Defender (12 page)

Jimmy straddled the seat across from the agent, the scab forming on his forearm tugging uncomfortably. “Just some ringing in my ears. I’m glad you were a few blocks away. Flying flack can spray a destructive distance.” He shoved the image of Chloe’s bleeding leg, the vision of her puckered scar to the back of his mind.

“Any more information on the other attacks?” Jimmy asked.

“Only that two of the bombs were set off by remote control. We believe those two bombers who died were unwilling participants.” A single bead of sweat popped on Nunez’s forehead, a virtual flood of emotion from a man who played life so close to the vest. “It looks like two women were plucked from a mental facility.”

“The bastards.”

Nunez thumbed away the droplet of perspiration. “I agree.”

Silence felt a helluva lot heavier in a vault. Much like the quiet that echoed around inside him when he hit the sack at night and the enormity of all the secrets he had to protect swelled inside him, reminding him he had to be careful, even in sleep, not to let something slip.

At least he had his squadron buds, even more importantly his core crew, to shoot the shit with about their highly classified work. Unlike Nunez. The agent was out there alone in the middle of evil sons of bitches who tortured people and took advantage of society’s most vulnerable.

Jimmy reviewed the afternoon that had now carved out a permanent cubby in his memory. “I know that the chances are slim anyone would have recognized you from the rescue day since you kept to yourself and wore a helmet the whole time. But best I could tell, no one made you. I watched for signs. Not that I think they would have recognized you anyway, given the whole
GQ
look.”

Nunez’s blasé expression broke for an instant. “What gave me away to you? I’d changed my clothes from earlier, not to mention my whole superspy demeanor.”

Jimmy searched for a specific detail, something about the man’s gestalt . . . and came up blank. He’d just known. “I honestly don’t have an answer for you.”

The agent’s eyes blazed with an almost eerie intensity as he leaned forward. “I believe it’s because you have an instinct for this side of the work that even most working the job don’t possess.”

“I appreciate the compliment.”

Nunez quirked a brow. “I’m only stating a fact, and not necessarily a good one. That gift can be a curse. Happy oblivion is a whole lot easier.”

“Ah, oblivion’s—”

“For the weak. Right.” They shared a laugh before the mood turned somber again. “I can use an extra pair of eyes, and bringing in someone else would take time.”

Adrenaline tingled like a brush with an electrical outlet, simultaneously dangerous and stimulating.

“Bring someone in for what?”

“I’ve pegged a bar that appears to be a serious contender. Are you up for a drink and a possible kidnapping?”

The adrenaline now hummed through his veins like a nuclear power plant. “Is the Pope Catholic?”

“Good.” Nunez’s eyes lit with an answering excitement of the chase. “I’ll get back to you with the details shortly. First—”

The vault door hissed open again, and Lieutenant Colonel Scanlon strode through.

Jimmy stood at attention. Clearly this wasn’t your everyday, average shoot-the-shit session with the colonel in attendance.

Scanlon saluted and took his seat with the two men at the table. “At ease, Captain. Glad to see you’re all right after today’s attack.”

“Me, too, sir.” No one needed to state the obvious. Riots in the area boded poorly for getting Chuck out of there without detection or a major incident—if, in fact, this hunch even played out.

Nunez didn’t require fancy video technology to command attention. “I’ve called you both here for a reason. Obviously we’re always concerned for the well-being of any civilians on foreign soil. But gentlemen, if something happens to one of those USO performers . . .” His scowl went soulless. “I don’t have to spell out the catastrophic fallout to international relations in an already shaky region.”

Jimmy’s arm itched at even the mention of the afternoon bombing and how close Chloe had come to dying. If someone was gunning for performers on the USO tour this aggressively, he wanted her on the first plane out.

Nunez continued, no fidgeting, just pure, intense focus. The man didn’t even toy with the pen beside his hand. “I understand you’ve got your hands full with rescuing Chuck Tanaka; however, the agency still believes that your best cover for being here can be gained by protecting our USO personnel.”

Jimmy thought of Livia Cicero’s shout of outrage over being confined after the bombing. At least Chloe finally seemed to grasp the serious nature of nearly being blown to bits. “The performers and crews are already in lock-down. No more jaunts out.”

Scanlon cleaned his black-framed glasses. “Sending them home would be simplest.”

“Certainly. If the USO would agree, and if the enemy wouldn’t dance in the streets over the victory.”

Scanlon slid his glasses back in place. “So give us our marching orders, Nunez.”

“A twofold plan. Captain Gage is going to help me with a little field work.”

That must be related to the drink and possible kidnapping Nunez had mentioned. What did that have to do with the colonel?

“I need you to pull some protective detail here. We have security beefed up, but Colonel, we would like for you to stick close to the Cicero woman.”

Jimmy muffled a cough. He was going into the field, and the colonel was babysitting? Life was flipped on its ass today.

Scanlon didn’t bat an eye. He did, however, clench his jaw. “How long?”

“As long as you’re at Incirlik, for both her protection and to give us time to delve more into her background. She passed the security clearances necessary to participate in the production, but that doesn’t mean they dug deep enough.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re targeting her because she’s not American?”

“Everyone is suspect, but yes, her loyalties are more likely to be divided than some of the others in the USO cast and crew. Having you around on a social basis will seem less obvious than a guard.”

Scanlon scowled. “Why not just tell her the guard is for her protection?”

“We’ll still have guards trailing her covertly in shifts, but she is notorious for ditching security. Your extra assistance would be greatly appreciated.”

The colonel whipped off his birth control glasses, pinched his nose, and muttered something that sounded much like a sarcastic “Great.”

“Of course we understand there will be instances when you’re busy with other duties, at which times our security will double.”

Jimmy rocked his chair on two legs, enjoying the moment for some perverse reason. Could be this struck his funny bone on a day that had otherwise been pretty much dog shit. “Smooth would be glad to act like her boy toy.”

“We don’t want romantic entanglements mucking up the water.”

Jimmy lowered his chair. “Sorry, Colonel, I tried.”

Nunez seemed to weigh his next words carefully before stating, “In my opinion, Colonel Scanlon is the least likely to be distracted by her because of his recently widowed status, which is the very reason I chose him.”

Awkward moment, for sure.

An image flashed to mind of the colonel at a squadron party with his wife days before she’d died. They’d appeared so into each other while dancing.

And there wasn’t a thing any of them could do for him.

If he’d been a contemporary, Jimmy would have poured a few beers down his throat until the guy got maudlin and unloaded some of the grief clogging his insides. But due to the colonel’s rank, contemporaries in the work field were sparse. What a stark existence for a person who’d spent the prior years of his career in a crew-bonding mentality.

Lieutenant Colonel Scanlon’s expression stayed blank, even if his fists clenched. “Astute observation, Agent Nunez. Consider the job done.”

ELEVEN

Chloe thumbed through the selections on her iPod, nothing else to do while she hung around in a recreation center room designated for the performers who chose to stick it out after the marketplace attack. Every rational instinct told her, “Time to hitch a ride home.” They didn’t even have water for showers because of the bombing at the front gate. Tenacity, the debt to that soldier, and a memory of a flyboy’s kiss, however, kept her in Turkey.

Meanwhile, she’d traveled to an exotic country only to be entertained with foosball, a stack of board games, and her choice of three channels on the Armed Forces Network, currently spouting nonstop episodes of
Jeopardy
.

For eight hundred dollars, name sexual frustration in Turkey.

Alex, would that be: Who is kiss ’em and leave ’em Jimmy Gage?

She’d barely seen him since they’d been shuttled to military doctors to be checked over once everyone had regrouped at Incirlik Air Base. She would have assumed he was flying, except it seemed the colonel had plenty of free time on his hands to hang out with them, even if he brought along paperwork. She suspected the obvious.

Now that Jimmy knew about her transplant, he’d lost interest. She should have been used to this by now; in fact, she worked to keep men at bay rather than run the risk. But somehow Jimmy had gotten under her skin.

She blinked back tears, angry tears
not
hurt, and focused on studying the boss. Maybe he could give them some insights on the current security status. Although why was he even here?

Wouldn’t he have preferred somewhere quieter than a room littered with USO personnel? Apparently not. He’d commandeered a table for himself, his laptop, and a stack of files.

A group of backstage techies stayed glued to the double jeopardy question while the band played cards. Their stage manager, Greg, wore noise-reducing headphones while tuning into a video of the last performance on his computer.

The boyfriend/girlfriend dance team stayed off to the side stretching, using a chair rail as a makeshift ballet bar while ignoring each other over some tiff. Of course Melanie and Steven weren’t the only ones irritable, thanks to the water problem.

Livia Cicero paced, her leather ankle boots clicking on industrial tile. Her designer scarlet jumpsuit with her name sewn across the butt in gold and black thread drew the eyes of every male in the room.

“I cannot believe I am being held captive.” She gripped the jeweled cell phone she’d been forbidden to turn on. “I came on this trip to entertain the soldiers and soak in the culture. Instead, I am only soaking in sweat.”

Greg crossed the room with a smart, efficient walk, snatched up the remote control, and thumbed the volume down two notches. Did he own anything other than black turtlenecks and matching loose pants? “I heard they’re hoping to have the water pipes fixed sometime tomorrow.”

“Hoping?” Livia snagged a bottled water and twisted the cap. “We’re going to need more perfume.”

Greg closed up his computer. “I’ll hunt down another box of the baby wipes they’ve been giving out.”

Livia drained half her water bottle, visibly unimpressed.

Chloe unwound her iPod earbuds, not that she’d gotten to listen for more than sixty seconds at a stretch before Livia interrupted or the dance team sniped at each other. As a conductor, she was used to handling relationship dramas and diva theatrics. The performers deserved to be respected for their talent but otherwise needed to be treated as one of the crowd. “We’ve all been given the option of flying home anytime,” she said to Livia.

“I fulfill my commitments.” She turned on a spiky heel and faced the colonel. “Have you ever considered corrective eye surgery?”

“No,” he answered without even pausing in his typing.

“Or new glasses?” Livia bent at the knees to get a better view of his specs, which seemed to involve a quick inventory of the man himself.

“These work fine.” He tapped the bulky frames.

“They do have a certain retro appeal.”

He pulled them off and turned them to the side for display. “They’re air force issue and therefore free.”

Scanlon slid them back on his face.

“Are you always so unsociable?”

He peered over the tops of the rims. “Are you always this rude?”

She flounced down into the chair next to him, her velour jumpsuit swishing in the silence. Livia flicked her nails repeatedly. “I am bored.”

Chloe wasn’t. Watching these two spark off each other was better than any iPod offerings or the three-station television. She stuffed her music away and hugged her knees in the uncomfy faux-leather chair. Over in the corner, even the boyfriend/girlfriend dance pair slowed their pliés and pouting to listen in.

Lieutenant Colonel Scanlon flipped to the next page in the file. “Did someone forget to pull the green M&M’s out of your candy dish?”

Livia sniffed. “I don’t eat chocolate.”

A smile flickered along his mouth for the first time. “Not my point, diva.”

Chloe sensed the “entertainment” was about to turn ugly. Livia Cicero was known in the tabloids for her dramatic meltdowns. Chloe wasn’t sure why she liked this drama queen. Maybe because the woman embodied all the bold colors of life Chloe had longed for in her youth.

Regardless, Livia had unselfishly done her a favor by lining up the backup singer gig when no one would have blamed her for blowing off the request.

Chloe unfolded from her chair, scavenging for a way to stop the exchange before it went south. “Livia, come over here.” Chloe gestured to the battered piano in the corner. Even the captain of the starship
Enterprise
got stuck playing peacemaker on occasion. “I’ll run through some songs and scales so we can exercise our vocal chords. I can even record you with the new feature on my iPod. The piano may not be as top drawer as the grand they’ve got over in the rehearsal room, but they’ve kept this antique in tune.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother our colonel.”

He peered over the top of his glasses. “Please. Sing.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Livia patted his face.

Her hand lingered. She stalled in place, her smile fading to confusion. Even more telling, the colonel didn’t move, either.

Livia dropped her hand and bolted to her feet, double-timing toward the ancient upright.

Chloe limbered her fingers with rapid scales along the ivories. The familiar feel of cool keys, the action of give and take under her touch, the routine rolled over her, more relaxing than meditation and a massage combined. Returning her hands to the middle, she paused and nodded to Livia.

The singer’s voice hit pure and true from note one of the vocal warm-up. Note by note, everyone in the room began to abandon whatever else they’d been doing to listen in.

Professional respect swelled. Livia Cicero wasn’t just a pretty pop star package. The woman’s classical training couldn’t be missed. Livia may have been gifted with an angel voice, but she’d unmistakably put in the time to hone her instrument.

Scales transitioned into songs, a mix of arias and popular tunes, finally a love ballad that had gained Livia recognition early in her career. Melanie and Steven even shrugged off their argument and swayed together.

The colonel shot to his feet, interrupting them. “Play something else.”

Livia hitched a hand on her hip and thrust out her bottom lip. “Do I sound so horrible, or are you just anti-romance, Colonel?”

Chloe stared from one to the other in their standoff, the whole room silent. The Colonel wasn’t irritated. He looked completely shell-shocked.

The song had struck an emotional chord for him, and
not
in a good way. Chloe had seen the same heartbroken look on her father’s face after her mother died in a car wreck. This man had lost and lost big.

Livia’s blasé mask slipped to reveal genuine compassion. “I’m sorry.”

Apparently the diva wasn’t as self-absorbed as she liked everyone to think.

He blinked once, the hint of emotion gone and replaced by cool composure. “It’s all right.”

Lieutenant Colonel Scanlon dropped back into his chair, losing himself in the work spread out over the table.

Chloe returned to simple scales again. Safer all the way around for everyone.

Jimmy Gage was onboard with the plan.

Nunez half-listened to Kutros while watching the airman work the bar with ease while Anya served drinks. Gage hadn’t even hesitated when asked to sign on for some undercover help. The guy was a downright natural.

Thanks to listening devices the size of a grain of rice resting in the ear canal, he and Gage could hear each other and communicate freely in an emergency. Gage had spent the past four hours bragging to any woman who would listen about his high-profile military career, a fine line to walk, since the man really did possess secrets that could topple security in more than one country.

But he’d seen the guy train in the gym. Gage could take care of himself, part of what made him the perfect choice in a pinch. The pieces fit for using him rather than wasting time calling in an agency backup. If anyone in this place made their bread and butter off kidnapping American servicemen, Jimmy “Hotwire” Gage would be looking at the inside of a dark hood by the week’s end.

Which reminded him he needed to nudge harder with Kutros. The untraceable finances and proximity to the locations of interest around Turkish bars made him a prominent suspect in the recent disappearances.

“Do you mind picking up the tab tonight, my friend? I am a little cash strapped.” Nunez had plotted this next phase carefully, putting himself in line to be drawn into the underground network if Kutros had access to such a thing.

Kutros puffed on his cigar, blowing smoke through his nose in twin dragon trails. “Not a problem.”

The scent of expensive tobacco almost managed to override the cloying cologne of the woman at the next table.

“My accountant will be wiring me money from Madrid soon,” Nunez pushed to maintain his accent, more difficult for some reason with Gage around reminding him of his real world. “He simply has a few transactions to clear up first.”

Kutros studied the inside of his glass of raki for three beats of the band’s tambourine. In the dim flicker of the candle sconce, the man didn’t appear as old. Closer to forty than fifty. “Do you need a place to stay? A loan? Just temporarily, of course.”

“No, but
gracias
, I will keep your generous offer in mind.”

“Ah, a prideful man.”

“What can I say? I still feel compelled to fill my own bank account.” Nunez stopped short of asking for a “job.”

“I will keep my ears open for opportunities for you, my friend.” His calculating eyes cleared, and he smiled. “Ah, look. There is your favorite waitress finishing her shift.”

Nunez twisted in his seat, and sure enough, he was gifted with a mind-numbing view of Senorita Surac’s backside hugged by silk as she swished past a sweaty bouncer evicting an overly rowdy soldier. Apparently the door jerk was falling down on the job tonight if they needed to call in the cavalry.

She sidestepped the sloshed soldier and continued toward the employees’ exit. And shit, he’d let his interest in her be so well-known Kutros noticed? Nothing to do but go with it. Let the old man believe the attention was of a sexual nature.

Not completely untrue. “What can I say? I appreciate a beautiful woman.”

“Women are expensive,” he spoke and puffed at the same time. “But very much worth it. So what are you doing sitting here with me? Go catch her before she gets away.”

He couldn’t think of a plausible reason to say no. “I will see you tomorrow then?”

“Of course.”

“
Gracias.
”

Nunez wove around the clumps of military members and civilians, mingling for drinks, dancing, and under-the-table drugs. He’d long ago developed a level of numbness to the illegalities he had to overlook in order to keep his eye on the bigger picture.

He reached the “employees only” door just as his target clasped the knob. He covered her fingers with his, only for a second before skimming a single bangle on her wrist and letting his hand fall away. One touch was plenty potent.

The slight widening of her eyes indicated she concurred.

For an instant he allowed himself the pleasure of taking in the subtle softening of her face as she shed her work look. He’d only glimpsed this smooth openness once before on her way to clock in.

“The crowd is rowdy tonight.” He nodded toward Jimmy Gage chugging shots and shouting requests at the band.

“That happens when new troops roll in,” she answered neatly.

She faced him without brushing him aside for once. Progress. And he didn’t have to fend off the sniffly door bully this time.

“You follow the military habits that closely?”

“I follow anything to do with my patrons that brings bigger tips.” She patted the pocket of her whisper-thin apron, the lacy hem grazing along a perfectly shaped thigh. “I have rent to pay.”

The more he thought about that night he’d walked her home, the more her hole-in-the-wall studio apartment bothered him. He would have expected her to live better if she was a part of some underground operation. Of course, she could also be one of those fanatics who donated every penny to “the cause.”

It chafed Nunez relentlessly that he had yet to identify what the hell cause that might be or if she was even tied in. For all the military men disappearing, there should have been an identifying end result, a particular faction growing smarter or richer.

“Do you always walk home after work?”

“Why is that your business?”

Smart woman. But he was smarter, and damned if it didn’t look like she was softening up for some conversation tonight. “I am trying to be chivalrous.”

“Chiva-what?” Her forehead puckered. “This word I do not understand.”

“Chivalrous. It means being courteous—”

The furrows deepened. Zero comprehension.

He searched for another word. “Being polite, helpful.”