Running Hot (12 page)

“This is ridiculous.”

It felt that way, but she refused to back down. Keeping him safe meant everything right now. It was the one pocket she could control. “I'm in charge.”

“No you're not.” He went from holding the radio to talking into it. “Hello? I found this out here by this big wall. Is anyone there?”

The voice, so unsure and shaky. He sounded lost and confused. The perfect act.

The conversation with the guard continued for a few clipped sentences that ended with Ward being told not to move. He clicked the button off and stared at her.

“What the hell was that?” But she knew. In a way, she'd been played. He might have planned this all along.

“They'll be expecting a man now. That's me.” When she didn't say anything, he continued. “You'll be faster. You can create the diversion. Use the intel Ford collected. I'll get you ears in the room, but you need to set the charges. After, I'll get to the bure where the missiles are stored.”

She shook off the stunned silence. The urge to strangle him took longer to abandon. “Do we even know which one that is?”

“Ford narrowed it down to two.” Ward took off his watch and handed it to her.

She stood there, frozen. His blood still stained her hands, and the image of him going to the ground under that gunman played in her head. But for some reason, he was ready to go again. The idiot. “You're going to get yourself killed. You and Ford. Probably me too.”

“We'll see each other again.” He picked up her hand and held it. “That's a promise.”

She thought about snatching it back but refrained. Mostly because she wanted to touch him right then. The idea that it could be the last time had her trying to swallow over a lump lodged in her throat. “How can you be so sure?”

“We're not done.”

I
T TOOK ANOTHER
ten minutes to get him up and ready. They'd stripped off his weapons. Well, the obvious ones. And he had a mic, the perfect covert listening device. The disc measured no more than the size of a small black dot. It was the only way she'd hear what was happening to him inside.

She prepped the explosives, working fast. Panic drove her. She had the sense that she needed to get him out of there without delay. The churning inside her refused to subside, and if she calculated correctly, they didn't have too long before a storm rolled in. She could smell it on the breeze, feel the heaviness of the air.

“Where's Ward?”

She jumped a good five feet at the sound of Ford's voice. The man had the ability to approach without making a sound. The usual chill that ran over her when someone closed in never happened with Ford. The guy was downright spooky.

When she whipped around, he stood right behind her with his usual scowl. She shot him one right back. “How did you get out?”

His blank expression didn't change. “I don't understand the question.”

“You were taken hostage.”

“Not me.” He shook his head. “A tall blond-haired guy. Scar along the jawline.”

“Gareth.” Tall and fair and Welsh . . . and taken. Here she'd been thinking the worst, getting more frustrated with him at every turn, and he'd been snatched. Guilt pummeled her until she had to lean against a tree for support.

“Well, your man is in trouble,” Ford said.

She had a feeling that was a vast understatement. “So is yours.”

“Meaning?”

“Ward went in after you, or who he thought was you.” The assignment had been messed up from the start and had only gotten worse. Two countries on the ground not talking to each other, and now a missing agent and another one on the way to get captured. She couldn't imagine how this could go worse. “And he's injured.”

The blood drained from Ford's face. “What the fuck?”

“I tried to stop him.”

The unreadable gaze vanished. Anger and worry and a whole lot of other emotions played across Ford's face. “I should think so. It's a suicide mission.”

Ford might act nonchalant and have that lone-wolf vibe, but she saw that expression. He cared about Ward. That was a good thing since so did she. “We'll get Ward out.”

“The missiles and Ward. We need both.”

That was the mantra. The mission came first. But now, faced with losing Ward before she could see if there was anything there worth exploring, she realized her priorities had shifted. She suddenly didn't want to put finding a bad guy before a human life she cared about.

“He comes first,” she said, meaning every word.

“No, he doesn't.”

He did for her.

T
HE SHOVE INTO
the main bure sent Ward flying into the dining table. He smacked into the wood stomach-first and let out a groan that was more real than acting. He'd have a nice set of bruises there to match the pounding he'd just taken on his ribs and the punches to the jaw.

Tigana's men sure liked it rough, and the sick bastard liked to watch the beatings. Watch and direct, calling out where and how hard to hit next.

Fucking lunatic.

Before standing up, Ward dropped the mic. Not easy with his hands tied together in front of him, but not impossible. Problem was, from all the hits to the head and with his vision blurring, he could barely see it. Still, he managed to cover it with his shoe right before two guys shoved him in a chair and tied his wrists to the armrests.

Tasha would have limited ears in the room, but she'd know where Tigana was and when to detonate. But she had to get inside first. Not an easy task. She'd need one hell of a diversion, as he'd counted just under twenty men, six of whom stayed on Tigana at all times.

The man did like his security. And his food. He sat across from Ward now, picking up these small mesh screens he used to cover plates of food from the flies between bites. “You have made a serious mistake.” Tigana spoke in clear English with a slight accent. The years at Harvard had taught him well.

“I found something and tried to return it.” Ward kept to his cover story. That's what he'd said into the radio and to the four guards who came to fetch him. Then again to the two who beat the shit out of him.

Tigana sat back, and his chair creaked under his weight. Since arriving on the island, he'd put on a good twenty pounds. Sitting around, planning a country's demise did that to a guy. Now his stomach pushed over the top of his belt and his shirt buttons strained at the holes.

He ran his fingers over his wine glass, tracing the drips of condensation as they ran down the sides. “Where is the woman?”

That was a bad fucking question. If they knew about Tasha, the diversion was dead and so was she. “What woman?”

“You should know her partner likes to talk when he drinks.” Tigana put a hand over his glass when one of his servants tried to pour more in there. “It's shameful really.”

Gareth
. Ward decided to strangle that guy when they met. “I don't—”

“That sort of disloyalty disappoints me.” Tigana hesitated before taking another sip of wine. “What about you?”

“I don't know this woman.”

He swirled the remaining liquid in the glass. “Lying demands a stiff penalty, don't you think?”

Ward decided to play dumb. No doubt Tigana had a slow, painful death planned. Ward was in no rush to get to that. “I don't know.”

“I dislike betrayal.” He returned the glass to the table with a soft clink. No anger. Just a monotone voice talking nonsense. “My uncle tried to betray me, and I burned him alive.”

Ward knew. The entire intelligence community knew.

He'd seen the file. Understood the uncle had been working with the CIA. Working with anyone who could take out Tigana. “Please let me go.”

“Do you see that?” Tigana pointed behind Ward.

Ward tried to turn his head but couldn't see anything except the open walls and mass of greenery outside. He scanned what he could see—hand-carved furniture and bouquets of wildflowers on a few tables. Tigana had set up the bure to mirror an expensive resort.

Tigana nodded to his men, and Ward felt the room spin. Two guys shifted his chair until he saw directly behind him. The prone body, or at least his legs, sticking out from behind an overstuffed couch. “Your friend's partner screamed and begged. Very disturbing. I wonder if you will do the same.”

“Is he dead?” Ward forced his question to rise at the end like people in a state of panic tended to do.

“Very.” Tigana rested an elbow on the armrest and flashed the expensive rings on his fingers. “Now, tell me who you work for.”

Ward flipped from one cover to another. This one worked on Tasha, at least for a few days. “A financial company back in the United States.”

“This grows tiresome.” Tigana let his arm fall against the table with a hard smack. “Which government?”

“I'm a businessman here on vacation.” Ward rushed his words and let fear seep into his voice.

He'd been searched for weapons, but the idiots left the pen in his pocket after being so excited about finding the wallet full of fake documents. He moved his hands, trying to loosen the ties, pulling and tugging with as little movement as possible.

“I don't think you are.” Tigana nodded to one of his henchmen.

The man brought over a long knife with a serrated edge. One look had adrenaline surging through Ward. Not that he didn't know fear. He understood the sensation but channeled it into action, as he'd been trained to do. The message on the loop at the back of his mind said
at least Tasha is safe outside
. At some point, that began to matter more than almost everything else.

“I like knives.” Tigana ran his finger over the side of the blade. “My father taught me to use them when I was ten.”

Ward didn't talk because it looked as if Tigana had gotten lost in his story. Not that he needed to tell it. Ward knew all about Tigana and his entrance into killing. Age ten when his father challenged his manhood. The family really was awful. Almost made Ward appreciate the strict no-room-for-mistakes household he grew up in.

“I'm going to show you what I did the first time a man lied to me.” Tigana chuckled. “Maybe that will help your memory.”

Ward tensed as two men grabbed him from behind. One held a gun to his head as the other untied a hand. Stupid fucking move, but he'd take it. With one hand free he could grab a gun, strangle someone.

The tie had just been loosened when another man came into the room. He looked like all the others, twenty and holding too many weapons for him to handle effectively. Apparently there was no end to the parade of disaffected men looking for a new leader here on Fiji.

“Sir, we have her.”

Ward's stomach dropped. Fell to the damn floor. The buzz of energy that had been pulsing through him, preparing him, turned to stinging anxiety. There was only one her.

As soon as he thought it, three men dragged Tasha into the room. Without blinking she stood in the same gray tank and olive cargo pants she'd changed into after they had sex.

“Well, well.” Tigana stood up and pulled on the waistband of his pants, but his belt didn't go one inch higher. “We've been waiting for you.”

The guard who made the announcement about catching Tasha spoke up. “She says she's his fiancée.”

Tigana turned his feral smile back on Ward. “I thought you were here on business.”

With the guard having loosened the tie, Ward was so close to breaking free. Doing so had become imperative. He had to get free and get to her before Tigana put the plans he had for her into motion. “Vacation.”

“Come join us, my dear.” Tigana pulled out his chair and motioned for her to sit in it.

She didn't really have a choice. Between the bindings securing her and the guard holding her, she had to go where they put her, and they dumped her in the chair Tigana assigned.

“You are just in time.”

Her eyes narrowed just a fraction. “For what?”

“To hurt your fiancé.” Tigana nodded.

Before he could even focus, Tigana grabbed Ward's hand and flipped it palm up. He heard Tasha scream as a blade flashed and the knife came down. He'd been shot and stabbed, usually in the heat of battle or during an attack, so he didn't feel the wound until after. This time he saw the blade fall. Watched inch after inch disappear into his palm and pin him to the table.

Pain rolled over him, but he blinked it all away. He had to stay awake and in fighting form for her. Then he heard a noise and couldn't figure out if something exploded in his head or in the yard. Either way, it meant he had to remove the knife and get them the fuck out of there.

Chapter Ten

T
HE ROOM BROKE
into chaos. Men ran around shouting and yelling directions. Tasha heard a mix of languages and tried to break them apart. Her concentration kept bouncing, and she couldn't stop staring at Ward's hand.

His fingers curled in, and he leaned forward as if trying to ease the pain. Blood pooled on the table, and a blade stuck in the dead center.

She possessed a high tolerance for awful things. That was a mandatory characteristic for someone in her job. But this was sick and vicious, and she ached with the need to help him.

A group of men grabbed Tigana and shielded his body with theirs. No one seemed to notice her or care. Two guards lined up at the windows in shooting position. She knew they were wasting their time. Ford had just blown up one bure, and the second would explode any minute now. That should send the rest of them scattering.

Tigana grabbed onto the thick post that served as part of the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder at her, then at Ward. He got his guards' attention. “Kill them, then come.”

The order had been handed down. Ward shifted in his seat, but his bound hand kept him trapped there. No one had bothered to tie her up. It was one of the perks to her size and sex. Some men thought she couldn't fight back. They would learn.