Bait (17 page)

She wasn't wrong. “I need to call Trevor,” Gabe said. “I want to know where he is on vetting that list.” He threw an annoyed look at Brumley. The man caught the look and had the gall to smile at him blandly. Gabe's fists clenched.

T
HE
PO
LICE
WERE
gone. Deni had gone back outside to lend a hand calming the rattled guests. The Delta Force operators stood at various points around the room. Christina slouched back in her seat. Tag hadn't returned yet from the paramedics' examination, so it was the seven of them. She exhaled, hard.

“That wasn't fun.” She'd stopped shaking once she and Julian reached the sanctuary of her room, but the chief's questions rekindled the shock of the attack. There was something familiar about the way they'd swarmed her. Her thoughts flashed back to her time in Washington, D.C., when she'd been followed by the men in the blacked-­out van. She still didn't understand what those men expected to achieve. Some part of her still believed it was a training exercise; that if they'd succeeded in getting her into the van, they would have laughed and high-­fived each other. She made a mental note to call Jay and check in.

She should remind them about the van, for thoroughness' sake. She opened her mouth. Tag entered the room, pulling a cold pack off his chest and tossing it onto the nearest flat surface.

“What's the word?” Gabe said at once.

Tag spread his arms wide. “Bruised my sternum. No penetration.”

A tension she hadn't even known was in the room relaxed. His teammates, for all their stoicism, had been worried.

Gavin barked out a laugh. “No penetration, speak for yourself. I got my eye on this cute little maid downstairs.”

“She's not going to be looking at you with me in the room,” Mace said, flexing his biceps, a smug look on his face.

Christina chuckled, pulling the comb from her hair and unwinding the rolls. Hair had pulled free of the sophisticated chignon during the attack, but she'd left it in disarray as a show for the police. Now she raked her nails through it, trying to tame the mess. “Someone find me a cute butler, then.”

Gavin made a show of unbuttoning his suit coat, spreading it one side at a time to showcase his abs. “How about a chauffeur? Mature men know what they're doing, unlike these young punks.”

“Punk this.” Alex flipped him the bird and settled back against the wall. “If the chauffeur looks like you, fuhgetabout it.”

“How about that actress with the big doe eyes?” Mace laced both hands under his chin and made a show of batting his eyes. “I'd take a bullet to the chest to penetrate that.”

“Gentlemen.” Julian broke up the laughter. “This is hardly appropriate. There's a lady present.”

The joking ceased. What had been easy camaraderie shifted into something awkward. Christina sighed. Julian meant well, of course. But the more she blended with the team, the easier time they would all have together.

“All right. To business,” Gabe said. “We all know the details of the shot fired in Brussels. This was different.”

Tag nodded, face settling into its usual glower. “They aimed for us, not Christina. Their goal was to snatch her, not kill her. The strip of cloth for a blindfold, the duct tape for her hands or mouth.”

“Maybe they changed tactics, considering their sniper sucked?” said Mace.

“Did anyone get a look at the map?” Julian asked.

“Yeah,” Gabe said. “Before the cops put it in an evidence baggie. It was a map of Concordia. Nothing circled, no arrows pointing anywhere, no addresses. That would have been too easy.” He sounded disgruntled. Christina could relate.

“What do we do now?” Julian asked.

“We do nothing,” Gabe said at once. “You go home.”

Julian's eyes narrowed. “You barely made it through this evening without my help,” he pointed out, none too gently. “If I hadn't taken Christina into the villa, the gendarmes would have been asking her questions she couldn't answer. Unless I'm wrong, and you can speak French and Dutch fluently?”

“Not a word of either. I'm grateful,” Christina hastened to assure him. “You were a huge help. Thank you for going along.”

His smile was warm. Gabe glared. Christina didn't care. She knew she'd made the right call by telling Julian the truth. He could be trusted; she could feel it.

Gabe dialed a number and put his phone on speaker.

“Carswell.”

“It's Gabe. We've had an incident. Is Ronnie safe?”

There was a pause on the line. “Yes,” came his clipped British accent. “We've had no trouble here. What's happened?”

“Three men came at us outside the Nabourg house. We dropped two and the third is in custody. So far, we don't know who or why.”

“Any injuries?”

“Tag took a round to his vest, but he's good to go.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Anything new on Ronnie's list?”

“Since our update four hours ago? No, mate,” Trevor said.

Gabe kneaded the back of his neck, his gaze landing on Christina and then skittering away. She knew she wasn't going to like the next words out of his mouth.

“What about the fiancé?” Gabe's voice held no expression.

Christina shot him an annoyed look. Did he have to be such a jerk? She turned to Julian. “He's just trying to be thorough. He didn't mean anything by it.”

“Of course he did.” Julian's tone was less genial. “But I accept it. My first priority is to keep Ronnie safe. If that means letting Trev rifle through my life, then so be it.”

“Trevor's your cousin, right?” asked Christina.

“Second cousin, on my mother's side. We've never been particularly close, but we know one another well enough.”

Gabe glowered. “Trevor, tell Julian he needs to go back to London.”

“He's there?” Trevor was startled. “Julian, my good man, what are you doing in Grasvlakten?”

“Visiting my fiancée,” said Julian. “Or so I thought. Did you know we talk every day?”

“I knew, of course,” Trevor admitted. “I advised her to keep up the pretense of keeping to Christina's schedule, so you wouldn't worry. I wanted to prevent exactly what apparently happened.”

Julian looked unhappy. “Do you mean to say that I was the target? That I flew here and your assailants followed me, and that's why we were attacked?”

Trevor was silent.

“Trev?”

“Very probably not, but I can't know with absolute certainty,” Trevor admitted. “We're assuming the target is Ronnie, because no one accosted you either before or after. I can tell the rest of you, though, without reservation, that he's in the clear.”

Gabe frowned. Christina sighed. Why had Gabe chosen Julian to dislike? He could help them. It would be nice to think that it might be jealousy, but that was beyond silly. Gabe liked control. Perhaps he felt that things were getting out of hand, and that guarding Deni and Julian both would burden his team too much.

“I'd still like to help,” Julian said firmly. “I can lend legitimacy in many ways. In the language department, certainly. Everyone is happy to speak English when I'm with Ronnie. You've had difficulties, I'm certain, with Christina not speaking the language.”

“We've had a ­couple of close calls, but we've managed,” Christina said.

“It's settled, then. I'll remain with you until these men are caught, as long as Ronnie stays safe with Trevor.”

“No,” Gabe said. “You're a handicap. Our focus needs to be on Christina. No distractions.”

Julian leaned against the back of the sofa. “Short of shooting me, old chap, how do you propose to keep me away?”

The tension level inside the room skyrocketed. The two men locked stares. Gabe shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.

“Gabe.” She made her voice sharp, and as authoritative as she could. “Trevor cleared him. You heard that, same as the rest of us.”

“I'm team leader here,” he reminded her calmly. As though she'd forget it. His implacable tone made her shiver. “I'm nothing like that fool in Iraq.”

“If there's one thing I learned in Baghdad . . .”

On the open phone line, Trevor cleared his throat. “Gabe, I'm not sure what she's told you about that mission, or what you've heard. There's more to the story . . .”

“No.” Gabe cut him off. “That's the end of it. Thank you, Lord Brumley, but it's time for you to go home.”

Julian cocked a curious look at him. “If Christina wants me to stay, I stay.
That's
the end of it, chum.”

Gabe turned to Christina, pinning her with a look she understood all too clearly. Unwilling to be the cause of strife within the team, she took a deep breath. “Julian, it would probably be better if you went back to London. Stay the night here, though. It's very late.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “That's it, then. I'll have a footman bring my bags up.”

Wait . . . what? He was going to stay with her? Well, hadn't she just invited him to? She almost laughed out loud. It was perfect. It would get Gabe off of her couch and out of her room.

D
ESPI
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G
ABE
'
S
GLOWERS
, Julian had his bags brought to Christina's room. Into her fucking bedroom. The maid unpacked his suits and slacks, and hung them next to Christina's in the closet. It came as no surprise that he and Ronnie were sleeping together. Who waited for marriage anymore? He certainly wasn't saving himself for anything.

It didn't take Christina very long to notice that his duffel and sleeping bag were still tucked behind the couch.

“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. “Really, Gabe, you're being—­“

“Is Brumley an operator?” he asked. Too bluntly. Too rudely, but he didn't care. “Can he protect you if someone breaks in here in the middle of the night? Can he defend against a knife attack?” He didn't wait for her response. “No, he can't. My job is to keep you alive until we figure this mess out. And now, apparently, my job includes keeping his ass alive, too.” He jerked a thumb at Brumley, who was at the other end of the room peering out the window. He didn't turn or react, but Gabe knew he'd overheard. He'd meant the other man to hear.

“Gabe, for God's sake. It's one night.”

“Fine. Whatever.” With bad grace, he stomped out of the room and went next door, where his teammates were cleaning weapons, sharpening steel, and yapping their big mouths. All conversation stopped as he entered the room. The ribbing started immediately.

“What happened, Romeo? Did you get kicked out of Juliet's bed?” asked Mace.

“Fuck you. I was sleeping on the couch, not in her bed.”

Tag laughed in his face. “We know that's not where you wanted to be, though, you dog.”

“Fuck you.”

Gavin made a cutting motion near his crotch. “Decapitated,” he said, grinning.

“Fuck . . .”

“ . . . You. I know.” Gavin punched him in the arm, which actually stung a little. Even at fifty, the man was preternaturally strong. “Tell me you didn't have some idea of saving Christina and having her fall all over you in gratitude?”

“I'm not going to dignify that,” Gabe retorted. “I'm a professional, and so is she.”

Alex chimed in, a little tentatively. “Gabe, so far she's done a hell of a job. Sometimes I forget she's not one of us. When we're out in public and she's doing her thing, she's great.”

Gabe rubbed the back of his neck, where tension seemed to have taken up permanent residence. “I know. She's a natural at this. I just don't want rash decisions to put any of you in jeopardy.”

That was met with bewildered looks.

“We've all done executive protection,” Tag said. “When we're guarding a principal, they don't know what the hell they're doing. And we cope. Christina's at least had training. Hand to hand. Weapons. Not like that senator's kid from Georgetown we guarded a ­couple years ago.”

“That ditzy airhead,” Mace said, with a healthy amount of disgust. “She couldn't put two syllables together that didn't add up to ‘fuck me, Mace.' ”

“Too bad about that, dickhead,” Gavin said.

“Fuck that. I like a woman with a brain in her head.”

Tag stood. “Gabe, what's going on? She's been an advantage from the start. Did something happen?”

“Have you forgotten tonight already? Teammates don't challenge the team leader's decisions in the heat of crisis. She jeopardized the mission, spilling it all to a potential threat.”

The room went dead silent.

“What?”

“She made a gut-­call. Any one of us would have done the same,” Gavin said. “We're trained to think beyond orders. Let's be honest, man. You reacted emotionally instead of acting logically.”

Alex, slouched back against the wall, folded his arms across his chest. “Like you didn't like the fiancé being there. Like you were jealous.”

He threw a death glare at the kid. Alex had the sense to deflate.

His teammates were looking at him oddly. Mace was the first to say it.

“Jesus, Gabe. Do you have a thing for her?”

He swung away, irritated. “Of course not. We have a job to do, is all.”

Mace and Tag exchanged a look.

“What?” he demanded.

Suddenly, they were all innocent faces and wide eyes. He had no trouble reading their minds.

“Fuck you all.”

They laughed.

Gavin punched Gabe in the arm again, harder, and in the same spot. “You're an idiot.”

Ow.

Maybe he was. He wondered what Christina and Julian were doing. Were they really going to sleep together in that bed, in the nasty yellow room? Well, yeah. If he insisted on staying on the sofa, they would have no choice.