No Turning Back (16 page)

Her black lace push-up bra lay spread on the surface in front of her while she fiddled with the tiny crystal sewn between the cups— the same one she'd been wearing the night she'd stripped down in front of him. Evidently, Sam wore Victoria's Secret even during covert operations in a dangerous foreign country. He remembered all too well how amazing it had looked on her. Since he knew her breasts were bare under the voluminous robe she wore, he couldn't help but let his eyes drift to that region and picture their naked glory in his mind.

The transmitter she'd fabricated was pinched in the grip of the pliers as she meticulously fit it to the crystal with a dab of Krazy Glue. You had to admire a woman who could come up with something like that and actually make it work. And you had to admire her even more when she was the one that was going to be wearing it during a risky mission later that night. That took guts.

He watched her delicate fingers press the bug into place. She set the pliers aside and lay the bra down. Without breaking her rhythm, she removed her goggles, picked up a plastic tube with a spray nozzle on it, about the size of a perfume tester, and began fixing it to some sort of hair clip.

“What's in there, nerve gas?”

Her lips quirked. “I wish, but I had to settle for pepper spray.”

The mind boggled. She was a female MacGyver. He shook his head. “You're a dangerous woman, Sam.”

The laughter in her eyes faded before she lowered them. “Only to the bad guys, Ben.”

He hadn't meant it to sound like an accusation. In spite of this latest incident, he was still betting on her innocence. They all were. Their lives depended on it. “Want to test the transmitter out?”

She didn't look up. “As soon as I'm done with this.”

He glanced at his watch. Less than an hour before she had to get going. They'd all gone over the plan several times. He and Luke would follow her as closely as possible undercover, while Rhys waited at their rendezvous point with a vehicle in case they needed a quick getaway. Miller and another team of CIA and DEA agents would do their own sting once Sam was clear, and an undercover agent who'd infiltrated the drug dealer's ranks was going to be at the meeting with her. In addition, they'd all been warned to expect a surprise attack targeting Luke. That's who Tehrazzi really wanted, so they couldn't rule out the possibility. Sam was simply the human lure tonight.

She seemed calm enough. Her hands were steady as she worked. Having tasks to complete appeared to have settled her. After all, she was in her element with this. He was in the presence of a master. Still, she had to be scared of what was coming. If he was worried, she had to be freaking. Ben cleared his throat. “Want to talk about it?”

She squinted as she maneuvered the vial into place. “No.”

He knew exactly what she was doing. She was burying herself in her work so she wouldn't have to think about it. “I'll be as close to you as I can the whole time.”

Sam paused, pressed her lips together for a moment, but didn't meet his eyes. “Yeah, but not close enough.”

No. Not nearly close enough. Especially since she had to do the meeting and exchange by herself, while he and Luke waited outside in the shadows. If something went wrong and her life was threatened, it would take at least a few seconds for them to get to her, and by then it could be too late.

Because he couldn't let himself think like that, he refocused on her face as she tucked the vial of pepper spray beneath the spring mechanism of the hair clip. She was so beautiful, and talk about smart. When was the last time he'd seen her give a real smile? Before all this had happened, she'd been full of smiles and laughter, but he'd hardly seen her crack a grin since she'd met him in that hotel the night she'd contacted him. It bothered him. He wanted— no,
needed
to reassure her.

“Sam.”

“You're not going to let this go, are you.”

“Not a chance.”

With a sigh, she put the clip down and finally looked at him. “What?”

“You're going to be okay.”

Her lashes lowered. She managed a nod.

Ben slid a hand across the desk and covered one of hers. Her skin was cold. “We'll be able to hear you at all times.” She didn't seem consoled by that. “Nothing's going to happen, but we'll all be standing by, ready if you need us.”

“Thanks.”

He searched for something to take away the fear he sensed in her. “It'll be over before— ”

“You don't have to say anything. I've monitored enough ops to know what to expect.”

Yeah, she had. And because of that, she knew how sideways an operation could go in the blink of an eye. “We're going to be right there the whole time, Sam.”

“God, Ben.” She covered her eyes with her hands, shook her head. “Can't we just drop it? I'm barely holding it together as it is.”

A heavy pressure settled in his chest. She needed him to hold her, but wasn't going to ask. Without debating the wisdom of it, he got up and rounded the desk to hunker down beside her. “Come here.”

She shook her head harder. “Can't.”

Rather than argue, he pulled her out of her chair and gathered her into his arms. A shudder rippled through her and she pressed hard against him, burying her face in his neck. Her hair smelled so damn good.

“I know you're scared, sweetheart, but it'll be okay.”

She raised her head. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “You can't promise that.”

“Sure I can.” And he'd keep it.

Her bottom lip trembled a moment. Then she sank her teeth into it, the edges digging into that soft flesh.

Christ, he was done for. Ben cupped her face, brushed his thumbs over her damp lashes, and touched his lips there. Sam pushed closer and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, the furthest thing from a
stop
. Her doe-eyed gaze lingered on his lips. The long lashes swept down. She trembled in his arms. He shouldn't kiss her, he really shouldn't, but damn...

With a sigh of defeat, he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. A shockwave of heat blasted through him at the feel of her lips under his, and only got worse when she angled her head and kissed him back. She was all firm curves and tremulous vulnerability in his arms, awakening every possessive male instinct he had. Ben tipped her head back and settled in, stroking her parted lips with his tongue to taste her. She opened instantly and he dipped inside, savoring her incredible softness until he had to bite back a moan.

God, just kissing her was enough to set him on fire. He had to stop, before things got out of hand. Though he wanted more, he broke the kiss but kept hold of her face, waited while she blinked dreamily and focused on him.

“I've wanted you to do that since the day I met you,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” A grin spread over his face. “Was I worth the wait?”

“God, yes.”

He tucked her under his chin, falling deeper under her spell while he dreaded what could happen tonight. “You can think about me doing more of that if you need a distraction tonight.”

“If I do that, I won't be able to concentrate at all.”

He set her away from him, smiled in encouragement. “You can do this, Sam. I know you can.” But it didn't matter what he said. She was the one who had to believe it.

He was so damn proud of her when she straightened and stood up to collect the transmitter. “Since I don't have a choice, let's make damn sure this thing works.”

Being in a bad neighborhood was nothing new to Ben.

Having lived through a childhood like his, Kabul didn't seem all that scary to him. A little foreign maybe, but he recognized the empty expressions in people's eyes. He identified with their hunger and distrust. None of that was what had him on edge. No, right now the thing that made him most nervous was the woman next to him.

Sam kept fidgeting and wiping her hands on her burqa. She tugged at the hood to adjust the veil of netting over her eyes. The thing looked damned uncomfortable.

“I can hardly see with this thing on,” she grumbled. “How do they stand it?”

“Because they don't have a choice.” Women didn't have much of a choice in anything here. Just like Sam didn't have a choice in going through with these meetings tonight, and he didn't have a choice in letting her go.

She grunted and fiddled with the veil again, clearly juiced. Seeing her so rattled didn't help the acid level in Ben's stomach, but for her sake he made sure he appeared calm and completely in control. “Sooner we get this done, the sooner you can take that thing off.”

He led her deeper into the crowded slum, then paused in the shadow of a market stall to grasp her wrist and bring her next to him. Keeping a trailing piece of his turban wrapped around his face, he dropped his voice to a low murmur so only she could hear him.

“Hand signals only from here on in,” he said. “I'll let you know which building it is and then get in position.” He squeezed her wrist, the only show of comfort he could give her, because to anyone watching it looked like he was towing her. “Just remember you're not alone.” He punctuated the last word with more pressure. No matter what happened, he wouldn't leave her behind.

Sam nodded, but he couldn't see her eyes through the burqa. Her fingers were icy when she grabbed his hand.

With a heavy heart, he waited until she gathered herself, maintaining that simple link because it was all he could do while his eyes never stopped scanning the dusky street. He steeled himself for what would happen next.

The mission, asshole. Focus on the mission, not Sam.

When she let out a long exhalation and released him he started forward, sensing her following in his wake. His pulse drummed in his ears with each footstep. This had to work. She had to get through this and be okay. He wouldn't accept anything else. Luke gave a curt report over the earpiece Ben wore, letting him know everything was ready and that the DEA team was waiting in the wings for Sam to do the drop and leave.

Winding through the maze of streets and alleys, they finally approached the location and he adjusted his turban— the signal for Sam to enter the building. With every ounce of self-control he had, he forced himself to keep walking and not look back.

Sam hesitated in the darkened doorway, quaking inside. Her limbs were stiff and her heart was in her throat. Sucking in a deep breath, she gathered her nerve and raised an unsteady hand to knock on the heavy steel door. The raps echoed in the stillness. A few seconds later the door swung open, revealing a strip of dim light coming from inside.

“Enter,” a deep voice commanded in Arabic.

Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder to see if Ben was there, she slipped inside, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life. Her legs were like wood as she moved deeper into the room to face the unseen threat. With each step, the light got brighter until she could see three figures up ahead.

Two tall men flanked a white-bearded man seated behind a desk. He had to be the drug runner. Her eyes skittered between the other two. Was one of them the undercover DEA agent? Neither of them gave any sign of acknowledgement.

“You are the American woman sent to me?” the old man demanded in Arabic, letting her know he was well aware of her background by not using Pashto.

She swallowed, nodded. The guards had to be armed, but she couldn't see any weapons on them.

“Come here.”

She followed his beckoning fingers and stopped at the desk, assessing them through the veil of her sky-blue burqa.

“You have the money?”

Again, she nodded.

“Speak up.”

The sharp command made her jump. “Yes.”

“Hand it over.”

The gruff order threw her. Weren't they going to search her or something? She reached one hand into her sleeve to retrieve the envelope given to her, but froze when one of the men cocked a pistol and aimed it at her. Her heart throbbed as her gaze fixed on the muzzle.

“Put that down,” the old man growled impatiently. “I hardly think she came here to assassinate me.”

The bodyguard pinned her with his hard gaze and lowered the gun, but his reluctance showed how willing he was to use it on her.

“Continue.”

Breath coming in gasps now, Sam slid the envelope from her sleeve and laid it on the desk, then immediately retreated a few steps.

Without looking at her again, the old man tore it open and examined the contents, pausing to count the money before nodding in satisfaction. “Good. Now take this,” he said, producing a duffel bag from under the desk, “and take it to your next meeting.”

Sam curled her chilled fingers around the strap, and took the risk of speaking without permission. “Where am I to go?”

The man's eyes narrowed. “You will find a map in the front pocket.”

She scrambled to undo the zipper, then pulled out the paper. Whatever was in the bag was heavy, so it had to be more than money. Unless it was in gold.

“There is a GPS tracking unit hidden amongst the cash. If you go anywhere other than the appointed place, I will know. And you will be eliminated.”

Her chest tightened.

Then in English he said, “I have eyes all across the city, so do not think you can fool me. Do we understand each other?”

She nodded, hoping Ben and the others were getting every word of this. If the DEA squad waiting to spring didn't give her enough of a head start—

“Go.” He waved his hand in sharp dismissal.

One of the guards opened the door to let her out and she emerged into the darkened street with her heart pounding in her ears. Everything was silent except for a few cars moving somewhere close by. No shouts. No gunshots.

Relieved the DEA had held off so far, she took out the map and used the bare bulb in the lamp at the next corner to get her bearings. If they were going to the trouble of tracking her, they would probably have a timeframe in mind too. She didn't plan on finding out what that was.

Choosing a route, she started out at a brisk clip, ears straining to make out the sounds of footsteps or voices. Nothing. Maybe the DEA team had aborted their sting. Was her team still in position? She felt very alone. Winding through the back alleys, a sick feeling took hold. What if they'd left her? Laid her out as bait hoping she would lead them to Tehrazzi?