Cover of Darkness (40 page)

Hands steady, he removed the cassette from the machine, wrapped it in a piece of red cloth and placed it in the envelope he had prepared. Then he sealed it, his tongue lingering on the unpleasant adhesive.

When he emerged, the three men seated in the next room gaped at him, the gravity of the white robes registering. One by one, they bowed reverently, then cheered.

Ignoring their praise, he passed one of them the envelope.

"See that this is delivered today."

"Yes, of course."

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Turning away, Tehrazzi wished he could witness his teacher's reaction to the tape. He would know exactly what it meant. The game was not over yet. The only way to finish it was for one, or both of them, to die.

Day 13, Basra hospital

Morning

Battling the wave of dizziness that had him all but planting his ass on the floor, Luke forced his legs to take him to the chair next to the window. The staff had insisted he stay here for tests because his symptoms had worsened over the past few hours. By the time he got to the window he wanted to puke up the lime Jell-O they'd forced down him and only kept it in his gut through sheer willpower. When his knees grew too wobbly to support his weight, he allowed himself to sink into the chair. Breathing through his nose to dispel the nausea, he groped on the table for his cell phone.

The staff hadn't taken kindly to him making phone calls between his MRI and CAT scan. Still, he'd managed to make sure the CIA got Bryn out of there of while McCabe was in recovery. Not a mean feat while dealing with a severe concussion. Now all he had to do was find out where in the hell Tehrazzi was so he could finish this thing and be done with it. He'd been so goddamn close today.

He still couldn't remember everything that had happened out there. He had blank spots about events before the friendly fire incident. That he might have suffered permanent brain damage and memory loss scared him worse than dying.

Flipping open his phone to call Ben, he saw he'd missed a call during the night. Squinting to counteract his blurred 377

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vision, he brought up the call display. The number seemed vaguely familiar to him. He struggled to figure it out, hating how slow his brain was working. After a few minutes he still had no idea who had called him, so he punched the call back button and brought the phone to his ear.

Three rings went by. Four. Then someone answered.

"Hello?"

He went rigid in his chair as the gentle voice hit him like a body blow. No matter how messed up his squash was, he would never forget that voice. "Em," he croaked.

"Luke?" Her voice turned sharp. "You sound awful—are you hurt?"

"I..." Hearing her on the other end of the phone hurt him more than the knives stabbing in his skull.

"What's happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "Little banged up is all."

"God, Luke you must be more than banged up if you called me."

Yeah. He'd lost his mind. Literally.

"What can I do? Do you want me to fly over there?"

Oh, sweet Jesus, he wanted that. Wanted it so bad he broke out in a sweat at the thought of seeing her. His stomach spasmed. The muscles under his jaw tightened, the salivary glands going into overdrive. He gagged. Oh, shit, he hated throwing up. He fought it back, took a deep breath.

Then another. "No, Em, I'm...I'm—"
Going to puke.

He dropped the phone in his lap and yanked a plastic pitcher from the table just as his stomach heaved up his pathetic breakfast in wrenching spasms. His head almost split 378

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open from the pain and for a moment his vision went dark.

When he could see again his cheek was resting on the windowsill. His body trembled as he tried to sit up.

"Luke! Luke? Are you there?"

Ah, shit, had she heard him? Fumbling in the folds of his hospital gown, he found the phone again. "I'm okay." His voice sounded like grinding gears.

Her voice fragmented into tears. "Oh, honey—"

"Don't cry." His stomach twisted in misery. Saliva pooled in his mouth. God, he was going to hurl again. "Gotta go, Em. I love you."

He pitched the phone on the floor and doubled over as a wave of sickness overcame him. This time he blacked out.

When he came to, a nurse was leaning over him, her face a mask of concern as she and someone else lifted him into bed like he was a child. Lying there against the hard pillow, he tried to remember what had just happened. He'd been talking on the phone, hadn't he? Oh God, yeah, he'd been talking to Emily. He'd thrown up, and then—

His eyes closed on a hard sigh. Shit, he'd just told her he loved her, hadn't he?

Calling himself fifty kinds of stupid, he gathered himself, relieved when he opened his eyes the third time and the room wasn't spinning. Encouraged, he fumbled for the remote control on the bed and inched his upper body higher. Halfway to a seated position a blinding pain sliced through his skull and he stopped, panting and sweating, refusing to lie back down. He'd survived worse injuries than this. He'd get over this one, too.

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He'd never been this bad before, though.

Fuck. He hated being laid up like a pansy over a goddamn concussion. Especially when Tehrazzi was out there somewhere, still breathing.

At a knock on the door, he forced his fuzzy eyes open and saw Ben.

"Hey," Ben said, stopping at the foot of his bed, chewing on his gum. "You gonna make it or what?"

Luke grunted, wished he didn't have to talk at all. "I'm too mean to die."

A grudging smile broke over the hard face. "You'll live to be a hundred then."

No thanks. So long as he took Tehrazzi with him, he'd gladly go now, become a nameless star on the wall in Langley. "Any news?"

"Nope. So far as anyone can tell he's still in Iran."

Yeah, where they couldn't get to him. Dammit! They'd been so close. "What about the others?"

Ben shoved his hands into his pockets. "Two dead, one other wounded besides you and Dec. They've stabilized him.

Might send him stateside. Bryn's on her way there now."

Luke grunted. "Glad they're okay." He noted the antsy way Ben kept shifting his weight, thought he might know the reason. "How's Rhys?"

"Good. He's good. It's uh...it's Sam I'm worried about."

Sam? Who the hell was Sam?

He couldn't remember, drew an absolute blank.

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Clammy sweat gathered on his brow as he fought the rising panic. Jesus, he couldn't remember who Sam was. He broke eye contact with Ben.

Christ,
did
he have brain damage?

"Yeah, so since you're laid up here, do you want me and Rhys to look into it? Figured you'd want someone on it ASAP, since she could be involved in all of this."

She. So Sam was a woman? He still couldn't picture her.

Couldn't remember anything about her or why Ben thought she might be involved. What the hell else was missing?

"And if she isn't, then she's up to her pretty little ass in alligators right now."

Stay tight. He doesn't need to know anything's wrong with
you.

Luke met the pale green stare and forced himself to appear calm even though he was losing it. "Get on it right away."

When he was alone, he fell back against the pillow.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed a shaking hand over his face. Christ. What the hell was happening to him?

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Day 20, Lincoln City, Oregon

Evening

One week later, Bryn watched the waves pound the shore from the top of her back steps. Chin on her up-drawn knees, she stared out across the restless ocean to the purple horizon beyond it. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the damp, salty air, letting the rhythmic crash of the tide carry her away. The cold breeze whipped through her hair in a cleansing rush.

She'd been home for two days now. When Rhys had torn her out of the hospital and handed her over to her CIA security detail, they'd taken her straight to the airport and put her on a plane back to the States. She'd spent three days being debriefed and assessed at CIA headquarters in Langley to see if they could cobble together anything they'd missed using her information about Tehrazzi. After that ordeal, they'd finally allowed her a day to visit her mother and stepfather before flying home to Oregon. She was exhausted. She'd hardly slept since coming home, barely eaten other than the meals her CIA-appointed bodyguard shoved in front of her.

Her body went through the mechanical process of living, but she didn't feel alive.

She didn't know much more than when she'd left Iraq, but at least she'd found out Dec was stable and being transferred somewhere. She'd begged them for more, but they wouldn't tell her where he'd been sent. Luke's head injury had landed 382

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him in the same Basra hospital Dec had been in, where he was undergoing all sorts of tests. Rumor was he wasn't happy about it.

The twins were with Davis in Baghdad following up on Sam's disappearance. Fahdi was locked up in prison there. His betrayal still stung. He'd killed Ali, sent those men to grab her, put her though hell in Tehrazzi's camp. Dec had almost died because of him. Some of his teammates had.

And Tehrazzi...he was out there somewhere, maybe Iran or Afghanistan. That's why she had round the clock security.

The CIA didn't consider her safe in her own home while he was still at large. In the morning, they were moving her to a

"more secure location." Wherever that was. She didn't think she'd feel safe anywhere while he was loose.

Her thoughts went back to Dec. She wished he could stay with her instead of her current bodyguard, but he was recuperating and she didn't have a clue where he was. What did stable mean, anyhow? That he was breathing on his own?

That he wasn't in imminent danger of dying? Every time she thought of him writhing on that gurney with that agonized expression, she felt sick. She'd been helpless to ease his pain and distress. She didn't even know if he'd been aware of her standing beside him. He'd suffered because of her. He'd almost died trying to get her out.

She blew out a breath to ease the ache in her chest. She'd tried to get word to him, to tell him she loved him and would jump on the first plane out if he wanted to see her. But she hadn't heard a word in the last week. Had he even received 383

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the message? What if he thought she'd up and abandoned him while he was in the hospital?

No. He was smarter than that. He had to know she'd have stayed if she could have. And with the amount of debriefing she'd gone through, his would be even more intensive. Maybe that's why he hadn't been able to contact her yet. If and when he did, they had lots to sort out. For starters, they needed to find out if they had what it took to make a relationship work. Their time together had been spent in a daze of adrenaline and heightened emotion.

What would they be like together back in the real world where they weren't in life threatening situations every day?

On the plus side, they did have common interests. She trusted him implicitly. Felt safe with him. She knew he would look after her, no matter what. That's what she wanted.

Someone to look after her, have a family with. He was dependable and solid. She thought of how considerate and tender he'd been with her, of how protective he was. He'd be an incredible father.

But if he recovered to the extent he could remain on active duty, could she handle it? She didn't want to repeat the mistakes Luke and Emily had made.

How the hell did you go through life knowing that if you lost the man you loved, you'd shrivel up and die? How did people cope with a love that strong? And how could she suffer this kind of worry if he returned to the job? She remembered her sharp words to Spencer about his wife, that she should have stuck by him. Bryn felt that way more than ever, but now she had experienced what it would be like to never know 384

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where Dec was, or if he was all right. She'd had a firsthand taste of what it was like for him in the field. Could she take a lifetime of worry every time he went to work?

If she wanted him, she'd have to. Look what she'd already survived. She was strong enough to handle it, and she wanted a future with him enough to go through all that.

Having him was worth the risk of losing him.

Her eyes flew open as her front door opened and shut.

Must be her security agent, coming to say her ten minutes outside were up. Pushing to her feet, she opened the old-fashioned screen door. Stepping inside out of the wind, she let it slap closed behind her. She glanced around for him.

"I sent him out for a while."

She whirled around and froze.

Golden eyes smiled at her. A pair of dimples appeared in that lean face. The floor tilted beneath her.

Declan was standing in her kitchen.

Dec's heart thudded in his chest as her hands flew to her mouth, tears springing into her eyes.

"Dec."

"Hey, beautiful."

She raced over and grabbed him, crying. He groaned and held her tight, ignoring the stab of pain in his side. Her tears wet his shirt as she clung to him, burying her face in his chest. Damn it felt incredible to hold her again. Dec pressed his face against her silky hair and breathed her in. He could hardly believe she was safe in his arms. God, the guilt still almost smothered him. He never should have left her at Fahdi's. He'd known it, but left her alone anyway. And then 385

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he'd failed to get her out of Tehrazzi's camp. He'd been so afraid she'd blame him for all she'd suffered that hellish night.