Close Quarters (7 page)

“No false modesty there.”

“Waste of breath.”

She laughed. “I see.” She gave him another probing look. “I'm still trying to work out what you are doing here with Ben. Is he somebody special, traveling incognito? One of the President's advisors maybe?”

“You're assuming
I'm
something special.”

“You just got through telling me you're the best. That usually implies Special Forces. Maybe I'm naïve, but I wouldn't expect an average bureaucrat to have a security detail made up of Special Forces soldiers.”

“Actually, depending on the level of threat, it's not unheard of.”

“So, you're not going to tell me?”

“There's nothing to tell.”

“Right.” The look she gave him dared him to stick with that particular party line.

“Elle says your brother is stubborn as a mule with an attitude problem.”

“Your point?”

“I think it might run in the family.”

A grin flirted at the corners of her mouth. “You can count on it. My grandmother locked herself into the local library and went on a hunger strike until the city council agreed to leave
Catcher in the Rye
and other supposedly subversive books in the stacks. She was seriously opposed to censorship, but she didn't limit her opposition to rhetoric.”

No more than the woman in front of him was content to take a passive stance in regard to the needs she identified here in Zimbabwe.

“Let me guess, she was the librarian?”

“Yep.”

“I wasn't talking about ancestors.”

“Ancestors are a big thing among the Zimbabweans.”

“So you said. Not only are you stubborn, but you're not bad at misdirection.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” And why did that knowledge make him smile?

She gasped.

He did a quick inventory of their surroundings, but there was no threat he could see. “What?”

“You smiled.”

“So?”

“I never saw you do that before. Not even at Elle and Beau's wedding.”

“You find that odd?”

“You don't?”

“No.”

She shook her head. “Wow. You're so serious.”

“Isn't that a redundant observation when you reacted with such shock to my smile?”

“Are you teasing me, Mr. ‘I don't show frivolous emotion'?”

“Could be.”

“Well.”

“Well?” he prompted.

“I think I like it.”

“I think you're flirting.” And he was damn sure he liked it despite the fact he should not. He muttered a Ukrainian curse.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Now what?”

“Elle said that, when the zipper on her wedding dress got caught. Your mother and grandmother started yelling at her to beat the band.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“Neither was I once I convinced Mat to tell me what it meant.”

“I'm surprised my brother told you.”

“I tricked him into it.” Tanya smiled smugly. “He might be a brilliant scientist, but he's kind of hopeless at male-female interaction. Chantal has her work cut out for her with that one.”

“So she has said more than once.”

“Smart woman.”

“You would think so.”

“Don't you?” Tanya asked.

“I have only met my sister-in-law a couple of times, but yes, I found her intelligent.”

“She's also sweet.”

“Yes.”

Tanya studied him for several silent seconds before asking, “Do you like sweet?”

“I prefer stubborn.” Damn it, why had he said that?

Again with the admitting stuff he would never say to another woman, much less a mark. He was no longer convinced she was guilty of being the information leak, but that didn't mean he should allow himself to start thinking of her in his bed.

He never screwed around on a job. Not unless sex was required to meet his objective.

Her pretty hazel eyes went dark green with an emotion that caused a corresponding reaction in his pants. “That's good to know.”

“Is it?” He leaned toward her, invading her personal space and considering the best way to touch her without drawing the attention of the two men in the front of the truck.

“Yes,” she said in a husky voice that went straight to his cock.

Excited voices filled with agitation broke the spell their proximity was casting in the back of the ancient Land Rover.

Tanya's head snapped forward. “What's going on?”

“There is a military blockade on the road ahead,” the interning medical worker said in a stress-filled voice.

Other than a slight tensing of her shoulders, Tanya did not show any concern over the news. It pissed Roman off though, that he'd been so wrapped up in her, he hadn't seen the roadblock before the others pointed it out. She was too much of a distraction. Damn it.

“We'll be fine.” Tanya patted the intern's shoulder. “Calm down. We've got our papers and Sympa-Med is well known.”

The driver said something in Shona and Tanya just shook her head. “Getting worked up isn't going to help anything.”

“What did he say?” Roman asked.

“He doesn't trust government soldiers.”

Roman got the feeling the local security man had said something just a little earthier than that, but with the same meaning. “Does that mean he
does
trust mercenaries?”

“I don't know.”

Both men in the front seat emanated stress. The driver's was tinged with anger, while the intern practically vibrated with fear, but calm determination filled Roman.

He didn't know what in the hell was going on, but no local military flexing their bully muscles was going to compromise his objective.

As the driver pulled to a stop at the roadblock, Roman saw four soldiers. They were all the dark espresso brown of Zimbabweans, but he recognized U.S. military when he saw them, and two of the men had been trained by Uncle Sam's Army. Little tells indicated they weren't at home in the Zimbabwean uniform.

Roman watched with interest as one of the American soldiers masquerading as Zimbabwe military, approached the driver's door.

The driver lowered his window, but did not unlock the door, or make any move to step out of the Rover.

The pseudo Zimbabwean soldier demanded in American-accented English to see papers for the Rover's occupants and medical supplies.

Roman saw the U.S. soldiers giving particular attention to Tanya's papers.

They conferred with the Zimbabwean soldiers, and then the leader said something in Shona to their driver, who immediately started yelling and gesturing with his hands.

“What's going on?” Roman asked Tanya in an undertone.

“They want to search the Rover and they want to search us.” She let out a trembling breath. “They want to
strip-search
us.” Tanya's voice shook, but he wasn't sure if it was from anger or fear.

“No way in hell.” Roman dialed a familiar number on his satellite phone as he swung out of the Rover. The first mistake they had made was ignoring his exit from the SUV, thinking that the driver posed more of a threat. The second mistake was remaining preoccupied with the arguing driver while Roman made his way to within striking distance of them.

T
here were only four, and one of them was unarmed. Whether he'd left his weapon in their jeep, or somewhere else, it was not near at hand.

The other genuine Zimbabwean had a pistol in a snapped holster on his utility belt, and an AK-74U within reaching distance, but the safety was on. The American soldiers had newer weapons, but wore them holstered as if they were not expecting real trouble.

In other words, no one knew he would be with Tanya today. Because there was no doubt in his mind that this little roadblock was targeted at her.

Whether that was because she was a woman, or others suspected her of having important military intel, he refused to guess.

Roman went straight for the American soldier who spoke with more authority than the other one. He grabbed the man, flipped him in front and took the soldier's weapon from its holster, swinging it up to point at the other men. The American cursed and went rigid, his hand coming back to strike Roman. Roman blocked the hit and pressed his thumb into a particularly vulnerable pressure point on the man's neck. “Stand down, soldier,” Roman said as he knew the other man's vision headed toward black.

The soldier stopped fighting and allowed him to cuff his hands behind his back with a zip-tie. All of this took less than a minute.

Once again, Roman held the soldier in front of him, with his gun pointed at the others. “Step back from the Rover.”

When they didn't move fast enough, he said, “Now,” in a tone even Kadin knew not to mess with.

The soldiers stepped back. The unarmed one tried to angle toward their jeeps.

Roman let off a single shot that kicked up dirt at the man's feet. “Stay.”

The soldier stopped.

“Down on the ground, hands on the back of your heads.”

One of the Zimbabwean soldiers spat something at him in Shona. Roman didn't ask Tanya for a translation. That kind of talk was universal.

He waited until they'd obeyed his directions before stepping back from the man he'd been using as a shield. Grabbing his satellite phone, he was glad to hear the active air sound that indicated a connection.

Before he got a chance to speak into the phone, the soldier still standing demanded, “Who the hell are you?”

“A man with a hell of a lot higher pay grade than you and that's all you need to know, soldier.”

“Like hell, sir. We've got our orders.”

Roman ignored him and lifted the phone to his ear. “Sir?”

“Chernichenko?”

“Yes.”

“What's going on?”

“I'm at a roadblock and two of our own are here with a couple of Zimbabwe nationals. They want to perform a strip search.”

“You're with Ms. Ruston.”

“That would be an affirmative, sir.”

“Let them do the search. We'll find out if she's carrying the software on her.”

“That's a negative, sir.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is my operation.”

“Agreed.”

“Do you want the intel to fall into Zimbabwean hands if she does have it?” he asked in Russian.

“Shit. No.”

“There will be no strip search, at least not by these men.”

“You plan to conduct your own strip search?” his boss asked, sounding almost amused.

He hadn't considered it, but the prospect was a good one. If he was going to get busy on a job, he needed more than the objective of comparing the softness of Tanya's cheek to her inner thigh. “That would be the plan, sir.”

“Get to it.”

“Some things need to be finessed.”

His boss snorted. “Whatever you say. You're the best operative we've got. If you want me to call in favors and prevent an international incident, I need names.”

Roman stepped toward the Rover and indicated that Tanya should roll down her window, which she did. He handed her the phone and reverted to English. “Hold this please.”

She took it without comment.

He spun on his heel, toward the soldier still standing and yanked his dog tags out from beneath his borrowed uniform's shirt collar.

“Tanya, repeat what I say to the person on the phone.”

Her eyes widened, but she put the phone to her ear. “Ready.”

He recited the information off the dog tag.

She repeated it into the phone.

Roman told the security guard to get out of the truck. “Get the other soldiers' identifications.”

The driver did not argue and went for the second American soldier without being directed. He took time to secure the man's hands with a zip-tie before he dug out the dog tag and read the information off it for Tanya to repeat into the phone. He then secured the other soldiers with zip-ties before searching them for dog tags, which he did not find.

“Look for paper identification,” Roman instructed.

“There is nothing,” the driver said in heavily accented English after searching all the pockets. “I will look in their vehicles.”

One of the Zimbabwean men stiffened at that assertion, growling something in Shona that made the security guard glare.

He didn't bother responding, but went to the jeeps.

A couple of minutes later, he was standing in front of Roman with a small hand-held electronic device. “All I found was this.”

It wasn't a PDA, or a phone. In fact, it didn't have any kind of display screen at all. “What is it?”

Roman's brows drew together as he studied the small black device. “I don't know.”

He turned to the men. “What is this for?”

His question was met with stony silence.

“You all won't mind my keeping it then, will you?”

“That is mine. You cannot take it. I will have you arrested,” one of the men said from the ground.

“Really?” Roman asked.

“You are already in grave trouble for treating us thus.”

“Am I? Funny, somehow I doubt the local base is going to come out en masse to protect your dignity.”

He ignored the further spluttering and said to Tanya, “Tell the person on the phone that I don't think this roadblock is a government-sanctioned military activity.”

The small flinch on one of the Zimbabwean soldier's faces confirmed Roman's guess. Interesting. “In fact, I don't think a single one of these four men are Zimbabwean military.”

Tanya relayed his supposition while Roman watched the reactions of his captives carefully. A miniscule grimace, a jerking shoulder, a stony expression with partially parted lips and Roman knew he was right.

The soldiers started cursing and yelling at him, demanding he let them go.

“Shut it,” he said in the voice he used when he expected to be obeyed, which was pretty much always he had to admit. If only to himself.

Quiet fell.

“As you may have figured out, I called my superior. He'll be contacting your superiors, or at least whoever is responsible for Uncle Sam's military parading in Zimbabwean uniforms today. There will be no strip search of American citizens on my watch.”

The soldier standing said, “You don't know what this is about.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Who are you?” he asked again, this time sounding worried rather than belligerent.

“That's not something you need to worry about. I would be worried about pissing me off more than I already am.”

“How long until your boss gets through?” the other man asked, showing enough intelligence to be nervous.

“Don't know.”

It was ten very tense minutes later when the radio on the standing soldier's utility belt buzzed to life. Roman un-clipped the GMRS unit from the man's utility belt and held it so the soldier could speak into it. First, he listened to a staccato burst of speech before giving an affirmative.

The soldier had been ordered to stand down. The other American soldier looked resigned, but not overly worried. The two Zimbabwean men grew even more agitated, demanding of the other men to continue with the plan.

“We obey orders and they're clear. No one is supposed to get in this man's way,” the standing soldier said, indicating Roman with a jerk of his shoulder.

“I will undo your cuffs, but do not release the other men until we are thirty minutes out. Understand?”

“Understood, sir.”

Roman was confident the soldier would follow orders, but just as certain the Zimbabwean men were not about to let the situation go.

He took the small electronic device with him as he returned to the truck. Neil should be able to figure out what it was.

 

Tanya concentrated very hard on not hyperventilating as Roman gave instructions to their security driver. Her over-the-top stress levels were the only excuse she could give herself for not realizing what those instructions were until the Rover was facing in the other direction.

“What are we doing? The village is that way.” She pointed out the back window, the exact opposite way from the one the Rover was now headed in.

Roman gave her a look that doubted her intelligence. “And that roadblock may not be the only one between here and there. We're not risking getting pulled over again.”

It was the same look her parents had given her when she'd told them she was joining the Peace Corps, and then again later when she'd told them she was returning to Africa.

“This is the first time this has ever happened to me.” Though not the first time she'd ever heard of such a thing, or worse, happening to others. “I'm sure it's an isolated incident. Besides, you did your super-soldier mojo with that phone call and got them to back down. You could do it again. We can't miss our trip to the village.”

“You can and you will.” His expression was so intense, it was almost scary. “We can't rely on my super-soldier mojo to work a second time.”

“But—”

“Look, Tanya, you might be willing to risk another brush with power-hungry soldiers, but I'm not,” the intern said, interrupting her.

She glared at him, but her lower lip trembled infinitesimally. “Risk is part and parcel of what we do.”

She was hiding her fear behind bravado. In her mind, they had to continue on to keep things sane. Roman had seen it before with soldiers facing combat. He wasn't going to give in, but he understood why she was being so unreasonable.

“But we don't have to be stupid about it,” the other medical worker said impatiently.

“I'm not stupid.”

“No, you are not,” Roman said firmly, giving the intern a look that had the younger man facing front in a hurry. Roman laid his hand over one of Tanya's clenched fists. “Which is why you are going to stop arguing about this. Those soldiers had a hard-on for you, and I don't mean the ones in their jockey shorts.”

“That's ridiculous. I was just part of the car.”

“Well, they didn't start demanding searches, strip or otherwise, until they saw your paperwork,” he pointed out, watching her closely as if expecting something.

She felt the blood drain from her face as her throat constricted, making it hard to breathe. “I…”

“What?” he demanded with an air of expectation she did not understand.

“I…they…wouldn't…”

“Wouldn't what, Tanya?”

“Rape me,” she whispered, sick to her stomach. But the possibility was all too real. How many horror stories had she heard, and not old ones?

Some soldiers believed their uniforms gave them power over life, death and any woman's body they wanted to use.

Roman's expression turned deadly. “No one is going to rape you while I'm here.”

“There were four of them and only one of you.”

He gave her a look that said, “So?” and she almost smiled, but she couldn't quite make her facial muscles work in that direction. And it wasn't as if his attitude was unjustified. He'd gotten the drop on the soldiers and incapacitated them so quickly, she hadn't even realized what was happening until three of the men were on the ground and their security driver was praising Roman's machismo in Shona.

“Sometimes, your arrogance is borderline comforting.” She bit her lip, not really regretting admitting that, but feeling even more vulnerable with the knowledge.

“It's only arrogance when the confidence isn't justified. Mine is.”

“Who are you that your boss has influence over the Zimbabwean army?”

A strange expression flitted over his features before he shrugged. “Believe it or not Uncle Sam has influence in a lot of places you wouldn't expect.”

And then she remembered his assertion that the roadblock had not been sanctioned by the Zimbabwean military. “I still don't—”

“Don't overanalyze it. Your specialty is saving people, mine is protecting our country's interests. Let's leave it at that.”

“Does protecting U.S. interests include protecting its citizens?” She couldn't believe that was the case, but she certainly wouldn't mind if he'd taken a personal interest in her safety.

“In your case it does.”

Warmth suffused her as the implications of his statement sank in. He wanted to protect her. Coupled with his behavior in the car before they came onto the roadblock, indications were good that her aching attraction wasn't in fact one sided. She almost smiled. “That's good to know.”

“I'm glad you think so.”

She took a deep breath and let it out, trying again for a smile and almost making it. She should not be so freaked. After all, nothing had actually happened to her, but that didn't seem to count for much with her emotional equilibrium. She forced the fear aside and said, “I think you're flirting again.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Good, because I'm definitely flirting.”

“I noticed.”

She felt her face twist in a grimace as a thought occurred to her. “Fleur is going to be angry.”

“That we ran into a roadblock?”

“That I insisted on going to Kimambizi when Sympa-Med wanted me to go to Tikikima.”