Intrusion (27 page)

“Damn it, Audra—”

“What if you can’t come back?” she clarified. “If you go in alone and something happens to you…who’s going to be there to keep you safe? I couldn’t bear it if—I need you.”

His head snapped back, exposing his Adam’s apple as it contracted with his swallow. “Why?”

“We make a good team.”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Say it.”

She leaned into his touch. “I need you.”

He shook his head. “Not that. Tell me you love me.”

She closed her eyes.
I love you.
She ached to believe everything would be all right if she said those three little words that swelled her heart. But love wouldn’t make him stay. It wouldn’t keep him safe.

Her throat closed. Tears stung her eyes. “Don’t go. Let the police handle it. Bring in the military, the FBI, CIA, whatever. Just—”

A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “You can’t say it, can you?”

Not until she knew—without a doubt—he’d stick around.

He gave her a terse nod. “And that’s exactly why I have to go. I can fix this. It’s got to be me. Maybe then you’ll stop…”

He shook his head, turned his back on her. And she hated it. Hated having him shut her out.

“Stop, what?”

“Finding reasons why I’m not enough.”

She gasped, a sharp pain slicing through her. “You think that’s what I’m doing? Finding you lacking?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” She went to him and laid her palms on his shoulders. “Damn, it, no. You are…”
Everything.
“More than I could ever ask for. It’s…love,” God, she had trouble even saying the damn word, “that’s not enough. It’s let me down, Cam.”

He whirled around, his hands sliding against her waist and drawing her to him. “Not this time. Not with me.”

“Then show me. Stay here and show me.”

She leaned in and kissed him, guiding his hands under her t-shirt. His fingers flexed on her ribcage. He parted her lips and swept his tongue inside her mouth. Desire exploded, millions of tiny electrons zipping through her blood as he dragged her over to the bed and proceeded to prove his love would always be more than enough.

***

The blaring ring of the phone brought Cam awake. He rolled out of bed and snatched the receiver out of the cradle, darting a glance at Audra.

Still asleep. Good.

“Yeah.” He lowered his voice. “What do you have?”

“You have a TV?” Keith asked.

“Nope. This dump isn’t that classy.”

“The police found Russell Coburn’s body tonight.” Keith wasted no time in getting down to business. “In the desert. East of the salt river.”

“Shit.”

“My reaction, exactly. Now, I can’t match your talent for digging up information, but I had a friend run an ID on the man in the video. His name’s Miloje Petrovic. Seems he’s been on the CIA’s radar for a while now. He’s been very vocal about wanting to create a Serbian Rebel Army to take back control of Kosovo.”

“Petrovic? Where have I heard that name before?”

“His father, Aleksandar Petrovic was Lieutenant General of the Serbian Armed Forces up until his death twelve years ago. You might remember the name from our time in Bosnia.”

Bosnia. His A-team had once spent roughly eight months training the Serbian troops there. Aleksandar Petrovic had been a much revered name among their soldiers. The news made no secret of the Serbs continued fight against the Albanians. Controversy abounded over the recognition of Kosovo as an independent nation.

Cam rubbed his temple. “If Petrovic were to outfit his rebel army with Audra’s dynamic armor, they’d become quite a force for Kosovo to reckon with.”

“My thoughts exactly. The guy’s dangerous, Cam. One of those fanatical zealots that will do anything for his cause.”

“Any idea where I can find him?”

“No.” Keith’s vibrated across the line. “Why don’t you and Audra turn yourselves in? You’ve got friends here who will go to bat for you, Cam. Say the word and I’ll call up the team. They’ll be on their way from Bragg in a heartbeat. With all of us in your corner and this video of Petrovic, we can make it right.”

Cam knew the wisdom of Keith’s words, and if it was just Cam, he’d take the chance that all would shakedown in his favor. “Tell me something,” he said softly. “If it was Grace’s future hanging in the balance would you let someone else handle it?”

Silence stretched across the line and Cam knew Keith was remembering when he’d almost lost Grace. She was alive today because Keith hadn’t waited for the feds.

“She’s the one, huh?”

Cam looked at Audra, one hand pillowed beneath her cheek as she slept on her stomach. His heart twisted inside out. “Yeah, she’s the one.”

Keith let out a long sigh. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find the bastard.”

Cam hung up the phone and turned to his laptop. He fingered the SIM card he’d swiped from Petrovic and popped it into his SIM card reader. “All right, asshole, let’s see what you’ve got.”

His computer program downloaded the data from the SIM and Cam began scrolling through it, hoping something would jump out at him. Halfway through the stored contacts, his hand froze on the mouse button.

A Phoenix area code. The only local phone number in the entire records and it belonged to one Ivan Petrovic. He reread the digits, his mouth pulling into a frown. Where had he seen that number before?

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to call up the memory. A cell phone log. Audra’s cell phone bill. He’d traced the number to Jonathan Peterson from the Department of Defense.

Jonathan Peterson. Ivan Petrovic.

They had to be one and the same.

He had the son of a bitch. All he had to do was draw him out with an offer he couldn’t refuse. He slammed his laptop closed and packed his equipment back in his bag. He crept over to Audra, brushed her hair back from her face and leaned down to place a lingering kiss on her cheek.

Damn, he loved her.

She needed him to stick around, to be the guy that would always be there for her. He got it. He did. But how could he live with himself if he failed her? She would not end up like Ben. He’d lost one person he loved because of his screw up; he wouldn’t survive if he lost Audra too.

With any luck, he’d be back before she even realized he’d left.

Chapter Nineteen

“I can’t believe you let them get away.” Ivan watched his older brother’s reaction to the words, and sure enough, Miloje sent him a fierce scowl.

Bad choice of words. He didn’t need his brother’s explosive anger directed at him. There were times when Ivan doubted that even God’s wrath could compete with an unhappy Miloje’s quest for revenge. His unquenchable thirst for justice made him an imposing commander for the rebel army. It also made him demanding and highly unpredictable.

“The bitch tasered me.” Miloje pounded on the desk. “I did not come to this country to get electrocuted, brother. You promised victory. You said this was going to be easy.” Miloje arched a severe brow. “What was that expression you used?”

Like taking candy from a baby.

Ivan sighed. Unfortunately, he’d underestimated both Cameron Scott and Dr. McCain. Who knew a washed up soldier and a starchy scientist could put up such a fight? He didn’t think they’d had it in them.

“I am sorry.” His tongue tripped over the words, his native Serbian accent creeping back into his speech like it always did when he spoke with his brother. “I can fix this.”

Miloje threw up his arms and executed a vicious punch to the air. “How? Surely they are on to you now. You cannot regain their trust—”

The slim black phone on Ivan’s desk cut off Miloje’s tirade. Ivan swallowed, his hand clenched around the arm of his chair. He let the shrill ring punctuate the air for several beats before he reached for the phone and flipped it open.

“Peterson.”

“Still playing name games, Petrovic?”

Shock rippled through him. Cameron Scott had just called him Petrovic. Damn him! The little bastard was ruining all his careful plans for fading back into his birth name undetected.

Ivan’s slick palm slipped on the phone. He gripped it tighter, his heart kicking him in the throat. He cleared it. “Mr. Scott. What a pleasure.”

Cameron’s sharp chuckle snapped across the line. “I’m sure it is.”

Ivan ignored the jibe with a roll of his shoulders. The muscles in his neck knotted. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Hmm.” Cameron tsked. “It’s not what you can do for me but what I can do for you.”

“How so?” He motioned to Miloje with a flick of his hand.

Trace the call.

“Oh, come on. It’s not cool for men to act coy. What do you think I have right here in my hands?”

He squeezed his hand into a fist. Cameron’s voice set his teeth on edge. “The armor.”

“It’s a beaut, too. Make a nice addition to anyone’s arsenal.”

Not just anyone’s. His. Miloje’s.

Serbia’s.

“What do you plan to do with it?” He could barely squeeze the question from his constricted throat.

“That depends. On you.”

Ah, so Cameron wanted his own share of the pie. Ivan chuckled. “You want to make a deal, is that it? What’s it going to be? Money…power…notoriety?”

Silence stretched across the line.
Think hard, Mr. Scott.
It wasn’t an easy choice. Which one would appeal to Cameron the most?

“None of those, actually,” he finally said.

His firm voice sent Ivan’s brows dipping in confusion. “Fine. Then what?”

“Simple. I want you to leave Audra the hell alone. I won’t tell anyone who you are or what you’ve done. You clear her name with the police, smooth things over with your contacts at the defense department and then you disappear back to Serbia—or wherever the hell you want—as long as it’s out of this country.”

He narrowed his eyes, the vein in his temple suddenly throbbing. “And the armor?”

“Take it with you for all I care.”

Though sincerity rang through Cameron’s words, Ivan wasn’t fooled. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you’d let me walk?”

Cameron’s voice went low. “I’d let you run if it would keep you and your goons away from Audra.”

An invisible weight crushed down on Ivan’s windpipe. Hadn’t he felt the same way about Mina? Sacrifice, compromise, surrender—whatever it took to keep her happy and safe. He’d failed her because he hadn’t done enough.

Now he could only honor her death as he should have honored her life.

“Love makes us do foolish things, Cameron.” He smoothed away a speck of dust from his desk. “I didn’t take you for a fool.”

“You want the armor, or not?” Cameron’s voice spiked with impatience.

Ivan leaned his head against his chair, suddenly weary of the game. “You know I want the armor.”

“Come and get it, then.”

The click of Cameron cutting the call exploded in Ivan’s ear. He threw his phone on the desk and buried his face in his hands. “Where is he?”

“I think it’s a trap, brother.”

Ivan’s hands shook. Although his mind concurred with Miloje, his heart poked him with doubt. What if Cameron did have the armor? If the armor was in his grasp, could he turn his back on it? “What would you have me do, Milo? Give up? We vowed to see this through.”

He glanced at Miloje, at the strong set of his jaw—so like their father’s it had always infuriated Ivan, who took after their mother in both coloring and facial features. Miloje’s Serbian heritage was stamped into every plane, every angle of his face; his loyalty to their country went unquestioned.

His brother nodded, then turned to study the computer monitor. Miloje rattled off an address that had Ivan’s blood boiling.

He shoved out of his chair. “He’s here. That piece of shit is right outside our door.”

***

Cam switched on his digital recorder and shoved it into his pocket. From his position on the green of the adjacent golf course, he watched the shadowy figures of Peterson and his brother as they doused all the lights on the first floor.

Tension pulled every muscle taut. He’d been running on adrenaline for far too long, but now that he was here he couldn’t help but realize he’d jumped the gun again. Too much was riding on this crazy half-assed bluff, but to keep Audra safe he’d offer himself up on a silver platter.

Hell, he’d even put the apple in his own damn mouth.

He checked his jaw, grinding his molars against each other. So he’d keep up his guard and fight smart. He’d drag a confession out of Peterson and take both him and his brother down. Then, and only then, would he bring in the police.

A shadow appeared on Peterson’s back porch and Cam followed the man as he crossed the backyard.

Cam adopted a nonchalant pose, studying the dark figure over the sand pit that separated them. “Glad you could make it.”

Peterson stepped forward, the weak halogen light on the golf course barely illuminating the lower half of his face. “So, where is it?”

He started to circle the sand pit and Cam followed suit.

“It’s in a safe place,” he bluffed.

“I was under the impression you had it with you.”

Cam rocked back on his heels. “Now why would I be that stupid? What would stop you from killing me the same way you did Coburn?”

Peterson’s head snapped back. “I did what I had to do. You of all people should understand fighting injustice. Isn’t that what the United States military stands for?”

“So yours is a noble cause, is that it? You’re a regular lone ranger?” Cam grimaced. “Sorry, pal, I’m not buying your argument for the killing of innocent people.”

Peterson’s mouth dipped into a frown. “When women and children are slaughtered in the name of independence, should we stand by and do nothing?”

He flexed his fingers. “You know, when you talk like that I can almost convince myself you’re one of the good guys.”

“I am one of the good guys.” An accent suddenly thickened Peterson’s words. “This armor can help save Kosovo from ruthless Albanian terrorists who have stripped us Serbians of our country, our pride and our loved ones. My wife, my—my children, their deaths…” his voice cracked, “…will not be in vain. I will take that promise to my grave.”