“Why nursing?”
She blinked at him for a moment, as though the question had startled her. “I like helping people. Always have. My mom’s twin sister died of cancer just before I enlisted, so I spent a lot of time in the hospital with her. Some of the nurses were great, but others I wanted to strangle for their lack of bedside manner. I decided I wanted to be one of the good ones.”
“I bet you are. I know for sure you’re protective of your patients.”
She grinned at his teasing comment. “I am, but I was feeling extra protective of Jackson that day because of his involvement with Maya and everything they’d just been through.” Her grin faded at the mention of that.
Because she knew he’d stood back and let them be tortured to maintain his cover identity.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, knowing there was nothing he could say or do to erase that image of him from her head, but wishing it was otherwise. He couldn’t deny the truth, that he’d acted as both the hardened undercover operative playing a dangerous role, and a patriot who wanted to do his part to eradicate radical Islam from the world. “They held their own out there. I just led the way. Maya fought me tooth and nail before she realized I was helping her.” He still had the tooth marks in his hand to prove it.
“Oh, I’m sure you did a lot more than just lead.” The sparkle was back in her eyes. “I may not know you very well, but I’ve seen you in action already, and based on what I’ve seen since then, I know you’re way too modest to brag about yourself.”
He focused his gaze on the stack of paper napkins on the table, running his finger over the edge because he didn’t know how to handle the compliment. Maybe because he’d had so few of them. The way he’d grown up, a man could assume he was doing a decent job unless he was told otherwise. Praise just never factored into the picture, not even back when he was a kid and his dad had been alive. “You handled yourself well,” he said to turn the conversation away from himself. “Better than I expected.” Maybe that was partly why he was so attracted to her. In a tight situation, she was someone you’d want at your back.
She raised an eyebrow in mock insult. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m a soldier, aren’t I? What, did you think I’d curl into a ball and start crying when they started firing at us?”
He gave a grudging chuckle. “No. You were solid. Especially with treating Thompson.” He’d been grateful for the extra pair of hands on that hill, let alone her medical training. Her bravery under fire had surprised him though. She’d started dragging Thompson behind cover immediately after he was shot without a second thought to her own safety.
In his experience, watching how someone reacted under fire was a great indicator of someone’s true character. From what he’d seen out there, Wade knew Erin was good under pressure. She wasn’t whining or complaining now or having a hissy fit about being cooped up in here with him, either. In fact, she seemed to be trying hard to make the best of it and was going out of her way to be friendly. He was thankful for that too, yet at the same time he didn’t want to like her so much. Over the years—the past few especially—he’d built up thick walls to protect himself and keep everyone else out. And now after spending just two days with her, he could already feel cracks forming in them.
Erin nodded. “Thanks. And I appreciate the report you gave to my CO. You made me look good.”
“I just told him what I saw.”
“Okay, then I’m glad you saw it that way.” This time she smiled enough for the dimple to appear in her left cheek. Between that and the way her eyes sparkled in the overhead lights, he had to tear his gaze away to keep from staring. Four years ago, before this last job, he would be on that couch next to her, stroking his fingertips over the softness of her cheek and gliding them over her lips just to see her pupils expand and the pulse in her throat accelerate. But he wasn’t that man anymore.
He didn’t answer her statement, because what he’d said was true. She was reliable and had kept a level head. The only time he’d seen her hesitate was when they’d been in the tunnel and she’d been on point. He’d sensed her fear, either of the dark or the tight space or the tunnel itself, he wasn’t sure, but she’d pushed it aside and moved forward. He wasn’t going to mention that though. And he hoped like hell she couldn’t tell how damn awkward he felt trying to adjust to this new lifestyle.
“How old are you?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
“Thirty-four.” He already knew she was twenty-six. Truth was, he was sitting on the floor only partly because he was more used to that, but more because it gave him an excuse not to have to sit close to her. If anything he was more attracted to her with every hour that passed, rather than leveling off. He’d been telling himself he was hot for her simply because it was a natural reaction for a man who’d been without a woman for four years to want one as beautiful as her, especially when they were staying alone in a house together. But if he was honest it was way more than physical attraction. Erin was kind and brave and sweet. She made him simultaneously want to gather her up in his arms to protect her and pin her to the nearest flat surface and kiss her until she melted and wrapped around him. The thought made his cock swell uncomfortably in his jeans.
Realizing she was watching him with a quizzical expression, he blinked. “Sorry?”
She seemed to smother a laugh. “I asked if there was anything else you knew about the situation that you could share with me. You know, before I go to the meeting tomorrow at Langley.”
Well, that shot his arousal all to hell. Good to know in case it got out of hand again, which it probably would if he wound up spending more time alone with her. “How much do you know about Rahim?”
“Not much. Is he Taliban?”
“No, but he’ll work with them when it suits his purpose. Or anyone else, for that matter.” And he was far more dangerous than people outside of the intelligence community realized. “There’s something else you should know.”
At his grim tone she straightened. “Go ahead, I’m already sitting down.”
The quick comment damn near made him smile, in spite of how serious a conversation this was. “He’s American.”
She blinked. “What, you mean born here?”
“In Michigan. Grew up there as Gary Dyer. Enlisted in the Army at twenty. Few years later he served two tours in Afghanistan, fell in love with Islam and decided he was fighting on the wrong side of the war.”
Her eyes widened and she sat forward a little. “Are you kidding me?”
Wade shook his head.
“The CIA’s number one high value target right now is an American. A
veteran
.”
“Yep.”
She blew out a breath and ran a hand through her hair. He liked that she’d left it down to swirl around her shoulders. Made him wonder if it would feel as soft as it looked if he stroked his fingers through it. “How the hell did that happen?” she asked.
He was on semi-shaky ground here. The CIA had bound her to a confidentiality clause, so she couldn’t repeat anything she learned about the investigation—and he knew she wouldn’t anyway, because she was smart and loyal—but very few people knew the details he was about to disclose. Still, she deserved to know now, rather than be taken off guard later.
“He was raised in a survivalist, doomsday-type cult, with an ultra-strict Christian upbringing. Sometime after high school he left his family, got involved with militant groups online and became interested in, if not outright sympathetic to their cause. He began to study the Quran. After he joined the military and deployed to Afghanistan, it solidified his belief that the U.S. and its allies were occupiers. Then he was wounded in a friendly-fire incident.” He paused. “The damage to the area was bad enough that they never located his body and assumed he was KIA with the rest of his platoon. Crews went in to recover the remains but he was never accounted for and it was assumed he was vaporized in the explosion. DNA tests from some of the samples recovered confirmed he was in the area when the hellfire missile detonated. In reality he used the opportunity to fake his own death. Locals found him a few days later hiding at the bottom of a deep ravine and took him in. The military didn’t know he’d survived until he turned up in an online video months later, as Rahim.”
“Holy crap,” she breathed. “What does he look like? I mean, he’d have to blend in well enough with the villagers to go unnoticed for so long, right?”
Rather than answer, Wade pulled out his phone, input the security code and searched through the encrypted files in his email account until he found a decent photo of Rahim. He pulled it up on screen and held out the phone to her.
She took it from him, her expression turning incredulous at the man on screen. “Holy shit.”
Wade completely understood her shock. Rahim was descended from Scots-Irish ancestors. He had a pale, freckled complexion, bright blue eyes, strawberry-blond hair and a thick coppery beard. In the mountainous tribal region of Afghanistan, he would’ve stood out as much as an NBA player in a roomful of midgets. “So you can see just how devoted the people must have been to protecting him in order for him to avoid detection all those months before the video came out, and ever since. Until then, not even his family knew he’d survived the missile strike.”
She handed the phone back to him, frowning. “Is he crazy?”
I wish.
“Like a fox. One of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met.”
“Great,” she muttered, and sat forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she rubbed one hand over the back of her neck. He was tempted to push her hand aside and massage the back of her neck, try to ease her worries now that he’d landed her squarely on Rahim’s hit list. She met his eyes, shook her head a little. “I know I don’t know you well, but I still can’t picture you living out there with him. Working with him.”
Wade shrugged and made a conscious effort to relax the muscles in his belly as they tightened at her bewilderment. He wasn’t going to lie to her about that, he couldn’t. And he respected her too much to sugar coat this just to make her feel better. His SF training had made him an ideal undercover operative. “Until a few days ago I was closer to him than anyone else on the planet.”
And that’s exactly why she was in such danger now, being tied to him. Rahim would want his revenge. Knowing him, he’d want it to be delivered in person. But Wade didn’t think even Rahim would risk trying to smuggle his way back into the U.S. If he was caught here he’d have no backup, and no way to break out of any holding facility.
Erin was quiet for a long moment. “Well, you’ll have to tell me more about your relationship with him sometime.” She let the invitation hang there, didn’t push for more, and the tension in his muscles eased further.
“Maybe I will.” He was astounded that she was taking all this so well and wasn’t on the radio right now to the security guys, demanding they take her someplace else, anywhere else as long as it was away from him. He lowered his gaze to his cold coffee cup, searched for the right words. “I’m on the same side of this fight as you,” he said, feeling the need to reiterate that in light of everything he’d told her.
“I know.”
At that he raised his head and met her eyes, surprised at how readily she’d said it.
“I
know
,” she repeated, and added a little smile that said she had every confidence in him. Which totally blew his mind.
How the hell did she know he was one of the good guys? How could she trust that he wasn’t playing both sides and working with Rahim on the sly? No one knew the full details of what he’d done when he’d gone off the grid to infiltrate Rahim’s network three years ago, not even his CIA handler. He’d killed to protect Rahim, done other ugly things he had to live with the rest of his life.
Still, he forced himself to nod. “Good.” He didn’t want her to be afraid of him, ever. He wanted—needed, for reasons he didn’t understand—her to trust him, believe in him.
Clearing his throat, he stood, his knees cracking as he got to his feet. “Busy day tomorrow. We’d both better turn in.”
“Yeah, we should.” She gazed up at him, looking so soft and kissable he was tempted to close the distance between them and fist his hands in that shiny chocolate-brown hair while he claimed that tempting mouth.
Don’t you fucking touch her, asshole
.
He turned away with a gruff, “Sleep tight.”
****
Mountains of northeastern Afghanistan
The runner came to him just after evening prayer.
Rahim stood to stretch his sore left arm, reaching his hand up toward the darkening sky. To the west the last, faint line of pink touched the horizon, bleeding into the purple twilight above. The muscles and tendons flexed grudgingly, sending jolts of pain up his arm until he at last lowered his hand to his side.
“Rahim. There’s a message for you.”
He turned to Safir, standing a dozen feet away. It still felt strange not to have Jihad with him, or at least close by. He’d grown so used to having that, Rahim felt totally exposed without him and his protection. Ironic considering he now posed the greatest threat to his life. “What is it?”
“Sandberg escaped the country.”
Of course he had. The CIA had gotten him out, and likely the woman with him. “Any word on where he’s going this time?”
“None yet. Do you have any ideas?”
“A few.” Not back to Wyoming, where Rahim had learned Sandberg came from, because that would be too obvious. Washington D.C. maybe. CIA headquarters in Langley for sure, though he didn’t know for how long. “Keep our people searching for something useful. I’ll find him soon enough.”
Safir looked uncertain. “But the plan…perhaps it’s best to wait, or think of something else entirely. If Jihad knew everything—”
“He didn’t know
everything
.” Rahim would never tell anyone everything. He wasn’t stupid. “And he doesn’t know enough to stop what’s coming. Not now.” Taking a grim satisfaction in that, he peered out at the mountains to the west. The line of pink was gone, swallowed up by the darkness.
Safir shifted his stance, seeming restless. “Let me go in your place. I can do this.”