Covert Evidence (15 page)

He shouted a warning to the guard even as he tightened his arm around Cressida’s waist and pushed her toward the cover of the low ditch that lined the road. He pulled her against him and rolled to take the brunt of the impact. He finished a rotation, planting her beneath him to protect her from the coming explosion.

A massive boom rent the air.

Heat seared his exposed neck, and debris rained on his back. Sharp, hot granules moved with the speed of bullets and burned through his shirt.

Cressida groaned, a gurgle that sounded as if he’d knocked the wind out of her.

Pain sliced across his upper back as hot metal lit on his shoulder blade.

There must have been a bigger explosive in the suitcase than what would have fit inside the phone. The phone was just the trigger. But then, Zack had plenty of time to rig it while Ian enjoyed his dinner with Cressida.

He grunted and rose to his knees, dislodging the burning metal. He grabbed Cressida and dragged her to her feet as he stood. “Get in the car!” His own words were lost to the ringing in his ears.

She nodded and ran for the vehicle. He slid into the driver’s seat as she took her place on the passenger side. In seconds, they were back on the road, driving forward into the burning Eastern Anatolia night.

Chapter Fifteen

I
t seemed like John had been driving forever, but logic told Cressida it had been less than an hour since the explosion that must have killed the Turkish soldier. She wanted to think the explosion had nothing to do with her, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe the comforting lie.

Not anymore.

People didn’t blow up because of mistaken identity. People weren’t murdered in hotel rooms because of academic rivalry. No one could want the information she’d found on underground aqueducts that badly.

John’s theory, that the explosive was planted when the car was parked in the carport of the house near Kurubaş, made sense. It also explained the ease of their escape, even why they were smoked out to begin with.

Every time she thought about the soldier, she had trouble breathing. Was she to blame?

She couldn’t imagine why, or how, or what it had to do with her. Yet deep down she knew it was her fault. She cleared her throat and said, “The explosion—it will be all over the news. It will be labeled a terrorist attack, won’t it?”

“Yes. And that’s what it was.”

“How could it be? I’m so confused.”

“There is something you don’t know about Hejan Duhoki.”

She stiffened. He must have learned something when he called his boss at Raptor. “Something I need to know…and you’re just telling me now?”

“I didn’t say you need to know, just that you
don’t
know.”

“Goddammit! I have a right to know about Hejan!” She gritted her teeth. “Tell me
everything
you know.”

“I’m shocked you haven’t guessed.”

“Guessed what? That you’re an asshole keeping secrets?”

“Hejan Duhoki was an integral part of a terrorist network.”

“N
o.” Cressida’s voice was firm. She was in full denial, even after everything she’d witnessed, everything she knew to be true.

“Yes,” Ian said, sparing her no sympathy. He was too tired and in too much pain from the burns on his back to treat her with kid gloves. “He’s a known terrorist and was being watched.” Ian had to play this carefully. She still didn’t know who he was, and the Raptor cover could still hold up if he didn’t reveal too much. But
how
he revealed what he’d held back was going to be tricky.

A glance in her direction showed she’d fixed him with a tight-lipped stare. He faced the dark road in front of him. His shoulder burned. He’d only slept for four of the last forty-eight hours. And his assigned backup on this op was no mere traitor, he’d just deliberately killed a Turkish soldier in a way that would cast suspicion directly on Ian, while the woman at the center of it all wanted answers he couldn’t give.

He’d come to one inescapable conclusion: Zack must have monitored the checkpoint from a distance and had set off the bomb in such a way as to alert Ian—ensuring he and Cressida survived the blast. But to what end?

“What does any of this have to do with me?” Cressida said. “Hejan was a translator, not a”—her voice cut out, and she took in a breath—“terrorist. The university recommended him. He was a nice guy. He helped me when Todd showed up.”

“Turkish authorities believe Hejan did the translation work for you because you were coming here, and he had something that needed delivering.”

“I had something? You mean,
that’s
why my purse was stolen? My room searched? Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?”

Ian grimaced. He deserved every bit of her anger. “Because I wasn’t sure you weren’t involved. What did Hejan give you?”

“A map I paid him to translate,” she said with lessening heat. “He also recorded Kurdish and Turkish phrases for me on a digital recorder. He included specialized words and phrases an archaeologist searching for a lost aqueduct would need.”

“A digital recorder. USB?”

“Yes. It had a USB plug.”

“Those are storage drives too.”

“Sure. They’re backup drives, but I didn’t need that, because I didn’t bring my computer.”

“But that doesn’t mean Hejan didn’t save files on it.”

She leaned her head back against the seat with a wince. “I suppose. The recorder only lists audio files on the display. Because I never plugged it into a computer, I have no idea if there were non-audio files. You should have told me this when you first abducted me.”

He smiled at her accusation. “I never abducted you. I took you to a safer place.”

“A safer place—you mean the one with the smoke, or the roadside stop that blew up?”

“Touché. So…it appears one of my associates is playing for the wrong team. The house near Kurubaş was supposed to be safe.”

“The wrong team.” She paused. “You mean Keith has an operative who’s a traitor? We need to call him! I—”

Ian rolled down the window and chucked his cell phone out into the darkness before she could make a move for the phone.

“What is
wrong
with you? I
know
Keith. I know his home number—because I used to
live
there. If there’s anyone I know we can trust, it’s Keith Hatcher.”

Time to lay the lies on thick. He could throw a few truths in for good measure. “First, that phone was compromised. My associate has the number. I should have tossed it right after the explosion—I wasn’t thinking. Second, do you really think Keith Hatcher will listen to you when you tell him one of his employees is a traitor? You, a person who was arrested for grand larceny a few months ago? Your only proof of innocence was the fact that you have friends in high places.

“Do you really think Hatcher will listen to you above a trusted employee who has likely already informed him that you were in on the grand larceny theft with your ex-boyfriend all along? You can bet your ass that he’s already told Hatcher you met up with your supposed ex and a known terrorist in Antalya. Tell me, Cressida, how are you going to convince him when everything points to you?”

Chapter Sixteen

C
ressida closed her eyes, as if that would block out John’s words. She rolled down the window and breathed the cool night air. Inky darkness shrouded the world a few feet beyond the car, hiding snow-covered peaks in the distance. She took a deep breath. The crisp, cool air indicated they’d risen in elevation since they were on the shores of Lake Van.

She glanced sideways at John. His features were no less handsome in profile as his intent gaze studied the road ahead.

Who is he?

Did it even matter? Right now, he was her only option. She might fail with him, but she’d definitely fail without him.

She cleared her throat. “I
do
think I can convince Keith. Trina’s a good friend. So is Mara Garrett—the attorney general’s wife—and Erica Kesling. I mean, Scott,” she corrected, not caring that John probably had no clue who she was talking about. In this moment of isolation and fear, she needed him to understand how important her friends were to her. They’d stood by her through the Todd fiasco, when her grad school friends—except Suzanne—had been ready to believe the worst.

So it stung to hear John say Keith wouldn’t believe her. Because if those friends didn’t trust her, she had no one. She shook her head against the wandering thoughts and said to the man sharing her small space in the universe, “Trina will believe me. Keith will listen to her.”

“I wish it were that simple, Cress.” John’s voice was softer, more sympathetic. “But some awful stuff has gone down, and you can bet your ass your reputation is being trashed right now. Mine too. Until we have a better grasp of what’s going on, we’re on our own.”

She hadn’t really considered what helping her had cost John. For all she knew, Keith was ready to fire him. He’d saved her life—two, three times?—in the last several hours. Her clothing was dirty and torn after the roadside explosion, but she hadn’t been injured. Or killed.

She reached up and touched John’s cheek. Middle-of-the-night shadow abraded her fingers. She’d thought him handsome on the flight and had alternated between attraction and distrust every moment since.

She traced his jaw, enjoying the feel of his skin, remembering the kiss in the elevator, and then in Kurubaş. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll tell Keith you’re one of the good guys.”

His hand dropped to her knee as he kept his gaze on the road. “Don’t worry about me. I can take it.” His fingers squeezed softly. “But right now, I’m exhausted. I have another place we can go to. No one knows about this one. It
will
be safe. I promise. Once we’re there, I’ll catch a few hours of rack time. Then we’ll continue to Batman.”

“Sounds good as long as there’s a bed.”

“Yes. One. It’s a studio apartment.”

Heat coiled in her belly. They’d share the bed, certainly. The only question was if they’d do anything other than sleep. It would be oh so easy to give in to the intense attraction. And after everything that had happened, making love with the man who’d saved her life repeatedly seemed more than inevitable. It might even be essential.