Hot & Bothered (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 8) Page 4

  He’d given her so many chances, kept expecting her to turn up at his games or for the weekends he was supposed to spend with her, but she didn’t. Or if she did, she was high or drunk or just manic. Self-medicating when she should have taken the meds the doctors gave her instead.

  He could still see his dad’s sad face. Still hear his dad’s voice. “She’s not coming today, buddy. She’s not feeling too well.”

  That had been code for she was too fucked up, but he hadn’t known it at the time. His dad, God bless him, had never said a bad word about his mother. It had taken getting older and losing the rose-colored glasses he’d viewed her with to make him realize the truth.

  Maybe he’d had rose-colored glasses with Emily too. Maybe her vulnerability and sadness had masked the truth from his eyes.

  His belly tightened at the thought even as his heart rebelled.

  Just like when he’d been a confused kid wanting his mother to care about him.

  Not the same thing. Not the same.

  But it felt remarkably the same deep inside, goddammit.

  “I know you don’t like this,” Mendez said after he’d finished with the logistics. “I know you don’t want to sit in Al-Izir with Ian Black, but time is of the essence with this one. We have to be ready to act the minute we know the location of the hostages.”

  The faces around the room were stony, determined. And then they all spoke as one.

  “Sir, yes, sir!”

  Mendez nodded and looked at his watch. “Six hours until go. You know the drill.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE KUMA DESERT WAS A WASTELAND, and Al-Izir was right in the middle of it. The sand stirred up in whirlpools as something too dry and hot to be called a breeze scoured the desert floor.

  Emily wanted to stop and pull down her abaya so she could take a drink from her waterskin, but she had to keep going. It wasn’t that far to Ian Black’s compound. She just had to tough it out. Lately, no matter how hydrated she was, how rested, the second she got out into the heat, she wilted. The heat of Acamar was taking it out of her, which was surprising considering how long she’d dwelt in Qu’rim’s climate. They were the same, for heaven’s sake.

  The scents of burning meat wafted on the air, and her stomach rebelled. She put her hand to her mouth and hurried past the street vendor. When she reached a door on a side street, she took out her key and slipped it into the lock. It looked like a simple key lock, but she knew it was actually wired to a security system. Someone could steal her key, and they could use it to enter, but they wouldn’t get very far with the cameras trained on the entry. She looked up into the camera, making sure it captured her face, before she passed into a shaded inner courtyard and leaned back against the wall. She searched beneath her abaya for the tube of her waterskin, sucking on it gratefully when she located it.

  The water was warm, but still welcome.

  “You okay, Emily?”

  She looked up to find Rascal staring down at her. Rascal was a big man, bald, and about as gentle as a kitten. Or at least he was with people he liked. She suspected he was quite scary when he didn’t like someone. He was, like many of the men here, a former soldier of some sort. She just wasn’t sure for whom. Sometimes he had the trace of a foreign accent, but just when she thought she had a handle on it, it disappeared again and she was left wondering if she’d imagined it.

  “Yes, fine, thanks.”

  He shook his head. “You look green.”

  She felt green, but she wasn’t going to say it. “Not used to the heat, I guess.”

  He snorted. “You used to live out here.”

  “Been away too long.”

  He sniffed. “Looks like we’ve got company coming. Boss man says we’re working with someone on this thing with the archaeologists.”

  Her stomach twisted. “Did he say who?”

  “Nope.” Rascal picked up the case he’d been carrying—guns, most likely—and slung it over his shoulder. “Got to get this stuff sorted. You go on inside and get some cold water, Em. Lie down a while and you’ll feel better.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rascal tipped his head and kept on going. Emily made her way deeper into the inner courtyard and entered the main dwelling. She’d quickly learned once she got out here that Ian Black had quite the network of spies, soldiers, and equipment. He was set up as well as anything she’d seen when the Hostile Operations Team had rescued her last year. Except his guys were a little on the rawer side. A little less polished and a lot more… mercenary.

  Or maybe that was just her imagination. But they weren’t quite like the HOT guys. A picture of Ryan flashed into her head, and she had to bite back a whimper. That last night with him… God, what a beautiful night that had been.

  He didn’t know it, but he’d fixed something for her. He’d made her less afraid. She didn’t know why, but since she’d left his side early that morning, she hadn’t been as scared of anything as she had been before. The only thing she’d been afraid of was leaving him. Having him hate her.

  Her heart flipped and she swallowed. She’d wondered how he reacted when he got the news. She’d made Ian promise to send a message to Colonel Mendez. She didn’t want Victoria and Ryan wondering if she’d been kidnapped or snatched by a serial killer or something. She needed them to know she was alive and had gone of her own free will.

  But how had they reacted? Victoria would have been furious, of course. But what of Ryan? Was he angry, or disgusted?

  She hated the idea that he might despise her, but there was no going back now. She only hoped that when this was all over, he might forgive her.

  “Emily.”

  She stopped at the sound of Ian’s voice. He came out of the shadows of his office door, his eyes raking over her. Dark eyes. Eyes filled with things she couldn’t begin to fathom.

  She liked Ian. She felt like he was a kindred soul somehow.

  “Mustafa didn’t show,” she said, getting down to business. “He said the last time he might not be able to get away.”

  Ian blew out a breath. “Dammit. We need to figure out where they’re holding those hostages.”

  “I know.” She gritted her teeth. “Why haven’t you sent me yet? I should be inside the cell, getting the information for us.”

  “You aren’t ready.”

  Anger surged inside her. And frustration. “How much more ready can I be? I’ve been here for two months, Ian. I speak the language. I am the Light of Zaran,” she spat, hating the name as much now as she did then. She hadn’t been his light at all. He’d used it to mock her, mock that she’d come to mean nothing to him.

  “It’s not as simple as that. There’s groundwork to be done. If you walk in there and they aren’t prepared for it, they’ll kill you. They have to believe that you’ve returned willingly, that you escaped the Americans and want to help their cause.”

  She snorted. “I was a part of their cause for three years. I think I can fake it well enough.”

  “We don’t know who’s in charge now. Since Al Ahmad was taken, things have changed. Your husband was slaughtered with his own knife, his men were overrun, and you disappeared. How do you think that looks?”

  She felt herself pale, but she didn’t shrink from his stare. Ian didn’t know that she’d been the one to shove that knife into Zaran’s gut. Or maybe he did and he just hadn’t told her.

  “It looks like I was kidnapped when they killed my husband and his men. How else is it supposed to look?”

  “Like maybe you betrayed them?”

  Her stomach roiled. “How it looks hasn’t changed in the past two months. You knew this from the beginning, but you still brought me here. For what, Ian? To meet with Mustafa and pass on information someone else could have gotten?”

  His gaze hardened. “I brought you here to do a job, which is what you’re doing. You know these people. You know what they’re like. Filtering the information from Mustafa—who wasn’t nearly as forthcoming with anyone else as he has been wi
th you, by the way—through the lens of your experience is invaluable to us. When the time is right, I’ll send you in. Not a minute before. Besides, this situation with the hostages changes things a bit, at least for now.”

  Emily put her hand over her eyes and pressed against the tears threatening to fall. For heaven’s sake, why was she so emotional? Did she really want to walk into a den of terrorists and pretend to be one of them? What she was doing now was dangerous enough. She met with her contact at a location of his choosing. She went alone. If he decided to grab her or if he fed her wrong information, how would she stop him?

  There was always someone from Ian’s group watching, but that didn’t mean they could stop the man if he tried. He wasn’t precisely trustworthy. Hassan Mustafa was a jaded warrior who’d grown tired of the promises and ideals of the group. He hadn’t grown tired of the possibilities of padding his own pockets, however.

  So he sold information to Ian, and then he went back to the group. How did she or Ian know he was telling them the truth? They didn’t, not really, but it was true that a group of archaeologists had been kidnapped in the Lost City of Maz recently. The Freedom Force hadn’t released any videos yet, but she knew it was coming.

  She desperately needed Mustafa to tell her where they were being held so someone could get them out. She’d tried before, but he was reluctant to talk about it. He was afraid. She understood that, but her duty was to get him to talk. Maybe if they offered him more money. Everything was about money to Mustafa.

  Emily straightened as a wave of weariness washed over her. “Rascal said something about company coming to help us with the archaeologists.”

  Ian’s gaze darkened for a moment. “Hostage rescue, yes. The government is sending in a military team. Once we learn where the hostages are, they’ll go in and extract them.”

  Her heart thumped. A military team… “Why can’t we do that?”

  He had enough men here. Enough equipment and expertise. Ian Black pretty much had his own army, so they didn’t really need another one showing up.

  “Not our mission. It requires too many resources and shifts focus off what I need to accomplish out here.”

  Frustration hammered her. “And just what is it you need to accomplish, Ian? I’ve never been clear on that.”

  “But I am clear, and that’s all that matters.” He shook his head. “You’re exactly like Victoria in some ways, and nothing like her in others.”

  Her skin prickled. She’d spent her life wanting to be as strong and confident as her big sister. She never had been. She’d been the weak one, the one who’d caused more trouble than she was worth. Victoria had always picked up the pieces for her. This time Emily wanted to pick up the pieces. She wanted to prove she was worth all the trouble and make her sister proud for a change.

  She also wanted to make Ryan proud, though she knew that was probably a tall order considering how she’d left him.

  “Victoria is the most amazing woman I know.”

  “She is. I’m glad she’s found happiness.” Ian’s expression didn’t change, but Emily detected a subtle shift in him.

  Emily found herself staring at him as something she’d sensed finally crystallized in her mind. “You’re in love with her.”

  His eyes glittered. “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

  But he did, deep down. She knew it by looking at him.

  Emily put a hand on his arm. Squeezed. “It means I see the look in your eyes when you talk about her. There’s regret, and maybe some pain. I’m an expert at that, you know.”

  He snorted, and she knew she’d hit the mark. It humanized him in a way nothing else had.

  “Anything I might have once felt for your sister is pointless. She has Nick Brandon—and I don’t think he’s ever had trouble telling her what he feels.”

  Emily thought of the way Nick looked at her sister. She’d watched them a lot over the few months they’d been together, and she’d been envious. They had something she’d never had. Something she desperately wanted. Maybe everyone wanted it—but few seemed to get it.

  “No, I don’t think he does. They’re right for each other. But whoever’s right for you will come along someday, and then you’ll never believe you thought you wanted someone else when that person exists.”

  He laughed. “You’re a romantic, Emily.”

  She shrugged as heat flooded her cheeks. “I guess I am. It’s probably what got me in trouble with Zaran. I thought he was a knight in shining armor. I know better now. I know real knights are practically nonexistent.”

  “Hey, boss,” a voice interrupted from the entry. “The GIs are here. Group of ’em wants to see you.”

  “Let them in,” Ian said before turning to her. “You might want to disappear for this. Mendez sent HOT. Victoria won’t be with them, but I don’t know who else might be. There’s a chance you’ll know some of them.”

  He said it so casually, like the neighbors were popping in for tea. But it was much worse than that to her. Emily’s feet stuck to the floor. She wanted to move, wanted to melt into the shadows and disappear, but a part of her wanted to see who’d come even more.

  Not Ryan. Surely not Ryan. HOT was a big organization, and Mendez had at least a hundred men. He wouldn’t send Ryan’s squad when he had others.

  Booted feet pounded toward them. Somehow Emily found the strength to wrench herself away and up the stairs. She stopped on the darkened landing, her heart hammering, and watched as the men came into view. They were wearing native dress—white tunics with baggy pants and kaffiyehs on their heads to keep the sun from burning them to a crisp—but they were unmistakably American Special Operators to her.

  She didn’t recognize the first one she saw. He was tall and broad with a hard look in his eyes. Then she saw Matt Girard and her stomach twisted. Chase Daniels came into view.

  The next man to step into sight made her slap her hand over her mouth to stop any sound from escaping. Ryan wore an ammunition belt slung around his waist, but the rifle was missing. She knew that whoever manned the entry would have made them all leave their weapons behind, and she was thankful for that at this very moment because violence simmered in the air around these men.

  Ryan’s pale blue eyes were hard in his tanned face, and his jaw was set in a formidable line. She’d never seen him look so angry. He was the funny one, the one who told jokes and didn’t get rattled over anything. When other guys flew off the handle, Ryan said something that had everyone in stitches.

  But that wasn’t the Ryan she saw now. This was a Ryan she’d never seen before. He was a man on the edge of something.

  One minute he was standing there, and then he moved so fast that she didn’t see precisely what he did. No one else did either, because they failed to stop him. He’d been standing with his teammates, but now he had an arm wrapped around Ian’s neck and a knife against his throat.

  Ian stood in his grip as calmly as possible for a man who was seconds from death.

  “Goddammit, Flash, put the knife down,” Matt Girard said. “That’s a fucking order, soldier.”

  Ryan didn’t obey. If anything, he looked angrier than before. “No, sir, I can’t do that. Not until this piece of shit tells us where Emily is.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  EMILY’S HEART THREATENED TO POUND right out of her chest. Ryan was here—and he was threatening Ian because of her.

  Part of her wanted to run up the stairs and hide. And part of her wanted to fling herself into Ryan’s arms.

  Logically, she knew there would be no flinging. She knew he was murderously angry, and she knew she had to stop him before he did something irrevocable. Something that would be her fault.

  “Ryan!” she shouted, stumbling down the stairs as the abaya twisted around her legs. She caught herself before she fell, grasping the edge of the wall and scraping her hand in the process.

  Heads whipped around to look at her, but it was only Ryan she saw. His blue eyes clashed with hers, and she nearly
recoiled from what was contained in them.

  Anger. Hate. Relief.

  And loathing. God, the loathing.

  “I’m okay, Ryan,” she said, her voice shaky, her stomach twisting and rolling as bile rose in her throat.

  “Jesus, Flash, let the man go.” Chase spoke this time. He held out a hand as if he were trying to calm a rabid dog. “She’s here. She looks fine to me. This isn’t what we’re here for, and you know it.”

  Ryan didn’t move for a long moment. And then he dropped his knife to his side and shoved Ian away. “I fucking know it,” he growled. “But we have a result, don’t we?”

  Ian turned around and touched his throat. There was blood on his hand as he drew it away. His eyes sparked with fury, but he didn’t do anything about it.

  Emily was glad for that, because she knew that every man here was overloaded with testosterone and a hair-trigger temper at the moment.

  “If you’re going to attack a man with skills equal to yours, you need to kill him before he fucking kills you,” Ian growled.

  Ryan ignored him and advanced on her. Had he always been this big? This formidable? He towered over her, and his expression hadn’t softened one bit. Her stomach bottomed out.

  “You went willingly. After…” He shook his head, his jaw hardening as he gazed down at her. He practically vibrated with anger. “I can’t believe you left like that. Do you know how worried Victoria’s been? How worried we’ve all been?”

  Emily lifted a hand, but he recoiled from her as if he couldn’t bear for her to touch him. Hot tears pressed against her eyelids.

  “I was trying to do the right thing—”

  “The right thing?” He looked at her disbelievingly. “The right fucking thing wasn’t leaving people who care about you! It wasn’t leaving my bed in the middle of the night without a fucking word!”

  She heard the clearing of throats and a muttered curse, and it hit her that he’d just revealed something that would have been better off kept secret. For his sake, not hers.

  “Not here,” she said fiercely. “Not now.”