Relentless (7 page)

Rhys didn't do relationships well, so he didn't do them at all. He had to be damned careful not to send her mixed signals.

Throughout his life he'd made a point of keeping people at a distance, except for his brother and parents. Strange, though. When he was with Neveah he didn't feel the suffocating sense of claustrophobia he usually did during close contact with people.

She didn't make him uncomfortable or chatter about stupid things. She was smart and confident, which made her company enjoyable because he could just
be
. No need to wrack his brain for meaningless filler to plug the gaping holes in the conversation like he had to with all the other women he'd been with. No need to build her up with compliments and flattery designed to boost her self-esteem. She was too sharp and would see through all of that anyway. He sensed she'd know the instant he said anything insincere and call him on it. Not that there weren't a million things he could compliment her on.

Sitting beside her like this, he was relaxed for the first time in recent memory. He still watched everything around them, but he wasn't on alert for a sniper or someone charging out of the trees at them. Which was why he'd brought her up here in the first place. To help them both decompress. God knew they'd both been under a lot of stress lately. Up here away from everything and everyone, it could just be the two of them, without the worry that Neveah was in danger.

That would change the instant they went back down the mountain, however. His anxiety wouldn't stop until the conference ended and she was back in New York, safe and sound. He intended for her to get there without incident, and hopefully, without her ever knowing she was at risk. After that? He'd figure out a way to ensure her long term safety. He was good at planning covert missions.

Neveah settled even closer against him and tipped her head back to give him a gentle smile. “Thanks for picking me up and bringing me here.”

He allowed himself to glance down at her briefly, but then focused on the view and the surrounding area so he wouldn't be further tempted to cross the line and kiss her. He didn't know which worried him more, the possibility that she'd push him away, or that she'd kiss him the way he'd fantasized about. “You're welcome.” The ensuing silence that blanketed them wasn't awkward. She seemed to understand, or at least respect his need for quiet. Remarkable in itself, when he compared her to other women. Maybe he should stop doing that. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met.

He tried to identify the burgeoning feelings taking life inside him. Something about her made him want to get close. His instincts urged him to let her in, even as he refused to risk it.

While she stared down at the twinkling city lights, the tranquility in her face called to the lonely place inside his soul that cried out for warmth. He'd lived so long without it. Being around her made the emptiness all too sharp.

Though he didn't want to admit it, he needed the connection with her to reassure himself he wasn't cold to the core like everyone assumed he was. To prove the blackness within him hadn't taken over yet.

He'd come face to face with the ugliness inside him and been forced to take a long, hard look at himself. What he'd seen had scared him enough that for a long time he'd truly believed he was dead inside. Until Neveah.

Now that she'd awakened the yearning, he couldn't shut it off. Like it or not, he wanted someone to sit with like this and let his overactive brain take a rest. He wanted someone to smile at him with genuine warmth because they liked and even admired who he was, despite the darkness he struggled to keep at bay. He wanted someone to hold when the night was too long and the memories were too much. Wanted to feel those accepting arms around him in return and the press of a warm, scented body against his. Neveah held the power to give him all of that and more. She could banish the unseen monster he fought every single day.

With her cuddled into him, Rhys fought not to react to her nearness. If only she'd see him as a man instead of a medical specimen she was particularly proud of and intrigued by. He thought he'd caught flashes of feminine interest on her part throughout the afternoon, but not enough to dispel the lingering doubt.

Maybe it was best she thought of him as a pet project. The real him would probably terrify her. Hell, it scared him enough. He didn't need to turn her away too.

Another shiver rippled through her and his arm cramped with the need to wrap her up close. “We should go,” he said gruffly, the startled glance she gave him making him feel like a brusque asshole. “It's only gonna get colder,” he added to soften the abrupt words. “I'll take you back to your hotel so you can warm up and meet Mike for dinner.”

He didn't like the thought of her having dinner alone with the doctor, but he had no right to feel territorial or jealous. She could have dinner with, go out with, and sleep with whoever she wanted. It was none of his business, despite the thought of her with another man being enough to make him feel like growling.

Ahmed shut the master bathroom door behind him with a sigh and began unbuckling his belt, eyeing the newspaper laid on the counter beside the toilet. Lily had placed it there for him as she always did, knowing he would come up here to unwind and read when he got home. She was downstairs, engrossed as usual in one of the many reality TV shows she was addicted to.

She barely noticed when he came home anymore, though he had to shoulder some of the blame. Besides taking on extra shifts at work that had him away some nights and the regular meetings he attended with some men from his mosque taking up others, he hadn't made much of an effort to reconnect with her.

The thought saddened him. Not so long ago, Lily would have met him at the door with a hug and a kiss, telling him how much she'd missed him. Now, she acknowledged his presence with a mumbled hello and didn't even glance up from her show. How had they grown so far apart in three years of marriage that had begun so happily?

While he went about his business in the bathroom, Ahmed thought of the last meeting he'd attended. The group he belonged to had grown increasingly radical in their ideology, but he strongly believed in their cause. The very existence of Islam was in jeopardy if America and the western world succeeded in their tyrannical wars in the Middle East. Too many innocent Muslims had died defending their faith. Ahmed and his friends felt they had to do something to help their suffering brothers and sisters.

There'd been recent talk that something big was about to happen, and that it involved Farouk Tehrazzi. It was said he might contact Ahmed's group for help with a specific operation, so he and the other members had been careful to safeguard their privacy these past few weeks in case the police or CSIS had spies planted amongst them.

And, of course, the secrecy kept their wives from finding out what they were involved in. Lily had no clue about any of it and Ahmed was glad. She would be appalled and never understand why he'd chosen his path.

When his wife called his name saying he had a phone call, he shifted on the toilet seat and set down his paper on the granite counter. “Tell them I'll call back,” he shouted so she could hear him downstairs.

“It's long distance!” she yelled back, clearly annoyed her show had been interrupted. “Pakistan!”

A chill snaked down his spine. Could be relatives, but... it could also be something imminently more dangerous.

Ahmed sighed and wiped himself, then flushed and washed his hands before padding out of the en suite into the bedroom. After a moment's hesitation, he picked up the extension. “Hello?” He heard Lily hang up, then a man's voice came on the line.

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

He frowned at the brusque command and unfamiliar voice. “Yes, hold on.” He rifled through the drawer in the bedside table. “All right.”

“Call this number in exactly five minutes, and make sure the line is secure.”

Copying the number, Ahmed's heart thudded in his chest. Was this the “something big” they'd been expecting? He hung up, then retrieved a pre-paid cell phone and waited the remaining three minutes before dialing the number. His hand shook as he waited for the call to go through.

When it connected, a second's pause filled the line before a soft, well-modulated male voice answered. “Ahmed. I have heard good things about you.” His English was flawless.

He gulped.
Holy...
“M-Mr. Tehrazzi. I've been expecting your call.” Dreading it, would be more accurate.

“Everything secure on your end?”

Nervous, he glanced around, but of course he was still alone. His wife was no doubt deep into her program again. He didn't have to worry about her overhearing or eavesdropping. The prepaid phone meant he couldn't be traced. “Yes.”

“I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you.”

He held his breath.

“My sources tell me you are resourceful and reliable.”

His hand tightened on the phone. “I'm honored they think so highly of me.”

Tehrazzi gave a noncommittal grunt. “There are two events happening in Vancouver this weekend. The medical conference you are aware of, but there is also a wedding. I need you to make some last-minute arrangements.”

Ahmed gripped the cell phone tighter in his left hand and listened to the detailed instructions. With each one his stomach drew tighter and tighter. He didn't dare write anything down, so he filed it all away in his head for later. He had an excellent memory.

This was an enormous task, and one he was not comfortable with. Before tonight, he'd only donated money to the cause and attended meetings. He'd never been directly involved with a plot, and never dreamed he would be called upon to carry out something so heinous. He wiped his upper lip with the sleeve of his pinstriped Oxford shirt, already panicking about how he would get out of this. Or if he even could.

“I assume you understand everything?” Tehrazzi said, the eerie calm in his voice sending shivers over Ahmed's skin. To be able to order something like this without any emotion made him think the great leader had no conscience. Or perhaps he simply did not value human life the way Ahmed did.

“Yes.” He had three days to pull this off. But could he carry out the orders? Actually go through with the plot when the time came? A bubble of panic surfaced, threatening to overwhelm him. He forced it away.

Technically it wouldn't be him performing the deed, would it? He'd arrange someone in their group to carry out the tasks so he wouldn't have blood on his hands. And he'd make sure he had a reliable alibi, to protect himself. He mentally listed the possibilities. Above all, for this to work, he had to maintain his image.

He cleared his throat. “Anything else, sir?”

“I will make contact with you once the operation is completed.” Tehrazzi paused. “I warn you now that failure to comply will not be tolerated. Dire consequences would result.”

Ahmed's heart, beating so fast up until now, seemed to stop altogether.
Dire consequences.

He'd heard stories... Stories about what Tehrazzi did to those who failed him, or worse, betrayed him. Pictures of their fate had circulated on the Internet. Was it already too late for him to get out? Did taking this phone call mean he had no choice? “I... I understand.”

Before he could drum up the courage to ask anything else, the line went dead in his clammy grip.

Thursday morning

Fairmont Waterfront

She was so afraid. All the time, afraid. All her senses remained in a state of exhausted overload, her body sluggish despite the roar of adrenaline in her veins.

She crouched in the snow, waiting for something. What was it? Couldn't remember. Rescue? Or her captors, coming to kill her?

Neveah trembled in the cold while gentle snowflakes fell around her. The mountains. She was in the mountains in Afghanistan. What was she waiting for? She was free— she should be running away as fast as she could. But something held her there.

Her eyes and ears strained in the darkness. The icy wind whipped over her body and through her tattered, filthy clothes as though trying to clean her. She'd never be clean again. Even if she lived through whatever was coming, she would always be dirty, tainted by what she'd seen and lived through.

She held her breath as the sound of an engine reached her. Rising from her crouched position, she stared down the mountain through the swirling veils of snow and remembered.

Rhys was coming for her. He'd taken her away from the men who had imprisoned her and filled her mind with nightmares she would never be able to erase. The engine grew louder, coming closer, Rhys behind the wheel of the truck.

Stop!
She screamed the word in her mind.
Rhys, you have to stop!

The truck kept coming, and her heart filled with grief. “No,” she whispered as tears welled up. He was too far away to hear her. She couldn't stop what was coming. She never could.

The truck appeared in the distance, in blackout mode with its headlights off. A gray Toyota pickup. Though she knew what was coming she couldn't tear her eyes off it. She had to see it, had to watch it happen so she could get to him. Sorrow tightened her throat as the vehicle struggled toward her, moving in slow motion along with the beat of her heart. It echoed in her ears. Hollow, like a drum.

Thump-thump... Thump-thump...

The sudden explosion knocked her off her feet. Rolling to her side in the snow, her eyes flew to the orange-and-yellow ball of fire rising into the night sky. To the flames engulfing the truck. And Rhys. He was burning alive inside it while she watched.

On a ragged scream, Neveah shot to her feet and raced down the hillside. The heat of the fire burned hotter with each step, and she saw the outline of Rhys's body in the blazing interior, his arms waving desperately as he tried to extinguish the flames. Sobbing, she ran until her thighs trembled and her lungs threatened to explode.