SEAL's Deception (Take No Prisoners Book 8) (2 page)

Her grin faded into a serious look. “I’m counting on it.”

A couple other bouncers converged on Ben, Yasmin and the two attackers.

“We’ll clean up the mess,” Wendell said. “You might want to get out of here before the Bobbies arrive.”

Yasmin gave the bouncer one last glance, hooked Ben’s arm, and led him out of the club onto the cool, damp street in London.

“Did you know those men would be there?” Ben asked.

“I had received reasonably reliable intel they might make their move tonight. My counterparts didn’t believe me.” She shrugged and turned right, stepping out with purpose. “Guess they were wrong.”

Ben hurried to catch up, curious about this woman who could choke the life out of a man with her thighs, get up and walk away like it was part of her normal exercise routine. For all he knew, that move could be.

“Do you mind telling me who you are, and why the Navy SEALs have been tasked to work with a former INTERPOL, now CIA, agent on a covert operation?”

“When we get to a safe location, I’ll tell you what I know. In the meantime, keep your eyes open. Those two gunmen probably weren’t the only ones scheduled to attack.”

An explosion rocked the streets several blocks from where they were.

Ben stopped and spun toward the sound.

Yasmin’s hand on his arm halted him before he could run toward the noise. “It’s already done. There’s not much you can do to help those people. By the time you get there, the police and ambulances will have arrived. You’ll only be in the way.” She took his hand. “Come on. We have an operation to kick off and no time to waste.”

As if to emphasize her prediction, the wail of sirens sounded in the distance. People emerged from buildings, stared at the skyline and huddled in groups, whispering.

Ben tapped his ear bud communication device. “Connected with my contact. Moving to a safe location. Will report in when I know more.”

“You weren’t part of that explosion we heard, were you?” Irish asked.

“No,” Ben said. “It wasn’t anywhere close to us.”

“Good to know,” Irish responded. “So who’s your contact?”

“I’ll tell you when I know more,” Ben said.

“Ha!” Stingray interjected. “He’s a she. You dog. I’ll bet she’s gorgeous. Tell us where you are. I want to meet this sweet thing.”

Ben tapped the ear bud several times. “You’re breaking up. Contact you when I can.”

“Breaking up my ass—” Stingray said as Ben turned off the earbud.

Yasmin glanced over her shoulder without slowing. “Your teammates?”

“Yup.”

“I take it you’re on a tracker, too.” She ducked down an alley between buildings.

Ben hurried after her. “Yup.”

“They’ll follow.”

Probably. As little as Ben had revealed, they’d be too curious to wait for him to give a location. Stingray and Irish would have the handheld tracker on by now. Ben’s lips quirked upward. They’d be surprised by the beautiful woman they’d find him with. And, if they tried to sneak up on him, he might have the pleasure of watching her kick their asses.

Y
asmin Evans had been partnered
with a multitude of men in various operations. None of the partnerships had lasted long. She preferred to work alone, but this particular operation required a bodyguard. Actually, several bodyguards. The woman whose place she was taking kept three bodyguards close at all times, until she’d slipped through their hands and disappeared.

Of course, the bodyguards hadn’t had a chance after Yasmin got involved in helping the pretty runaway princess escape a life she had no intention of living. The young princess’s escape at the same time as orders came down from Yasmin’s boss had been fortuitous. The princess hadn’t wanted to step foot inside the palace of Prince Khalid bin Abdulaziz, her fiancé by arranged marriage.

Yasmin needed access inside Khalid’s palace. Luckily, she and the princess were of the same height and similar build. Yasmin had no doubt she could pull this off.

Now, to keep her bodyguard from getting in the way. Granted, it was
his
SEAL team that had discovered the problem to begin with. Yasmin supposed that was the reason the SEALs had been tasked with her support.

Still, she preferred to work alone. There weren’t too many men she trusted. Her father had left her mother when Yasmin was twelve. When she’d been a brand new operative in INTERPOL, she’d fallen hard for her partner, French agent Pierre Marceau. Sadly, Pierre was a double agent for the Islamic State. He’d nearly gotten her killed before she’d figured out his real mission. By then, it was too late to salvage her career with INTERPOL. Thankfully, the CIA had a need for her services. Because her father had been American and her mother of Turkish descent, she had dual citizenship and spoke multiple languages. She’d gone to work for the CIA when no one else would have her.

Yasmin glanced behind her at the big SEAL easily keeping up as she dashed through the empty streets. Coming to a stop near the corner of two streets where a set of stairs led down to the underground railroad the English liked calling the Tube, she paused. A quick, but thorough, look around ensured she and the SEAL hadn’t been followed. Without saying a word, she stepped away from the corner, descended the stairs and ran down a long corridor leading to the tube platform.

A couple of people waited for the next train, holding hands, whispering nervously. Yasmin could only assume they’d heard the explosion and worried about getting on the train.

Yasmin studied them for a moment, then turned and strode along the platform to the end.

A train slid to a stop. Weary people got off and hurried toward the exit. Others got on the train, and the area cleared of all people.

When the platform was empty, Yasmin leaped over the edge onto the gravel below, and followed the track, heading into the darkness of the train tunnel.

The SEAL followed. “You sure you know where you’re going?” he whispered.

“No,” she snorted. “I always lead my partners down dark tunnels in the middle of the night.”

“Hey. No need to be testy.”

“I didn’t ask for a partner,” she grumbled. “I consider you as having been inflicted upon me. I much prefer to work alone.”

“Point made. But I’m on orders to work with you.” He grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. “I follow orders.”

“Goody for you.” She jerked her arm free and shot a narrow-eyed glance up at him. The light from the train platform shone brightly into her face. “I’m not so good at following orders.” She continued down the track.

He dogged her footsteps. “Great. So where does that leave us?”

“Here.” She stopped in front of a metal door, slid a key into the lock and then twisted the key and the knob, opening the door. Yasmin stepped into pitch darkness and fumbled for the light switch.

The rumble of a train sounded loud in the tunnel. A light flashed at the other end of the tunnel. The train.

The SEAL pushed through the door, turned and closed it. He bumped into Yasmin. To keep from knocking her over, he slipped his arm around her waist.

“Where is that damned light?” she muttered, her hands skimming over surface of the concrete wall. A moment later, she found the switch and flipped it. A click sounded and the small room lit up. The furnishings consisted of an old metal desk, a couple of chairs, and a map on the wall.

“Welcome to my lair.” Yasmin glanced around the room. “I do most of my work in London out of this office.”

Her contact’s lips twisted. “You call this an office?”

Yasmin frowned. “I do. It has all the right features: a desk, chair, electricity and even decent Wi-Fi from the café on the street above.” She waved her arm around the tight room. “It’s dry, for the most part and never too cold. What more could I want?” Her heartbeat stuttered. The small room seemed even smaller with the big SEAL filling it with his excessive height and broad shoulders. Yasmin dropped into the chair to put a little distance between her and the man who would work this operation with her. God, he was damned near overwhelming. Being with him in close proximity for the next week or so would be a challenge. Especially since she barely tolerated most men. “So,” she said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and continued. “You and I will be working together.” She held out her hand. “I’m Yasmin Evans. And you are?”

Holding his hands at his sides, Ben’s brows dipped. “Thinking I got the wrong contact back at the bar.”

“Oh, you got the right contact. I’m just not sure you and I will work well as a team.”

“Two others have been assigned to this detail. If you want one of them to be your primary bodyguard, say so, and I’ll understand.”

“No.” She held up a hand. “You’ll do.” Hell, did it matter? Since her unfortunate dealings with the ISIS terrorist, she refused to trust any man completely. Hopefully, the Navy SEALS would be more honorable than a double agent.

He took her outstretched hand. “Ben Sjodin. Or Smith, based on my passport.”

“How soon until your boys get here?” She tapped her fingers on the desktop. “I don’t like repeating myself. We’ll go through this once, and then we have to move on.”

Ben glanced down at the expensive Rolex watch he’d been fitted with. “I expect they’ll be here within the next two minutes.”

A loud knock on the metal door startled Yasmin. She pulled open the desk drawer, removed an H&K .40 caliber pistol and pointed it at the door. “Open it, but stand back.”

Ben’s brows drew together. “Not if you’re going to shoot first, ask questions later. It could be my guys.”

She cocked her brows. “I guess we won’t know until you open the door.”

“Just don’t shoot. If they aren’t my teammates, I’ll take them out.”

Refusing to lower her weapon, she shrugged. “Just in case, I’ll hold on to this.”

Ben twisted the knob, yanked open the door and crouched in a fighting stance.

Two bearded Navy SEALs stood on the other side, smiles spreading across their faces as they caught sight of Yasmin. Both men were almost as tall as Ben and equally broad-shouldered.

The man in front stepped inside, ran a glance over Yasmin and grinned like a fool. “Yeah. I see why your radio quit working.” He stuck out his hand. “Ray Thompson. My friends call me Stingray.”

She lowered the gun, ignoring the outstretched hand. The rumble of a train on the tracks rattled the door, the desk and the walls. “I suggest you get inside before the train hits you.”

The man behind Stingray pushed past him and entered first, standing so close Yasmin had to lean back to look into his eyes. “I’m Declan O’Shea. But you can call me Irish.” He smiled, but didn’t offer his hand.

The two men crowded in with barely enough room to stand, their muscular bodies tightly pressed together.

“Let’s get on with this briefing before we run out of air,” Yasmin said. Already, their body heat had warmed the confined space by several degrees. “You can start by telling me what you know about the African biological warfare manufacturing facility you and your team blew up. Then I’ll tell you what I know, and we can discuss where we go from here.”

Ben turned to Irish. “You want to take it?”

Irish nodded. “On a mission in Somalia, we discovered a number of villages completely decimated, the residents dead, but not from the usual beheadings, gunshot wounds or explosives. They’d died of something else. Then, in a palace located in an Ethiopian desert, we found an underground factory where they were producing biological weapons. They’d been testing them on the villagers in Somalia. Before we destroyed the facility, we learned vials of a highly contagious virus were sold to someone in the house of Saud.”

“I don’t suppose you could pinpoint a specific person or family, could you?” Yasmin asked. “The Saud family tree has a lot of branches.”

Irish shook his head. “We suspect whoever bought the vials were friends, family or business partners with the man who owned the palace, Prince Yohannis.

Yasmin snorted. “That narrows the list down to a couple thousand suspects.”

“It’s all we had. We were just glad to get out without contracting anything,” Ben said.

“Considering we’re all in the same room, breathing the same air, I’m glad you didn’t catch anything nasty, as well.” She glanced up at them. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Ben and his teammates nodded.

“Okay.” Yasmin opened a laptop and clicked the on button. “That jives with what I was briefed about and what we got from one of our contacts in Saudi.” While she waited for the computer to boot, she pulled out a map of Saudi Arabia and pointed to Riyadh. “Our insider seems to think Prince Khalid bin Abdulaziz, or someone in his regime, purchased the biological weapons. We’ve been tasked with finding and destroying those vials before they can be used.

“The house of Saud won’t let us waltz into its palaces and conduct searches,” Irish said. “And staging an attack won’t gain the U.S. any points as allies.”

“We can’t let what’s in those vials be unleashed in the water system or any mobile population,” Yasmin’s fists tightened. “From what I’ve been told, the virus can spread quickly from person to person. If it gets loose, we could be facing a pandemic of epic proportions.”

“How do you propose we get into Khalid’s palace?” Ben asked.

“Walk in,” she said and waited for their reaction.

Ben’s brows puckered. “As some kind of peace-keeping delegation?”

The SEAL was kind of cute when he frowned. Yasmin pushed back that unprofessional thought and shook her head. “We wouldn’t get too far inside as a delegation. No, I have a better idea.” She clicked keys on her laptop and brought up a photograph of a young Middle Eastern woman: beautifully dressed, dark hair, dark brows, brown-black eyes and perfectly put together. Yasmin turned the screen toward the men. “
She’s
how we get in.”

“I don’t understand, but I’ll bite,” Ben said. “Who is she?

“Princess Aliya. Prince Khalid’s fiancée from an arranged marriage.”

Stingray leaned closer to the screen and whistled. “She’s hot. Is she going to let us into the palace? Is that the plan?”

“No, I am.” Yasmin stared up at the men. “I’m taking her place.”

All three men stared at her, then Stingray and Irish burst out laughing.

“You?” Stingray waved a hand toward her hair. “You’re a blond-haired, blue-eyed westerner.”

Irish’s lips twisted. “There’s no way you’ll pass for a Middle Eastern princess.”

Yasmin turned her back to the men then popped the blue contact lenses from her eyes. Setting those aside, she felt beneath her hair for the combs and pins, pulling them out, one at a time. Then she grabbed the front of the wig and pulled it off, shaking out her long, dark hair. When she turned back to the men, she lifted her chin. “What do you think?”

Ben’s brows wrinkled. He glanced at the woman on the computer screen and back to Yasmin. “I don’t know.”

Irish stared at the laptop and then looked at Yasmin. “Has Khalid seen her up close?”

“Seriously, you don’t look like her,” Stingray said. “That woman’s a total knockout with her dark hair and…and…well, everything.” He held up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re not bad looking, but she…” He grinned. “She’s ridiculously gorgeous.”

Her fingers curled into her palms as heat raced up her neck and into her cheeks. “So she’s beautiful. You’ll be amazed at what makeup will do.”

“That’s your plan?” Ben asked. “What if Prince Khalid figures out you’re a fraud?”

Yasmin lifted her chin. “By that time, we’ll have the vials and will be on our way back to London or the States.”

“But, you’re not Middle Eastern,” Irish pointed out. “You don’t speak the language.”

Growing weary of their negativism, Yasmin pushed to her feet. “The princess grew up in England. She probably never spoke Arabic, either. But, that’s where you’re wrong about me. My father was an American soldier. But my mother was Turkish, of a minority who speaks fluent Arabic. I speak enough of the language to get by. Actually, I understand it better than I speak it, which could come in handy.”

Ben shook his head. “It’s far too dangerous to pull off. From all I know, Saudi royalty doesn’t have a sense of humor, especially when it comes to their female subjects. There has to be another way.”

Yasmin crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m listening.”

The three men exchanged glances.

Ben turned back to Yasmin. “We can sneak into the palace at night.”

“You need someone on the inside to get you in.” Yasmin glanced from Ben to Stingray and Irish. “Any of you have another plan that will get a bunch of Navy SEALs through the front door of the palace? The fiancée of Prince Khalid will be allowed to enter,
with
her bodyguards. Unless one of you wants to dress as the princess, my plan will have to do. Are we good with it?”

After exchanging sideways glances, the men nodded.

“I guess we’ll have to be okay with it,” Irish finally said.

“Sounds like you’re set on this course of action.” Stingray shoved a hand though his shaggy hair.

Ben drew in a deep breath and let it out. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, around noon. I need to pack some of the princess’s clothes and makeup and leave from her apartment in the morning.” She nodded toward the men. “Ben will stay at the apartment tonight. Stingray and Irish can arrive out front when the chauffeur is scheduled to pick me up to go to the airport. From there, we’ll fly out on the prince’s private jet.”