Unmasking the Mercenary (13 page)

The diamond merchant shook his head. “What you ask is too much.”

“If you want to rid yourself of Ammar and his men, then tell us where we can find the courier,” Haley coaxed. “It will lead us to the
hawaladars
who helped Farid get money to his son. And those
hawaladars
could lead us to Farid himself.”

Habib had to know that simply getting rid of Ammar wouldn’t solve his problems. Farid had to go, too.

“You assume these
hawaladars
will talk to you. They will not.”

“They’ll talk,” Rem said, and didn’t miss Haley’s annoyed look.

Eyes heavy with sober thought, the diamond merchant turned his back and wandered to the other side of the dilapidated room. He stopped at a window and stared through the dingy glass. “Habib—”

Haley held her hand up to stop Rem from pressuring the merchant. He did as she wanted and let her walk to Habib’s side.

“No one will know you told us about the courier,” she said. “Ammar will assume Rem found out on his own. He has no reason to suspect you.”

“Few know of his courier.”

“But Rem has been following Ammar. Isn’t it possible he could have seen him with the courier?”

Habib turned his head to look at her.

“You’ll have your life back, Habib. But you have to help us. If you know something, please, tell us.”

Rubbing his hand down his face with another heavy sigh, Habib’s soft brown eyes spoke of the burden he carried. Haley didn’t push him, and already Rem could see the diamond merchant softening to her deft manipulation.

“There is a man right here in Monrovia. His name is Charles Henry. That is how Ammar gets his money.”

Haley thanked him and Rem took her hand and led her out of the building.

Haley willed her annoyance down to a manageable level as Rem drove outside Monrovia on their way to where Charles lived. Dilapidated buildings painted a desolate picture as they passed. The structures thinned as they left the city. How could she trust him when he kept surprising her with his well-kept secrets? First the diamonds, now Habib.

Cullen hadn’t been worried enough to force her to leave Monrovia with him. Why? Was it because he’d decided Rem was one of them? That he believed she was safe with him? It had to be.

That gave her a sinking feeling. If Cullen believed Rem was that trustworthy, it confirmed her assessment of him from the moment they’d met. There was something heroic about him, a trait he didn’t appear to see. Still, there was an undeniable dangerous side to him. One that should scare her. Why didn’t he scare her?

Well, he did scare her, but not the way she thought he should. Not from anything stemming from her experience in Iraq.

If she fell for him, she didn’t think he had what it took to be with her long-term. His life seemed like such a struggle, like honor was always just out of reach. His actions were honorable, but could he ever get past his bad reputation? Could she? Maybe, if she could ever understand how a man like him had worked his way past her defenses. But she doubted she’d have the chance. Rem would compromise for no one, especially when it came to his reputation. If he didn’t think she’d accept him the way he perceived himself, he’d never open his heart to her.

Strange how, prior to Iraq, all the men she’d dated and seen in relationships had absolutely no resemblance to Rem. They’d all been professionals working regular jobs. Fellow soldiers. Ordinary people. Back then, her biggest concern was deciding what she wanted out of the Army. What did she want to do with her life? What kind of man would she marry? All regular, ordinary life issues. Iraq had stripped that innocence from her. And now she was left grappling with a new identity. She didn’t know what she wanted from life anymore, much less what kind of man she needed. Did she even need one?

Looking over at Rem, something tickled her insides. She didn’t want to feel this way, but a kind of warmth had taken harbor. She didn’t understand it and maybe she never would, but no matter what happened between now and when she arrived back home, she would have no regrets. The promise she’d made to herself after Iraq was twofold. She’d never be a victim again. And she’d never look back.

Rem turned a corner and drove to a stop just down the dirt street from a concrete, palm-leaf-roofed shack. Haley was glad for the distraction from her thoughts. She was too tired for them anyway. Red dirt provided the only landscaping. Other small shacks surrounded this one, and thick jungle closed it all in. It was swampy here, so venturing into the trees would be a bad idea if a person didn’t know what they were doing.

“We’ll wait here until we see him.”

She nodded, then snuggled back against the seat and yawned. “Wake me up when you see him.” She shut her eyes, rolling her head toward the window so he couldn’t watch her sleep.

“Why do you think Cullen left you with me?”

The suddenness of Rem’s question made her open her eyes and lift her head to look at him. “What?”

“He left you. If anything, I would have thought he’d at least stay with us.”

“Did you want him to?”

He sent her a “yeah, right” look.

“Maybe he knew I’d be safe with you.”

“Is that what you think? That you’re safe with me?”

“No,” she said, and it was the truth. “I probably would be safer with Cullen.”

A harsh breath blew through his nose. “You’d be dead as soon as he left you with someone less competent. And that would be pretty much anybody.” Anger nipped his tone.

She ignored it. His ego was showing and she wanted to see where it led. “Except you?”

“I’ve had lots of practice.”

“So has Cullen.”

“I wasn’t comparing.”

She let that go.

“Is he right?” Rem asked. “About what?”

“The real reason he left you with me. It isn’t to gather intel, either.”

Because Cullen believed she needed this to overcome Iraq. That was what he meant. She had to push back her rising defenses.

“Don’t do that.” She didn’t want him to start digging up unwanted memories.

“He sees it as a way to help you heal.”

“I don’t throw myself into dangerous situations to get over Iraq.”

“Then why did you come with me?” His gruff tone exposed his vulnerability to the subject.

And that was why he’d started asking questions. This was what he really wanted to know. Haley could have gone with Cullen. Rem wouldn’t have forced her to stay. Not with Cullen in the room. But she had stayed. And now he wanted to know why. Yes, she wanted to uncover his secrets. Yes, she needed to heal from Iraq. But none of that mattered. He wanted to know if she’d come with him for any other reason.

That warmed her core and sent a responding sensation pulsing to the rest of her body. But she couldn’t let him think she was starting to have feelings for him. She had to protect her heart.

“To fight terrorism. And win.” Unlike she was able to do in Iraq. The thought came against her will.

“You don’t have to risk your life to do that.”

Was she mistaking the brief look in his eyes before he turned back to the road as disappointment?

“You can fight with your mind, Haley,” he said.

“I won’t argue that’s part of it.”

“How did you know to ask Habib about the
hawala
brokers?”

“I know how terrorists think. I know how they operate. It’s my job.”

“Yes. Intelligence is your job. Not ops. So why put yourself in those situations?”

“I don’t go out of my way to do it.”

“That’s not what I heard Cullen say.”

She didn’t deny it.

“If he had his way, you’d never leave U.S. soil. You can do intel from there just as well as you can in the field.”

“What’s your point?” she snapped.

“You were afraid when we reached Locke’s compound.”

“Who wouldn’t be afraid?”

“Why do ops when it’s clear that you’re not cut out for it?”

It was the fear she wanted to overcome, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that to him.

“You should have never come to Monrovia in the first place.”

“Oh, and you’re here because you want to make a difference in the world.” Her sarcasm stemmed from the emotion he’d roiled to life. She couldn’t help it.

But he didn’t even flinch. He accepted who he was—who he thought he was, anyway—and he didn’t care what anyone else thought.

“I’m here to kill Ammar and his father,” he said, a deadly undertone leaving no doubt of his passion on the matter. “No other reason. And nothing. Nobody. Not a single living thing is going to get in my way.”

“I understood that from the moment I met you.” It was what had fascinated her about him. She knew that now. His energy fascinated her. The vengeful mercenary who denied his hero’s heart.

They stared each other down. Haley felt her pulse hammering and saw his pumping in the vein of his neck.

A movement caught her eye. She looked with Rem toward the building. A man rode a motorcycle to a stop in front of the building and climbed off. He strode into the shack.

Rem got out of the Jeep. Haley did, too, and followed him across the street.

Charles glanced back just before he shut the door and paused. His eyes flared wide in recognition before he recovered and started to slam the door shut. Rem reached the door and slapped a hand to stop him.

“You know me,” Rem said.

“You must leave here,” Charles said in a heavy native accent.

“How do you know me?”

“I do not.”

Rem shoved the door, sending Charles stumbling backward as he advanced into the building.

Haley looked in one direction and then the other to make sure no one noticed. Watching a dark-skinned youth buzz by on his motorcycle without seeing them, she followed Rem inside and closed the door. The interior was surprisingly comfortable, given the weathered appearance of the exterior. A framed painting adorned one marginally dirty wall, and the furniture looked relatively new. There was even a portable stereo, which told her Charles must have a generator. A real commodity in this part of the world.

“Tell me how you know me,” Rem demanded, advancing forward.

Charles backed away a few more steps and then stopped. It was several seconds before he spoke. “Ammar showed me your picture. He also warned me that you might pay me a visit.”

“All I need is the name of the
hawaladar
Ammar used.”

Charles grunted a mocking laugh. “It would be suicide for me to tell you that.”

“It’ll be murder for me if you don’t.”

Haley shot a look at Rem. Did he mean it? He’d kill this man if he didn’t give him the information he sought?

Rem slid his gun from the front of his jeans. Charles watched the movement with uncertain, fearful eyes.

“You must understand,” he pleaded, “I can not betray Ammar.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

“If you go to this
hawaladar
you seek, Ammar will know who told you how to find the man.”

“Then maybe it’s time for a career change. You can leave the country.”

“There will be nowhere to go to escape Ammar.”

Haley believed him, and she suspected Rem did, too. But he didn’t seem to care.

“You’ll tell me or I’ll kill you.”

“If you kill me you will never learn the identity of the
hawaladar
.”

Rem stepped closer, lifting his pistol. He angled the barrel against Charles’s temple and slid the metal down the man’s face. Reaching the soft skin under Charles’s chin, he pressed upward. Charles knocked Rem’s wrist with his hand, nearly dislodging the contact. Rem kneed the man, making him bend forward and groan. Rem grabbed some of his shirt and forced him upright again. Charles’s eyes were round with fear and his breaths came out in shallow pants. Rem swung the pistol and struck Charles. The man shouted in pain, and blood trickled from a gash on his cheek.

“Rem!” She didn’t want to witness a torture.

Her frantic tone didn’t seem to faze him.

“The name,” Rem demanded, pressing the gun against the man’s temple again. “Tell me. Now.”

Haley moved over to him and slid her hand over the muscle of his forearm. “Rem.”

At last, he acknowledged her, turning his head to meet her eyes.

“Stop this.”

She’d never seen such coldness in his eyes before. How many times had he slipped into this fighter? This rebel marauder? Did he really think violence was the only way he’d get Charles to talk?

“Go outside if you can’t handle this, Haley,” he said.

That just made her mad. “I will not stand aside while you beat someone up at gunpoint and threaten to kill him.”

He lowered the pistol. “Try to run and I will kill you.” Then he turned to face her, looming tall above her, anger making the coldness in his eyes that much more menacing.

“Wait outside.”

“Go to hell.”

One side of his mouth cocked upward. “Already there, sweetheart.”

Charles began to sidle away, but Rem lifted his gun and aimed it at his forehead. “Move again and you’re a dead man.”

The man froze, terrified.

Haley grunted her dismay. “If you kill this man it will be murder, and that’s exactly what I will report when I get back to the States.”

His gaze held hers for a long moment. “All right,” he said. “Give it your best shot.” He glanced purposefully at Charles. “See if you can get him to give you a name.”

Haley moved closer to Charles, who looked back at her with a mixture of gratitude and wariness.

“Just tell us where we can find him,” she said.

He glanced from Rem to her again and didn’t say a word.

“We’ll stop Ammar. He won’t have a chance to hurt you,” Haley continued.

But Charles kept his lips shut tight.

“Please,” she urged.

Rem sighed and shoved his gun into the waist of his jeans. “You make a real lousy operative, darling.”

She sent him a derisive smirk.

He dismissed her and looked around the room. When he spotted an open doorway, he grabbed a fistful of Charles’s shirt and forced the man to precede him into the adjoining room. Haley followed into the bedroom. There was a desk across from the foot of the bed.