

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“Did you hear about the attack on some foreign diplomats over here a few weeks back? It was all over the news.”

She nodded. “Two of them died, along with…an American security contractor,” she finished in a whisper, and he knew she was already piecing it together.

“Scottie Easton,” Hunter said. “My best friend.”

Cool, slender fingers touched the clenched fist he’d placed on the sheets. At the contact he let his hand open and she slid her fingers between his to intertwine them. Hunter felt oddly soothed by the gesture. “You were one of the contractors there with him,” Khalia finished.

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

She said it with such sincerity, without the overtone of pity that most people would have. He relaxed his shoulders. “Thanks.”

Khalia sat up and scooted closer to kneel at his side. The warmth of her body brushed against his. “So you took this job a few days after being there when your friend died in the riots caused by my father’s kidnappers.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

She shook her head, searched his eyes. “Why? You must have hated the thought of working with me so soon after that.”

A grudging smile tugged at his mouth. “Well, I wasn’t exactly overjoyed.” And his first impression of her certainly hadn’t done anything to change that, either.

“Then why did you take the job?”

“Tom asked me to lead the team, and he never asks me for anything. And I wanted the same thing you did when you came over here.”

Her gaze was unflinching. “Justice.”

Hunter nodded, feeling such an intense bond with her that his heart pounded. Lifting a hand, he reached out to smooth a stray curl away from her cheek. “And I’m going to get it. For Scottie, and for you.”

Khalia leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. “It scares me to hear you say that, because I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to lose anyone else I care about. And never like that.”

“I don’t plan on being a martyr,” he said, and stroked his thumb across her cheek, not knowing how to make her understand. “But I have to see this through. It’s who I am.” He’d vowed it silently to Scottie at his funeral. The SEAL in him would accept nothing less than finishing the job. His skill set, his honor and integrity were all he had left from that part of his life. Hunter would rather die than turn his back on a fallen brother and everything he stood for.

She swallowed and started to pull away, but not before he felt a trickle of moisture on the pad of his thumb. His heart constricted when he realized she was crying for him. “Hey,” he whispered, reaching for her. “It’ll be alright.”

Khalia embraced him and pressed her cheek to his, her breasts flush against his chest. “Hunter.”

“What, baby?” he whispered against her ear. He felt the answering shiver that passed through her at his intimate tone.

“I think I need you to distract me again.”

With a soft laugh, he tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. “I’d love to.” Rolling her beneath him, he pressed her into the mattress and gently took her mouth, pushing away the emptiness for just a little longer.

Later, as she was curled against him fast asleep, he eased out of the bed when his phone buzzed with an incoming call. The moment he saw Claire’s name on the display, his pulse accelerated. Careful not to wake Khalia, he went to the bathroom and shut the door before answering. “Hey, beautiful, good to hear from you. You got something?”

“I think so. There’s a guy whose name keeps popping up on the militant chat rooms and he’s based out of Rawalpindi. He might be linked to some of the known members of the cell, so it’s probably worth a shot to track him down and at least check him out.”

His heart beat even faster. “Roger that. Who is he?”

“Not exactly sure yet, but he goes by the handle Youssef911. I’ve got a hit where he accessed one of the chat rooms a few days ago, one at a residential address in Pindi, and the other looks to be an engineering firm in Islamabad. I’m sending you both addresses by e-mail.”

“This is why I love you, Claire.”

She snorted. “Yeah, well, your love could get me in some major shit if I keep digging. And speaking of shit, how’s it going over there?”

“It’s been…interesting. Never a dull moment, you know?”

A pause. “Everyone okay?”

“We’re good. Anxious to get hunting though.”

“I’ll bet. Good luck. Sorry I couldn’t get anything else, but like I said, digging any deeper would cause all kinds of grief for me.”

“Understood. I appreciate you taking the risk for us.” Though they both knew why she’d done it, and it wasn’t for him. She’d done it for Gage, break up or not, which was why Tom had wanted him to call in the favor personally.

“It’s okay. You take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

The e-mail came in before he’d ended the call and he dialed Ellis. The sniper answered on the first ring, his voice betraying only a hint of grogginess. Hunter got right to the point. “I’ve got a couple of addresses for you to check out. Start with the residence, then move to the workplace. If anything looks promising, let me know.”

“Roger that, chief.”

Hunter hung up and called Gage next to give him the news. “Ellis and Dunphy are starting at the residence. Wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to try the engineering firm while they’re checking it out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotta get Khalia to the airport by oh-seven-hundred. I’ll meet you after I drop her off.” Only four hours from now. The sinking feeling in his gut at the thought of letting her go was far worse now.

Once he ended the call, Hunter went back to the bed and carefully slid beneath the sheets. Khalia was on her side facing away from him, still asleep. He eased forward until his chest was against her back, his thighs cradling the soft swell of her hips and her curls tickling his chin. She sighed and shifted closer, trusting him even in her sleep.
I could get used to this.
Exhaling a painful breath, Hunter wrapped an arm around her and held her close, both dreading and welcoming the dawn that was racing toward them.

Chapter Sixteen

Youssef paused in the midst of yanking a handful of shirts from the shelf in his tiny closet to wipe the back of one wrist across his sweaty face. Lord, he was soaked. He dragged a small duffel bag from the closet floor and shoved the clothes inside. No matter how he tried to control it, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He hadn’t been lying when he’d called in sick to work earlier. He
was
sick. He’d already thrown up once and his stomach still churned as if it might bring up the light breakfast he’d eaten just before sunrise.

That sick feeling in his gut was why he’d decided to run. The authorities were closing in on him, he felt it. Whether it was the Americans or Pakistanis who eventually took him out was irrelevant at this point. Youssef had no intention of suffering torture or imprisonment for his part in this operation. He’d already fulfilled his obligation to the organization behind all this and now he wanted out. But how could he do that?

You can’t. You know you can’t.

Ignoring the shiver that raced up his spine, he grabbed an extra pair of shoes and stuffed them into the bag for good measure. Once he left this apartment, he could never come back.

He now knew for certain that the TTP cell he’d been in contact with were merely chess pieces in this game. Whoever the man in that warehouse was the other night, he was no lowly militant warlord. Youssef had done everything they’d asked of him, had led the Patterson woman to Peshawar and so far managed to avoid detection. Now his only chance was to flee while he still could.