Dark Cover (The DARK Files #2) (27 page)

She bit her lip, and her brow pleated as she thought. She nodded. “We do it together.”

In moments they had a plan.

She called Byrne on her cell while Nick sneaked around to the back. When she figured he was ready, she crept to the front door in case Al-Din or one of his fanatical thugs waited in ambush at the garage entry.
The arched panes over the door showed no light. The foyer was dark. Was that good or bad?

She gripped her weapon.
Slowly she opened the door.

Lights flashed on. She blinked in the sudden glare.

A man stood in the foyer. He pointed a silencer-equipped Beretta at her heart.

Prince Amir.

Her stomach tightened in a cold knot.

The prince took a step closer. His lips curled in a leer. The cruel blackness in his eyes sent chills down her spine.

How had she ever thought he was charming?

“My dear Danielle,” he said with oily smugness, “put that dangerous toy on the floor. We would not want an accident.”

As long as he thought she was Danielle, he might underestimate her. She bent to lay down the S&W. When she stood, her hand flew to her throat.

To the mic in her collar.
Please somebody be there.

Her mind raced. The man sent to Arlington worked for Amir. Amir knew all her and Nick’s social activities and the Yamari government plans. His declarations of praise for the new democracy were pretense. He was Husam Al-Din’s man.

Or else… “Husam Al-Din, I presume.”

The Beretta wavered a fraction before he recovered. He made a small bow. “So you and Markos figured out my game.” He glanced behind him. His eyes narrowed. “Where is your doting lover? Not sneaking up on me from behind, I trust.”

She let her chin tremble a little. “He … he was hurt at the cemetery. The doctor put him in the hospital.” She hoped he didn’t know they’d never gone to Arlington.

“Pity. I would have liked to have seen him one last time. But his absence makes this job easier. And more pleasant. Too bad I don’t have time to thoroughly enjoy your charms before I say adieu. But time is of the essence.”

His slimy insinuation slid nausea into her throat. The thought of his paws on her roiled in her stomach more than his other implied intent.

Amir meant to kill her. That truth had hit her at the sight of him. She had to get him talking, had to get him moving toward the back of the house. “How did you get in?”

“Pah, the house’s security system was hardly a challenge. Your government conveniently taught a group of Yamari’s finest officers clandestine techniques. Helpful of them.”

He said nothing about the hidden cameras. Hope that the techs had seen him enter bolstered her. “What do you want … Your Highness?”

His mocking laugh grated on her eardrums. “What I wanted from the beginning. My money.”

She glared at him. “Blood money. Money to set yourself up as sole ruler of Yamar. More money than you need for that.”

“My dear, one can never have too much money. Yamar is a small country with vulnerable neighbors. And I have spent the last few years building up the Yamari forces. Soon Yamar will be a formidable presence in the region.”

Ye gods, he had plans for an empire. And he had as good as admitted his intention to overthrow the Yamari president. If she pushed him further, she’d know the rest. “But your assassination plan has failed.”

His features drew together in fury.
“Pah! I am surrounded by incompetents. And that fool Rashid has talked. The ten million will buy my escape. Perhaps later I can return to my country.” He smiled, a croc’s toothy display. “But I fooled them all. You included, dear Danielle.”

“What do you mean?”

“Husam Al-Din is a holy man, a recluse who is unaware of anything outside his retreat. I merely co-opted and refined his religious ideals, shall we say, to a greater purpose.”

“A greedy purpose. You set up the attacks at the embassies?”

“And a few other bombs in strategic places.”

“Including the bomb at Alexei Markos’s funeral?”

He laughed. “That poor fanatic rode in my limousine trunk.”

She longed to punch him in his smug expression. “You sent suicide bombers who thought they were dying for a religious cause. Instead it was for your despicable ambition and greed.”

His good humor vanished. He waved the black pistol at her. “Your opinion has no consequence. Now where is my money?”

She shrugged. “You won’t get away. What does it matter if I tell you? I locked the money in the safe before I went to the hospital with Nick.”

“Ah, how convenient.” He gestured again with the gun. “After you, my dear.”

Head high, she swept past him to the sunroom. She showed Amir the small safe behind a wall panel. She had no idea what was inside, but it sure wasn’t ten million dollars. If he tried to open the safe, his back would be to the outside door.
She chanced a quick glance in that direction. No sign of Nick outside. A blanket of darkness hid any movement.

Where is he?

“Open it.” Only a foot away, Amir regarded her with an unyielding hardness. His musky cologne nauseated her.

She shrugged. “I don’t have the combination.”

“Wrong answer.” He slammed her cheek with the pistol.

Pain exploded.
She crashed to her side on the floor. She tasted blood, hot and coppery. Dazed, dizzy, she was too stunned to move.

***

Crimson heat ripped through Nick. He clenched his fists and stayed hidden in the kitchen. He had to wait for his chance.

Byrne and five other DARK officers had arrived soon after Vanessa went in the house. They waited outside. Nick gave no quarter on who would go in to her. She saved his life and his honor. He had to tell her he loved her. He couldn’t let the damn prince hurt her.

He wouldn’t let himself consider a worse possibility.

Edging closer to the archway between the two rooms, he peered into the sunroom. He crouched, ready.

Amir jerked Vanessa to her feet. He yanked her hard against him. He jabbed the pistol against her throat and turned toward the terrace door. “Come inside, Markos. You wouldn’t want to see your lovely fiancée’s blood flowing all over this valuable carpet.”

Nick itched to pound the bastard into the damn carpet.
Help me,
latrea mou,
give me an opening
.

“I saw you looking out there. Your hospital tale was a trick.” Staring at the night-blanked windows, the prince lowered the gun. He shook her like a rag doll. “Where is he?”

“Oh, I’m so weak. I’m dizzy.” Vanessa sagged, becoming a dead weight.

Nick rushed in from the side.

Amir swung the pistol toward him.

“No!” Vanessa shouted. She heaved herself in front of her captor. She aimed a knee and threw up an arm.

Amir fired. The crack of the shot filled the room.

She reeled and dropped to the side. She didn’t move.

Armed DARK officers in flak vests burst in through the terrace and the front doors.

Nick slammed into Amir with his full weight. They rolled onto the floor, both struggling for the pistol. Nick smashed the heel of his hand into the prince’s nose. Blood spurted as cartilage crunched. His grip on the weapon slipped.

Nick knocked the pistol away.

Byrne picked it up.

Nick hauled back a fist. “You bastard, I should kill you, but I want you to suffer like all the people you hurt. Just killing you isn’t good enough.”

“It’s over, Markos,” the DARK officer said. “I know how you feel. I’d like a piece of him myself. After questioning, the U.S. will turn him over to his government. In that part of the world, they don’t treat traitors gently. He’ll wish you’d killed him.”

Panicked fear filled Amir’s eyes.

Nick let his fist drop.

“Cuff that man. His feet too,” Byrne ordered.

Leaving the broken-beaked prince to them, Nick crawled to Vanessa. His hands shook. He lifted her gently and cradled her still form in his arms.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Nick … you’re all … right.”

He breathed again. “Thank God you’re alive.”

Blood soaked the side of her jacket. He tore off his sweater to staunch the bleeding.

“Call 911,” he rasped out past his tight throat. “She’s been shot.”

VANESSA WOKE FROM a restless sleep. An elephant sat on her chest. Every breath stabbed pain in her side.

Then she remembered. Amir. Nick. The gunshot.

It was finally over.

At a noise beside her bed, she turned her head. The dim glow from a bedside lamp showed Nick asleep in a chair. Dark bristles shadowed his jaw. He’d combed his thick, dark hair with something like a garden rake. Both hands had swollen knuckles as if he’d gone ten rounds without gloves.

For her.

He looked so beautiful to her greedy eyes that for a moment the pain receded. Her heart swelled with love for him, and ached with sorrow for what would never be.

He stirred. His eyes opened. His Aegean-blue gaze studied her. Worry crinkled fan creases at the corners. “You’re awake. How do you feel?” His normally smooth, deep voice cracked like an adolescent’s.

Her mouth tasted like the inside of a vacuum cleaner, and an ache radiated through her as if she’d been stunt double in a kickboxing movie. “Hurts.”

He came closer and helped her sip ice water through a straw. His familiar scent floated to her above the antiseptic odors.

“The IV beside you is pain meds. The self-dosing kind. All you have to do is squeeze the control by your hand.”

“In a minute.” With her right hand, she lifted the flowered hospital johnny. A white bandage covered the entire right side of her torso and wrapped around her chest beneath her breasts. “How bad?”

“The doctors said you were lucky.” His mouth flattened. “Lucky is a matter of opinion. The bullet cracked a couple of ribs and tore muscle. But no organ damage. You’ll recover. No thanks to me.”

He hadn’t learned yet. “Not your fault, oh responsible one. You can’t stop a bullet.” The long speech provoked the elephant to squash her a little harder. Her breath hitched.

“I should’ve gone in the front, not you.”

“Twenty-twenty hindsight. And I should’ve worn Kevlar.”

Big sigh of resignation. “You never give up,” he said. “Get some rest. Take care of the pain.”

“Not yet. What happened at the Mall?” From his grim expression, she expected the worst.

“The unveiling ceremony was to be an assassination all right. A setup. Al-Din aka Prince Amir’s fanatics had rigged a bomb to blow when the tarp was pulled from the sculpture. C-4. It would’ve collapsed that wing of the museum and killed dozens, maybe more. Hundreds of people were there, including the U.S. Secretary of State. One of the fanatics tried to trigger the explosion, but a DARK officer stopped him.”

So why wasn’t he jumping for joy? Her breath caught at the sharp pain as she tried to turn toward him. “You are vindicated, Nick. Your hunch saved scores of people and prevented a coup. If DARK saved the day, why aren’t you celebrating?”

He covered her hand with his. His blue eyes bored into hers. “The DARK officer who stopped the bomber was Gabriel Harris. The New Dawn man had a knife. He stabbed Harris before a sniper could take him down. Harris … didn’t make it.”

She gasped. “Oh my God, Gabe! Poor Janna. They’ve only been married a year.” Hot tears filled her eyes.

“Byrne was going to see her after they took Amir into custody. He apologized for not trusting me. Said General Nolan would be contacting me.”

“We should all apologize for not trusting you. You’re a hero.”

“I appreciate that, honey, but Harris is the real hero of the day. I’m sorry about him. I understand he was a good officer.”

“A stand-up guy. Hero Harris is truly a hero this time.” She blew her nose in the tissue Nick handed her. “He’ll probably get a medal. Too bad it’ll be posthumous.”

“Enough talk. Do I have to pump those meds into you myself?” He stood by her with his arms folded.

“I can do it. I’m ready to rest now.” Moving her left arm provoked a spasm like a rhino tusk in her side, but she pressed the control.
A languorous fog gathered in her body and blurred her vision. The meds were fuzzing the rest of her system. The rhino backed off and the elephant went on a diet. “Sleep now. You leaving?”

The cool hand that brushed her forehead trembled. Or it could’ve been her imagination.
His last words put a smile on her lips as the fog bank closed around her.

“You couldn’t get rid of me with a forklift.”

***

At noon the next day, Nick drove Vanessa back from the hospital. He’d left in the morning to meet with the DARK director. She’d expected J. T. McNair to show up, but Nick had apparently taken over.

During the ride she talked about the wrap-up of their mission, anything but “It’s been great, but so long, babe.”

The surviving bomber at the Mall had been the one who pushed the statue over on Vanessa and Laura. Emil Alfieris identified Prince Amir’s secretary, Rashid, as the man who paid him for the house plans. And Rashid himself revealed all of the Yamari prince’s recruits, people he’d convinced he spoke for the New Dawn leader.

When Director Nolan finished briefing Ambassador Khalil, the dignitary thanked him profusely and vowed to root out the rest of New Dawn. An enlightening conversation with the holy man himself should put an end to their terror campaign.

In the garage, Nick opened Vanessa’s door and offered a hand.

“Guess I’m still a bit weak,” she said, accepting it. The warmth and support of his hand reminded her of what joy she’d found in his arms. Going back to her solitary life was too painful to contemplate.

“You look four hundred percent better.” His gaze, full of tenderness, captured hers.

Normal human concern, she reminded herself with a sharp pang, after what they’d been through. No more. She’d disappointed him, deceived him, so they were done.

“I feel better. Like I fell off a fifty-foot cliff, but I’m mobile. And clean.” A newly plaited braid draped her right shoulder, and she wore clean jeans and a pullover. “Laura Stratton breezed in this morning with stuff from my apartment. And she did my hair.”

“I’m glad you don’t have to conceal your friendship any longer.”