Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) (17 page)

“She’s not—”

“All I’m saying is…make sure she’s worth trusting. I worked with a Mossad agent once. Scary guy.”

“She’s one of the good guys.”

“So was he, but okay.” Marco shrugged. “Better go get your hero on then. Need anything?”

“No.”

“All right then.”

Luke pushed off the counter and slipped out into the courtyard. He glanced up at the third floor, but it was the wrong side to see into the room he shared with Abigail.

He got what Marco had drilled into his head yesterday. What they were all probably thinking about him. He had a hero complex. Always had. Ever since he was a kid living in the hellhole of his uncle’s house, he’d tried to save people. His cousin. His aunt. His buddies. Abigail wasn’t a victim. She was a fucking warrior princess, but even she needed someone in her corner.

They’d all seen this go down. A dozen times in a dozen ways with every kind of person.

The kind of people Aegis hired were heroes. People who stepped up to the plate to do hard jobs—and save people.

Marco wouldn’t call him on it because chances were, Marco would do exactly what Luke was if their situations reversed. Lord pity the woman Marco ever decided to
help
. The man was a bull with plenty of screws lose, but he was a good guy. Just a little fucked up, like the rest of them.

Luke climbed the stairs to the third floor and turned toward their room.

The door stood slightly ajar.

He’d made sure to close it when he left.

Abigail had been gloriously naked and asleep.

Luke quickstepped to the door and peered inside.

The bed was empty.

The curtains were pulled aside, spilling sunlight into the room. He stepped over the threshold.

Her clothes were gone.

There wasn’t a single shred of evidence she’d even been there.

Had that been her plan all along?

He hadn’t yet wrapped his head around it, but part of him had expected this. For her to split. And she had.

“There you are.”

He whirled, nearly losing his grip on the plate.

“Something wrong?” She tilted her head to the side.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Yeah, I heard you moving around, but you were gone by the time I pried my eyes open. I went in search of clean towels since we used all of ours last night.” She hefted the pile of towels higher on her hip. “I was thinking of making use of that tub later. Interested?”

She strolled past him, an extra sway to her hips.

Abigail was there.

She hadn’t left.

Fuck, he was a paranoid dick.

“I got us something to eat.” He nudged the door shut and made for the two-seater table near the windows.

“I see that.” She left the towels in the bathroom and crossed to the small table in the corner. “What’s the plan for the day?”

Abigail draped her arm over Luke’s shoulder. He slid his hands down her sides to her hips. That she was still here, that she’d proven him wrong made him crazy happy.

“Well, I was thinking food, then that bath and maybe a nap?”

“Nap—is that what you’re calling it now?”

“We could do things other than nap.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, maybe I can take your picture, you know, so I can send it to Santa so he knows what to get me for Christmas this year.”

“You are terrible.” Abigail smiled and shook her head.

“At least I brought breakfast.”

She leaned past him and snagged a pastry. He pulled out a chair for her, held it while she sat, and settled in across from her. Their knees bumped underneath, and she finally gave up and just put her feet on top of his.

“My mother used to bake every week.” Abigail tipped her chin up. “I remember her putting together these beautiful spreads. The other women would come over and she’d pour them tea. She was so happy back then.”

“Was this before your father died?”

“Yes. We had the community around us. After my father died…she just wasn’t the same.”

“You said you had someone checking in on her?”

“I did. We never met face to face. I was referred to him through several different points of contact. He’s supposed to photograph her once a week and upload the images to a server.” She shook her head. “I was so consumed with my own plans that I didn’t check in on her.”

“Let me find out where Zain is. Can you log in remotely?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Look, if you’re hesitant that maybe we’re going to keep tabs—”

“It’s the smart thing to do.” She stared at him, no emotion on her face.

“We can trust you.” Or rather, Luke could trust her.

“I’m a trained spy. I’ve gone rogue. You have no reason to trust me.”

“Have you killed or hurt an innocent person?”

“No.” Her answer was quick, no hesitation.

“Should I believe that answer?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then it’s good enough for me. Maybe if you’d been with another organization, some other country, but I’m inclined to believe you. To trust you.”

Luke would rather keep Abigail all to himself, but if he were in her position, he’d want to know about his mother, too. So, as much as he wanted to indulge in a long, naughty soak and some time not-napping, family came first.

He got up, crossed to the room phone next to the bed, and dialed the war room where Zain was most likely to be at any random moment.

“You guys up? Wait—don’t answer that.” Zain spoke in a rush, probably due to the pots of coffee he was drinking.

Luke chuckled. “Morning.”

“If you guys are clothed I need to come up and talk to—what are we calling her?”

“Abigail. She also wants to access some information, if at all possible.” Luke glanced over his shoulder at her, still at the table watching him.

“Let’s talk first. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Luke hung up.

“He said no, didn’t he?” Abigail glanced away, shoulders slumped.

“Zain wanted to talk to you. He’s on his way up.”

She shifted, and while he wouldn’t call the motion nervous, there was a decided lack of ease about her posture, the way she clasped her hands over her knee, the set of her mouth.

“Zain just wants to talk.” Luke returned to his seat.

“And Baron
just wanted to talk
.” Her mouth twisted up into a grimace.

What Luke wouldn’t do to erase that look from her face…

14.

Abigail forced her hands
to relax, her toes to not tap.

She should have left as soon as Luke shut the door to go get breakfast. Her contact was ready whenever she arrived. The new identity, her money, it was a fifteen-minute jog away. And instead of doing the smart thing, she’d gotten more towels.

Stupid, girl. Hearts get you killed.

“Zain’s not going to waterboard you. I’d kick his ass before it ever got that far.” Luke reached across and grasped her hand.

Abigail shouldn’t smile or get the warm-fuzzies from that sort of statement—but she did. What did it say about her life that professions to not be waterboarded were romantic gestures?

“I prefer my ass not kicked.” Zain pushed the room door shut behind him. “Morning.”

“You know how to knock, motherfucker?” Luke let go of her hand and stood.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d hear it.”

Luke pulled one of the chairs over, allowing Zain to join them. He had a large tablet in hand and a grim look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked, echoing her thoughts.

“I had a weird, encrypted message this morning.” Zain’s gaze switched to her. “Do you know someone named Baron?”

Abigail’s mouth dried up. Had he found them already? She didn’t think Mossad could strike so soon.

“Yeah, I know who that is.” Luke’s tone was all venom.

“He wants to speak with you.” Zain never took his gaze off her.

“What did the message say?” Abigail licked her lips.

“Just that he had answers for you.” Zain shrugged.

“Answers? Like why the fuck he’d waterboard her and keep us locked up for almost a week? The fuck we want to talk to him.” Luke was building up a good rage. He was taking it way too personally.

“What were the contact instructions?” she asked.

“You can’t seriously want to talk to him.” Luke glared at her.

“Baron has answers. If he wanted to recapture us, he wouldn’t make contact. They’d just grab me, or you. They wouldn’t let us know they were out there first. That’s not how they operate.”

“You still think he’s why we got out of there.”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. No one has ever escaped from The Pit. There’s no reason we should have been the first.” Nothing made sense. Someone had to have made it possible.

“Who is Baron?” Zain glanced between them. “I take it he’s someone important?”

“Yes, which is why you won’t find anything about him.” Abigail remembered all too well the secrecy with which their personal lives were guarded—the darkened windows, feeling like a prisoner in her own home. The only bright spot had been when Baron came home…only to go straight to work again.

Luke continued to glare at her, his teeth grinding together. He knew more than most, and though his hatred was palpable, she appreciated that he kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t widely known that Baron was her ex-husband and for both her privacy and his protection, she wanted to keep it that way. No matter that Baron had broken her heart, she still cared for him. A part of her always would…but she no longer loved him. Probably hadn’t for a while. It’d taken a man worth loving walking into her life to wake her up to the fact.

She loved Luke.

That little fact was enough to nearly send her into a spiraling anxiety attack.

People like her couldn’t love. It made them vulnerable. As much as she wanted Luke to know she cared for him…she couldn’t. The best thing for him was if she walked away, at least until she could figure out how to end things. She’d leave a piece of her with him, but he couldn’t know. No one could.

“He left a number.” Zain said after several moments. He pulled a satellite phone out of his pocket. “I can bounce the signal around to a couple dozen countries and encrypt it—”

“I know the drill.” Abigail held her hand out.

“I want to hear what he says.” Zain locked gazes with her. It wasn’t a point he’d budge on.

“I’ll tell Baron you’re listening.”

“Fine.” Zain handed the phone over.

“You realize she can just speak some obscure language we don’t know or speak in code, right?” Luke sat back, arms crossed.

“Yeah, but what else am I going to do?” Zain shrugged.

“The contact instructions?” She held out her hand.

Zain passed her a small notepad with a series of numbers jotted down. It was familiar, rote exercise to her, but to someone else, the strings of numbers would mean nothing.

The first was the number. She waited for Zain to adjust the signal via his tablet and then dialed. She didn’t dare breathe

The second string were access codes, passwords that bounced the signal around, giving her a direct line to Baron—or whoever was answering.

It took almost three minutes to make the call, but security was everything. In the field she’d never had direct call permission. All messages had passed through a handler who changed out every couple of months.

“Hello?” Baron’s voice didn’t inspire the same tingly response it once had. She’d never admit it, but right up until she’d faked her death, talking to him—her ex-husband—had always made her heart beat faster.

She swallowed.

How had Luke wormed his way into her heart so fast?

“Yael? Are you there?”

She cleared her throat.

“Abigail,” Luke snapped, glaring at the phone.

“I’m here,” she said.

“Thank goodness. You got somewhere safe?” Something creaked in the background and his voice dropped in pitch.

“Safe enough. What is it you wanted to tell me, Baron? You have two minutes.”

“Shit. Yael—”

“That’s not my name anymore.” She said it on instinct, but it rang true. Ever since she’d died, her identity had been a fluid thing. Abigail felt…right. Like Luke. It was who she was now.

“Why did you fake your death?” There was a note of urgency in Baron’s voice.

“Because Zach was being blackmailed. I killed him—”

“Zach?
Zacharias
, your handler?”

“Yes, I thought—”

“Yael, he’s not dead.”

“What? No, I killed him myself.”

“I just had a meeting
about him
with the heads of Unit. We have documented proof he’s removed files—
sensitive files
. We failed you, Yael. We did. They’re going after him now, but I don’t think Zach is here.”

If she hadn’t already been sitting, her legs would have given out.

“What are you saying?” She swallowed. After an op, she should have checked, she should have ensured Zach was dead. She’d shot him from a distance, and then she’d needed to disappear. She’d just assumed…

“I’m so sorry Y—Abigail. I’m sorry. I’m pushing for you to be exonerated. You could come back—”

“I’m never coming back, Baron. I’m out.”

Those words freed her. For so long she’d wanted to go back to the way things were. But her handler had betrayed her, her ex-husband had interrogated her using methods the United Nations would scream over—and there was no going back from that. She was tired. Tired of the life, the lies, and everything to do with Mossad. It wasn’t the shining pillar of light in her life anymore. No, that was Luke.

“I’m going to find Zach, and I’m going to kill him. This time I won’t miss.” She’d made the mistake once. Not again.

“I never heard that.” Baron’s voice was…funny. Was that…sadness?

“One more thing?” She slid her gaze from the floor to Luke. “My mother?”

Baron blew out a breath.

Zain tapped his wrist. They were long over those two minutes.

She nodded.

“Baron?”

“She died. Heart failure. It’s what got me looking into things. She was working for these people… I made sure the autopsy was done myself, by someone I could trust. It was natural. Her time was up.”

“Her heart was weak after dad died.” Abigail looked up at the ceiling. She hadn’t wanted to believe Baron could lie to her, that he’d say something so cruel as an interrogation tool, but she also hadn’t wanted him to tell her the truth either.

The one person she’d lived for was gone.

Now what did she do with herself?

Kill Zach.

That’s all there was to it.

Once Zach was dead and his intel had been recovered…she could cease to exist. She could become someone else.

Until she accomplished that, she had to stay away from Luke. Being near him put his life at risk.

“Zach showed me pictures of her, working for this couple—he said they’d employed her to get to me. Did he organize all of that?” she asked.

“They arrested the couple this morning. They were Palestinian spies.”

“Shit.” Abigail rubbed her temple.

“Look, I know you don’t want to, but I’d appreciate it if you’d come in. We have a lot of questions I think you can answer about how much damage Zach has done.”

“No. Goodbye, Baron. I hope we never see each other again.” Fixing Mossad’s leak wasn’t her job. It never had been. She was a tool aimed at a problem to fix it. This time, she’d fix the problem on her own terms.

She hung up and laid the phone on the table, staring at the number pad for several long seconds. Neither Luke or Zain moved. They all just sat there in silence.

Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? Absolution?

But it wasn’t enough anymore. She didn’t want to go back.

Zach wouldn’t go down easy, but he would go down. If it took her life, so be it. But if it didn’t…would Luke wait for her?

Luke inhaled the fresh
ocean breeze, the familiarity of the sounds and smells orienting him as he rose from sleep to wakefulness. He blindly reached across the bed, searching for the warmth he was missing.

Cool sheets.

No Abigail.

He turned his head toward her pillow and listened.

Drip.

Drop.

Splatter.

She was there.

She wasn’t gone.

He smiled and sat up, letting his legs fall over the edge. A quick glance at the clock told him it was early afternoon. Probably time to start moving, get some food in their bellies, and prepare to move out. Their overnight flight home would be rough, but after what they’d been through? Piece of cake.

Luke shuffled around the bed and leaned against the archway leading into the bathroom.

Fluffy white bubbles obscured all but Abigail’s head. Her hair was pinned up, the better to highlight her long neck and delicate features.

How could someone so small be so dangerous?

It just underscored the fact that appearances were deceiving.

Abigail was more than she appeared. So much more. He hadn’t wanted someone in his life in the way he wanted her. Ever.

“You’re awake,” she mumbled.

“I was wondering if you were.”

“Not really. Joining me? Or watching?”

“Both? You ever been to Turkey?”

“A few times.”

“I always wanted to go.”

“They have wonderful coffee. Is this your new game?”

“What game?”

“Where you try to figure out where I’ve been? What I’ve done?”

“The better to get to know you, sugar.”

“Join me?”

He pushed off the arch and shoved his shorts to the ground. She shifted, pulling her legs up. He stepped in, sinking down on the opposite end to face her. Their legs tangled and shifted until he pulled her feet into his lap.

Luke started with one foot, cupping her heel and gently kneading up to the ball of her foot, her toes, and then switched to the other. She groaned and winced, but otherwise remained as she’d been—eyes closed and utterly relaxed.

How had this woman wormed her way into his heart?

She didn’t need him. But he wanted her to. Maybe that was his Achilles’ heel. If he stuck around long enough, perhaps he’d matter to her. All his life he’d fallen victim to needy, damsel-in-distress women who couldn’t see their way out of their problems with a map, a guide, and a yellow brick road. Abigail was none of that. She was different. And he wanted to matter to her. How to do that was beyond him, but damn it he was going to try.

“You keep doing that and I’m going to fall asleep,” she mumbled.

“I wouldn’t let you drown.”

“How kind of you.”

“I’m a caring kind of guy.”

The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Her eyes opened, and she lifted her head slightly. An errant tendril of hair fell from the mess on top of her head, curling toward her cheek. With the way the decorative window cast spires and arcs onto her and the water—she was otherworldly.

“That almost sounded sincere.” She tilted her head one way, her expression unreadable.