Personal Target: An Elite Ops Novel (30 page)

A text pinged back.
Are you okay?
He quashed down the irritation that everyone was asking him that. He was fine. It was all relative.

Yes. Any word from Hollywood?

Not yet.

“Enough, you’re bleeding everywhere,” scolded Jenny, gently pushing his head back to the seat. “Lean back.” She started wiping the blood away using a pile of napkins from the pocket on the seat in front of her.

Damn.
It stung like a bitch, but he kept his mouth shut and dropped the phone to his lap. For now, he was content to let Jenny fuss over him and to let Hosea drive as everything else buzzed in his head. His eyes closed when her hands drifted over his face and chest.

The phone signaled an incoming call, and he realized he’d dozed off for a moment. He scooped the cell up, hoping it was Leland with an update, but the caller ID read
Tomas Rivera
. Ernesto must have had the man’s number in his contact information.

Nick stared down at the screen.
WTF?
He held the phone up so Jenny could see the name. She froze and leaned back, giving him room to take the call.

It made sense Rivera would have Ernesto’s number. Still, it was creepy. He opened the line on the third ring but said nothing.

“Mr. Donovan. This is Tomas Rivera. We need to meet.”

“Why would I want to do that? You’ve been trying to kill me for the past week.”

Rivera didn’t deny it. “I’m thinking you have questions about all you have learned recently. You’ll want to know who you can trust in this ‘brave new world,’ yes? And I suddenly have need of answers myself—answers only you can provide.”

That was certainly intriguing.

At this point, Nick trusted the people in this car, and that was about it. “Where do you want to meet?” he asked.

“You’re on your way to Skikda.” Rivera was making a statement, not asking a question. With startling clarity, Nick knew the man was either tracking this phone or the car they were riding in.

Again, there was nothing to be done about it. Hell, even now the Algerian army could be headed their way, and the road they were travelling had no detours or turn offs for another thirty miles. They were stuck until they reached the coast.

“Where do you want to meet?” Nick repeated.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” The line went dead.

Saturday afternoon

Skikda, Algeria

T
WO HOURS LATER
they were in Skikda. Not knowing which item was being tracked by Rivera, Nick had tossed Ernesto Vega’s phone a couple of miles from town. They’d left the BMW parked on a side street as soon as they hit the city limits. If Rivera was going to find them, he was going to have to work for it.

Once on foot, they’d grabbed a cab to an out-of-the-way clinic that Hosea knew. There Nick had received stitches in his cheek, pain killers for his ribs, and a clean shirt, so he didn’t look like an extra from a horror movie. They’d taped up Jenny’s fingers from the incident with Juan and cleaned up her forehead from the cab in Niamey as well. She and Nick now had matching butterfly bandages. After settling them at an outdoor café, Hosea had left him and Jenny to arrange for transportation out of Algeria. The plan was to leave that evening if at all possible.

In the meantime, Nick and Jenny were eating a real meal for the first time since dinner at the Paleo-Niger Project site almost two days ago. Nick was polishing off a second entrée and contemplating dessert as he watched the crowded street in front of their table.

Despite Algeria’s large Muslim population, the holiday shoppers were busy. The fact that today was Christmas Eve seemed just as surreal as what Nick had learned on the bridge in Constantine.

“Juan Santos admitted that he murdered my parents.”

Jenny tried to stifle a gasp but couldn’t. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, at least not yet. But there’s more. Dad wasn’t embezzling. He didn’t kill himself or Mom.”

“My God, Nick. No one ever said that your dad killed himself on purpose, did they?”

“Not to you. But plenty did to me. The police intimated, the newspapers hinted, and the life insurance company flat out refused to pay the death benefit initially. Only after a friend at Dad’s law firm threatened to sue the bastards did they back down. Hell, I wondered at times myself.”

“But why would someone kill your parents?” she asked.

“Santos was making bizarre claims that Dad was really working for someone within the government and that he had orders.”

“Do you believe it?” She took a sip of her bottled water.

“I don’t know. Why would Santos lie to me when he thought I was about to die? Why mention it at all?”

“I still don’t understand why you need to meet with Tomas Rivera,” said Jenny, keeping her voice low. “It’s too dangerous here. Why can’t we just get on a boat and get out of the country?”

It might be crazy to open himself up to Rivera, but Nick had to meet with him. He needed answers only Rivera could provide. He did not, however, want Jenny anywhere near the meeting.

“I’ve got to know what’s going on. Why have the cartels been after you and me?” He cracked the cap on the third bottle of water he’d asked the waiter to bring.

“When this started six weeks ago in that clinic, Cesar said they were already after me. Why? As shocking as finding out about my parents has been, I don’t see what it has to do with the past nine days. Why come after me now, after so many years? It doesn’t feel right. Something else is going on.”

Jenny watched him with concern in her eyes. “Do you have to know? Can’t it just be over? At least for now? I can’t argue with you, and I know I don’t have a claim on you, but I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She slid her hand across the table to touch his. “When I saw you on the edge of that bridge . . .” Her voice faded.

Twenty-four hours ago Nick wouldn’t have spoken. But today had shown him how precious every moment was. Not one should be wasted. “You’re wrong, Jenny. You do have a claim on me. I realized it standing on the Sidi M’Cid. What I wanted. What I want more than anything. I want to—”

A shadow fell across the table. They both looked up to see Tomas Rivera standing beside them with a bodyguard at his shoulder.

“May I join your tête-à-tête?” asked Rivera, as if this were an everyday meeting.

Jenny’s face paled in surprise.
Damn
. Nick had been so engrossed in what he wanted to tell her, he’d never seen Tomas coming. This was the last place Nick wanted Jenny to be, but he smiled grimly. There was no reaching for the Ruger LCP Hosea had loaned him earlier.

“Before you refuse, you should know I have a sniper across the street with his rifle trained on Dr. Grayson. Any threatening moves or a signal from me, and he pulls the trigger.”

If possible, Jenny’s cheeks blanched even whiter.

“By all means, join us,” said Nick.

A waiter started over to their table, but Tomas’s bodyguard stopped him.

“I know you have questions,” began Rivera.

“That would be one way of putting it.”

Tomas tipped his head. “You want to know why all this happened and who to trust now that your organization is a shambles?”

“Naturally, I’m curious,” said Nick.

“I would hope that you are more than just curious.”

Nick shrugged. Under the table Jenny gripped his fingers before letting them go to take a sip of her water.

Tomas’s attention caught for a moment on her bandage, and something in his eyes changed as he stared at her hand. “But that’s not the most important question today,” he said.

“Alright. How about this one? Do you know who ordered my parents’ murder?”

Tomas didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t look surprised that Nick was asking. “Yes, I do know. I will only say that it wasn’t me. And again, that’s not the question you need to be asking.”

Nick swallowed an angry retort and thought back to his conversation on the bridge with Juan. To keep Jenny safe, Nick needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt if Juan Santos had been telling the truth or lying. “Were you after Jennifer all this time or after me?”

Tomas nodded his approval and leaned back in his chair, staring at Jennifer’s hand until she slid it back under the table.

“Since it’s the Christmas season, I’m going to give you a gift, Mr. Donovan. Those who know me would tell you that doesn’t happen often, so listen well. I was never after Dr. Grayson, specifically. This was always about revenge, plain and simple. I wanted to hurt you for what I thought you had done to my wife, my employees, and my home. I know from personal experience that hurting a man’s woman and family hurts more than anything else that can be done to him.”

“But if that’s the case, not all of those attacks make sense.” Jenny’s voice shook with anger. “At the brothel and at the Paleo-Niger dig site, there were so many others hurt. You killed people who had nothing to do with Nick or with me. People who had nothing to do with any of this.”

Despite her sprained fingers, she gripped Nick’s hand so tightly under the table, he expected there’d be indentions from her fingertips when this was over.

“I had nothing to do with either of those regrettable incidents. It has recently come to my attention that another was responsible for the attack on my compound and on the vet clinic. I suspect they had a part in those heinous events you mention as well. Someone I trusted betrayed me.”

Cold fury burned in Rivera’s eyes when he focused again on Nick. “This matter no longer concerns you. If you go home and stay out of Mexico, I will no longer pursue you or those you care for.”

“After all that’s happened, you’d stop? Why should I believe you?” asked Nick.

“You truly no longer work for the government, do you?” Tomas’s smile was wintry, the fury still there behind his expression. “Believe me or not, it is your choice. You are, as they say, off my radar. Ignore my advice at your and Dr. Grayson’s peril.”

Jenny looked from Nick to Tomas with a dumbfounded expression.

“Just like that?” Nick asked, still holding her hand under the table. Had all this shit happened because people believed he still worked for the CIA? Dammit, he’d quit a year ago. He’d like nothing better than to wrap his hands around Rivera’s neck right now, but the threat of the sniper across the street made that fantasy impossible.

“Just like that,” repeated Tomas. “Although if my sources are correct, I believe your organization currently has enough trouble of its own, particularly your fearless leader.” Sarcasm dripped from Rivera’s statement.

“Juan Santos said he could make anyone look guilty. Did you have anything to do with—” Nick stopped himself. Of course Tomas had set Gavin up, or the cartel leader knew who had.

Tomas smiled, genuine warmth in his eyes this time. “Ah, Juan Santos will be missed. Talent comes in all forms. Gavin Bartholomew is in for a difficult time. I’ll give you a final word of advice, even though you haven’t asked. Consider this a Christmas bonus. You want to know who you can trust in this new world? The answer is complicated and simple at the same time. Trust no one, absolutely no one.”

With those enigmatic words Tomas stood, waved a hand signal to the unknown sniper, and left as quickly as he had arrived. Nick and Jenny watched in silence. The waiter returned to take an order for coffee while the cartel leader disappeared with his bodyguard into the street crowd.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I
’M NOT SURE
what to say to all that,” Jenny shook her head and turned to Nick. “What do we do now?”

He took a deep sip of water, glad he finally had an answer to that question. “We get the hell out of Africa. I don’t think this is over by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m not ignoring Rivera’s advice. We’re going home, and I’m stashing you somewhere safe.”

He reached for her hand again and looked out over the busy street before carefully tightening his grip on her palm. Bryan walked toward the café from the opposite direction Tomas Rivera had taken.

Nick felt uneasy, as if they’d hung out a “we are here” sign. How in hell had Bryan found them?

Jenny recognized Hollywood and stood to hug him when he drew close to the table. “My God, Bryan. How’d you find us? Are you okay?”

Hollywood shook his head. He looked exhausted.

Nick’s eyes narrowed as he took everything in. He didn’t like this one little bit.

Bryan caught Nick studying him, and his face went completely blank. “I’m alright, Jennifer. How about you?” He reached up, brushed at the bandage on her face, and sat down. “I went to the dig site and—”

“What did you find?” She grabbed for his hand. “It was burning to the ground when they took us away.”

Bryan shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t have good news. The camp was destroyed. The Nigerien authorities were on site when I got there. Mopping up. They’re calling it a tribal uprising.”

“That’s bullshit,” said Nick.

Bryan nodded. “Yeah, but they can call it that because no foreigners died. Only Tuareg guards and a professor from Abdou Moumouni University were killed. Several foreign students from the project were hurt but none seriously. It’s rather remarkable, considering. I don’t know what kind of shape the actual dig site is in, but the government won’t knock themselves out investigating what really happened.”

Jenny shook her head. “That’s awful and wrong and . . . so senseless. Sadly, I doubt the Russ Foundation will put up that big of a stink either. They’ll want to be invited back once the dust clears.”

Nick remained silent as she told Bryan what had happened since he’d run out of the hotel in Niamey. Her abbreviated explanation didn’t include everything. She left out the part about Juan’s attack in the warehouse and meeting Sassy.

Nick was still trying to figure out how Bryan had located them when Hollywood said, “I think I saw the women from that truck outside Constantine on the way here.”

Jenny’s eyes widened in surprise. “Where did you see them?”

Bryan raised an eyebrow and glanced at Nick before answering. “There was a huge road block and a lot of military folks, U.S. and Algerian together. They were unloading about twenty women as I drove past. I imagine the Algerian government has them now.” Bryan looked pointedly at Nick. “Any idea how that happened?”