Seduced by His Target (16 page)

And his heart dove. The night had been a mistake. He’d made a huge error in judgment succumbing to the hunger she provoked—because nothing had really changed. She was still a woman under his protection. She was still a vulnerable civilian caught up in a deadly affair. And she was still the kind of woman who needed a man who could love and protect her—a man his past failures proved he could never be.

Shoving his hair from his face, he expelled a sigh. He’d made a mistake, all right. He’d surrendered to their mind-boggling chemistry, resulting in the best damned sex of his life. And then he’d compounded the problem by staying the night—a blunder that could have gotten them killed. If one of the terrorists had missed him, if the cartel had checked to make sure he was on duty outside, they’d both be dead.

But somehow, lying next to her on the quilted mattress, with her soft hair caressing his shoulder, her tempting body within easy reach, he couldn’t seem to care. He turned his head, just able to make out her profile—the entrancing curve of her lips, the dark sweep of her lashes against her pale cheeks, her long, black hair streaming over her shoulders and spilling across the bed. The sheet had slipped, baring one tantalizing breast to his gaze. His body instantly hardened, and he shook his head, amazed he had any energy left after the night they’d shared. By rights he should be exhausted. Instead, every part of him surged to life again.

Unable to resist, he stroked her hair, winding several glossy strands around his finger, then inhaling the erotic scent. God, she smelled good—her hair, her skin. Enthralled, he traced the slope of her breast, marveling over its perfect shape. Her nipple peaked in response, prompting a corresponding throb in his groin.

Her beauty overwhelmed him. He was hard-pressed to find a single flaw. Her face had a rare kind of symmetry, each feature coming together to create a marvel of nature—that straight, feminine nose, the delicate flare of her winged brows, the elegant angle of her fine-boned jaw. And that mouth...his blood went hot, the memory of how those lips had looked doing any number of erotic things during the past several hours making his body turn rock-hard.

He flopped onto his back and groaned. Calling this the most fantastic night of his life was an understatement. And he was raring for another round.

But he couldn’t ignore the future—or lack of one. Neither of them had wanted to discuss it. They’d been too caught up in the tornado exploding between them to stop and reason things out. But now...

“What’s wrong?” she murmured, her voice scratchy with sleep.

“Nothing.”

She rose on one elbow, her hair spilling over her naked shoulders and breasts. His breath stalled, the arousing sight rendering him incapable of speech. And without warning, a feeling of possessiveness took root inside him, the urge to claim this woman as his— something he had no damned right to feel.

She angled her head, her green eyes dark in the shadowy room. “Listen, Rasheed. Just for the record, I’m not... I don’t have any expectations after this. This was just something that happened, not anything we expected or planned. So don’t start worrying that I want more.”

“You deserve more.” Regrets pulled at his voice.

“Maybe. And maybe not. In any case, I don’t want it. You, me... It just can’t work.”

He agreed. But hearing her say it bothered him more than he would have believed. Frowning, he tucked his hand behind his head and stared up at the shadowed ceiling, the paddle fan standing idle in the dark.

“I’m not the man I used to be,” he admitted. “Living with terrorists, the things I had to do in the training camps...it changed me. I don’t have relationships anymore. It’s just not in me now.”

And even if it were, he couldn’t do it. He bore the burden of his past failure. He could never escape the reality of what he’d done. He’d been so determined to take down the terrorists, so sure that he’d prevail, that he’d overlooked the threat to his wife. And he refused to ever hold the fate of another defenseless woman in his hands.

Nadine placed her hand on his arm, the soft touch twining around his heart. “I’m serious, Rasheed. This really isn’t necessary. I don’t have relationships, either, definitely not anything long-term. So let’s just leave it at that, okay? A night we both enjoyed.”

Enjoyed?
That pale word didn’t come close to describing the mind-altering sex they’d shared. Still, he knew he should feel relieved. She was offering him the perfect way out. And normally, at this point, he couldn’t wait to hit the door. The last thing he’d ever wanted was a woman begging him to stay.

But damned if he didn’t
want
to stay this time.

Startled, he sat up. “I need to go before anyone comes by.”

“Do you think Amir’s going to be a problem?” Worry laced her voice.

“It’s hard to say. I think I convinced him to leave us alone. But he’s pretty thick. We need to stay on guard.”

She nibbled her lip, a small line forming between her brows. “I forgot to tell you. There was a man with him last night. Another Arab. I saw him just before you showed up. He had a long beard, a thin face, medium height.”

“I met him. He arrived right after we did.”

“So he’s a terrorist?”

“Yeah. His name is Abu Jabril.”

“That doesn’t sound like his real name.”

“No, it’s a nom de guerre.” Most terrorists assumed fake names to hide their identities. “I’m not sure why he’s here, though. I’ve been trying to find out.”

“He looked familiar.”

He shot her a glance. “You know him?”

She grimaced. “I don’t know. I could be wrong. He has a pretty generic face.”

But if they could link him to the upcoming plot... “If you remember anything, let me know. We need all the clues we can get.”

“I will.” She sat up. Her hair fell back, baring her glorious breasts. His gaze dropped, the sight banishing any thoughts of terrorists from his mind. His blood thickened, his good intentions evaporating like rain in the desert sand.

With a groan, he gave up and kissed her. A distant part of him knew he should worry, that he was getting in way over his head.

But then instincts took over, and he didn’t think again for a long time.

Chapter 11

B
y rights he should feel pleased. Nadine’s decoy had arrived on the island. The mission was going according to plan. They had a new lead in the investigation—al Kahtani’s old
hawala
connections—along with a mysterious newcomer who might provide a clue. With luck, they’d soon get the breakthrough they needed to dismantle the Rising Light network and stop the upcoming attack.

And to top it off, he’d just experienced the most exhilarating sex of his life. He should feel sated, satisfied, relieved the end was finally in sight.

So why did he want to start another knife fight or hurl his coffee cup across the beach?

Perched on a boulder in a hidden cove, he scowled at the sparkling sea. The midday sun beat on his scalp. Sweat beaded his forehead and pasted his shirt to his back. A flock of seagulls screeched as they dive-bombed a fishing boat trawling offshore, their raucous shrieks reverberating through his skull.

“Are you listening to me?” Ochoa asked.

“Yeah, I’m listening.” He downed a slug of the sludgelike coffee, then dragged his gaze back to the agent standing beneath a pine tree, loading pine needles into his wheelbarrow to use as mulch.

“She speaks Jaziirastani,” Ochoa continued. “She’s Nadine’s height and weight, and has the same general appearance, so as long as no one looks at her too closely, we’re good to go. She’s sharp, too, a real quick study. It won’t take her long to get up to speed.”

Rasheed choked down another swallow of coffee. Ochoa had made good on his promise. Patricia Ramirez, the agent who would serve as Nadine’s decoy, had arrived first thing that morning on the nearby fishing boat. She’d scuba dived to shore and was now ensconced in the clinic with Nadine, posing as a maid while she learned her role.

He should be glad. He
was
glad, damn it. For once everything was going the way they’d planned.

And they had to use a decoy. He had to remove Nadine from her family’s reach. Just because they’d had earth-moving sex didn’t change that fact. It didn’t matter if she’d touched something inside him. It didn’t matter if a barrage of erotic memories kept derailing his thoughts—the heavenly taste of her skin, the sultry feel of her amazing mouth, the incredible pleasure of her throbbing around him as he’d hurtled into oblivion time after time.... And it didn’t matter if he had the worst kind of need to haul her into his arms, run with her to somewhere safe and forever shelter her from harm.

He wasn’t that kind of man anymore. He knew it. She knew it. His experiences had changed him in a fundamental way, tainting him too badly to ever lead a normal life. Now, for her sake, he had to step away.

“Get her on the next supply boat,” Ochoa was saying. “She’ll have to hide in the maintenance shed until then.”

Rasheed tossed back another gulp of coffee, needing the infusion of caffeine to clear his head. Luckily, Ochoa was too busy talking to notice his foul mood.

A mood which made no sense.
Because this was exactly what he wanted—Nadine gone. Safe. Out of his life for good.

Ochoa walked over and leaned on his rake. “What’s going on?”

He frowned. “What?”

Ochoa jerked his head toward the fishing boat. “You look like you’re planning to shoot someone on that boat.”

Rasheed sighed. So maybe Ochoa had noticed his crummy mood. He rubbed his eyes again. “Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep, that’s all. I was guarding her cottage all night.”

Ochoa tipped back the brim of his ball cap. His astute eyes studied his. “Aw, Christ. So that’s what this is about.”

“What?”

“You’re sleeping with her. That’s why you don’t want her on that plane.”

His face burned, but he knew it was futile to deny the truth. Ochoa wasn’t blind, and Rasheed probably had “great sex” tattooed on his face. But it was none of the agent’s business what he and Nadine did. “You got a problem with that?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a problem with that. She could get into that house for us. This is the perfect chance. But instead, you’re letting your damned di—”

“Shut up, Ochoa. The answer’s still no.”

Ochoa’s face flushed. He took off his ball cap, slammed it against his thigh and shoved it back on his head. “You’re not thinking straight.”

He was right. The idea of Nadine in danger completely unnerved him, making it impossible to stay detached. And the worst of it was that this possessiveness was totally baseless. She wasn’t his. She could never be his. He had no right to dictate what she did.

“Forget it,” he repeated. “She’s not going in there. It’s not even up for discussion. Now what else do I need to know?”

Scowling, Ochoa stomped back to the pine tree, then jabbed his rake at the ground. “Just one thing. They were loading the plane this morning.”

His heart skipped hard. “You think we’re taking off soon?”

“It looks that way. I tried to get at the engine, but they had it under guard, so I couldn’t create a delay.” He shot him a glare. “Which is all the more reason to send the real woman in.”

Rasheed stared back until Ochoa raised his hands in defeat. “All right, fine. We’ll stick with the decoy.”

Damn right they would. “Any news about that new guy, Abu Jabril?”

“Not yet. We’re still looking into it.” Ochoa ducked his head. “Don’t look now, but we’ve got a guard coming our way.”

And he had a terrorist to check out. He slid off the rock, then paused. “You’ll get her off the island when the time comes, right?”

Ochoa scooped up a pile of pine needles and loaded them into the wheelbarrow. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it arranged. She’ll get away fine.”

“Good.” That was all that mattered, keeping Nadine safe.

No matter what the cost to his heart.

* * *

“The study’s in the main wing off the dining room.” Nadine bent over the drawing she’d made of her family’s compound and labeled the last two rooms. “The fastest way to get there is through the kitchen. I used to spend a lot of time talking to the cook, so no one will be surprised to see you there. And the study’s just down the hall.”

She drew an arrow on the map, then pushed it across the table to Patricia Ramirez, the woman who would play her part.

The agent studied the map. “When’s the safest time to avoid the cook?”

She sighed. “It’s hard to say—it’s been so many years. It used to be early, before five-thirty. Or after the men had their breakfast, and the cook had time to clean up, around eight. I’ll check with Leila to make sure their schedule hasn’t changed.”

Patricia folded the map, then stuffed it in her pocket, along with the other notes they’d made. “I think I’ve got it. You can quiz me tomorrow.”

Nodding, Nadine rose. She had to hand it to the CIA; Patricia was good. She spoke fluent Arabic and Jaziirastsani. Her memory was beyond compare. She even bore an uncanny resemblance to Nadine, her long black wig and green contact lenses adding to the effect. And she’d attacked this project with an intensity Nadine admired. She’d insisted on working through lunch, making do with a hurried bowl of
ceviche
so they’d have more time to train.

As a result, she could now credibly mimic Nadine’s gestures. She knew the family dynamics and could “reminisce” about various events. She’d even devised a plan for Nadine to come down with “laryngitis,” minimizing her need to talk.

Of course, she had a good reason for that kind of drive. The price for failure was huge. And there was still so much that could go wrong, so many family and cultural land mines that could trip her up—and expose her for a fraud.

Nadine blocked off her doubts. This would work. The CIA was busy behind the scenes in Virginia, doing their part to help pull it off. They were even manufacturing a crisis at her father’s bank, a critical problem that would draw him away from the house at the moment Patricia arrived. They just needed to get her inside the compound, fooling the staff long enough to unearth those files.

“I’ll meet you here first thing in the morning,” Patricia promised.

“Bring the floor plan with you. We’ll go over it in more detail after I talk to Leila and make some contingency plans, depending on where they lock you up.”

“I will.” The agent picked up her bucket of cleaning supplies and left the room.

Alone now, Nadine walked across the exam room to the window and looked outside. A few seconds later, Patricia appeared on the path, then disappeared into the jungle, heading toward her unknown hiding place.

Stifling a yawn, Nadine rested her forehead against the glass, unable to avoid the reality she’d tried to block out all day. Her ordeal was almost over. In a few short days, Patricia would get on that plane with her brother, and Ochoa would spirit her safely away. She could finally check on her friends and see Henry. She could return to her normal life.

Hopefully, Rasheed would halt the attack. Patricia would find the information they needed to put her family under arrest. And she’d finally put an end to the fear and death threats that had plagued her all her life.

But instead of feeling relieved, her stomach churned. The thought of not seeing Rasheed again filled her with an awful dread. And it wasn’t only because she was worried about his safety. She didn’t want to leave
him.
Somehow he’d breached her defenses over the past few days. Somehow he’d gotten to her. And for the first time in her life, she was in danger of falling in love.

Which was absurd. Rasheed didn’t want a future with her; he’d made that abundantly clear. And that was fine. She didn’t want anything long-term with him! So what if he confused her? So what if he challenged everything she’d once believed about men? She was a realist. This rogue kind of wistfulness had to stop. She just had to enjoy their time together, however brief it was.

And keep a tight leash on her traitorous heart.

Just then her brother appeared on the path. She instinctively recoiled, his slick good looks filling her with distaste. Jerked abruptly back to reality—and the charade she had to help pull off—she darted into the recovery room and grabbed a pillow then raced to the bathroom down the hall. She quickly shut the door, then buried her face in the pillow and screamed with all her might, trying to make herself hoarse. She paused, unwrapped the slice of lemon she’d saved from the
ceviche
and squeezed some drops into her throat, and screamed into the pillow again.

Coughing, she exited the bathroom. She returned to Leila’s room and started bustling around, still hacking into her sleeve.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sultan asked, striding through the door a moment later.

“I’m coming down with a cold. I think I’m losing my voice.” Thankfully, she sounded raspy enough to back that up.

Grimacing, he stepped away. “Don’t breathe on me.”

“I’ll try not to.” She coughed again, trying to prolong the hoarseness as she trailed him to Leila’s side.

“Oh, Sultan,” Leila said, looking up. “What do you think about my cheeks? Nadira did a good job, didn’t she?”

He tossed the sport bag he was carrying into an empty armchair and glanced at his wife. “You don’t look any better to me.”

Leila’s face fell. She bit her lip and blinked, her eyes shiny with tears.

Nadine clenched her jaw. Damn Sultan! Did he always have to be so cruel? “She’s doing great. She has a bit of swelling, that’s all. It’s normal. She’ll look better every day. In another week she’s going to be gorgeous.”

“She’d better. I’d hate to think this was all a waste.”

Leila studied her hands, obviously trying not to cry. Nadine shot Sultan a glare, wishing she could convince her sister-in-law to leave him, that she’d be better off on her own.

But they’d been through this before, and Leila would never agree. She felt bound to her husband by the vows she’d made. And pathetic or not, twisted as it was, she loved Sultan. She would never divorce him, never do anything that could be construed as disloyal—such as helping Nadine escape.

He motioned to the sport bag on the chair. “I brought your things. We’re leaving in half an hour.”

“What?” Nadine jerked up her head. “Leaving for where?”

“Home.”

“Back to the States?”

“Where else?”

“But she can’t fly yet. She just had surgery.”

“She doesn’t have a choice. It’s time to go.” He checked his watch. “Both of you stay here. I’ll be back in half an hour with the car.” Not waiting for an answer, he strode back into the hall.

Panicked, Nadine went in pursuit. They
couldn’t
leave yet. She hadn’t finished training her decoy. There was too much Patricia didn’t know. And flying this soon after surgery could endanger Leila’s health. “Stop,” she called.

Sultan paused at the end of the hallway and glanced her way. “What do you want now?”

“She can’t do it, Sultan. It’s only been a day since the surgery. She’s still in the postoperative phase.”

“So?”

“So she needs to rest.” She struggled to reason with him. “Look, any kind of activity right now is bad, even walking. Movement increases her blood flow. That causes bruising, swelling. It prolongs her healing time.

“And a higher heart rate means higher blood pressure. She could have complications, like internal bleeding. She’s even at greater risk for blood clots, and I’m sure you’ve heard how deadly they can be. She needs to stay put for at least a few more days.”

Sultan shrugged. “You’ll just have to watch her to make sure nothing happens. Now go help her get dressed.” He made a show of glancing at his watch again. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes?
Dumfounded, she watched him leave. But his insensitivity was typical. She could hardly expect her self-centered brother to show compassion toward his wife. Heaven forbid that he thought about anyone besides himself. And frankly, she had a much bigger problem right now. She urgently needed to find Patricia—and she had no idea where to look.

She stuck her head into Leila’s room. “Can you get dressed by yourself? I need to run an errand.”

Leila stood beside the cot, unzipping the bag. “Sultan said to wait here.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” Her thoughts whirling, she ran outside. She stopped in front of the clinic and glanced around, but had no idea where to go. She didn’t even know how to contact Rasheed. And if she tried to return to her cottage, she’d alert the guards.