by Belle Ami
“You set Aryeh up as a traitor based on his desire to rescue his nephew? Are the diamonds even in Beirut?”
“No, they’re in my safe, but no one knows that either.”
“What makes you think they’re planning an EMP? And why now?”
“That’s where the intercepted encrypted message comes in. Hezbollah named this operation Nhaih alalam. Anh alkshh alakherh.”
Cyrus whispered the translation under his breath. “The end of the world. The last straw.”
The Ramsad nodded. “The last straw was the United States recognition of Jerusalem as our capital.”
“The interception also mentioned a onetime opportunity to do away with the big and little Satans, the United States and Israel.” The Ramsad’s eyes narrowed. They looked as if they could pierce armored steel. “I’ve chosen you and Aryeh to stop this from happening.”
Cyrus shook his head. “Sir, I’ve been working with Intel on the inside of Mossad for four years. To work in the field again—as an agent—a team leader—I’m not sure?"
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve just returned from a successful mission in the US. The reports from the FBI on you were glowing. Once an assassin, always an assassin. Once a spy, forever a spy.”
Cyrus stared at the photos on the screen of the ship and its deadly cargo. He knew everything he held dear might not survive such an attack.
The Ramsad continued. “They tell me an EMP strategically imploded high over the Negev and simultaneously over Kansas would leave both the US and Israel completely helpless and open to attack without any ability to respond. Armageddon.”
“Have you enlisted America’s help?”
“No, I can’t trust anyone. With a mole embedded among us, we must deal with this alone.”
Cyrus knew who could be trusted. The two FBI agents he’d worked undercover with, Cass Saladino and David Weiss. He’d trust them with his life. Covertly enlisting them would give him access to a lot more intelligence and back up.
“Cyrus, I know you’re thinking about the FBI agents you worked with in America. However, I forbid you from taking them into your confidence. This operation will be kept to a small circle of the need-to-knows.”
That ruled out Cass and David. Going against the Ramsad’s wishes would be suicide. “Why me, sir?”
“You must have known the day would come when your unique services would be called upon once more. I would think you’d be relieved to use those exceptional skills again.”
He hated to admit it, but what the Ramsad said was true. Rescuing Layla in Lancaster and preventing a nuclear meltdown at Three Mile Island had rekindled his sense of purpose. The shadow world had never left him. Safeguarding the world was what he was born to do. It was what he’d done before he was forced to blow his cover as a deep cover agent in Tehran. The fire to protect burned within his veins. Even now he could feel his pulse quicken at the thought of a mission. His only fear was that Layla would never forgive him for returning to the field and once more putting his life at risk. Walking through the minefield of his wife’s anger presented a challenge. He would do nothing that would threaten his relationship with the only woman he’d ever loved. She was his stability.
“Cyrus, I know you’ve just united with your family, but I’m afraid your country needs you. You are the man for this job, and I won’t take no for an answer. If you need me to speak to Layla, I will.”
Cyrus grinned at the thought of the Ramsad and Layla locking horns. “No, thank you, sir, I’ll handle Layla.”
“Good. Your work begins at once. The Research Department is creating a new legend for you. The Team has already been notified and is ready to coalesce under your leadership. You will leave for Beirut in three days. I need you and the team there to assist Aryeh. I suggest you put your affairs in order. Tomorrow we begin.”
“Yes, sir.” Cyrus knew this was a call to serve he could not ignore. My country needs me. Layla will have to understand.
»»•««
It was after midnight by the time Cyrus got home. He threw his keys on the side table near the door and walked to the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten and was starving. His dinner was on the table with a note from Layla. Wake me when you get home. Heat the salmon in the microwave. Salad’s in the fridge. I love you, Superman. Cerise missed having dinner with you. Your Kryptonite. He laughed. In Tehran, she’d nicknamed him Superman when he’d rescued her from Evin prison. The kryptonite reference was new and befitted her effect on him.
Thinking of Cerise, his bundle of redheaded energy, made him desperate to fill his senses with her. He took the stairs two at a time and crept into her bedroom. A sliver of moonlight lit her hair. Her red curls looked like flames splayed across the pillow. He kneeled beside the bed and placed a feather light kiss on her forehead. To his dismay, her Nile green eyes the exact color of his blinked open. Before she could squeal his name, he placed a finger against her lips. “Shh…Ceri. We don’t want to wake Ima.”
“Aba, you missed dinner. Where were you?”
Cerise was a lot more clingy with her parents due to their absences over the last few months. A twinge of guilt crept up his spine at the thought of leaving her again. “Daddy had to go to the office, baby. I had some things to do, and it took longer than I expected. Forgive me?”
She furrowed her brow, and he nearly laughed aloud at her expression, which was identical to her mother’s whenever she was making a decision.
“Oh Aba, I forgive you.” Then, looking toward the door as if to confirm they were alone, she whispered, “But you’d better ask forgiveness from Ima. She looked sad you weren’t here for dinner. She made your favorite, salmon.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll do that, metuka. Thank you for your good advice.” He picked up Arnav, her stuffed rabbit that had fallen off the bed. Placing her well-loved toy in her arms, he whispered. “Close your eyes and go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, baby.”
She closed her eyes and fell asleep so quickly that for a moment he wondered if he’d just imagined their exchange. He shook his head. The innocent have no reason to toss and turn. He tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen. Placing the plate of salmon and rice in the microwave, he hit the rewarm button and watched the carousel turn.
“I told you to wake me.”
He turned. His reaction to Layla never changed. As always he felt both a carnal burning desire and a spiritual love. Layla was his redemption. Her auburn hair was tousled, and she wore a tee-shirt and booty shorts. He couldn’t help his sudden intake of breath or stop the blood rushing through his veins.
“It’s late, and I didn’t want to deprive you of your beauty sleep. But I can see it doesn’t matter because with or without it you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She smiled. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Sit down and let me take care of my Superman.”
“I can never refuse you, eshgham.” When it came to words of love and passion he always reverted to his native Farsi.
She brought his food to him and sat next to him. She caressed his cheek. “How did it go, baby? Any news on Aryeh?”
“No.” He took a bite and hoped it would sustain him through the storm he knew was about to come when he told his wife he was returning to the field. “The Ramsad believes he may be a traitor.”
Layla’s eyes grew wide. “He’s wrong. It’s not possible. My God, if it wasn’t for Aryeh Cerise and my grandparents might have been murdered in cold blood. We’d have been dead too.” She shuddered.
“I know. That’s pretty much what I told Noam, but all the evidence points otherwise.”
A quirky smile filled her face. “You call him Noam now?”
He shrugged. “He insisted.”
“So what are they going to do about Aryeh?”
He took another bite, bracing himself. “The Ramsad wants me to run the operation to find Aryeh.”
“Good. That means you can find Aryeh and prove he’s innocent of whatever it is
they’re accusing him of doing.”
He reached out and took her hand in his. “Layla, it means I’ll be running an operation from Beirut. I’ll be in the field. It means leaving you and Cerise.”
She snatched her hand from his. The color drained from her face. “No! You said your days of being an active agent were over.” Tears filled her eyes, and she brushed them away.
Seeing her fall apart felt like his guts were being ripped out. He wrapped his arms around her. “Baby, I don’t have a choice. The Ramsad made it clear he won’t take no for an answer.” He caressed her belly where their unborn child grew.
Layla wove her fingers through his hair. “Can’t they find someone else? Why does it have to be you?”
“The Ramsad insists I’m the man.”
The anger in her eyes dissipated, replaced by suspicion. She scrutinized him. He averted his gaze, staring down at his food. “You want this, don’t you? Cerise and I aren’t enough, are we? This…” She looked around the kitchen. “This isn’t enough. You miss the excitement, the danger, the near-death moments. Tell me the truth.”
Raising his eyes, he held her gaze. “Layla, I love you and Cerise more than anything in this world, but this is who I am. It’s who I was when you met me. It’s who I’ll be until the day I die.”
She pushed him away and rose from her chair. Tears streamed down her face. He just sat and watched her walk out of the room. The thought of losing her made his heart constrict in his chest. He forced himself to eat. He’d give her some time to reconsider, to cool down. She was a firecracker, and he’d lit her fuse. He needed to let her steam until her anger fizzled out.
»»•««
Layla curled up in bed, hugging her knees, her thoughts in turmoil. Her cheeks burned with anger and frustration. She wanted to claw out Aryeh’s eyes. His disappearance had brought on this nightmare.
Taking deep breaths, she calmed her fury. She’d seen red when she realized Cyrus was going to Beirut on a mission where he could be killed. After he’d rescued her from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, she’d developed PTSD. She and Cyrus were estranged, and they both went through counseling. Now, when they’d finally worked out their problems and recommitted to each other Mossad was going to tear him away from her and Cerise. Was she to stand by and not fight for the only man she’d ever loved? She dug her nails into her palms until tears welled in her eyes. She needed to think rationally instead of emotionally.
She breathed deeply and found her equilibrium. Just when she reached a sense of calm, a freight train of guilt hit her. She’d let down the man who meant everything to her. She was a coward and so afraid of losing him that she’d behaved like a spoiled brat. As always, he was the tower of strength and reason while she was the child he had to cajole into making the right decision.
In many ways, she didn’t understand him. This man, this seemingly cold-hearted spy, had blown his cover as a mole to escape with her from Iran. His love for her was so deep that he’d risked everything to rescue her from the clutches of a terrorist. Nothing about him had changed. His work defined him. His dedication to neutralizing the bad actors of the world is what made him tick. If she took his purpose from him, she might as well castrate him. She’d be separating him from his soul, and it would destroy the man she’d fallen in love with.
Her head was spinning. How could she take back the words she’d hurled at him? How could she make this right? She didn’t have to see him to feel his presence. She was curled up with her back to the door, but she knew his eyes were on her. She pretended to be asleep. Get ready for bed, Cyrus.
Her silent wish realized, he walked past the bed. She watched as he disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later she heard the shower running. When she heard the door open, she snapped her eyes shut. Squinting, she saw him emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. The sight of him naked made her heart pound. She never tired of looking at him. Sometimes it amazed her that he was hers. So many times when he kept late hours at Mossad headquarters her insecurities had wreaked havoc in her mind. She knew over the years many women must have made a play for him. She understood why. Cyrus exuded danger and sex appeal. His pale green eyes radiated intelligence and passion. In her heart, she knew he loved nothing more than her, but still, her insecurities sometimes got the better of her.
He moved around the room, his muscles rippling like a tiger on the prowl and the thought of his touch sizzled through her like a volt of electricity through a wire.
His sigh when he got in bed was one of frustration. She imagined the quagmire his thoughts must be in. She knew she’d twisted him into a knot only she could untie. She scooted back, snuggling against him and heard his breath catch. He didn’t wrap himself around her though, and it annoyed her.
She turned to look at him. His hands were behind his head, and he was staring at the ceiling.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“I’m not sure you’d be pleased to hear what I’m thinking,” he said.
“Probably not, but I still want to know.”
Silence.
She turned over and rested her head on his arm and her hand on his chest. “You know, I said a lot of things earlier that were thoughtless.” She toyed with the hair on his chest. “It’s…it’s just that I love you so much and I reacted with fear. The thought of losing you…I—”
He rolled to his side facing her. “A lot of what you said is true. I do miss the action, the danger, but it’s nothing compared to what you mean to me, aziz am. Without you I’m nothing. Soulless. Dead. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I do, and I’m sorry I didn’t understand and support you. I know you have to do this. I just want you to come home to me.”
He smiled. “Trust me. I will.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I think we need to make some memories to keep me warm when I’m lying alone in Beirut missing my muse.”
Pleasure swelled in her when she felt his hardness throbbing against her. His lips enfolded hers, his tongue delving deep inside her mouth. All her worries dissolved like a sugar cube in hot tea. Four years together and every time he touched her it still felt like the first time. She loved his patience. He never rushed when it came to making love to her. His tongue and lips feasted on her as if she were his dessert and he was determined to devour every crumb.
“Eshgham.” He brought his forehead to hers, his member throbbing against her pelvis. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? I can’t live without you, my love.”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him on his forehead and cheeks. “Cyrus, I could never love anyone else.”
A deep groan rumbled in his chest. The vibration like an arrow to her core charged her desire. She trembled against him.
“I need to feel our bodies as one,” she begged. “I love you so much.”
“Oh Layla, your love is everything to me. All I want to do is love you until we both disappear.”
She ran her hand over him, feeling him harden. “Then show me.”
He took her with the force of a released dam. She gasped with pleasure, opening to him, giving herself to him. She belonged to him. Their hearts pounded in harmony. She was his symphony and he, the soloist, played her like a virtuoso. In an earth-shaking crescendo, they exploded together, their bodies stiffening in the timelessness of love satisfied. The way he loved her, the feeling of him inside of her electrified her. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.
Slowly their hearts settled back into an even percussion. She adored the weight of his body on hers. “Cyrus?”
“Hmmm…”
“Do you think it’s a boy?”
He raised his head and searched her eyes. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter does it?”
“No, but I want a son.”
He smiled, his right brow lifting in an arch. “If it’s not, we’ll just make another one.” He kissed her and nibbled on her lower lip. “I kind of like the process.”
She sighed, feeli
ng him harden within her. “Me too.” She undulated beneath him, wanting more of him.
“I think we should practice as much as possible,” Cyrus whispered in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe.
She closed her eyes, arching into him. “Every great performance deserves an encore.”
“I believe the last one deserved a standing ovation.”
“Bravo,” she giggled as he pulled her in for a repeat command performance.
Chapter Two
Kfar Saba, Israel
Cyrus drove through the gates of what looked to be a modest house and orchard on the outskirts of Kfar Saba. The property was at the end of an unmarked road and completely isolated. He’d spent the drive wondering what kind of reception he’d get from Aryeh’s team. He was certain they’d be suspicious of a stranger just walking in and taking over. He knew he would be.
A tall, thin man with a shaved head waited for him in the drive. He got out of the car, and the man approached. Icy blue eyes locked on his. “Welcome to the farm, Cyrus. I’m Yitzak, the team’s coordinator, and strategic planner.”
“Good to meet you, Yitzak.”
Cyrus looked around at the rather dilapidated property. He was perplexed at what looked to be a simple wood door entrance to an ordinary farmhouse. He followed Yitzak to the entrance. Yitzak looked up into a hidden camera, and the sound of sliding bolts revealed a six-inch-thick armored door.
“Facial recognition?”
“Yeah, through the iris. Everyone working at the farm has their eyes scanned. It beats carrying a key. Elon, our technology guru, will scan yours into the system. I suppose you know your eye color is pretty distinct.”
“Yeah, they’re a pain in the ass when I’m trying to be incognito. In Iran, it wasn’t a problem, but in the rest of the Middle East I have to wear contacts.” He grinned. “But the ladies used to like them when I was single. By the way, I don’t think you’re going to pass muster in most of the Middle East either.”
