Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) (22 page)

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. It was lip service. She wasn’t sorry. She was pissed. Again. No part of her wanted him, but for years she’d carried the emotional baggage of his creation. No more.

Baron’s love, his kindness, had been conditional. If she’d been the perfect wife, the model mother, he might have cared for her. Luke loved her even though he shouldn’t. Even though she’d pushed him away at every turn. She didn’t deserve that. She’d given him dozens of reasons why not to—and still, he cared so deeply that he might end up dead because of her.

“I’m glad that you’ve found someone,” Baron said. His gaze was…strange. “I guess I’m sorry it wasn’t me after all.”

“We would never work out.”

Baron didn’t make her smile or laugh. He couldn’t make her forget who she’d been, what she was. Luke lifted her burdens—he was her Atlas, holding her world together on his back. She’d never have known what love was if it weren’t for Luke. And though she may never fully comprehend how to love him back, how to show him what he meant to her…she could try. She could save him. And if she died doing it, so be it.

His life was worth saving.

“What is your name?”

“My name is Hassan. I told you that.” Zacharias could smell the stench of his own fear. A predator like Nador could no doubt smell it on him, too. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He pulled against the bonds holding him to the chair.

Unlike Luke, who got a cinderblock cell to stew in, Nador had Zacharias in what looked like a torture chamber.

His calculated risk coming here was just that—a risk. And the trap had snapped shut on him instead of Yael.

“He called you Zach.” Nador clenched Zachiaras’ face in his big, meaty palm, forcing him to look up at the mercenary.

“My name is Hassan.” Zacharias stared Nador right in the eye, putting all the truth behind the statement that he could. “Ask yourself, what does he gain by pitting us against each other? He’s trying to deflect your attention, get you to ignore him. What’s he planning down there?”

“It’s all too neat. First you. Then him.” Nador let go of Zacharias and took a step back. Nador folded his arms over his chest, studying Zacharias.

It
was
too neat. Zacharias had simplified it all down into an appealing package. And that was a mistake. In Nador’s position, Zacharias would have split. Shut the whole thing down. Gotten out as fast as possible. But he’d thought he could manipulate the mercenary. Point him at Luke and Yael, and take them out before anyone was the wiser. Solve all his problems.

At least the merchandise was safe. All the information he’d stashed away. If it came down to it, Zacharias could trade something for his life. Nador was a man who wanted things—money, power, virgins. Zacharias could supply. He wouldn’t get what it was worth, but he couldn’t turn a profit if he was dead.

Which meant he needed to get out of here. The longer he was radio silent, the more likely his interested customers would get cold feet. He had too many irons in the fire to disappear, for any reason.

Fuck.

If Luke knew who he was, who he
really
was, then Yael did as well. She was too good, too resourceful to not already know who’d taken Luke and where to find them. Over Yael’s years in Mossad she’d built a network of sources, informants, and associates who were completely unconnected to the organization. And any one of those might be able to tell her where Nador was—and Zacharias by extension.

He had to get away from Nador. Before the fireworks started.

Because Yael would come for Luke. And when she did, Zacharias couldn’t be here.

Luke was so tired
he couldn’t hold his mouth shut. His breath stirred the dirt on the floor. He hadn’t known cuticles could ache.

The guard’s steps carried him beyond the cell Nador’s men had transferred him to.

By Luke’s calculations, he had another four and a half minutes before the guard made his next circuit.

He pushed to his feet, shaking off the pain.

Yes, there’d be bruises, but he’d had worse.

Pretending was a whole lot easier when there was some pain to focus on.

The floors were concrete, the walls cinderblock, and the windows and doors were secured with iron bars. But the roof? The boards were moldy, and in places the rot was so bad he could see straight through to the outside where the shingles were flaking off. They were one bad storm away from losing it. But Nador’s typical hostage was the type to look around them, see a prison, and give up.

Luke stepped onto the bench, the only furniture provided to him besides the toilet-bucket, and pulled himself up into the rafters. He didn’t even need to get through the roof, just over the blocks and into the next cell. The door to it was standing open.

Nador’s escape in Mexico from the joint sting had bothered not only Luke, but Mason as well. Someone as evil as Nador needed to be stopped. Without more resources—or a reason—they hadn’t been able to do anything. But it hadn’t stopped Luke from digging.

The mercenaries bread and butter was kidnapping for ransom. Which explained the jail cell wing off the main building. They’d do a job, likely something they were hired to do, kidnap someone as they wrapped the gig up, and head home, but not before issuing their ransom. And if they weren’t paid? People died. A lot of people, judging by the number of cells.

Luke wiggled a board loose finally, just in time. He tucked it under his arm and lowered himself slowly to the bench, holding his breath the whole time. The guard’s steps didn’t speed up, and no one called out an alarm.

Good.

He stashed the board next to the door, out of sight.

Thirty seconds to spare.

At this rate he could be out of here and back on his way to finding Abigail by nightfall.

Luke laid down on his stomach, one arm folded under him, the other thrown out, and his mouth open. His mind started up the mantra again.

I’m in pain. Everything hurts. I didn’t know cuticles could throb…

Zacharias could only see
out of one eye. Nador had focused on the right side of his face. The man favored a good backhand.

If this didn’t work out, he was dead.

Nador would keep him alive and milk him for all he had, but it wasn’t Nador Zacharias was afraid of.

It was Yael.

He had to be out of here before she arrived, which would be any minute now.

The door swung open.

Zacharias’ head was too heavy to lift.

“You still alive, Jew?”

“Did the transfer go through?” Zacharias asked.

He loved money. It made everything easier. No task was impossible with the right number of zeros.

“Yes.”

“We have a deal?” He lifted his head and peered into the dimness toward the voice.

“We do.” The stony-faced guard couldn’t be more than seventeen. A kid. They were always the easiest.

“Good. Get me out of here.”

“Not yet. Too many eyes. I was just making sure you hadn’t died, yet.”

“Get on with it,” he snapped.

The kid glared for a moment longer, then shut the door.

A little longer…

He could hold out and maybe still make his meeting in the morning. If he did, that payday would keep him going for a year or more.

18.

Abigail slowed the glorified dune buggy to a crawl and checked her bearings again.

Nador’s Libyan compound was almost three hundred and fifty kilometers from the Aegis headquarters in Egypt by road. She was able to shave off nearly forty by avoiding roads altogether with the Sand Viper ATV.

She should be nearing the compound soon, and that meant patrols.

Hopefully they didn’t miss her, or she’d have to be spot-on with her targeting.

Abigail double checked the straps on the passenger seat. She’d only brought gas and the backpack with her. While she’d have preferred to stash the pack in the back, C4 and gasoline shouldn’t mix. At least not with her still in the driver’s seat.

She needed to swing to the north a bit. She’d drifted too far south and risked missing her target altogether. Turning the wheel, she shifted the ATV into gear and shot forward.

This whole plan was crazy.

It might not work.

But she hoped it did.

At least if she failed, Luke’s team wouldn’t be far behind. If Salma hadn’t messed up the dosage, the guys would wake up soon. Maybe an hour, give or take. They’d be groggy, which would slow them down more, but she didn’t doubt for an instant they’d be after her—and Luke—as soon as they were able.

If she didn’t get Luke out of there, they would.

Nador knew enough for his men to search for her, but did he know who she was?

There was a chance she was walking into a trap. That Zacharias had this all set up to tighten a noose around her neck. But if Nador knew who—and what—Zach was, or used to be, he’d kill him.

She had no way of knowing if she was walking into a situation where Zach and Nador were working for each other, if they’d become enemies, or if Nador even knew what he was doing looking for her. Zach could be there, or he could be long gone. She was gambling with her life. That they wouldn’t kill her on sight, which would be the smartest thing to do.

Sand stung her face as the ATV picked up speed. The sun was almost at its zenith, marking the noon hour. If she had any luck at all, Luke would be free by this time tomorrow. And then…she couldn’t think about it. Leaving him once had been hard enough. Was she strong enough to do it again?

Abigail had spent half her life doing exactly what she was told. Being the person she was supposed to be. Wearing and eating precisely what her alias would like. She should be used to not getting what she wanted. It should be easier to walk away from Luke, but it wasn’t. Maybe because she knew that once she was out of his life long enough, he’d stop caring for her. He’d move on. While she continued to wallow in these stolen pieces of his life.

There would always be evil in the world. That was a given. But this evil—Nador and Zacharias—she could handle. She could do something about this.

The ATV lurched to one side, and she yelped, clinging to the wheel and scrambling to crank the vehicle in the other direction. The Sand Viper roared forward, eating up the ground in a cloud of dust and exhaust. She pushed her melodramatic thoughts to the back of her mind. There was no room for distractions right now. One wrong turn of the wheel, and she could send the ATV cart wheeling down a rocky incline.

The wheels hit the smoother ground, and she pressed the accelerator to the ground. Plumes of sand rose up behind her, a good calling card for where to find her, if ever there was one.

The desert sands of Libya stretched out around her.

It was easy to see the rocky rise on which Nador had built his fortress. This far out, no one cared what he did, so long as he kept to himself. Zain’s research indicated the mesa-like hill also boasted a man-made oasis. Her guess was that Nador had found a well with a high water yield and built around it. Hoarding all that water meant keeping the nomadic people away and ensuring he had no neighbors. In the desert, whoever controlled the water controlled the people. Out here, all by himself, Nador was king. A bloody, small-minded king, but a king all the same. And his rule would be complete.

Another plume of sand started up off to her right.

She’d been spotted.

It was about fucking time.

Luke could almost fit
his upper body through the hole he’d made into the next cell. The curse of having wide shoulders meant more work. But he was close. Another half hour and he’d be able to overtake the guard, change clothes with him, and split, maybe before anyone realized he didn’t belong.

He still had next to no idea where he was or what was around them. But he’d figure that out once he had to. Right now, he needed to play dead.

I hurt. Everything aches so bad.

The guard paused outside the cell.

Luke moaned just a little.

The guard muttered something under his breath and continued his patrol, up and down the long structure.

Luke’s best guess was that the prison wing was off the main building where he’d initially been questioned. From what little he’d seen, other buildings were built in a circle, surrounding what had appeared to be some sort of pool.

A new voice echoed down the hall. The guard raised his voice and turned.

Luke remained exactly where he was.

What was going on?

Why the sudden change in routine?

He held perfectly still, barely even breathing while he waited and listened.

A distant rumble resounded through the concrete floor. Rock transmitted sound over great distances. Something big was rolling this way. Would the compound empty soon?

Voices from outside yelled at each other, back and forth.

The rumbling was closer now. He could hear the chug of a diesel engine and…something else.

He pushed to his feet and crossed to the door. The guard was nowhere to be seen.

Luke stepped up onto the bench, grasped the metal rafter and hoisted himself into the beams. He had to reach for the one above him, but once he had it he could push a shingle up and peer out onto the courtyard.

At first he saw nothing. Just people milling around, most watching the road leading up to the buildings.

A truck, an ATV, and a beat-up Jeep rolled into view, one after another.

Two men got out of the Jeep, a third from behind the wheel of the ATV, and a man climbed out of the truck, hauling a fifth, much smaller figure out behind him.

Abigail…

Luke’s stomach knotted up and his mouth went dry.

How had she gotten herself caught? And why? Where were the guys? They wouldn’t have allowed her to come on her own.

Which meant they had a plan.

Shit.

He watched them drag Abigail and the contents of the dune buggy into the main building.

The wood. He had to get rid of the evidence of his attempted escape before the guards came for him or brought her to a cell.

Luke lowered himself to the ground and stared at the debris.

Who was he kidding? There was no hiding what he’d been doing…

Abigail kept her gaze
lowered and focused on noting the exits, the windows, all the ways she could escape. The main building was built out of stone that would survive the harsh desert climate. The interior was utilitarian—tiled and simple.

The guards led her through the entry and into a large room that boasted a desk, a seating area, and several fans moving the warm air around.

Zacharias wasn’t here. A single glance told her that. He might be elsewhere, but he wasn’t here. There were at least a dozen armed men around, plus Nador. He stuck out by the simple fact that he wasn’t covered in dust.

Based on what she’d read, she’d almost expected to be delivered to his bedroom, along with a couple other women. By all accounts, when Nador was not busy killing, he was fucking. She hated him on principle.

“My men say you have an offer for me?” Nador circled his desk, his arms folded across his chest. He wore tan slacks and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up around his mammoth biceps.

“You have a man named Luke in your possession. I want to make a deal.” She stared back at him, feeling a lot like Daniel facing down Goliath. She had a lot more than a few rocks in her pocket, though.

“A deal?” Nador’s bark of laughter was sharp, like the crack of a whip.

“Yes, a deal.”

“You must be Yael.” Nador leaned against the desk.

She almost shivered at the sound of that name on his lips.

“I am. You must know what I am, too.” She relaxed her hands. These men didn’t frighten her, but Zach did. There was a difference between these men and Zach. Nador, and those like him were bloodthirsty. Simple. The men who followed them were of two kinds—like-minded monsters or victims of circumstance.

Zach was a different creature.

“What you are is a pain in my ass. Why shouldn’t I kill you now? Or give you to my men? They could do you over that sofa right now.” Nador nodded at the couch to her right.

“I’m a special unit Mossad agent. I’ve been a spy for over half my life. I’m more valuable to you in the field than on my back. I’ll offer you this trade once—my services for Luke Briar.” She’d honor the arrangement for as long as it suited her.

Nador tipped his head back and laughed, the sound booming off the walls.

“That is rich,” he said.

“I’ll only offer this once.”

“Take her away. No one touches her for now.” Nador crossed to her and ran his knuckles over her cheek. “Not until I’ve decided what I’ll do with her.”

Translation—until he figured out who she was and what she was worth.

“The deal expires the moment I leave this room.” She managed not to suck in a breath when one of the men set her pack on Nador’s desk.

“I changed my mind.” He dropped his hand and stepped back. She didn’t like the glint in his eye. “Follow me.”

The guard at her back shoved her forward.

She tried to not appear overeager to leave the room.

“There is no deal,” she said as they crossed into another part of the building. Wood paneling adorned the walls and floor.

“I’m not interested in your fucking deal,” Nador sneered over his shoulder.

They were—what? Twenty-five, thirty feet away?

The skin between her shoulder blades itched.

“Put her in the bedroom.” Nador pushed the doors open to what had to be his personal residence.

A loud boom shook the walls. Plaster cracked overhead, raining down dust. The men hunched, covering their heads.

“What the hell?” Nador whirled, pinning her with his gaze. He bellowed, “What did you do?”

She pulled her hand from her pocket, the grenade and pin hitting in a one-two beat.

Abigail flung herself to the side, through a door and covered her head. The seconds ticked by—
Boom!

The door hit the ground next to her, blown off its hinges. Men screamed.

What was that? Four hundred and thirty seconds?

She’d lost count.

Boom! Boom!

A third and fourth explosion, bigger thanks to the gasoline, shook the building again. Her ears rang and dust covered her.

Abigail pushed to her feet, drawing the knife the patrol guards hadn’t taken from her. She shook her head and squinted through the dust, listening for movement.

Her window of opportunity was small.

She edged around the corner and peered into the demolished room. Furniture was turned over, and chunks were missing out of the ceiling. The windows were blown out.

But there were no bodies.

Nador and the guard were gone.

She crossed to the entry—and walked straight into Nador.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and hurled her up against the wall. His strength was breathtaking. Literally. She couldn’t pull oxygen into her lungs.

Abigail was done for in an all-out fight against a man his size.

She slashed with the knife and ducked away. The guard who’d been at her back sat slumped against the wall—unmoving. His gun was so close. But Nador was between the firearm and her.

Nador whirled, as though he’d been following her gaze, and grabbed the gun. He turned, finger on the trigger.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Bullets pelted the wall.

She dove and ducked, but not fast enough.

Fire ripped through her arm.

She knew that sensation. It wasn’t the first time she’d been shot.

Abigail hit the ground and rolled. The bullets kept coming.

Click. Click. Click, click, click.

No more bullets.

She pushed to her feet, shoving the pain aside.

Nador threw the rifle aside and crossed the room in two strides. Footsteps pounded the ground behind them.

He reached for her.

She slashed, knocking his hands aside.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

It was going wrong, not that there’d been much of a right way to go.