Covert Evidence (31 page)

Ian grabbed her hips and shoved her behind him, shielding her from the man who stood ten feet away, sporting a nasty smirk. But even more disturbing than the smirk was the gun he pointed directly at Ian’s chest.

Chapter Thirty

C
old calm settled in Ian’s gut as he stared down the bore of Zack’s gun. He couldn’t think about Cressida being in danger. He focused instead on the fact that Zack hadn’t shot them at the first opportunity.

Zack needs us alive.

Ian had game here, and Zack was a rookie player.

“Did she tell you the location of the tunnel yet?” Zack asked.

Typical cheap ploy: divide and conquer. After everything they’d been through, Cressida would never believe Ian had been playing her. Or, rather, she already knew
when
he’d been playing her.

He tightened his fingers on her hips, keeping her behind him. Damn him for kissing her. A foolish act in broad daylight after they’d been in the same location for hours. Especially when they were closing in on the tunnel. He’d failed Covert Operations 101.

His gun was in the holster at the small of his back. Cressida could grab it. He didn’t dare rock backward to press the weapon against her hips. Zack would notice. Zack was many things, but dumb wasn’t one of them.

“I need to see your hands, Ms. Porter.”

“Screw you. If you wanted us dead, you’d have shot us already,” she said.

Ian smiled. Cressida was new to the game, but she caught on quickly, and every little rebellion that let Zack know he may have a gun but wasn’t in control would chip away at his focus until Ian could make a move.

Zack was an analyst first. He’d completed his training for covert ops but didn’t have Ian’s military background. The fool was in over his head, and Ian intended to drown the sonofabitch who’d burned him.

“Hands up, or I’ll shoot Ian in the balls.”

“Do it. I’m done with him anyway.” Ian’s heart rate shot up as Cressida stepped out from behind him. At least it rattled Zack to have more than one target to cover—which told him Zack didn’t have anyone covering his six. Or if he did, he didn’t trust his partner. One of the hazards of being a traitor.

Cressida stepped farther from Ian, visible only in his peripheral vision to his left. She let out a soft, cunning laugh. “Ian may have been using me, but I don’t really give a fuck, because
I
was using
him
.”

At that, both Zack and Ian turned to her. She grinned, and her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. “What? You didn’t think I saw you in the bar in Antalya—both of you? Jesus, I was there to pick up a microchip. You think I’m so stupid I didn’t lay eyes on the man who ‘protected’ me by holding me back from a knife fight? God. Your egos.” She rolled her eyes. “And then when you magically appeared next to me on the flight, and in my hotel… I’m working on a damn PhD, and you think I’m too stupid to pick up on these things?”

She thrust her chest out and took a step toward Ian. “But then, you were too distracted by these, weren’t you?” She squeezed her breasts. “I hate to break it to you, Ian, but these babies aren’t my best asset.” She pointed to her temple and lowered her voice to a throaty whisper. “It’s what’s up here that matters, and I’ve got more going on up there than both of you combined.” She licked her bottom lip, slowly. “I mean, look at me. I don’t even speak the language but I got you to deliver me here, where my real partner, Todd, can’t be far away.” She puckered her lips in a sexy pout and added, “And I even got laid.”

She turned to Zack. “You see, Zack, I’ll do
anything
to get what I want. I’ll even do any
one
.” She took a step toward him. “It looks like Ian is no longer of use to me.”

Ian’s gut burned. She was playing Zack. He knew she was playing Zack. But her act…was flawless. This woman was cunning. Beautiful. Even her voice was different, as if everything he’d seen before had been a role and now he saw who she really was.

No.
This was the act. The woman who’d cried in his arms last night—that was the real Cressida.

“Don’t take another step closer,” Zack said.

“Fine. But don’t you think we should take away Ian’s gun and tie him up? Because he’s looking pretty pissed right now, and I, for one, am not keen on the idea of him shooting me or breaking my neck like he did Rajab.”

“You want me to let you take his gun? How stupid do you think I am?”

She laughed. “You really don’t want me to answer that.”

Zack’s shoulders stiffened. Good. One way or another, Cressida was throwing off his game. “Cressida, you’re going to take his gun, but this is how it’s going to go down.” Zack stepped toward her. He met Ian’s gaze and slowly smiled, then shifted his gun from Ian’s gut to Cressida’s head.

Ian couldn’t stop his nostrils from flaring or hands from clenching into fists. Zack’s smile widened. “You put on a pretty show, Ms. Porter, but Ian isn’t buying it. And neither am I.”

She’d stiffened the moment Zack’s gun changed targets, but Ian was still impressed by her outward calm. He only saw her profile, not her eyes, but her voice remained low and confident. “I don’t give a shit if Ian doesn’t believe it. What he doesn’t know—what you don’t know—is I’ve been dealing with assholes like him my whole life. He sees me as a fuck, a fun entertainment, not a threat. A naïve little girl to manipulate and control. I learned how to play men like him when I was thirteen.” A harsh edge entered her voice. “I even come when they screw me.”

Cressida inched to the side as she spoke, widening the distance between herself and Ian. Zack’s gaze and pistol followed her.

“I know what you’re doing, Porter,” Zack said. “It won’t work.” But Zack didn’t realize how much she’d skewed his angle on Ian, or he’d order her to step in line.

She shrugged. “If you know anything about me, you know I’ll do anything to survive. Even fuck a scumbag traitor.”

Zack glanced at Ian, his gaze narrowing—probably as he realized Ian had inched closer. He whipped the gun in Ian’s direction again. “Not another step, Boyd.” To Cressida, Zack said. “You’ve already fucked a traitor. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“I don’t really give a damn which one of you is the traitor. I just want to find the tunnel and go home.”

It was clear Zack was torn between watching Cressida advance versus keeping an eye on Ian. He had to believe Ian was the bigger threat, but Cressida wasn’t to be ignored.

“I know exactly what gets your rocks off, Zack.” She turned, catching Ian’s gaze. Her eyes were cold and hard. “Ian was the big man in Ankara, but now he’s been burned, and look who has the gun.” Her voice lowered even more as she took a step toward him. “Wait until you see the rage on his face when I blow you while he watches.”

At her words, fury surged up Ian’s esophagus. The shock of emotion forced out a primal grunt as he held his muscles in check. He wanted to rip Zack’s head off for threatening Cressida and was pissed as hell at her for attempting this tactic.

She flashed Ian a cold smile, let out a purr-like growl of her own, and took another step closer to Zack, bringing her within arm’s reach of the traitor. “Want to know a secret? I’m turned on by the idea of fucking with Ian’s head like that. After the way he’s treated me, he has it coming.” She reached down and brushed her hand over Zack’s fly. “Glad I’m not alone.”

Zack’s gun wobbled at her brief touch but remained pointed at Ian. She laughed and stroked him again, less tentative the second time.

Zack’s gaze remained fastened on Ian—and Ian did nothing to hide his rage. Cressida was right. Seeing Ian destroyed was what fed Zack’s ego and clouded his judgment. If she could play her part, he could play his. “I’ll kill him,” Ian said through clenched teeth.

Satisfaction flared in Zack’s eyes. Cressida flicked open the top button of his fly. His grip on the gun tightened until his knuckles turned white. “On your knees, then,” he ordered.

She dropped, slowly.

Ian held back an eruption that could rival Vesuvius. He
would
kill him.

His vision hazed when she slipped her fingers inside Zack’s pants and made a throaty sound he’d heard her make only twice before.

All at once, Zack let out a grunt and doubled over. Ian lunged for Zack at the same time Cressida surged upward, grabbing his head with both hands and kneeing him in the face as he dropped. Zack pulled the trigger, but the shot went wild as his head snapped back and he flopped to the ground.

Ian slammed into him. The gun flew from Zack’s hand. Blood poured from his nose. Ian grabbed him by the throat.

From the agony that contorted Zack’s features, Ian figured Cressida had twisted his nuts into a figure eight before she broke his nose.

Standing above Zack now, she delivered a swift kick to his crotch. Ian released Zack’s throat, allowing him to curl into a ball like a potato bug. She squatted down and wiped her hand on the scrubby grass. Her face revealed the revulsion she’d been holding back. As she rose, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand as if she were trying not to heave. “I promised myself I’d never do that again.”

Again?

Later, Ian would explore that statement. Right now he had to deal with Zack. He stood and kicked Zack in the head. Once. Twice. The tension in Zack’s body eased and his body uncurled. Ian lifted the traitor by the shirt and pulled back for a punch when Cressida stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I think he’s out.”

Ian released him. Zack’s head hit the ground with a hard thunk. “If I ever see you touch another man’s junk again, I will shoot the bastard.”

“It’s okay with me if you shoot him. But don’t kill him. We need him to clear your name.”

He wanted to kiss her in thanks for her chillingly good performance, but Zack could have accomplices who would strike the moment Ian attempted something so stupid. Instead, he pulled his weapon and turned in a slow circle, searching the landscape for threats.

She was right about not killing Zack, and given that the man was unconscious, it would be straight-up murder. His gaze landed again on the double agent who’d ordered Cressida to her knees before him. He’d never been so tempted to commit homicide in his life. “We need to tie him up,” he said.

She grabbed a paracord bracelet tied to Ian’s backpack and unraveled the thin rope. They traded jobs. Ian bound Zack’s hands and feet, while Cressida stood guard. He searched Zack’s pockets, finding car keys and a cell phone, but nothing else. He shut off the phone—no point in broadcasting their location if they caught a flicker of a signal—and said, “He must have parked a distance away, or we’d have heard him.”

“What’s the plan?”

He sat back on his heels, staring at Zack’s prostrate form. Cressida was his mission now. Her safety came first. Zack’s arrival changed nothing. In fact, the idea of handing Zack to a team of Raptor operatives held enormous appeal. Without Zack in the picture, he might be able to complete the other mission, after Cressida was safe. He had the microchip. There was still a chance the courier would show up and he could force the man to lead him to his terrorist group’s ultimate leader.

“We’ll find Zack’s vehicle and drive southeast. There should be a tower in the village that’s about six klicks from here. Then we’ll wait for the cavalry, I guess.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Z
ack’s vehicle turned out to be an old British Land Rover with plenty of room to store a trussed-up Zack in the back between a large jack, a toolbox, and a wealth of camping supplies. Ian found zip ties in the toolbox and replaced the paracord that bound Zack with the thin strips of plastic, cinching his wrists and ankles tight to the same rear-seat mount and his neck to a different mount, limiting his movement and ensuring he would be very uncomfortable when he returned to consciousness.

They’d driven for about thirty minutes when Cressida powered up Ian’s phone and a single flickering bar appeared. The rush of emotion at seeing the little flashing graphic made her suck in a sharp breath. Ian pulled to the side of the narrow dirt track that served as a road. He glanced at the back of the truck and held a finger to his lips. They had no clue what they were going to do with Zack, so for now, if he was conscious, they couldn’t discuss their plans.