Dead Reckoning (41 page)

Her complexion paled but he could see her clinging to the vain hope of rescuing Jude.

“It won’t.” He drew in a steadying breath. “I don’t care what Sajjadi told you. He’ll get what he wants and kill you both.”

Her lower lip trembled. “My father's alive right now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do!”

“You don’t,” he snapped. “Even if Jude is still alive, it's only because Sajjadi isn’t done.”

“I will do whatever—”

“Whatever isn’t good enough. Whatever gets you killed!”

She barreled into him, knocking him off balance. Reece tumbled backward over the medical stool. By the time he regained his footing, Shiloh was gone. He lunged for the door.

In the arid night, Julia met him on the steps. Dark stormy eyes brooded. “Let her be, Reece.”

He went around her.

“Reece, I mean it.” Julia caught up. “Don’t do this. If you push too hard—”

He rounded on her and gripped her shoulders tight. “I will do whatever it takes to stop her.” His own words rang in his ears—
whatever gets you killed!

“Isn’t this exactly what you did with Chloe?”

“Why—” He cocked his head and looked away. “Why does everyone keep bringing her up? She's dead. Buried. Gone. This is about saving Shiloh.” His sister's sympathetic smile grated on his last nerve. “What?”

“Does Shiloh need saving? Or is this you trying to control things again?”

“Controlling the situation is my job.”

“But you’re trying to force her to do what
you
think she should do.”

“What I think keeps her alive!”

“Does it?” Julia arched an eyebrow, a corkscrew curl dancing in the light of the doc's hut.

“I’m not doing this with you, Jules.” He started toward Shiloh's hut, only to see Gita stepping through the door. In that split second he realized his sister was probably right. If he pushed, Shiloh would be more determined than ever. But how could he just sit around and let her walk into that snare?

She’d never live to see another day.

Sacrificing love for lives made sense every day of the year.

Except today. Even as Shiloh braced herself in the ultra-compact car as Gita wove down the mountainous trail, she knew she was as good as dead where Reece was concerned.
Dead reckoning.
Yet he hadn’t seen this coming, hadn’t stopped her.

She didn’t want to betray Reece. Didn’t want to lose what they had. But her father—and a million others—would die if she didn’t.

Okay, she wasn’t a complete dolt. Sajjadi didn’t bargain. She got that. But something in Shiloh tugged at her, urging her to at least try. While she and her father hadn’t spoken in years, while she’d spouted off about how much she hated him, they were family. And she’d seen a different side to him and realized maybe things weren’t quite so cut-and-dry.

Palm branches swatted the car. A truck-sized pothole pitched them forward and rocked them as they jounced back onto the path.

“Sorry.” Gita's mumbled apology was lost amid the groaning and creaking of the car. She slowed the vehicle, glanced around and searched the dark, wet foliage. Was she lost?

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Too late. She’d left the camp. Left the protection of the Green Berets and Reece. She was committed.

The car lurched forward and barreled between two boulders. “Almost there,” Gita said as she braked, swung a hard right and squeezed around massive banyan trees, and then gunned the twangy little engine.

Within minutes they hit pavement. Shiloh relaxed and eased back against the seat, shooting her new guide a hesitant smile.

“He be mad.” Gita's olive knuckles went white against the steering wheel. “They no let me back.”

Awareness spun through Shiloh. For the first time, she realized what price Gita's assistance would cost. “But what about Stick?”

With a shrug, Gita faked a smile.

What had she done? When the woman suggested they take her car, Shiloh had seen it as a sign from God that she was doing the right thing trying to save her father. But would God bless her only to hurt someone else?

Confusion tumbled through her mind.

“He love you. Want you safe.”

“Safe doesn’t save my father.” Shiloh leaned against the window and closed her eyes, feigning sleep in the hopes that Gita would end the conversation. But as they drew closer to the city, Shiloh choked back the fear that challenged her confidence.
What confidence?
Hadn’t that died at the warehouse?

Sleep wrapped its greedy tendrils around her. Churning waters tossed her from Mumbai to Paris with the Louvre and the towering Anubis and then back to the mountains. To Reece's embrace suffused with warmth and love. To her father thrashing on the waterboards. To Sajjadi standing over her father with a weapon as water dripped down the burlap. He pulled the trigger.

Crack!

Shiloh bolted upright, grappling for her bearings.

A touch—Shiloh slapped it away. The soft gasp snapped her attention to the woman next to her. Gita. Not Sajjadi, but Gita. In the car. She blinked and glanced out the car window, steadying her breath as the ominous blue dawn pushed back the void of night. “Wh-where are we?” Lights twinkled nearby, indiscernible.

“There,” Gita whispered. “The train depot you ask for.”

Swallowing, Shiloh nodded slightly. “Okay.” She reached for the door handle.

Gita caught her wrist. “You sure?” Sorrowful brown eyes implored her. “I take you back. Chief make all better? Fix this.”

“No.” Shiloh tried not to think about it, but the memories from far too recently skidded into her thoughts. Mikhail. Baseer dying. Khalid. So many lives squandered. And Reece would become a distant memory too. “No, I’m on my own now.”

Shiloh gathered her backpack and smiled as she climbed out. “Thank you.” On the sidewalk, she shouldered her pack and waited as red taillights faded into the darkness.

She braved one last glance at the depot and felt every ounce of the loneliness she’d trapped herself in. The tragedy at that station had switched the proverbial tracks of her life. Now she’d make someone pay for what they did.

Shiloh turned and hiked toward the government offices. The long trek bought her time to make peace with her decision. Or at least, battle with her decision. Peace wouldn’t be hers. Not this time.

After a quick check of her watch, she quickened her steps. Sajjadi said her window of opportunity would be small. No room for mistakes. She jogged around to the back of the building. Just as promised, a small bag tucked behind a trashcan
held a uniform and identification tag. Shiloh changed into the clothes, smeared the dark, heavy base they’d provided over her face, and stowed her pack.

About to step into the early morning, Shiloh spotted her own reflection in a dirty window—and halted. Did she really look that haggard?

As if on cue, a half-dozen women strode toward the entrance, their talk casual and dull. Bringing up the rear, Shiloh entered the facility with the entourage. At the first checkpoint, she swiped the provided card and walked through.

Though she ached to sprint down the long corridor, she hauled in the desire and walked as quickly as possible, remembering her instructions. Once in the kitchen, she tied an apron over the uniform and accepted the ready-made cart from a woman who gave her a long, hard look before motioning Shiloh off .

Squeaky wheels seemed to shriek as Shiloh headed toward Deputy Minister Abdul's special detainment room. Holding her breath, she aimed toward the two guards. Poised at attention, they flanked the door. Either they would let her in …
Or they’ll kill me
. Yeah. Great.

One guard stepped into her path.

Shiloh pasted a smile on her face and presented her ID. He verified her card. Why did seconds like this tick by with the weight of anchors?

The guard glared at her, sized her up, then grunted and flung open the door.

Holding her practiced smile, Shiloh entered the cell, which was in reality a lavish suite. Persian, hand-woven rugs spilled over the marble floors and rushed toward the mahogany secretary desk and coffee table.

Abdul lounged in a chair at a richly draped round table, sipping a glass of water and staring at the large, flat-screen
panel where garish images of some attack in a foreign country splattered over the screen. He glanced back at her before he waved at her in dismissal.

Shiloh nudged the cart toward him. “Fools exult in life while the pious prepare for the journey ahead.” Had she gotten the proverb right? When he gave no indication that he was familiar with it, she lifted a plate and set it on the table before repeating the phrase.

Dark eyes remained fastened on the screen. “And what journey am I preparing for, what journey does
he
send an American spy to help me complete?”

“You have something he wants.” Wasn’t Ali afraid someone would hear him?

He sneered, the dark circles under his eyes evidence of sleepless nights. “He promised me wealth and power.” Ali motioned around the room. “A prison? This is what I get?”

Shiloh moved around the table and faced him. Palms against the cold surface, she leaned forward and tucked her chin. “He wants the codes.” And she wanted to get out of here before she was discovered.

In defiance he sipped his drink. “I want my freedom.”

This wasn’t going anywhere. She had to force his hand. “Give me the codes, and I’ll give you the antidote.” Letting her gaze rest on the glass of water before him, Shiloh hoped he got her meaning.

He swallowed. Hard. “He would not—”

“No doubt he has predicted your reluctance.” This had to work so she could get out of here before something went wrong. Like the rumblings of a typhoon before it hits, she felt the trouble looming over her now. She gave a small nod. “Very well. May you find your virgins—”

His mocha-colored hand clamped over hers. Dark eyes rose to hers. “Your loved one will not live.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Two.

Ali rattled off the code. “The plan is not what you think. And remember …” His eyes darkened and then drifted to the small barred window as he shoved her aside. “Nobody who works with him lives.”

Mumbai, India

W
HY?”

The Anubis keychain glinted back at him, mocking. Reece rubbed his thumb over the memento, his heart heavy with grief. She’d left him. Snuck out in the middle of the night. Everything in him railed at her naiveté. She had no idea what she’d walked into. She might think she did, but only those who had traveled that road knew.

The hurt surprised him most. Knowing she didn’t trust him, that she wasn’t willing to let him handle this with the skill and experience he had. Forget the experience. She intentionally walked away from
him
.

Keychain clutched in his hand, he leaned against the table and hung his head. Ignored the map. Ignored the schematics.
God … why?
Why would He bring Shiloh into his life only to have her storm out—straight into her own death?

A door flapped open, banging the interior wall of the U.S. Embassy conference room. He straightened and slid the key-chain into his pocket.

Brody Aiken stood with Nielsen, Toby, and a half-dozen other men. “Shiloh was arrested at the Mumbai ministry building.”

Hope stabbed him. If she was being held, he could extract her. “Where?”

“Unknown. But the guys snapped a few photos of her being escorted for transfer. Once in the building, they couldn’t trace her.” Brody tossed three photos on the table and then tapped one. “Look familiar?”

Knuckling the table, Reece studied the pictures. “Kodiyeri.” He eyed the men flanking Brody and noted the tactical stance, the rigid posture, the military haircuts. Special Ops. But not Green Berets if the glares and Cole's taut lips were any indication.

Someone had a plan they hadn’t shared with him. His gaze rose to Cole.

“The girl never made it anywhere.” The dark-haired leader said as he shuffled one of the images to the middle and scooted it closer to Reece. “This is the interior of the building. She goes in. Never comes out. Kodiyeri and his team load up in SUVs and that's the end of it.”

“He has her.” Reece stared at the last image of Shiloh.

“Maybe. But we can’t search for her. Not now.” Nielsen huffed.

This was the way of it. Without legitimate cause to tie up resources, Shiloh would remain MIA. She’d walked out and tied his hands. Just like Chloe. And a rogue agent must be disavowed. He mentally touched the Anubis keychain, remembering the cold, hollow feeling that coursed through him when he spotted the piece on his pillow back at camp.

“This looks personal.”

Staring through his brow, Reece met the steely gaze of the new Spec Ops leader and detected the man's question and challenge.

Brody cleared his throat as he placed another photo on the table. “About twenty minutes ago, a UAV snapped Kodiyeri's ugly mug on The
Jannat
.”

The very yacht anchored off the coast of Mumbai and from which the Summit of the Agreed would launch their vicious campaign to restructure the political map in the Middle East. Something wasn’t right.

But the proverbial clock ticked out the countdown. The nuclear disaster was his primary objective right now—Sajjadi. Not Shiloh and whatever it was that niggled at him.