Cover of Darkness (19 page)

His head came back around to face her. "You know I will, if that's your decision. And I'm not mad."

"But you think it's a really bad idea, right?"

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"Doesn't matter what I think."

"Yes, it does. To me it does."

He sighed. "Do me a favor then, okay? Sleep on it. Think it over again—"

Think it over? That's all she'd been doing.

"—and remember what happened today. Because if you go ahead, that's the kind of danger you'll be putting yourself in until it's over."

Yes, and the rest of them with her. She nodded, toying with the toile coverlet. "I understand."

"So you'll think about it?"

"Yes."

He seemed relieved, and reached into his back pocket to pull out a plastic pharmacy vial. "I picked these up for you just in case," he said. The sleeping pills she hadn't wanted rattled in the bottle. "You gonna take one now?"

Rather than riling her, his thoughtfulness touched her deeply. She accepted the bottle from him, the brush of his hand against her palm sizzling up her arm. He looked so capable, the muscles of his chest and shoulders stretching his t-shirt. She remembered how that steely strength had pressed against her as he shielded her with his body in the back of the Range Rover.

But no, she couldn't think like that right now. Her hand tightened around the vial. "Will you promise me something too?"

"What?"

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She struggled with putting her feelings into words. "If I do this, I want your word that you won't take any stupid risks because of...me."

His eyes were steady as he looked at her, looked
into
her.

"Don't you worry about me."

She grabbed his hand, squeezed it. "No, please. Swear to me."

He returned the pressure, gazing down at their entwined fingers. "Risks come with the territory, Bryn, and that's why there're people like me out fighting the bad guys. I've signed up for this whether you join us or not, and I can take care of myself. But if you come along, then I'm going to take care of you." He released her hand and stood, the mattress shifting as his weight lifted.

Right then, it was all she could do to remain where she was and not wrap herself around him, partly to ease the guilt nagging at her, partly for reassurance that she was doing the right thing. But she knew he would never tell her that.

"So," he said, tucking his hands in his back pockets, his biceps bulging under his sleeves, "you want to take one of those things?" He indicated the pills in her hand with a jerk of his chin. "I can get you some water."

"No thanks. But I'll keep them on the nightstand just in case."

"Okay. Sleep tight, then."

"You too."

After he'd left her alone, she pressed a hand against the center of her chest and let out a slow breath, her whole body aching for him. Not for sex, though it would have been so 177

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good, but merely to hold him. To be able to reach out and touch him in the darkness and know that he was beside her.

God, she was nuts for letting herself think of him like that.

Weren't Luke and Emily reason enough to get the idea of a relationship with Dec out of her head for good? Yet try as she might, she couldn't let it go. She craved him with a yearning so deep it scared the hell out of her. She'd never been this attached to a man before.

Setting her prescription on the table beside her, she wondered what her chances were of getting to sleep without a sleeping pill, and figured they were slim. Too bad she was too damned stubborn to take one.

Syrian desert

Night

The mare's black mane streamed out behind her like a banner as she transitioned from a canter into a gallop. The coarse hair whipped at Tehrazzi's face as he crouched over her neck, urging her onward with only the pressure of his knees. Her muscles coiled beneath her skin in a fluid rush, setting his heart pounding as they soared over the desert, hooves pounding the sun-baked earth. A triumphant laugh of joy escaped him, his head thrown back toward the moon.

Nothing was so glorious as this, nothing so perfect as the communion of horse and rider as they merged into a single being. Heaven must feel like this. Perhaps Allah would grant him many horses like this one when the time came for him to make his final sacrifice.

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sides heaved in and out. He leaned low against her and murmured praise of her performance, one hand releasing the reins to pat the sweat-covered coat. Ghaliya was a beautiful animal, his favorite of all his horses, given to him by a Saudi prince who funded his activities.

Of all the Arabs, the Saudis bred magnificent animals.

Even Osama bin Laden, himself of the Kingdom, was a fine horseman. Though a Sunni, Tehrazzi considered him a great leader in the global jihad they were engaged in. They had ridden together on several occasions, the last time when he had been invited to visit the revered leader in the border mountains of Pakistan.

Ghaliya tossed her great head and blew out a snort, her wide-spaced intelligent eyes scanning the ground as she picked her way through a dry wash toward the makeshift stable his men had built at the entrance of a cave. Tehrazzi dismounted and led her to her stall himself, removing the bridle and bit with care before brushing her coat with a curry brush. Even untied, the mare stood still for him and seemed to sigh in enjoyment, bringing a smile to his lips as he stroked the sweat and grime from her glistening ebony body.

He disliked anyone else touching her. Everyone knew not to go near her unless ordered to do so, and only by him. He and Ghaliya had a bond that went far beyond the comprehension of the company he kept, and he meant for nothing to taint that sacred connection.

Easing his hands over her chest and legs, he noticed she was favoring her right foreleg. Closer inspection revealed a slice in the frog of her hoof. He spoke gently to her as he 179

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prodded it, made soothing noises when she butted his shoulder with her velvet nose. "Be easy," he told her, rubbing the stiff tendons in her ankle, and was rewarded with a warm puff of air from her nostrils against his hair, and then her lips as they nibbled at his bearded cheek. He laughed again and pushed her head away, rising to complete his grooming.

When he was done, he stepped back and let her out.

Standing in the doorway of her canvas-draped stall, he smiled as she lowered herself with a mighty groan and rolled against the hot earth. She reminded him of a child frolicking in the snow.

"She is beautiful."

Over his shoulder, Youssef was standing in the shadow of the tent. The young aide's turban was filthy, stained with sweat, the patches of bare skin on his upper cheeks above the bushy beard he'd grown glowing with a bad sunburn.

"Yes. She gives me great joy."

Youssef's eyes turned sly. "And I have brought you news that will give you even greater pleasure."

Tehrazzi glanced back at Ghaliya, who had risen to her feet and was shaking off the dust like a wet dog. "Tell me."

"Our sources have confirmed that Masood has been talking with the Americans responsible for the woman. He invites you to attend a meeting tomorrow night."

He sucked in a breath, blood surging in his veins. "Where?"

"At the Syrian's private club, in Damascus."

Rank hatred filled his heart. "Have our contact accept our host's invitation."

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Then, God willing, the Syrian and Daoud's daughter would meet Allah's final judgment.

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Day 9, Beirut

Pre-dawn

Luke loaded the last of their gear into the rental car and shut the trunk, then rounded the side to ride shotgun next to McCabe, already behind the wheel with the engine running.

Bryn was in the backseat between Ben and Rhys, making a valiant attempt at keeping her eyes open in the pearly, pre-dawn light. She was dead on her feet, but hadn't complained once, which he was thankful for. God save him from whining, especially from females. Worse than fingernails scraping over a chalkboard.

For his part, McCabe maintained a quiet presence in the driver's seat, his eyes glancing in the rearview every so often at Bryn. He was probably cataloguing the shadows under her eyes and all the scars and bruises tracking down her right arm. Luke knew they marked the whole right side of her body.

Impatient to get going, he wondered what he and Davis would discover at the meeting with their Iraqi informant in Damascus later today. Davis was already on his way in his own car. Luke would meet up with him after they all checked into the hotel.

The use of informants was a necessary evil in this business. The trick was to never trust anyone, and after the years he'd put into intelligence work, it was second nature to be suspicious. People like his Iraqi informant were loyal while 182

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the cash was coming in, and the pressure from the other side wasn't high enough to outweigh their involvement with the Americans.

They still weren't moving. "What's the delay?"

Dec nodded pointedly at Luke's right shoulder. "Seatbelt."

Eyeing him with amusement, Luke fastened it with a smirk, then lifted his brows at the 2IC, who grinned and shifted the car into gear. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected from the SEAL, but this calm, cool, collected routine was a welcome relief on his crowded mind. He'd been prepared for anything from arrogant to blowhard, so the reality was an unexpected treat. He liked the guy already.

McCabe went about his business in a composed, methodical way. He was the sort of guy you'd expect to find on the tee box on the PGA tour, if you didn't count the way he moved or the steely focus in his gaze.

Yeah, those eyes of his didn't miss anything, filing away every detail in a mind Luke was willing to bet was every bit as sharp as his own. Dec's body language and carriage made it plain he was not to be messed with. Beneath that deceptive exterior, Luke recognized the lethal soldier inside. As SEALs, both he and Dec had seen and done things most people could never imagine, let alone experience. To his way of thinking, that made them closer than most brothers. Only difference was, Dec wasn't nearly as hard as he was. Yet. Give him enough years in the Teams, though, and he'd wind up the same. Luke almost felt sorry for him.

All he knew was that he was damned glad to have Dec to back him up, and even more glad that the twins were here to 183

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help protect Bryn throughout this operation. Besides being concerned about her emotional strength to take this on, he was almost as worried about Ben. Ben's feelings for Bryn ran deep, probably deeper than he let on. If anything happened to her on Ben's watch, he would never get over it. He was already torn up enough over not preventing the bombing and the kidnapping, already considered himself to blame for the consequences. It made Luke question the ex-Ranger's mental state.

Luke scratched his stubbled chin as he considered the implications of Ben's attachment to Bryn. He understood the why of it. She was steady, strong, loyal and smart. Not to mention there wasn't a red-blooded male on the planet that wouldn't find her attractive. Easy to be around, she didn't do the drama thing or act like a diva, as some in her position of wealth would. No, she went out of her way to make it on her own, a constant source of irritation for her father.

Jamul had admired the hell out of her living alone on the Oregon coast and scrapping it out in the trenches as a social worker, but he'd gladly have provided her with every comfort she could ever want. No way that was going to happen, though. Bryn was way too independent and stubborn to take handouts from anyone. You couldn't help but admire the hell out of her, especially when she was holding up so well considering what she'd just been through. If her father had been proud of her before, her strength since her abduction would have choked him right up.

No wonder Ben worshipped Bryn from afar. But so far as he could tell, she treated Ben as she would a good friend.

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Nothing more. She didn't seem to encourage romantic interest from him. If she knew how Ben felt about her, she didn't show it.

Man, that had to hurt a guy's ego. Talk about a shriveler.

That's why he preferred to stay unattached. It made life a hell of a lot easier when you didn't run around with your heart on your sleeve begging someone to stomp on it. Not that he had a heart anymore. He'd given it away more than thirty years ago to his ex-wife. What remained in the middle of his chest was the pump that kept him alive, bothered less and less by twinges of emotion. That was probably why people kept their distance from him.

He hoped to hell Ben could distance himself from Bryn emotionally for this operation. If he couldn't, it was going to be damn near impossible for him to make the tough decisions when he needed to. Luke resolved to keep a close eye on that aspect, and would jump in real quick if he saw a problem.

Better to feel like you're dying of a broken heart than actually die because you weren't paying attention and someone shot your ass to death.

Behind him, Bryn failed to smother a jaw-cracking yawn.

Her fourth in as many minutes.

"Go ahead and grab some shut-eye if you want," Dec said to her. "We're all impressed enough with you. You don't have to keep trying so hard."

She flashed the 2IC a shy smile. If he wasn't mistaken, her cheeks flushed. Luke filed the information away. McCabe was already attached to Bryn on a personal level. If she was into 185