Dead Reckoning (18 page)

She scratched her temple and wrinkled her nose. “I know, it's crazy. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“It wasn’t so much what I saw as what I felt.”

“Go on.”

Uncertainty tiptoed across her face as she shifted on her feet. “He seemed a bit aggressive the other night. Then, earlier today, I bumped into him on the street near the government
offices.” Kneading a muscle in her shoulder, she looked as distraught about the information as if she’d caught the guy red-handed in something illegal. “What would he be doing over there when the train station is on the other side of town? He knows people have been killed and someone probably wants me dead.”

“No probably about it. I’ll look into Mr. Khan.” He checked his watch. “Time to head back. Once inside the hotel, trash my shirt and hoof it to your room. Lock the door and don’t come out for anyone you don’t know.”

She nodded. “Who exactly am I hiding from?”

He started for the door. “Bad guys.”

“Bad guys?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child. Tell me who we’re dealing with.”

“Do names matter when the guy in front of you is holding an AK-47?” He cleared the stoop and stepped out.

She was right with him, staying at his elbow. “I guess I lied in the courtyard.”

He reached behind her, caught the hood, and tucked her hair back under the material. Sweat slid down her face. “How so?” He slipped the hood up.

“I said I wasn’t in danger.” She tugged at the strings hanging down the front of the navy sweatshirt. “Pretty stupid when they’ve murdered my friends and seem to know where I am.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He swept a few stray strands of hair from her face.

Her eyes fluttered.

What was that?
Reece shrugged off her reaction. “Let's go.”

Getting her to the Taj Mahal proved much easier than he’d expected. Hopefully, they ’d delayed long enough to throw off their tail, but he wouldn’t count on that.

Reece waited until Shiloh appeared on the balcony and gave him the all clear before he sped away from the hotel. At his place, he powered up his laptop, hit the secure site, burrowed into a nested site, and scanned the taps he’d planted. The satellite images waited. He opened them, zoomed in, and hung his head.

Perry's friend had been right. India had sent nukes into Kashmir—the perfect location to launch a strike against Pakistan and avoid the blame. He prayed that wasn’t the plan. Prayed they weren’t that stupid.

He closed it out and scanned his inbox. Another email provided the tap results on the fax line. He read the document, a standard business letter to an unspecified recipient. At least, that's the way Abdul wanted it to look. Reece knew enough about the way networks worked. One glance told him it referred to a meeting. He forwarded the information to analysts, who would decipher the code words and figure out the when and where.

Tonight, while the ministry offices were closed, he’d sneak in and surf the files in Abdul's office. Baseer, his son, and Shiloh would board the train at one a.m. Reece exited the nested sites and grabbed the phone to call his sister. With the way things were heating up, he’d better catch a few moments with her before this case took him to Pakistan. After changing into a fresh tunic, he headed out the door to meet up with Julia.

Strong spices overpowered him as he strode into the restaurant and spotted his sister in a booth.

“A quick dinner?” Julia burrowed into her seat and crossed her arms. “Since when do I get crammed between events? And you’re late.”

“I can leave now.”

She clicked her tongue. “You’ve lost your sense of humor. I ordered for us.”

Soon the hostess set three platters of food between them. The curried spices rose in a spiral of steam, tingling his nose. Without a moment's hesitation, Reece piled some rice onto
his plate, followed closely by a mound of the yellow chicken and sauce.

A vegetarian, Julia served herself a portion of the curried vegetables, nibbled on the food, and then set down her fork.

Mouth full, Reece glanced at her. “What?”

“I’m going to marry Toby.”

Reece tried not to choke. He swallowed and hurriedly drank some water. “He proposed?”

“We talked about it after you left the other night.” She sighed. “We haven’t agreed on my job, but we’re both willing to compromise.”

“Whoa.” Reece eased back, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. “When did you get so domestic?”

Something twinkled in her eyes. A light he didn’t recognize.

“I love him. Despite his quirky, almost nerdy mannerisms, he's the only person I feel comfortable and complete with. He's not demanding or forceful.”

Reece grunted. “I don’t need to know this, not about Roberts.” He rested a hand on his leg and leaned to the side. “As long as you’re happy—you are happy, right?”

She smiled. “Yeah, I am.”

He nodded. “Thought so.”

“Don’t sound so depressed.” She tossed her napkin at him.

Laughing, he pressed his spine against the chair. “I just didn’t expect you to ever get married—and definitely not to someone like Toby. We made a pact, remember?”

With a loud half-groan, half-laugh, she shoved her hands into her dark hair. “I was twelve. You were nine.”

“So?”

Giggling, she reached across the table and tapped his head. “Yep, still as hard and thick as ever.”

Reece dug into his food and tried to ignore her knowing look, but he anticipated her next topic of conversation. Toby had planted ample fodder in her mind. She probably had it all planned out—him madly in love, married, and expecting a baby. With Shiloh, of course. Finally, he let his fork clatter against the plate and folded his arms on the table. “Go on. Get it out of your system before you explode.”

“Tell me about her.”

He grunted. “Jules …” Tossing his napkin down, he exhaled again, stifling a grin. “She's tangled up in a mess. I was already involved, but things came to light that made her the asset. I have to admit, she's tough. Smart too. She pegged something even Toby hadn’t figured out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If I were still training, I’d recruit her in a heartbeat.” Was she buying his story?

Julia sat back and chewed her lower lip. “Wow, she got your attention, didn’t she? What does she look like?”

“Stunning. Reddish-brown hair. Out by the bay, it looked almost golden, like a goddess on a Grecian urn.”

She smacked his arm—hard. “You’re playing me.”

He burst out laughing. Fist over his mouth, he tried to stop, but he couldn’t.

“Reece Jaxon, you are pure evil.”

He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “You asked for that one.”

“You can be a jerk, but at least Toby showed me her picture.”

His smile vanished. “He
what
?” He drew back, pulling up his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t get all protective.”

“He compromised her safety. I’m barely keeping the sharks off her tail.” Shaking his head, he balled his fist. “I could kill that puke.”

“Hey!” Julia's brow furrowed over pouting red lips. “That
puke
is going to be your brother-in-law.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me. What a stupid—he knows better. Those files are confidential. She's been through too much already.”

“I thought you said she was tough.”

He shook a finger at her. “Don’t even go there.”

“Why would Toby say you had a thing for her? She's very pretty.”

He nudged his plate aside. “What do you want from me, Julia? To say I’ve fallen madly in love with the girl and we’re running off to Paris together?”

“No.” She smiled that sweet, big-sister smile that had more syrup than Saturday morning waffles. “Just to know that you won’t die the way our father did.”

The little food in his stomach soured. “I’m
not
our father.”

“I hope not.” She crossed her arms and leaned on the table. “Have you let go of what mom did? Or is that still eating at you too?”

Reece tapped the table and raised his hands in surrender with a snort. “What is this? Suddenly you’re a shrink?”

Julia's dark brows wrinkled. “Will she be in danger?”

“She already is.”

“You like playing the hero, don’t you? I think that's your way of trying to prove you’re not like dad.”

“I need to get going.” Scooting his chair back, he waved over the hostess for the bill.

“Not so different from Dad after all, are you?”

Despite the soft tone of her words, they pummeled him all the same. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He ran when Mom's scandal broke. Left us, left her. When things got tough, he walked.”

He hunched his shoulders. “What exactly am I running from? Besides an overly romantic big sister.” When the petite Hindu woman arrived, he handed her enough rupees to pay for the meal and stood. “I’ll tell Shiloh you’d prefer I bed her than protect her to make sure she makes it back to the States alive.”

“Shiloh, huh?”

Reece froze. Had he really said her name? In public?

“I like her already.”

Reece stomped off , grateful a trip to Pakistan would put distance between him and his nosy sister … and her fiancé.

Dampness pervaded Shiloh's senses as she sat back against the hotel room headboard. Rain threatened the ending of a day that had started out with sunshine and peace. Drawing the comforter up to her shoulder, she glanced at the hoodie on the bed next to her. She had looked for a place to trash it, but all the bins in the lobby were too small. Even in here she didn’t have a place to hide it. Khalid and his father were down in the restaurant eating. Feigning illness, she had stayed in the room, her mind buzzing from the encounter with Brutus.

She walked her fingers across the silky spread to the cotton sweatshirt and tugged it closer. Soaked in the scent of him, she inhaled. The shirt gave her a strange comfort, one she hadn’t felt since she was a child … before her mother's death.

Her mind whipped back to the present. The little adventure with Brutus slammed home the danger that surrounded her. She’d thought herself alert, cognizant of what was happening around her. But he’d pointed out more than twice the number of goons she’d sighted. How foolish to think leaving the other hotel and taking up residence under assumed names would be enough! Had she put Khalid and his father in jeopardy?

Why was Brutus helping her? Did he think she had answers to this puzzle? But he hadn’t interrogated her. That’d be the
prudent route. Drill her full of questions until she sunk in a sea of guilt. Only, what guilt did she bear? That stupid dive trip wasn’t her fault. He sure seemed interested in the cylinder, though. Silently, she entertained the idea of finding her way to the bay, diving, and figuring out what was in that thing. Was it even there still?

Who were the men from the street? The ones with the big weapons?

A scent, clean and crisp, sailed over her. Brutus. He’d held her so close in that abandoned shop, sheltered in his arms. Though his grip was tight, it hadn’t been rough. She’d found it oddly reassuring—his strength and those muscles …

Shiloh blinked.
What am I doing?
She stared at her engagement ring, but it blurred in the background. She drew the navy sweatshirt close; the odor of sweat, not pungent but clearly there, and something like Old Spice mingled together. Heat seared her abdomen as she remembered his blazing eyes.

Rolling onto her back, she groaned, remembering how she’d shuddered at his touch. As they had stood by the door, a tinge of light haloed around him, accenting his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, and the way his T-shirt stretched across his bulky, well-toned chest.

At the sound of loud rapping, her pulse catapulted. She scooted upright and visually inspected the locks she’d snapped into place hours earlier.

“Shiloh?” Khalid's voice jabbed her with guilt. She slid the sweatshirt under the pillow and drew the comforter over it. More rapping. “Shiloh, let me in.”

Material peeked out from under the pillow. “Just a minute.” Heart pounding, she grabbed the hooded sweatshirt and stuffed it in her pack. “I’m not decent. What is it?”

“Open the door a bit—I’ve brought you something.”

What was so urgent? With the chain still in place, she eased back the lightweight door. A black mound of cloth slipped through the small crack.

“Wear this. Bring your things. It's time to go.”

Unfolding the garment, she resisted the urge to groan. The
burqa
would cover everything but her eyes. They’d be in Pakistan by morning. Already, she felt the shackle of ultra-conservatism tightening around her neck.

I can’t do this.
No way could she wear a burqa and live in that country. Married to Khalid, she’d be expected to remain at home and bear his children, which she couldn’t do. Even if she had a choice, she
wouldn’t
.

Upending her pack, she buried Brutus's sweatshirt at the bottom. It was stupid to keep it, but it seemed like a good-luck charm or something. On top she planted her clothes, money, and toiletries. Her heart filled with dread as the reality of what she was about to do smacked into her. It was almost midnight.

Where was Brutus? At this hour, would he be awake? Would he know where they were going? Her stomach seized. What if he didn’t? Why did she feel safer with a man whose name she didn’t even know than with the man she was pledged to marry?