Seduced by His Target (14 page)

And if Nadine’s father was a
hawaladar,
a former broker...it explained why the CIA hadn’t made any headway. They were looking in the wrong place. And it explained why al Kahtani was part of a high-powered holding group, despite his low status in the royal clan. He’d have extensive contacts—family, friends, former clients—he could call on to move the Rising Light’s funds through the current banks.

“Do you think you could find the records?” Ochoa asked.

Rasheed’s head jerked up as Ochoa’s words sank in. “Forget it. She’s not doing it.”

“Why not? They’re delivering her to her father. They’ll never suspect anything. It’s the perfect opportunity to get someone inside.”

“
Someone,
sure, but not her. Her father intends to kill her. She’s not taking that kind of chance.”

“What kind of chance?” Nadine asked, looking confused.

“We’ve tried to get someone inside his house before,” Ochoa explained. “But security’s too tight. We need access to his files.”

“She’s not doing it,” Rasheed repeated. “She’s not going near that house.”

Ochoa threw up his hands. “She’s our only hope. Hell, you know that. We’ve tried everything else. And if al Kahtani was a
hawaladar,
he’ll have records, lists of his contacts. It could be the break we need.”

“No, absolutely not.” Rasheed shoved away from the table and paced across the room to the window, his agitation increasing with every step. “That was never part of the bargain. The deal was that she’d talk to us—that’s all. She’s not going back to the States.”

Bad enough that he’d exposed her to her brother. There wasn’t a chance on earth he’d risk letting her near her father, too. “We’ll have to use a decoy.”

“But—”

“It’s nonnegotiable, Ochoa.”

The agent sighed. “Fine. I’ll see if I can bring in another agent, a woman who can play her part. She can go on the plane in her place.”

Nadine wrinkled her nose. “How would that work? They’ll know it isn’t me.”

“Not if she wears a burka,” Rasheed said. “Could you train her, teach her what she needs to know to act like you?”

“I don’t know.” She looked even more skeptical now. “She’d have to speak Jaziirastani. And what about her voice? The minute she speaks they’ll know it isn’t me.”

“We’ll work something out. We just need to get her into the house. She can take it from there.”

Ochoa gathered his surveillance detectors and stood. “I’ll get right on it. We don’t have much time, though, just a few days at most.”

“A few days? To teach her how to act like me? I need more time than that.”

Ochoa shrugged. “We’ll try to delay the flight, maybe come up with a mechanical problem that might buy you a day or two, but you’d better plan on working fast.”

Still looking doubtful, she sat back and crossed her arms. But then her gaze turned inward, taking on an expression he’d seen once before—in the village before she’d gone searching for that coca pit.

And suddenly, he sensed where her thoughts were heading. She didn’t intend to train that decoy. She was planning to get on that plane and search her father’s house herself.

“I’ll be in touch,” Ochoa told her, heading toward the door. “I’ll bring the agent by as soon as she arrives.” He opened the door and slipped outside.

“I’ll be right back,” Rasheed told her. Hurrying, he followed on Ochoa’s heels. “She’s not doing it,” he warned him again when he got outside. “I don’t care what she says. She’s a civilian. She’s not getting involved in this.”

Ochoa tossed his satchel in the wheelbarrow, then shot him an assessing gaze. “We’ve used civilians before. Any reason this one’s different?”

Good question.
One he didn’t care to answer now. Scowling, he planted his hands on his hips. “The reason doesn’t matter. She’s not getting on that plane.”

“Fine. We’ll use the decoy.”

“Damn right we will.” Now he just had to convince Nadine.

Chapter 9

H
is jaw set, Rasheed swung open the cottage door and strode inside. No matter how stubborn Nadine was, no matter how convinced she was that only she could get inside her family’s compound, he had to persuade her to listen to sense. It was bad enough that he’d brought her to this island, putting her under her brother’s control. But entering her family’s house would be suicidal. She’d never make it out alive.

He tugged the door closed behind him, then started across the room. She stood facing the window, silhouetted by the waning light. She turned at his approach, her dark-lashed eyes filled with resolve. And before he could block it, a jumble of emotions swarmed inside him—admiration, respect, desire.

He ruthlessly shut them down. He couldn’t let her beauty confuse his thinking. He couldn’t let her impressive spirit influence him to change his mind. No matter what she believed, entering her father’s house would be far too dangerous. He’d never be able to keep her safe.

“I meant what I said.” He closed the distance between them. “You aren’t getting on that plane.”

She leaned back against the window and crossed her arms. “Don’t you think I should decide that?”

“No. This isn’t your job.”

“Maybe not, but it’s my family. I’m not exactly a disinterested bystander. And I know how dangerous they are.”

The hell she did. He came to stop close beside her, forcing her to tip her head back to meet his eyes. “They’re going to kill you. You told me that yourself.”

“Right. But they aren’t going to do it the minute I walk in the door.”

“Which is exactly why we’re sending in a decoy, a trained operative, a professional who can search the compound, then get away before they figure out who she is.”

“You’ll never pull it off. He’ll insist on making sure it’s me. There’s no way it’s going to work.”

It had to. He could
not
let her risk her life. Frustrated, he braced his forearm against the window and glanced outside, trying to think of a way to get through. A palm frond scratched the glass. The late-afternoon sun had dipped toward the horizon, lengthening the shadows across the path. A sudden movement caught his eye, a cat prowling past on the hunt. Beyond the cluster of cottages, the mansion’s security lights winked on.

Unable to come up with a persuasive argument, he shook his head. “You’ll just have to believe me. We can’t take the risk.”

“But—”

“For God’s sake, Nadine, look at what happened here. I thought I could protect you. I thought I could get you off the island before anything went wrong. And your brother showed up. We’re going to have a hell of a time getting you away as it is. And we’d have even less control at your father’s house. Anything could happen to you once you go inside. By the time we mounted a rescue, it could be too late.”

For a moment, she didn’t answer. Her arms stayed crossed. Her stubborn gaze challenged his. But then she slanted her head, her eyes turning thoughtful, her brows gathering into a frown.

“This isn’t only about me, is it?” she asked slowly. “There’s another reason you don’t want me to do this, something you haven’t told me about.”

His jaw tensed. He cut his gaze back to the window encased in the wrought-iron bars. She was right. There’d once been another woman, another hapless victim he’d failed to protect. But he didn’t want to tell her that.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s really going on here? I think I deserve to know.”

Her gentle voice rippled through him, drawing his gaze. And for several long moments he simply looked at her, her unflagging courage, her fierce determination to help mistreated women impressing him so damned much. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being harmed.

“You’re right,” he admitted, dragging the words out. He never spoke about the past. He never discussed the horror of that attack, or his role in the affair. But something about this woman compelled him to tell her the truth of the harm he’d caused. Turning back to the window, he focused on a thin crack snaking across the glass, then fracturing into a dozen lines. “I told you I went overseas to investigate a bank, First Bangladesh. I got hired as a midlevel manager, nothing important, nothing that would attract any attention, but it gave me the access I needed to the accounts I wanted to check.

“My contact, the CIA station chief, worked at the embassy. I met with him about once a month and passed him anything important I’d learned. We varied our locations each time for security reasons. Terrorism in Bangladesh had been heating up.”

He worked his jaw, dread rising inside him at the memories, but he forced himself to go on. She had to understand exactly how monstrous these men were. “I’d just made a discovery. I’d tracked some of the funds coming from your father’s bank, Jannah Capital, to a third account in A’lam Financial, a Saudi Arabian bank. It’s notorious for its terrorist ties. I needed to tell him what I’d found. So we arranged to meet.

“My wife, Sarah... I took her to Bangladesh with me. She hadn’t adapted to life there too well. She’d had to quit her job when we moved, and she wasn’t happy about that. She’d worked for a marketing firm back in the States and had a great career. She was bored in Bangladesh. It wasn’t safe for her to go out alone, so she was cooped up in the house a lot. And I was never around.” Thanks to the ungodly hours he’d put in, trying to crack the case.

“She was desperate to get out of the house, so I arranged to meet my station chief at a mall, a place where a lot of foreigners shopped. I figured Sarah would provide me with the perfect cover. I’d be the long-suffering husband waiting by the food court while his wife browsed in the shops.”

The pressure in his chest increased. He closed his eyes and inhaled, the terrible memories piling in on him, making it hard to breathe. “She’d just found out that she was pregnant. We’d decided it was a good time to start a family since she couldn’t work.”

But instead of providing comfort, the pregnancy had made her even lonelier. She’d missed her mother, her girlfriends from college, the extended family who should have shared her joy. “There was a maternity store at the mall, so that’s why I suggested we go there.”

He turned his head, meeting Nadine’s gaze straight on. “What I didn’t know was that your father was onto me. One of his men, a Bangladeshi national who worked in the embassy, had already discovered the station chief’s identity. He’d been monitoring his activities to find out who he was contacting at the bank. Another of their contacts, a guy who worked at the bank, figured out that it was me. So they followed us to the mall.”

“Oh, God.” Horror filled her voice. “They didn’t...”

He nodded. “They saw us meet. But they didn’t go after me right away. They went after Sarah instead. They shot her as she came out of a store. They wanted me to see her die.”

He had seen it, all right, in excruciating detail. He still saw it every damned time he closed his eyes. He saw Sarah smiling as she hurried toward him, her blond ponytail swinging, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling, lugging a mountain of shopping bags. He saw the spring in her steps, the flush on her pretty cheeks, the way her eyes lit up when she spotted him across the room. It had been the happiest she’d looked in weeks.

And with one quick shot, she was dead.

Nadine pressed her hand to her lips. Moisture shimmered in her eyes. “Oh, Rasheed, I’m so sorry.”

“They came after me, too,” he continued, his voice faltering. His belly knotted, an awful feeling of desolation welling deep inside him, but he needed to tell her the rest. “But the other agent got us away. We eventually crossed the border into India and then flew home.” Sarah’s body had followed later under heavy guard.

“I’d been using my real name in Bangladesh. My banking background was legit—it was just the CIA part I concealed. When I came back to the States, the CIA faked my death, giving me a new background and another name.”

And as the shock of Sarah’s death wore off, the need for vengeance took root inside him, turning into full-blown rage. He’d vowed to bring down the murderers who’d killed her, no matter how many years it took.

“That’s when I asked for permission to infiltrate the Rising Light. I grew up speaking the language. I knew I could pull it off. And my parents had died by then. I didn’t have any family left, nothing that could trip me up.

“I started attending a mosque we’d been investigating in Northern Virginia, one where we thought the imam was promoting jihad. Most of the members were from Jaziirastan. I earned their trust, pretended to let them radicalize me.

“They eventually sent me to Jaziirastan. I stayed with the right people and proved my loyalty. It took a while, but they finally admitted me into the training camps. That’s where I’ve been ever since.” Working step by step through the organization, insinuating himself into the top tier of Rising Light terrorists.

Seeking revenge.

Nadine’s gaze held his. “Your wife’s death wasn’t your fault.”

“The hell it wasn’t. She’d quit her job because of me. She moved halfway around the world because of me—because I was sure I could track those funds. I knew she was miserable there. I knew she missed her friends and family, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to see it. I kept working longer hours, leaving her more alone.

“It was even my idea to start a family. She wanted to wait until she’d established her career. But I thought it would keep her busy, help cure the loneliness. Instead, it got her killed.”

He hauled in a breath, disgusted at what he’d done. He’d been her husband, the man who’d vowed to cherish and protect her, but he’d failed her in every way. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to change that now. He couldn’t redo the past. He couldn’t go back and die in her place.

And he couldn’t escape the haunting image of her execution, the constant, horrific memory that plagued him every time he closed his eyes—reminding him exactly how badly he’d screwed up.

And he refused to fail another woman again.

“We learned later that your father had ordered the hit.”

Her face turned ashen. “Are you sure?”

“We heard it from several informants.”

This time she turned away. Silence fell between them as she gazed out at the gathering night and hugged her slender arms. “And that’s why you’re trying to prove the link to him. You’ve got a personal reason to bring him down.”

“I know what he’s capable of. I can’t let him hurt anyone else.”
Especially you.

Her gaze swung back to his. Compassion mingled with pain in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Rasheed. I’m so sorry about your wife. My father...he’s a despicable man.”

“Then you understand why I can’t send you in there? It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m already in danger. He’s been trying to kill me for years.”

“It’s not the same. You’ll be at his mercy. Trapped. We need to send in someone who’s trained for this.”

“But she’ll be in danger, too. As soon as he realizes it isn’t me—”

“We’ll take precautions. We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

“But—”

“Promise me, Nadine. I don’t want you to take the risk.”

She didn’t answer. For an eternity, she just watched him, her soft gaze searching his. Then she cupped his jaw with her hand, the light touch arrowing straight to his heart.

“I’m not your wife, Rasheed. I know the risks. I’d be going into this with my eyes wide-open.”

She wasn’t his wife, all right. But she was another beautiful woman he couldn’t bear to see hurt. A woman he was beginning to care about in ways he couldn’t afford.

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he confessed.

Her gaze remained on his. His pulse ticked up a notch. And suddenly, he was hyperaware of every detail about her—the curve of her slender throat, the flowery scent of her shiny hair, the perfect fullness of her lush lips.

His heart began to thud. The compassion in her eyes held him motionless, awakening something dormant inside him, a part of him he’d thought was dead. Longings, dreams he’d buried with his dead wife, feelings he’d had to crush to survive.

She slid her hand to his neck. Somehow, she’d shifted closer, and her breasts now brushed his chest. She pressed her other palm against his breastbone, and her mouth came nearer yet.

His muscles turned taut. His blood began to pound his skull. And God help him, but he couldn’t resist her. He needed her too damned much.

He splayed his hand over her jaw. He tilted her face toward his, his gaze devouring her mouth. And then he lowered his head and kissed her, inhaling her like his dying breath.

Her soft moan lanced his heart. Her smooth lips parted, the moist welcome firing his nerves. Her velvety warmth both soothed and aroused him, tempting him to take refuge in sexual oblivion, urging him toward the desperate need to
forget.

The kiss lengthened and merged with another. He plunged his hands through her satiny hair. His mind dimmed, the reasons this was wrong rapidly fading as more primitive urges mounted inside him, the desire for comfort giving way to lust.

But even as his heart started flaying his rib cage, even as his body began to throb with that age-old need, he knew this was more than just sexual hunger, more than a basic, human need for warmth. There was something different about Nadine, something different than what he’d felt for his beloved wife.

She was the product of a violent childhood. She’d been terrorized by her family, experiencing even more fear during her years on the streets. But instead of cowering, instead of seeking the protection she rightly deserved, she dedicated her life to fighting back. Even now, with her father determined to kill her, she refused to run away. She was courageous, incredible.

The kind of woman he could love.

Shocked by the realization, he broke off the kiss. His hands trembled. His stunned gaze went to hers. He took in her deliciously blurred eyes, the rosy flush to her creamy skin, the temptation of her swollen lips. And the need she’d awakened thundered inside him, threatening the remaining vestiges of his self-control.

He had to resist.
Calling on all his willpower, he pulled away. But he was vibrantly aware of every detail about her—the smoothness of her skin, the silky hair tumbling around her face, the heavenly taste of her mouth.