Out of Sight (5 page)

He palmed the keys he'd snagged off a convenient hook, to prevent a jangling of warning, and chose a door at random. Flashed the mini Mag light into the small cell as soon as the door swung open. The stench of bodily fluids hit him like a punch. Two bodies, crumpled on the dirt floor. He took precious seconds to check for pulses. Dead. The guards were sloppy but enthusiastic. He unlocked the next door, and shoved it open. "Cooper? You in h—"

She jumped him from behind the door, and Kane fell for the ruse like a veritable rookie as she knocked him to his knees on the hard floor. "Jesus, woman! I'm here to save your ass." He broke her hold, shot to his feet, and had her in a head-lock before she could knee him in the nuts.

Her nails dug into his forearms. "You son of a bitch, I'm not telling you anything. I'll make you sorry you ever opened that goddamn door."

"I
am
sorry," he muttered, and winced as she clawed and moved around trying to dislodge his hold on her.

She slammed her heel down on his instep and he grit his teeth, but didn't let go. Her neck was slender and fragile. One pop and she'd be gone. The thought chilled him.

"Settle down before you hurt yourself," he instructed the ungrateful agent. "Or before I hurt you."

She stopped waltzing around him and froze, slender body bowed at the waist as she finally recognized that he was speaking English. He could almost hear her thinking.

"Kane?"

"No. The Godfather. Who do you
think
would waltz in here to save your ass in the middle of the night? We seem to have fallen into a me-rescuing-you loop. Cooper," he said, pissed off. "We'll figure out how to break the pattern later. Let's get the hell out of here before someone else shows up."

She froze. "Crap!" she muttered under her breath, and then more loudly, "All the blood's rushing to my head. Want to let go now?"

He let her go abruptly and she staggered back into the wall. Wasting no time, he reached out, snagged a fistful of her shirt, and yanked her forward again. He ran the small beam of light from the mini Mag across her face. Other than filthy, she looked in reasonably decent shape. All things considered. "You injured?"

"Thanks for the sympathy, but no," AJ said tartly. She straightened, then pushed past him and strode down the corridor toward the light glowing from the office. Her black cotton pants and a loose, long-sleeved T-shirt were covered with pale dust. She was a mess. A ripped-off strip of fabric fluttered on her left sleeve, exposing a bloody scratch high on her arm. A bullet graze.

She'd lost her baseball cap, but not even captivity was going to dislodge so much as a hair from the tight braid on the back of her head. Following close behind her, Kane could see where a dark bloodstain smeared her hair, indicating the point of impact. She didn't smell any better than she looked. But then, neither did he. They were a fine pair, he thought sourly.

Her movements were solid as she walked, instinctively looking for an ambush. He felt a flicker of admiration, and, frankly, relief, that she wasn't a gibbering idiot. Thank God she wasn't clinging to him in terror like a motherless monkey. He'd already decided if she freaked out, he'd knock her unconscious and carry her out. Too damn hard to pull off a rescue when the rescuee was hysterical with fear.

She continued down the corridor ahead of him with a loose-hipped sway that was sexy as hell. Kane shook his head. Every other man in T-FLAC might think Cooper was the hottest thing to hit the agency since sliced bread, but he wasn't one of them. He never mixed business with pleasure. And he had a feeling Cooper would be too high maintenance for him, even if she wasn't his subordinate and on an op.

Fortunately, so far, so good. She seemed to have it together. Unfortunately, more of Raazaq's men would be here at first light. Which gave them a half hour, tops, before the bloodhounds were out trying to run them to ground.

He and the rookie would be at the apartment across town in fifteen minutes. He'd lay low, then radio the extraction team to remove her later today. He'd spent several hours debating the wisdom of trusting Cooper to finish the assignment. It was too important to leave anything to chance. She might very well be the best sharpshooter T-FLAC had ever had. But even as much as he needed her, she'd proven herself unreliable.

It was a chance they couldn't afford to take twice.

Time was running out, ticking like a metronome in his head. In his gut. He was wasting precious minutes of it saving Cooper's tattered ass. Again.

He'd already lost one member of his team—Escobar was on his way home—and he pretty much wasn't happy with either of the other two members left.

Cooper slipped down the hall on the balls of her feet. Silent, efficient, alert. She held up a hand to keep him back while she glanced at the two men slumped over the desk in the front office. "Nice job."

"I thought so," he said dryly, handing her a Sig Sauer as she nodded her thanks. They emerged into the thick darkness of the alley and shut the door behind them.

"Transportation?"

He pointed. "Block over."

"Let's go." She took off at full speed. Kane caught up with her and a few minutes later they arrived at the spot where he'd left their commandeered vehicle.

They both reached for the handle on the driver-side door. Kane quirked a brow. "What?"

"I'll drive." AJ held out her hand for the keys. "Let me at least do
something."

Kane blocked her with his arm across her soft breasts and she stopped in her tracks, frowning up at him. "Right now you can't even see straight," he told her flatly. "Get in and buckle up."

"But I—"

"Get in. Buckle up," Kane repeated. He didn't mind being driven by a woman. Made no difference to him. But a woman with a head injury? No, thank you.

AJ hustled around the front of the vehicle, opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat. "I appreciate you coming for me," she told him as soon as he got in and put the car in gear.

Kane pulled into the street, shooting her a glance. "Since when has T-FLAC ever left a man behind?" They were more obsessed with retrieving their operatives than the Navy SEALs were.

"Never." She rubbed at her forehead with a grubby hand.

"Headache?"

"No. Yes. Of course I have a headache. Some goon hit me with what felt like a frigging two-by-four." She shot him a glance and he noticed she had blood smudged on her eyelids—possibly from the blow to the head. Didn't seem to faze her any, but it sure as hell bothered Kane.

The air-conditioning was on high, and he noticed her nipples poking at the front of her T-shirt. Heat shot to his groin and he got a semi-hard-on just looking at her. Christ. This was all he needed. He was shocked, and pissed, at his reaction to her. He pulled his attention back to the road, and gripped the wheel more tightly.

"Did the others make it to the safe house?"

"Escobar caught transpo home a couple of hours ago. Struben's waiting for us at the apartment."

"How long was I in there?" AJ stroked the barrel of the Sig absently, her attention on the buildings they passed. Kane turned down a main street and kept to the speed limit. Even at this hour of the night there was traffic. He stayed in a middle lane, hidden in plain sight. He wished to hell she'd put her hands in her lap and stop stroking the gun. Her slender fingers on that barrel were not only erotic as hell, the movement was distracting. "Four hours."

She looked at him. "The two men in the other cell?"

"Raazaq's people. Dead."

"Shit." She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry."

"For what? You're not responsible for the death of those men."

"I'm responsible for Raazaq getting away. Jesus God, Kane. I'm humiliated… Worse, I'm disgusted with myself for screwing up that badly."

"You're a professional. Use what you learned here and you won't let it happen again," Kane advised unsympathetically. God only knew he had his own suitcase of rocks to haul around. But he'd be damned if he'd listen to her feel sorry for herself. He wasn't going to give her any slack for being female, and he sure as hell wasn't giving her any slack for the screwup.

"You'll be back at the Academy tomorrow," Kane told her. "Have yourself a little chat with the shrinks. Deal with it."

AJ twisted in her seat to look at him, her face gray in the light from the street lamps. "You're really sending me back?"

Kane canted his head to glance at her. Her face might be filthy, but her skin still looked smooth. He knew it was flawless. Soft. He realized his attention had dropped to her mouth and jerked his eyes back to the traffic milling in front of them.
Goddamn
it. "Yeah. Really," he said harshly.

"Let me stay. Prove myself."

"You had your chance."

"And I only get one?"

"This go around, yeah."

"The best man for this job is a woman, and you know it," AJ said, talking fast now in an attempt to convince him. "You might be a master of disguise, but even you can't pull that one off. Admit it. You need me here."

"Having a female operative smoke out Raazaq was one choice. You were there for the briefing. The other choice was me going in alone."

"Not alone. With Struben and Escobar," she reminded him. "And you won't get within five hundred feet of Raazaq. He's even more paranoid than you are, Wright. Raazaq trusts
nobody.
You know that. This op is far too important to let egos get in the way." She shot him a glance, her pale, cat eyes gleaming in the lights from the dash. "Don't be pissy because I made a mistake—Okay, a frigging
huge
mistake. But a mistake, nonetheless. The next time I have the son of a bitch in my sights he'll be dead as a doornail. I promise."

"I have no fucking idea what that means but I told you last night. No do-overs. You're on your way home, Cooper. Buy yourself a souvenir at the airport." Kane picked up the pace, crossed an intersection, and slipped into the dark cavern of the next alleyway for a shortcut to the freeway.

She fumed silently beside him, but he could almost hear her mind clicking away, looking for an argument to beat his. Too bad for her, he already knew there wasn't one. This was his op, damn it. He'd do it his way.

"Is there anything I can say to change your mind?"

"No."

"Then drop me off at the Ra," she told him far too mildly. "Why spend my last night in Cairo in a dump when I can sleep in a bed without fleas?"

"Nice try. But forget it. You won't find him on your own," Kane informed her coldly. Not surprised that she wanted to do what he would have done in the same position. "And if you were stupid enough to try, you'd be looking for new employment within the hour."

She turned to him. "But I—"

"Quit while you're ahead. Cooper. Nothing you say or do is going to change my mind."

She blew out a frustrated breath. "Know one of my favorite games I played with my brother when we were kids?" AJ asked, apropos of nothing, and far too sweetly.

Kane didn't give a damn, but he snapped out, "What?" anyway.

When he shot her an annoyed glance she smiled that annoying Julia Roberts smile that drove him nuts and raised an eyebrow. "Chicken."

Kane Wright was intractable.

Stubborn.

Pigheaded.

And in charge, AJ reminded herself, let's not forget
in charge
.

Great White Shark. Minnow.

Got it. Didn't like it. But got it.

She would have given a lot to be able to read his mind right now. Then again, she wasn't wearing asbestos. She was probably better off not knowing. What he'd said already was just the tip of his iceberg, but the gist stung quite enough. And the knowledge would probably give her more performance anxiety than she already had.

She mulled over how she could go about convincing him she was invaluable after she'd proved herself just the opposite mere hours ago.

It was before dawn, but the Cairo streets were already teeming. Life went on. Kane's disguise was so effective that between the iffy streetlights and the pancake makeup he wore, she couldn't read his expression. Displeasure, however, radiated off of him in waves. She felt like a kid twho'd disappointed her favorite teacher.

And to be absolutely fair, she'd have felt the same way in his position if an unseasoned rookie had been foisted on
her
in such an all-fired rush. On the other hand, she thought grimly as Kane took a corner and narrowly missed three kids riding a single bicycle, which wobbled all over the road, if the rookie was exactly what the mission required, if the rookie was top in her sniping class, if that rookie could be used as bait to set the trap, if that rookie was 100 percent right for the job…

AJ sighed. She'd send the rookie home for screwing up!

Crap. She hated being logical about this.

God only knew Kane Wright was a brilliant field operative. But T-FLAC sure as hell hadn't hired him for his people skills. Besides, he had plenty of reason to be cranky with her.

People skills or not—in his case, a big
not—
the hero worship she'd been feeling for months had slipped a cog into something a little more personal when she'd met him for the first time three days ago at the briefing for this op.

While she had devoured his reports and his analytical papers on terrorism at the Academy, AJ hadn't thought of him as a man so much as an icon she'd set on a pedestal. Someone she would try to emulate. Someone whose career was everything she wanted her own to be. When they'd called her in from a training exercise to inform her she'd be going on assignment with Kane Wright, her heart had pounded so hard, she'd figured she might pass out with excitement at the great man's feet.

She'd wanted nothing more than to get out of that meeting and prove herself.

Then Kane strode into the briefing room. Dressed from head to toe in unrelieved black, he was a striking man, and her heart had done a different kind of hop, skip, and jump just looking at him. Heat speared into her from head to toe. The kind of hot awareness she'd never experienced before. AJ had never reacted to a man on such a purely physical level in the past. But then, her reaction hadn't been solely physical then, either.

Meeting him in the flesh had put another dimension to the man on the page. He'd just returned from Istanbul, and long days under a blazing sun had turned his skin a deep tan, and shot golden highlights in his dark shaggy hair. His lean strength and six-foot-three height had added an elegant cache to the black chinos and dark T-shirt he wore. A girl would have to be dumb and blind not to sit up and take notice seeing the snug fit of cotton stretched across those broad shoulders, displaying his flat stomach and impressive abs. His long legs made short work of circling the conference table to find the only vacant seat—the one opposite her.

He'd flicked a dismissive glance her way, his eyes a dark, dark blue, holding no warmth whatsoever, and then without expression returned his attention to the head of the table, where their superior immediately started outlining the mission.

She'd found out Kane Wright's displeasure was as ruthlessly clipped as his dark chocolate voice. It had taken her several minutes to grasp the fact that while
she'd
been sitting there trying not to drool into her coffee cup,
he
was informing the table at large that he didn't want to use such an important mission as a training vehicle for a rookie.

He'd wanted to go to Cairo alone, and made no bones in saying so. His dark eyes told her, in no uncertain terms, he considered her unsuitable. Worse than useless. AJ wasn't used to a man looking at her that way. There was a first time for everything.

Disinterest. Dismissal. Disdain. All emanating from Kane Wright was bad enough. The fact that everyone sat there discussing her unsuitability for the job and their doubts she would be able to pull it off made her want to scream.

She'd almost died after she'd been shot. And while AJ didn't expect their sympathy, she did expect them to give her the benefit of the doubt. She'd bitten her tongue on her anger, and rationally explained why she should accompany Kane Wright and his team to Cairo.

In the end they'd relented—only because she was, by default, the only one suitable for the job.

Kane had been harder to convince. But he'd finally agreed under duress. Severe duress.

Now, she thought, he'd believe, they'd all believe, he'd been right. Not only had AJ messed up her own chance to prove herself, she'd no doubt put a crimp in every other rookie's chances. From here on out, they'd be more careful about taking an unproven agent out on an op of this magnitude. And it was all her fault. She sighed again.

"Don't sulk," Kane said, mistaking her sigh for petulance. AJ shook herself out of her reverie to look at him. It was impossible to see the good-looking guy under that eighty-year-old face. Gray hair, crepey skin, rheumy eyes. She tried to see where the makeup ended and he began. But the application was flawless. She wasn't three feet from him and she would swear that papery, wrinkled skin was the real deal.

"I never sulk," she told him, to set the record straight. She had a few other skills in her female arsenal, but sulking wasn't one of them. "I was just thinking—"

"Save it."

"Oh, yes, sir! Didn't know thinking wasn't allowed."

"If you'd done less thinking and more shooting, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Nice of you not to beat me over the head with my failures, though. I
really
appreciate it,
sir."
What'd she have to lose by telling him what she was thinking? He was already sending her home in disgrace. What was left? A spanking? Another tongue-lashing? A curl of something dark and hot and yearning opened up inside her at
that
imagery, and she figured she must have hit her head harder than she'd thought.

He shook his head and firmed those old papery lips into a grim line that told her he was done talking. She shut up, too. Streetlights blinked past as they drove through the predawn city, and AJ kept her face forward while she weighed her options.

Not only was she determined to kill Raazaq, a man in the top ten of the U.S.'s Most Wanted Terrorists list, she had to prove she had what it took to be one of T-FLAC's best operatives.

She had to prove it to herself.

To Kane Wright.

To Mac MacKenzie, her psych instructor, who had warned her that her aggressive need to succeed would get her killed if she didn't learn to control it. Fine. She was controlling it.
Look at me, Mac. See? AJ Cooper biting her tongue.

All she needed was one more chance.

It didn't help that her hero worship for the man stoically driving the car was mixed in with a healthy and very unwelcome case of lust, which she hadn't been able to shake on the twenty-two-hour plane ride over here. In the last three days her emotions had gone to hell in a handbasket, and the last man, the absolutely last frigging man she should have any romantic interest in was Kane Wright.

The man was a loner. Did not play well with others. Was a perfectionist. Brooked no mistakes from himself or anyone else. And was intractable, unfriendly, and cranky.

Hells bells, AJ thought, scrunching down in her seat, closing gritty eyes, now that she thought about it, she didn't even like him!

The car slowed and she opened her eyes to look around.

The safe house was on the West Bank of the Nile on the edge of the newly reclaimed Imbaba district. It was a high-rise hovel. Peeling paint, graffiti, and broken lower windows proved it wasn't one of the newer buildings in the recently spruced-up neighborhood. In fact, it was just a taller version of the crumbling tenements surrounding it. Kane pulled their vehicle into the building's basement parking garage just as dawn broke over the city through a smoggy golden haze.

Things were looking up. He'd brought her here before hauling her off to the airport.

AJ huffed out a grunt of relief as he pulled into an empty parking slot and shut the car off. She was flat-out exhausted, and figured he must be, too. Flea-bitten or not, the safe-house apartment must have a shower and a toilet in working order. And a bed. She needed a shower, food, and a horizontal surface to crash on for a few hours. Then she'd sit down and figure out how to salvage her reputation and do the job she'd been sent to Egypt to do.

"Do I get to shower and nap before you haul my ass off to the airport?" she asked, unsnapping the frayed seat belt as soon as they stopped. The fact that she hadn't had a full or decent night's sleep in over three months was immaterial.

"You'll have plenty of time for a nap on the plane," he said shortly, reaching for the door handle without even glancing her way. "Just stay downwind of the civilians."

AJ got out of the car and slammed the door behind her a little harder than necessary.
Dickhead.
He didn't smell any better than she did.

If he were her brother, Gabriel, she'd give him a good solid punch to the solar plexus. But her quick temper had landed her in trouble and written up more than once, and she was already one of Kane's least favorite people. AJ bit her lip even harder. She didn't have to be one of his favorite people.

Don't kill him,
she thought determinedly,
and don't kiss him, either. Just do your job. Do it well and go home. Mission accomplished.

Kane's dusty black galabayya swept about him like the wings of a raven as he walked around the back of the car to join her. Still in character, although they were the only two people in the parking garage. AJ noticed his shoes. Battered and old, they looked insubstantial and as fragile and worn as he did. He looked Arab, talked apple pie, and was as emotionless as a robot.

In short, a perfect T-FLAC operative. "Move it," he said, indicating the elevator on the far side of the cavernous, and almost full, parking garage.

AJ gave him the finger behind his back, but she bit back a smart-ass retort and caught up with him. She pushed the elevator button and blinked moisture into her dry, tired eyes as she leaned against the wall to wait for the car. Damn, she could fall asleep standing up. She pushed herself away from the wall. "When do you leave for Fayoum?"

"You're not coming."

The doors jerked open, and she stepped in, leaving him to follow. "I didn't say 'we,' did I? I heard you the first dozen times. Give it a rest, okay? I got the message."

He hit the floor button. Eleven, she noted absently as the car started ascending in rumbling fits and starts that didn't fill her with confidence. Great. Blow her big chance, then die in a plunging elevator in a rat-infested hotel. Just perfect. She'd go down in T-FLAC history as the biggest loser to ever walk through their doors.

Gabriel would have to change his name in self-defense.

"Some people need to be told more than once."

AJ heard her back teeth grind together as she said tightly, "Well, I'm not one of them." He could talk until he turned as old as he looked. Whoever got to Fayoum first could take out Raazaq. She'd be there first. She'd make sure of it. When he dropped her off at the airport she'd split. He wouldn't have to know she'd disobeyed orders until after the hit was done.

It was a risk, disobeying a direct order. But on the other hand, when she'd taken out Raazaq and done her job, the powers that be at T-FLAC would see she'd used her own initiative and be pleased.

The elevator was slower than molasses in winter and jerked and hesitated every few feet as if it were too tired to make the trip. Standing side by side, they faced the doors. AJ shot him a surreptitious glance under her lashes. His normal closed look was made even more obscure by the makeup.

What was he thinking? Nothing good, judging by the set of his jaw.

A couple of years ago Kane had been imprisoned for two months on an op. His report had, frustratingly, been sealed. Just the bare facts were on record. Six men had gone into Libya. Five men killed in action. Kane imprisoned for two months. Kane returned home.

End of story.

Maybe bringing that back to him, getting him to relate to what had just happened to her, would soften him up a bit. Remind him that once upon a time, he'd been vulnerable, too.

"I guess I was lucky." AJ shuffled back to lean against the wall as they rose in fits and starts. "Thank God they didn't get around to torturing me. You showed up in the nick of time."

"It wouldn't've been pleasant," Kane said laconically, not bothering to look at her.

Right. "Not pleasant" was one way to put it. She shivered just thinking about the shrieks and screams of agony she'd listened to in there. Of course, she wasn't being tortured now, either, but it was damn unpleasant, just the same. "You were held captive in Libya, right?"

"Yeah."

Okay. That didn't open up a dialogue, either. The man was as uncommunicative as a clam. He'd been tortured for months in that hellhole in Al Jawf. During her second month at the Academy, she'd pored over what there was in the report. Reading between the lines, and empathizing, sick to her stomach at man's inhumanity to man. How had he withstood what they'd done to him? How had he survived?

How had he ended up in that prison? Had it been his mistake or a mistake by one of the others on his team?

"I'm sorry, it must've been hell," she said softly to his back. A massive understatement, she knew. Damn it. She was a fairly intelligent woman. Knew how to conduct a lively conversation most of the time. But with Kane Wright she felt ridiculously inept and tongue-tied. It didn't help that he was pissed. Or that he was being stubbornly unresponsive to her olive branch.