“It…could work.” The tourist clothing was perfect for the city, but the more traditional garb was a little off. A little too new and starched to go unnoticed. But she could fix that with a bit of dirt and some rocks. Distress the fabric a little.
“Were you able to contact your team?” She unbuttoned her dress shirt. Regardless of where they went, she needed to look different. Clothes were merely the first step in changing her disguise. She could cut her hair, use some make-up.
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Zain can’t get us a plane out of the city. They’re looking for you. He said to hit the road. He could extract us from Israel, no problem.”
“No.” She shook her head, her blood pressure rising. “I can’t step foot inside Israel. By now, someone will have heard that I’m alive, and every Mossad agent will be looking for me.”
“Okay, suggestions?”
“You could—”
“Don’t say it.”
Abigail nodded. She’d expected him to refuse her suggestion, but she still had to put it out there.
“Beirut, then. I know people who can help us. We’ll need to avoid major roads. It’ll take twice the amount of time.” She pulled a tank top over her head and slipped a rugged, plaid button-up over it. It was roomy, and if she belted it just right she could add a good ten pounds to her appearance.
“So—eight, ten hours?”
“Yes.” She shed her pants and pulled on heavy cargo pants that were also too big, but paired with her belt they worked just fine.
“Piece of cake.” He pulled out some fruit and bread, sectioning off enough for both of their breakfasts.
“Did you scout for a ride?” She grabbed the headscarf and wound it around her neck, letting it fall and drape over her shoulders.
“There’s a beat-up Jeep a few streets over that would get us out of town and a-ways down the road.” Luke passed her a ball cap and sunglasses, both with tags still on.
“Good. We’ll need to swap rides when we can. Maybe hike across the border.”
“I guessed on the shoes.” He handed her a pair of new hiking boots.
“They’ll do.” She shoved her feet in them and wiggled her toes. Only a half size too big. He was good.
“How long until you’re—”
“Ready. Let’s go.” She balled up her former clothing with the new stuff, shoved it into a bag and looped the canvas strap her shoulder.
“Damn.” Luke grinned. “I’ll go first.”
“How are you at hotwiring a car?”
“I can do it.”
“I can probably do it faster.”
“You sure?”
“It was part of my basic training.”
“All right. Here.” He dug out a screw driver and pliers from the other bag.
She shoved them in her pockets.
“I’ll go first. Follow…what? Twenty feet behind? We’ll go down the alley, take a left, two streets, make a right, and go for three. Jeep was in an alley behind a…some sort of shop.”
“Got it.”
“Want me to carry that?”
“Luke. Go.”
He nodded and descended the stairs ahead of her. To his credit, he was relaxed, easy. Anyone who saw him would assume he was a tourist, lost on a morning stroll. His quick smile and charm had deceived even her in the beginning, before she realized just what he was. Trouble.
She took a moment to glance around the apartment. The bed was made, and any evidence of their presence had been wiped away, save for the dirty sheets. There was nothing to be done about those except hope whoever bought the place washed them.
Abigail followed Luke down the stairs and out of the door just in time to see him disappear around the corner. She blew out a breath, shoved her hands into her pockets, and strolled after him.
Things were beginning to wake up. People were out and about. Families on their way to school, the market or work. The sky was clear, blue, with not a trace of bad weather in sight. It might be easier to escape notice in a storm, but it would make their cross country trek more treacherous.
Then again, she could leave Luke now. He had a plan. People who’d take care of him.
She stopped at an intersection and watched him take the last turn.
This was her chance.
She could slip away now.
He wouldn’t think to notice for a few minutes and by then she could be gone. She knew the streets of Amman. Where she could hide. Even a few less-than-reputable people she could buy passage out of the country from. There was no reason to stay with him.
Except he hadn’t left her. When he could—should—have saved himself, he’d come back for her. She couldn’t turn her back on that. Not until he was safely extracted from her mess.
Plus…she wanted to follow him.
It was wholly irrational. She put him in danger. And yet…for the first time in ages, she wanted to be near another person. He didn’t know her whole history. But what he knew, some of the worst parts, he’d accepted. And that meant something.
She’d loved once, a long time ago, and that love had nearly killed her. It’d set her on a path she was still following. It was a love that had damned her, body and soul. But she didn’t have to love Luke. Maybe for a time, she could soak up the feeling of being alive. Remind herself what living was like again. And then they could part ways. It would be better that way.
Abigail stepped off the curb and jogged across the street.
It might be a mistake, but this was her choice. And for once, there wasn’t anyone telling her what to do.
9.
Luke tapped at the black screen, holding the phone up as if he were snapping pictures like a good tourist. Passersby smiled at him, but none looked farther than that. He checked his watch.
Five minutes.
An engine rumbled behind him.
He turned in time to catch sight of a beaten up Jeep Wrangler roll to a stop next to him, Abigail at the wheel.
Luke tossed his stuff in and vaulted into the Jeep. She eased the vehicle out onto the street. No peeling tires or plumes of dust.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Fine. We’ll need to change the plates before we leave town. I rubbed mud on it for now.”
“You had time to do all that?” He peered over the top of his sunglasses at her.
She glanced at him, most of her face obscured by the hat, glasses and scarf, but he felt the flatness of her glare.
Of course she had.
“Where to?” he asked. She knew these roads better than him.
“How much money do you have on you?”
“Not a lot.” He pulled his hat down. “You should know, I’ve seen enough cops around that I’m starting to sweat.”
“That decides it then.” She made a turn and merged onto a busier street.
“Decides what?”
“I have money stashed in various banks, but it would take time to withdraw it. Time we don’t have. If we’re lucky…no, I won’t say it.”
Luke gripped the side of the door and tugged his hat down. The open Jeep wasn’t going to be fun once they were on the road, but the four-wheel drive could be useful. He wasn’t one to rely on luck. It hadn’t panned out for him in the past.
“Ever been to Paris?” he asked.
“What? Why?”
“Just curious.” He shrugged.
“Yes. Twice.”
“I always wanted to go.” He tipped his head back, the breeze caressing his face and neck.
Abigail was silent a few moments.
“It’s a beautiful city. I was never there for very long, but I’d like to go back.” She never once took her eyes off the road. Again, her comments were vague.
What had she done in Paris? He probably didn’t want to know.
They wound their way through the city, pausing only for a moment to swap the Jeep’s plates out twice before Abigail pointed the Jeep north and out of Amman. The city was, by and large, developed and familiar, though also foreign
. As the buildings faded away on the outskirts of the city brake lights lit up the road.
“Shit.” Luke hoisted himself up to get a better view. “There’s a check-point ahead. You think—”
“I don’t think. I know.” She said it with certainty, no questions asked.
“Can we circle back? Find another way out?” There had to be smaller roads. Paths out of the city the cops wouldn’t have the manpower to watch.
Abigail didn’t reply.
They rolled forward.
“Want to tell me what you’re thinking?” he asked.
“You’re buckled in?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
She cranked the wheel, pointing the Jeep off-road. They bounced over twenty feet of rocky, undeveloped land before hitting a smaller, two lane paved road leading toward homes.
“You know where you’re going?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay, where?”
“Around the blockade. Remember I said we couldn’t use the major roads? Add a few more hours to our travel time.” She continued talking, pitching her voice over the roar of the wind and engine, explaining the urban sprawl of Amman, the city’s growth and urbanization of the culture. It was all from memory with her own experiences over the last fifteen years peppered into it. They paused for a few minutes, enough time to refuel, swap their plates, and find the soft-top cover for the Jeep and put it on.
Eventually they rejoined paved roads north of the blockade and were able to zip along at a faster clip.
“Did your team have any word on your friend? Is he alive?” Abigail asked. She glanced at him, the scarf still obscuring her face. A bit of breeze stirred it, giving her an ethereal look.
Ethan.
“No.” Luke stared straight ahead.
He’d seen the carnage.
There was no way Ethan could have survived being blown out the side of the hotel and the fall afterward. There was just no way. But Aegis would do a complete reconnaissance of the situation. They would leave no stone unturned in an effort to locate Ethan—dead or alive. Guilt gnawed at him for leaving without looking, but what could he have done?
The way the cops had shown up… Someone had to have known the blast was going to happen. Which meant an ambulance would have been on call. The better to celebrate their fast response to an act of terror. If Ethan were alive, he was better off in a hospital than on the road with them.
“What do you think happened?” He leaned to the side, watching her. Not that he expected to learn something from her body language—the only time it betrayed her was in bed, and even then, he was pretty sure that was by choice.
She licked her lips and shifted into a higher gear, pushing the Jeep faster.
“Judging by the blast, I’d say the explosives were under the table or the chairs. When the Smiths sat, it triggered at least one detonator. When one went, so would the other. The concussion blast would have knocked out the windows, blown the table over, knocked those closest down or killed them immediately. Someone who had access to the suite had to have been responsible.”
“They swapped out the whole dining set. Ethan and I watched them.”
“Then whoever was behind it had to know about the impromptu dinner.”
“Premeditated. You think someone’s been watching you?”
“Someone has to. But why, if they know I’m alive, allow me to pick off the people involved, and only now point the blame at me?”
“You cleaned their house for them.”
“I guess so.”
“Any idea who it could be?”
“No.” Her answer was too fast.
Luke wanted to pull the scarf off her face so he could at least see her. It might not make a bit of difference, but at least he could look at her.
“No one? Not anyone in Mossad? The guy yanking you around have any friends?”
“It cannot be anyone in Mossad.” Her knuckles were white.
Who’d she left behind that scared her this badly?
“Are you sure?” he asked.
This time she didn’t answer.
“Who?” he asked.
“There’s only one person who would want me gone, and it makes no sense for him to—to do that.”
“Who is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“If this person could be putting your life in danger—”
“We don’t know that he is. Until I have evidence, I’m not naming him.”
Her loyalty was unwavering and highly frustrating. But he got it. She had been part of the most successful covert intelligence agency, and they were successful for very good reasons. Their people were loyal, anonymous, and belonged to the cause.
“Anyone else? Think. Even if you don’t tell me, you have to have a list.”
“We need to stop for gas again soon.”
“You can’t ignore this.”
“I’m not,” she snapped. “I’m sorry. I just…it should have been over. There’s a town ten miles up the road. We can stop there.”
“You know this area awfully well.”
“I do.”
“When I was a kid, my mom used to take me on road trips up and down the coast. We didn’t have a lot of money, so we’d camp where we could. It was always an adventure with her.” He leaned his head against the head rest and smiled at the memories.
“Mothers are amazing creatures.” He winced, recalling all too clearly her words last night.
“I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine. Really.” She glanced at him, lips curled at the corners. “I made my choices. No regrets.”
“Ever been to California?” He draped his hand across her seat, watching her.
“No.”
“You should go sometime.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Well, good for you, you know a California native.”
She glanced at him, her lips twisted into a smile she couldn’t smother.
“What do you think you’d have done without Mossad?” he asked.
“That is a question I’ve often asked myself.” She downshifted the Jeep. “I think I’d have been a very unhappy woman without Mossad. What about you? You were a SEAL.”
“I always will be. Without the SEALs… I’d have probably tried to go to school, but the cost would have kicked me out. I’d work as many jobs as I could.” He shook his head. “Going into the Navy was the best thing for me. What do you think you’ll do after this?”
“I don’t know if there is an after this for me.”
“Of course there is.”
“Think about it, Luke.”
“I am.”
“What options do you see for me?”
“Figure out who is responsible.”
“And then?”
“And then we put them down and move the hell on. There’s more to life.”
“We?”
“Yeah. We.” He wasn’t sure when he’d decided that Abigail’s mission now ran alongside his own, but whoever was responsible would pay the same cost they’d extracted from Ethan. An eye for an eye, and all that bullshit.
“You should go home, Luke. You have a mother depending on you.”
“Yeah, and how long has yours thought you were dead?”
“Two, almost three years. It’s better this way. She’s safer.”
“She thinks you’re dead. How is that better?”
“So long as I’m dead, she’s not a target.”
“I don’t see that as better.”
“You don’t have to see it any way at all.”
“I’m not going home. Not until this is finished, Yael.”
Her head snapped toward him.
“Hush,” she whispered.
“Who’s going to hear?” He threw his arm out, gesturing at the town’s outlying buildings.
“You never know. Don’t call me that.”
“It’s your name.”
“It’s the name of a dea
d woman. Stick to Abigail.”
“I’m not leaving you to be a one-woman army no matter how hard you can kick my ass, so get on board with the plan. First, we get the hell out of here. Second, we figure out who set you up. Third, we put them down. Fourth, find a beach somewhere and lay low for a minute.”
“That’s your plan?”
“It holds water.”
“Not a lot.”
“But a little can go a long way.”
“You’re intolerable.”
“I’m encouragable.”
“That’s not a word, and I’m not encouraging you.”
“You were last light.” He leaned toward her. “Harder—”
“Luke,” she snapped.
“Are you blushing?”
“Something’s not right.” She stomped on the brake, slowing the Jeep to a crawl.
“What’s wrong?” He straightened, staring out at the empty street. By all appearances, it was a sleepy little town.
“We’re turning around.”
“We don’t have enough gas to make it back to that last stop.”
“We’ll have to make it somewhere.” She whipped the Jeep around, cutting it close to the ditch, and stomped on the accelerator.
“Watch out!” Luke braced his hand on the dash, his feet on the floorboard.
A car pulled out in front of them, the driver wide-eyed.
She stopped hard.
A big SUV rolled up behind them.
“It’s a trap,” Abigail said.
She jerked his head down at the same moment a bullet split the windshield and more bullets pinged against the Jeep’s exterior.
“Go!”
Abigail cranked the wheel.
Voices yelled, awfully close to his side of the Jeep.
What he wouldn’t give for a gun. Something.
She stomped on the gas and the Jeep shot forward. The vehicle lurched, and metal screeched.
They must have hit the car blocking their path.
The Jeep surged by. Abigail straightened, staying low in her seat.
Her sunglasses had come off and her eyes were wide. Her mouth opened on a shout she never got out.
Bam!
The Jeep hit something. Luke lurched forward, the belt snapping him into place.
Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) Page 10
