Heroes In Uniform (54 page)

“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.”

“You likely could. But this is my destiny.” By this time tomorrow he’d be in Karachi, ready to board the plane that would take him to Malaysia and then on to his final destination. “Besides, it’s been far too long since I visited North America. I’m ready to go back.”

And when he arrived, he had one hell of a homecoming gift planned for the land of his birth.

Danger Close: Chapter Eight

Wade hesitated in front of the coffee bar outside the CIA director’s office. They had one of those fancy new coffee machines that made everything from plain coffee to cappuccinos, and they also had a huge variety of tea boxes to choose from. He’d gone through the whole readjustment thing multiple times back in his Army days when he’d come home from deployments, but he’d never experienced anything like this before. Having just come out of a long-term, deep undercover op, this was a whole new level of culture shock. The weirdest things seemed to jar him and he hated it.

This morning he’d been halfway through dawn prayers before he’d suddenly remembered he didn’t have to pray five times a day anymore—or pray at all, for that matter. That was going to take some getting used to. And there were other little things. He’d once been a coffee addict, yet he was so used to drinking tea now that he preferred it to coffee—unless Erin made it, apparently. Except the spicy chai he craved apparently wasn’t one of the dozen choices in front of him. Figured.

Chalking his mental baggage up to sleep deprivation and jetlag, he went with the Earl Grey and stuck the teabag into a mug before studying the space age coffee machine, trying to figure out how to get it to pour hot water. If he could successfully maintain a cover identity on one of the most dangerous assignments on the planet for over three years, he could operate a damn coffee maker.

“You just press and hold those two red buttons at the same time.”

He looked over his shoulder at Erin, standing in the doorway. The gentle smile she aimed at him told him she wasn’t making fun of him, and he relaxed. He noted there were shadows under her eyes and she looked worn out. He didn’t like the idea that what he’d told her last night had worried her enough to make her lose sleep. “You want some?”

“Tea?” She scrunched up her nose as she considered the idea, then shrugged. “Sure, I’ll try some. Thanks.”

He filled the cup and let it steep. “Anything in it?”

“Maybe some milk, please.”

He took the teabag out, added the milk and handed it to her, acknowledging her thanks with a nod as he turned back to make his own.

“Guess you’ve been drinking your fair share of tea the past few years, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He tossed his wet teabag in the organic recycling bin set beneath the sink and caught the face she made as she sipped at the tea.

“God, it’s like hot, weird-tasting dishwater or something,” she muttered, but took another sip anyway.

He hid a smile. “It grows on you after a while.”

She gave him a doubtful look and stepped up next to him to lean her lower back against the counter. The thin black sweater she wore hugged the pert curves of her breasts in a damn distracting way, and her sweet, clean scent went to his head. “I’m not sure I want to try it enough times to let it grow on me.” She met his eyes. “How did that pizza sit last night, by the way?”

He wasn’t sure if she was asking out of curiosity or out of concern as a medical professional. “Not the greatest.” He was convinced his body thought he’d tried to poison it. He’d been nauseated for hours after eating just those one and a half slices, and had wound up making repeated trips to the bathroom during the night. It had totally been worth it to have the excuse to sit and talk with her during the meal though.

She nodded, took another small sip and managed to keep from scrunching her nose up this time. “Too rich, and too processed. We’ll have to make sure we eat clean from now on.”

Surprised by the
we
in that sentence, he just nodded. Damn, she looked really exhausted. He didn’t like seeing her that way, wished he could make this all go away for her. “Go okay with Bill?” Wade’s handler was one of the best in the biz, but could be a bit of an asshole. People skills weren’t his strong suit and he was notoriously heavy-handed when he wanted something. Wade hadn’t had much contact with him since going undercover, just the occasional check-in via satellite phone when he could manage it—until the Sec Def had been captured.