Traitorous Attraction (15 page)

A long beat passed. Connor expected a “Sorry, I can’t help you.”

“I have someone who might be able to get you what you need. He’s a specialist in that region and he does work for me when I need it.”

That simple? “Tell me where to find him.”

“If he’s worth anything and still has his edge, he’ll find you,” the senator said. “I’ll send him. Eyes and ears open. You know Sphere wants you brought in on treason charges. You’ll need to evade them. They don’t give up.”

“I’m aware I’m being hunted.”
Hunted
was the best word he could think of to describe what Sphere was doing to him and Kate. It was one of the reasons Kate’s State Department alias, Kate Swiss, had a limited life. It wouldn’t take long for word to get back to Sphere that she had shown up in the city. Perhaps the only reason they hadn’t yet was that Sphere didn’t openly operate within the embassy and would want matters with Kate to remain under the radar.

“This makes us even,” the senator said. “I will deny that I helped you if asked. If something worse happens as a result of this incident, I will not assist you.”

The senator was taking a big risk talking to Connor directly and then sending assistance. “If your contact can help me, the debt is paid,” Connor said.

“I have to go. Good luck to you,” the senator said and disconnected the call.

Connor would be especially on guard over the next twenty-four hours. His call with the senator had been brief, and with his bouncing cell signal, he didn’t think enough time had passed for anyone to trace the call or pinpoint his location. Even so, he would watch his and Kate’s backs in case Sphere was faster or more savvy than he believed.

When he returned to the room where Kate was working, she was setting the phone on the bed. She smiled, her eyes bright and excited. “I have good news.”

Finally. “Me, too.”

Her eyes widened. “You go first.”

“I have help coming,” Connor said.

“Who?”

“A friend of a friend,” Connor said.

Kate lifted her brow. “I will never understand how you all operate. And by ‘you all’ I mean secret agents. You don’t name names or speak aloud about information. How do you know a secret agent from a stranger on the street?”

“If the agent is good, you don’t know he’s a spy. Divulging information is a slow and careful process,” Connor said. “Tell me your news.”

Kate clasped her hands together. “I have a way for us to get inside the prison. I haven’t figured out how to get near Aiden, but if we can get inside and have a look around, it might help us look for security flaws we can exploit.”

Getting access to the prison was a major score for them. “How are we getting in?”

Kate almost danced with happiness. “I found my own friend of a friend through one of my social networks who works as a volunteer chaplain in La Sabaneta once a month. He holds a small religious service for those prisoners who are permitted to attend. He asked on his social-media page for volunteers to take confession. Apparently, the warden is the son of a minister, and he’s convinced
el presidente
that religion inside the prisons will help control the prisoners.”

Connor stared at her. “Beyond that being almost unbelievable, why would your friend want
us
to do this?” They had no experience as ministers. Connor hadn’t been to church since his mother had taken him when he was a boy.

Kate grinned at him. “You’re an ordained priest and I’m an experienced missionary, at least according to my freshly edited online profile. You can listen to confession.”

“I have to pretend to be a priest?” Connor asked. He had never been to a mass held by a priest. How would he fake it?

“You’ve been undercover as plenty of people—why not a priest? The service is nondenominational and we can make stuff up,” Kate said.

“If one of the prisoners asks a religious question and I have no idea what I’m talking about and can’t answer him, won’t that be suspicious for a priest?” he asked.

“You can take a Bible in with you. Just look in the Bible, read a few verses and answer cryptically. From what I remember from private school, it’s all very mysterious anyway,” Kate said.

Her confidence in him bolstered his willingness. “What’s involved with confession?” Connor asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll get a book on it,” Kate said.

As if it were that simple.

“What role will you play to explain why we’re together?” Connor asked, dragging her into his arms. “It is my understanding that priests don’t have lovers.”

Kate twisted her lips in thought. “We can keep our relationship secret for a few hours.”

Wouldn’t someone notice a casual touch or a longer-than-usual glance? Ignoring her could raise suspicions just as easily about the nature of their association. Connor had never been in the position to pretend he didn’t care for someone when he was in the field. And pretending he didn’t care for Kate was almost impossible.

“I don’t like the idea of you being inside a prison, missionary cover or not. It’s a dangerous place for a woman to be. Any woman.” La Sabaneta did not allow conjugal visits for inmates, and not a single female employee came into contact with the prisoners day-to-day.

“You’ll be with me,” Kate said, running a finger along his jawline and then tapping his lips. “When you’re with me, I know I’m safe.”

She pressed her lips to his and Connor kissed her back. “Safe in some ways—in deep, deep trouble in others.”

Kate laughed as Connor pulled her shirt over her head. Piece by piece, he stripped away her clothes. Then she turned serious as Connor walked her back toward the couch and covered her with his body. They momentarily forgot about priests and missionaries as they tumbled into each other’s arms.

Chapter 10

C
onnor watched Kate adjust her loose-fitting pantsuit and high-necked blouse. As a missionary and a woman inside a jail that housed violent offenders, she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself if she could avoid it. She had secured her long hair at the nape of her neck. She was going for a no-nonsense look.

Even her attempts to dim her appearance hadn’t dimmed his attraction to her. Knowing what was underneath those conservative clothes tormented him. He had to remind himself he couldn’t—shouldn’t—touch her. He’d made love to her four times over the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t enough. Being close to her turned him on. Her scent, her soft hair, her long, lean body called to him. They couldn’t get through this fast enough. Once they had more intel on the inner workings of the jail, they could find a way to get Aiden out. Connor was banking on it.

They waited in the visitors’ area of the prison. Their identification had been checked and hadn’t raised questions, they had been patted down and they were waiting for clearance and an escort to enter the chapel. Clasping her Bible in her hands, Kate’s expression was serious, but her eyes danced with excitement. Connor had sunk deep into his role, holding a gospel in his hands and having procured a black priest outfit complete with stiff white collar. In the past twelve hours, they had studied and crammed as much about Christianity as they could. They had found a children’s Bible online and had read the stories. Connor had so many stories and quotes whirling in his brain, he had dreamed of sheep and plagues and poisoned fruit. He’d awoken several times through the night, each with Kate sleeping peacefully beside him. The sight of her had eased some of his worry.

If getting into La Sabaneta was complicated, getting out would be even harder. Locked doors, high gates, metal detectors, patrolling guards and sniper towers were expected. The complex electronics and thumbprint readers to open doors were more complicated than they had anticipated. The Tumarans took guarding their inmates seriously, and it was evident that a conventional escape, like causing a commotion and rushing out, was unlikely to work. How much could Kate’s computer expertise help? Could she crack the codes on their security system?

The regular chaplain, Father Luca Elias, had given them additional information on the layout of the prison and the schedule as he waited with them. When their escorts arrived, they were taken directly to the chapel accessible by a long hallway barred from the visitors’ area by a metal gate.

The chapel was furnished with long wooden benches, a confessional, several folding chairs and an altar constructed one step up from the concrete. A table and cross were the only other floor fixtures in the room.

“Father Luca, thank you for allowing us to serve here,” Connor said. “I worked in a prison in the United States and I found it to be very rewarding.”

Father Luca smiled. “Father George,” he said, using the name Connor and his fake identification had supplied, “we’re glad to receive help from wherever it is sent. The warden’s asked the inmates to learn more about the Lord. It’s hard to convince ministers to serve here. This prison operates differently than those in the United States. The day-to-day realities are harsher. We have more murders per hundred inmates than any prison in the United States. The men here have little hope of being released and their behavior reflects a devil-may-care attitude.”

He paused and clasped his hands in front of him. “But, that said, I see hope here. The men who attend service are trying to find the Lord. They want forgiveness for their sins, both from the Almighty Father and from within themselves for what they have done. Expect hard facades but warm hearts. Only inmates who have not violated the prison’s rules are permitted to come to service. One infraction and they are confined to their cells for six months.”

Connor’s thoughts turned to his brother. Had Aiden committed any infractions or was he playing along, giving the warden and the guards perfect, acquiescent behavior? From what he and Kate had read, good behavior was rewarded by giving the inmates one hour in an outdoor, wire-fenced area once a week. It killed Connor to think about Aiden getting so little sun and exercise. How was he surviving the isolation and captivity?

Connor wouldn’t trust a single man who walked into this room. Sociopaths and psychopaths were always working an angle. If they thought they could use the weekly religious service to get something they wanted, they wouldn’t hesitate to lie. With Kate in the room with him, the stakes were high.

“We did have an incident a few months ago.” Father Luca pressed his lips together. “One of the inmates, who I believe was mentally disturbed, stabbed one of the missionaries because he thought he was inhabited by the devil. Since that incident, more guards have been assigned to this post and we have panic buttons throughout the room to summon additional help. If you feel threatened, do not hesitate to use it.”

But a panic button wouldn’t stop an attack in progress. It would take time for additional guards to arrive. Connor wouldn’t rely on a button to protect Kate. He would protect her.

Kate straightened in her chair. “God puts challenges in front of us to test our commitment and love for Him. For Tumarans, raised with polytheistic beliefs, to embrace the one true Lord is an undertaking, but we’re ready,” Kate said.

She was laying it on a little thick, but at least she appeared calm and was remaining in character.

“Is there a place where Sister Kate will be safest during the Bible study?” Connor asked, earning him a glare from Kate.

“Yes, Sister Kate. Please stay close to me or one of the guards at all times. You may speak openly to the inmates about our Lord, but do not let them distract you or lure you from this room. This room is our sanctuary and the inmates are told to respect the people in this space.”

As if hardened criminals would care about a room and some rules pressed upon them in said room. The inmates had already proved they would break the law.

“This is not my first prison visit,” Kate said. “I know how to conduct myself.”

“You and I will conduct the Bible study in the main portion of the room while Father George takes confession. We will start the service at five, and you are welcome to join me at the altar or take a seat on the benches. We keep the service as unthreatening as possible. No spouting threats of fire and brimstone from these lips,” Father Luca said.

With a warning look at Kate to do as Father Luca had said, Connor took his post in the confessional and pulled the gray flannel sheet across the opening. Between him and the area where the inmates would give confession was a metal screen. On the wall next to him was a panic button.

Connor wasn’t certain what he was supposed to do while he waited. He heard Kate and Father Luca greeting people. So far, it was a quiet, solemn occasion. Connor hoped it would stay that way. Connor bowed his head and folded his hands. Not quick to call on a higher power or use prayer to achieve his ends, he took the time to ask for help. After such a long period of silence between the two of them, Connor couldn’t imagine that God was listening, but it was worth a shot. Besides, prayer seemed like the appropriate way for a priest to spend his time.

An inmate stepped into the confessional and sat heavily. He was sweating and his jumpsuit hung limply on him.

“Welcome,” Connor said.

The man closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. For a moment, Connor wondered if he was using the tiny enclosure as a safe place to rest or maybe to see something different from the gray, dirty walls and iron bars of the prison. What would a priest say? Or would a priest wait in silence for the other person to collect themselves?

It struck Connor as an odd custom, to tell a virtual stranger deep, dark secrets. What would Connor tell someone? That he’d fought with his brother and almost lost the most important person in his life? That he was sleeping with a woman who was in love with him and he hadn’t told her how he felt in return? If he went back far enough, Connor figured he’d be in a confessional for most of the week unburdening his soul. Some of his sins would give a priest nightmares.

The man finally spoke. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was two months ago.”

Connor opened his gospel for his cheat sheet of what to say. “The Lord gives you His blessing and welcomes you, as He does all His children, to His home.”

“I have a lot to confess today,” the man said heavily.

Connor did not interrupt.

The man listed his sins, ranging from dark thoughts to openly cursing others to carrying rage in his heart for the people who had sent him to prison.

The prisoner scrubbed his hand hard across his face. “Something bad is going to happen in cellblock D. I know it. Every inmate knows it. I can’t tell the guards or they’ll think I’m involved or I’ll be beaten to death. But it’s going to be bad. I needed to tell someone, Father, and I thought if I told you, you could do something about it. The warden respects priests and the sacrament. He won’t make you tell him how you know.”

Connor wasn’t sure if he could or should pry. Wasn’t there some kind of sacred silence between priest and confessor? Then again, Connor wasn’t a priest. He hadn’t taken vows to maintain silence about anything said in this booth and the inmate had requested his help. “What do you mean by something bad?”

The inmate shifted and cleared his throat. Dropping his voice low, he leaned toward the screen between them. “They keep us apart. They don’t want us to rebel. But we get news from the outside. We know out there our countrymen are fighting for change. We want to join them.”

Connor’s instincts tingled with an ominous, heavy feeling. “How can you join them when you are here?”

The man sighed. “Father, you’re not from around here. I can hear it in your voice. This is a dangerous country. Something has to change and it’s got to start from the inside.”

“You mean from inside the jail?” Connor asked.

“From inside Tumara,” the man said. He wiped his sweating face on his sleeve. “I haven’t seen my family in ten years. My wife left me. My children are embarrassed to tell their friends who I am. All because I didn’t agree to swallow the trash I’ve been fed all my life. I tried to make a difference and the government was afraid of me.”

Prisons were full of inmates who claimed they were innocent or that they’d been misunderstood or unfairly punished. “Tell me what you think you can do to help.”

The man looked at Connor quizzically. “Are you telling me that instead of being in here with you, Father Luca and the chick, I should join the rebellion?”

Right this minute? The man was speaking as if the danger of a rebellion was imminent. “I am telling you to do what is right for you, your family and your country,” Connor said, remembering he was a priest. Encouraging a rebellion wasn’t something a priest would do, was it?

“We outnumber the guards two dozen to one. They might stop some of us, but they can’t stop all of us.”

The hair rose on the back of Connor’s neck. “Is the riot planned for today?”

The man was silent.

Panic sharpened Connor’s senses. Aiden was inside one of those cellblocks and Kate was in this room. In a mass riot, the guards would keep control with tear gas, shootings, beatings and whatever means were necessary to put it down. Many people would be hurt and some would die. “In times of trouble, I do not recommend making it worse by adding to the violence.”

“Then this room is the safest place I can be. Talking to a priest when it starts is the best alibi I can get.”

The inmate’s angle for being in confession was to stay out of the inevitable fallout and punishment for a rebellion. Connor had to warn Father Luca and Kate, and the three of them needed to clear out of the prison.

Alarms went off at that moment. The high-pitched blare was deafening. Connor fled the confines of the confessional and looked around for Kate. The twenty or so prisoners who had come to service were beating at the locked doors, and the guards were swinging their billy clubs, yelling at them to get on the ground and not to move. Several listened. Most did not.

“They’re staging a riot,” Connor shouted to Kate and Father Luca.

Father Luca clasped his Bible to his chest and called to the prisoners to do the right thing and sit down. He was ignored. Connor grabbed Kate, not caring that it might be inappropriate for a priest to touch a woman. The prisoners could turn on the three of them, and Connor needed Kate close.

The guards weren’t having success in gaining control over the inmates. One of the guards lost his club and fell to the ground. The other was flailing his stick in a mad act of violence he couldn’t sustain for long.

“When that alarm blares it means the warden has called for a lockdown. Doors lock automatically and no one gets in or out until it stops,” Father Luca said, trembling.

“There’s no other way out of this room besides the main door?” Connor asked, pointing to the door being beaten down. It was bowing under the hammering it was taking.

The prisoners picked up the folding metal chairs and hurled them at the door. One guard dragged the other from the melee. One of the inmates turned. With dark, angry eyes, he stared at Connor and then Father Luca and then Kate.

A wicked smile spread across his face. Connor’s reaction was swift. No one would harm Kate. She was no one’s hostage and she was no one’s victim. Not while he took breath. Connor put Kate behind him. The man approached, moving with an almost drunken swagger, every step heavy and exaggerated.

“I haven’t seen a woman in over three years,” the man said. “Get out of the way, Father. This is between her and me.”

The situation was spiraling out of control and Connor had to make a stand before they were overwhelmed by angry prisoners. Hitting the panic button would likely do nothing as every available guard was probably attempting to control the rioting prison population.

“You will not hurt her,” Connor said.

The man laughed. “Who’s gonna stop me? You and what army?”

The man advanced on Connor, and though he was bigger, Connor reacted swiftly, bringing his knee into the man’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. When he doubled over, Connor hit him on the back of the neck, knocking him unconscious.