Morgan's Son (6 page)

Sabra stood up. "Maybe I'm jumpy," she murmured in apology. "I mean, if Jason wasn't involved, I probably wouldn't be so concerned about my teammate's qualifications."

Jake nodded. "I feel," he said gently, "that because you know and love Jason, your emotions are clouding your judgment."

Sabra sighed. "I won't disagree with you, Jake. I'm terribly upset. And you're right—I love Jason as if he were my own son. I've baby-sat that kid since he was born. I've taken him to the zoo…." Helplessly, she shrugged. "Maybe I am blowing things out of proportion. But I die inside every time I think about Jason being with Garcia. I want to cry…."

"We all do," Jake assured her, his voice rough with emotion.

"You have to realize we're going to help you every way we can," Wolf vowed. "Talbot is the unknown in this. Aside from his file, no one here knows anything about him. You're being thrown into an off-balance situation with him, we know. But we believe that with your time in grade with Perseus, and your background, you'll be able to take charge and find Jason."

Sabra glanced at Jake. "I'm in charge of the mission?"

"That's right."

She stood a long time without moving. Terry had always been the team leader. Now the shoe was on the other foot and she was in charge. Of what? A man she didn't know, who lacked the experience to work with her at the level she had to demand.

Releasing a long sigh, she whispered, "I reserve the right to say whether or not Talbot goes with me after I've had a chance to meet him and assess his abilities."

Jake scowled. "No, Sabra, you don't have the privilege of that decision."

"I demand it."

"No."

"It's my life on the line," she said hotly. "And Jason's! I'm not going to take on someone who may not have the guts to get close to Garcia to rescue Jason. What if Talbot is squeamish? What if he can't pull a trigger to defend himself? Or me? In high-risk missions we have to be concerned with that question. I know Garcia," she added, her voice trembling with emotion. "I know what the bastard is capable of doing. He raped and drugged Laura. He may have drugged Jason. If he catches me or Talbot, we're as good as dead. How do I know if Talbot has what it takes? Can I trust him? Why is he a merc in the first place? Can he shoot to kill? Would he? And is he really a team player?"

Pacing the length of the room, Sabra muttered, "I reserve the right to decide whether or not Talbot goes, and that's all there is to it."

Jake slowly stood up. "Then you're off this assignment, Sabra."

She halted and jerked around, her mouth falling open. "What?"

"You heard me." He frowned. "Under any other circumstances, I'd probably agree with you. But we don't have that luxury. All our other teams are out in the field, and it's too late to try to recruit from outside Perseus. The government isn't about to loan us a SEAL team or Delta Force. We're on our own with whatever we have at hand. We have you, we have Talbot. Look at it as a marriage of convenience. You don't have to like this guy, you just have to work with him on one mission. I hope we find Morgan alive and that he'll return to get Perseus back on line. Until then, this organization is reeling. We're all off-balance. We've been caught off guard in the worst kind of way.

"Sometimes," he added, a note of pleading entering his voice, "we have to settle for seconds. Nobody likes it, Sabra, but that's all we've got. That's life."

Shaken, Sabra said, "Where's Talbot's partner, then?"

"She died in an auto accident two days ago."

"Are you sure it was an accident?"

"As sure as we can be. It was a low-risk assignment."

Eyeing him angrily, Sabra muttered, "That's just great. Talbot's going to be upset about losing his partner on top of everything else. Do you really think he's got the emotional stability to hop from that into something like this?"

"We're all going to find out the answer to that together," Jake stated firmly. "Now, are you in or are you out?"

Glaring, Sabra said, "And if I'm out, what will you do?"

"Assign it to Talbot."

"You're crazy!"

"That's the choice we're faced with Sabra. You've been here five years. You know how the system works."

"You can't put someone like Talbot on this assignment alone. That's guaranteeing failure."

"Then agree to be the leader of the team."

Frustrated, she raked them with an angry look. "I don't like this, Jake. I don't like it at all."

"Give yourself some leeway, Sabra. Wait until Talbot comes in and we've had a chance to talk to him about it. Assess his responses."

"What if he doesn't measure up in your eyes, Jake?" Sabra challenged. "What then?"

"Then," he said heavily, "I'll ask you to go alone. I won't like it, but I'll do it."

She smiled grimly. "That's the better of two evils in this case. At least with me, you know what you're getting."

"I don't disagree."

There was a knock on the door. The room fell silent. Sabra turned, her fingers resting on the oak tabletop. It had to be Talbot. Her heart was beating erratically, and she tried to calm it—tried to calm herself. Jake was right: she was personally and emotionally involved in this assignment in a unique way. Since Jason's birth, she'd fed him his bottle, changed his diapers, watched him learn to crawl, then walk. Jason was like the son she'd always dreamed of having—the dream that had died five years ago with Josh. Whether he knew it or not, Jason had eased her pain simply by being himself. Sabra could live the dream of having a dark-haired little boy with beautiful gray eyes, though she would never admit it to anyone else. Jake had no idea exactly how close she felt to Jason—and why.

Moistening her lips, she whispered, "I'll stay on the mission."

Jake nodded. "I'm glad, Sabra. Thank you." He walked to the door and twisted the polished brass doorknob. "Come in," he said gruffly.

Sabra's eyes widened. Her heart contracted. Automatically, her hand went to the top of her chair, and she gripped it, feeling suddenly dizzy in the wake of Craig Talbot's silent, lethal entrance.

C
raig halted wearily in front of the War Room door. No one had been at the reception desk, which was highly unusual. Marie was such a calming, constant presence at Perseus. Exhaustion pulled heavily at him, and he ran his hand across his jaw, the prickly whiskers there reminding him he'd been without shower or shave for forty-eight hours—since the tragic loss of Jennifer.

His heart gave another twinge of guilt as her young, eager face danced once more in front of his smarting, bloodshot eyes. He shouldn't have allowed her to tail the suspect by herself. He should have listened to his gut instead of allowing her to talk him out of his decision. Once again he'd been a leader—and once again, he'd gotten someone killed.

His mouth tasted bitter from too much coffee on the flight from
Europe
, and he wiped it with the back of his hand, then knocked on the door again. Where was everyone? If he wasn't so damned tired, his internal radar might be picking up on something.

The door swung open, and he stared at the tall, burly man standing there in a white shirt and dark chinos. "Where's Marie?" Craig demanded.

"She's on an errand. I'm Jake Randolph, one of the Perseus mercs. Come in, we've been expecting you."

Confused, Craig stepped through the door. Two other mercs nodded greetings from the other end of the table, their faces set and unreadable. Although his senses were muddled by changed time zones and lack of sleep, Craig swung his attention to his right. His eyes widened slightly. There, on the other side of the table, stood a young woman of incredible exotic beauty. Craig stared at her. She was dressed in a silk T-shirt patterned with cinnamon, dark blue, lime green and black flowerlike colors. A cinnamon skirt draped her long thighs revealingly and hung gracefully around her slender ankles and sandaled feet.

Impressions of her assailed his numbed senses. Was it her large gray eyes, framed by thick black lashes, that entranced him? Or the soft set of her lips, unmarked by lipstick. She wore no makeup, but she certainly didn't need any. Her skin had an olive cast and her wide-set eyes were slightly tilted at the corners, giving her an exotic Egyptian quality. She reminded Craig of a statue of Queen Nefertiti he'd once seen in a museum.

Tearing his gaze from her, he followed
Randolph
into the room. One of the other mercs got up and quietly closed the door behind them.
Randolph
pointed to the chair next to him.

"I imagine you're tired, but have a seat. We've got a crisis at Perseus and I'm afraid you're one of only two mercs available for the assignment."

Stymied, Craig sat, his joints aching in protest as they always did if he had to stay too long in one position, ever since—He coldly squashed the rest of the paralyzing thought. Trying to push the threatening past from his mind, he watched as the operative who'd closed the door came around the table and sat opposite him. The woman also took a seat. Who was she? His mind was mushy, and thinking was difficult. All he wanted was sleep, but he didn't dare doze off here, so he fought to remain awake.

"Killian, would you mind getting Talbot some coffee?" Jake asked, understanding tinging his voice.

The Irishman rose in one fluid motion and left the room.

Jake jerked a thumb toward the door. "That's Killian who just left, and this is Wolf Harding."

Craig nodded, but his gaze was pinned on the woman across from him.

"And this is Sabra Jacobs."

"A merc?" He heard the disbelief in his voice. As soon as the words were out, he was sorry he'd said them. Her slightly winged, thick brows drew down in displeasure, her eyes mirroring irritation. Despite her expression, he liked the way her thick, black hair fell gracefully around her proud shoulders. A strand dipped prettily across her brow, further emphasizing her oval face and high cheekbones. For a moment, her cheeks flushed a dull red at his unfortunate comment, and the flash of anger in her eyes stunned him. Why did it surprise him that her emotions would be revealed in them? Maybe, somewhere in his Neanderthal mind, he thought beautiful women were always poised and never showed their true feelings. Craig almost laughed at the absurdity of his clashing thoughts. Like every other man in the military, his ideas regarding women had come under fire. He was trying his best not to look at them in terms of their relative beauty of body or face, but it was nearly impossible not to appreciate Sabra Jacobs on that level.

Disgusted with his weaknesses, which were many, he disengaged his gaze from hers and returned his attention to Randolph, who seemed to be in charge. "What's going on? Where's Morgan?" Morgan always greeted returning teams, no matter what time of day or night they came in from a mission. It was one of many things Craig admired about the man—a sign of his abiding loyalty to his people. Not many bosses felt that level of care and responsibility toward their employees.

Jake opened his hands. "Talbot, a lot has happened in the past few weeks. Ramirez, a Peruvian drug lord, sent a team up here and kidnapped Morgan, his wife, Laura, and their son, Jason. The good news is we pulled an outside team together to rescue Laura, who is back home with us. Now we've got a lead on where Jason might be."

Craig sat up, stunned. His mouth dropped open. He snapped it shut. Though he remained silent as Jake filled him in on the kidnappings, his weary eyes betrayed his shock.

When Jake had finished the initial briefing, he gestured to Wolf, who leaned forward and shoved a sheet of paper across the table. "This is Garcia's estate. We got a fax of the floor plan from Honolulu FBI. Every developer that builds there has to apply for a building permit and submit a copy of the plans. This place is situated on roughly three acres of rich
Maui
real estate on the side of an inactive volcano. You been to
Hawaii
?"