Catalyst (Flashpoint Book 2)

by Rachel Grant

  Right about now, he longed for the simplicity of training Djiboutians with his team. Or even better, dropping into a hot zone and kicking some al-Qaeda ass. This op was too muddled. He was the fake boyfriend of the woman he was in love with. Somehow, Savannah James had convinced SOCOM to let her recruit him. Hell, even Brie was Savvy’s asset now, her job to inform on her family and their associates.

  For all intents and purposes, Savvy was their case officer, and they were spies. By definition, spies were traitors, and the truth was Bastian had betrayed Brie, and Brie would betray her family.

  He stared at Brie as he sipped his coffee. Beautiful and coldly serene. She’d captivated him from the start. Hell, she’d captivated him ten years ago. He’d hated what Princess Prime did, but he’d been intrigued by the woman.

  He hoped to hell Savvy was right about Drugov and Lawiri, or he’d thrown away something precious for nothing.

  He wanted to go back to that night in her CLU. He wanted to stop her from pushing him away. He’d explain that Savvy needed to know everything, and then together they’d have told Savvy about her family.

  That was what he should have done. But he’d let anger get the best of him. Like he did with Pax a year ago. Like he did every time he’d approached his parents about Cece. Anger and hurt won, and he was an asshole.

  It was a miracle he’d made it to chief warrant officer and second-in-command of his A-Team, because he sure fucked up on the personal side of things. But he’d always been able to do the job when he kept his focus. Even when things were at their worst with Pax, they’d worked together fine. It was after hours when he’d been a dick.

  With Brie, he’d just have to remember they were on the clock twenty-four/seven. Focus on the job and forget the woman.

  Right.

  She’d set her cell phone on the table next to her plate and it chimed with an incoming message. She picked it up and swiped across the screen. She smiled faintly, tapped out a reply, then set the phone down without a word.

  “What was that?” he asked, irritated that he had to ask. They were supposed to be working together.

  “A former lover has invited me to dine at his villa. I said yes.”

  Jealousy upended him like a rogue wave. “What the fuck?”

  “I’m hoping he’ll offer to make me his mistress. That way I can have the clothes, car, and palace, and all I have to do is fuck for it. He’s a decent lover too, so it wouldn’t be a chore.”

  The jealousy had blinded him, and it took him too long to catch on. “Dammit, Brie, I never suggested—”

  “You may as well have. And you know what? If I did want to screw a guy so he’d take care of me, it’s none of your damn business. My decisions, my body, my life. So you can keep your shitty judgments to yourself.” She cocked her head. “In fact, how much would you give me for a blowjob? There’s a Coach bag I’ve been eyeing.”

  He got it. He was an ass. The last dig was too much, though, so he just glared at her and said, “All eight inches.”

  She raised a brow. “Eight?” She snickered. “You wish.”

  His anger deflated, a slow seep he was pretty sure was leaking from his heart. “Aww, c’mon, if you want the Coach bag, you’ve got to humor me.”

  Her mouth twitched. “Oh, well, in that case, it felt like eight for sure.”

  He ran a hand over his face, not sure if he should laugh or sigh. “I’m sorry, Brie. Again. It was wrong of me to assume you just wanted the money and status back. I wasn’t wrong about you deluding yourself, but I was wrong about why.”

  “Fair.”

  “So who was the text from?”

  “As I said, a former lover inviting me to dine.”

  Jesus. What had he done to deserve this assignment? He was going to pop a vessel before the day was over. Maybe even before he finished breakfast. “You’d better have RSVPed for two. And who is it? Savvy needs to run a check on the guy.”

  “I told him my boyfriend is with me, and we’d love to join him. We’ll have to wait and see if he rescinds the invitation now that he knows you’re here. His name is Armando Cardona. He’s from Spain and is in the chemical industry—plastics and pharmachemistry. He lives in the neighborhood, and we met when I visited last year. I asked Youssef to notify him as well as a few others I know in the area that I’m home so the news would filter to Drugov without me contacting him directly.”

  He frowned. “When did you do this?”

  “While you showered before dinner. I wanted Youssef to believe I was hiding it from you.”

  “Which you were.”

  “I’d planned to tell you after dinner.”

  But instead, they’d fought. Okay. He’d give her a pass on that one. “Savvy’s going to have to run a background check on him.”

  “She already did. I told her about everyone I intended to contact here. There was no guarantee Armando would be here and not in Madrid, but I was hopeful because his company has a lab here. I actually reached out to him several months ago because I wanted to know if he would consider manufacturing reusable plastic-lined underwear. Having an Africa-based supplier might get past the aid blockades. So regardless of using him to get to Drugov, I wanted to see him.”

  Savvy hadn’t told him any of this in the prep for the trip. But then Savvy always had her reasons for sharing and withholding information. “Any other lovers I should know about, or are you hoping to blindside me in public?”

  “I don’t think any others are here, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  He stood, his jaw clenched. He circled the table and stood above her. “We’re supposed to be working as a team, Brie.”

  She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “What do you want from me, Bastian? I can’t help it that I slept with him. It was a fling and before I met you. You’ve slept around a lot too. I won’t apologize for my past any more than I’d expect you to.”

  He didn’t like standing above her for what he needed to say. He took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. She rose and gazed up at him suspiciously.

  “I don’t give a damn that you screwed him in the past as long as it remains in the past while we’re on this mission. Even if you don’t give a fuck about me, my job is to protect you, which I can’t do if you screw around with Mr. Pharmachemical. I’ve told you how I feel. I can take a lot of shit from you because of what I did, but if you want this guy, Savvy can send a different bodyguard, because I’m out. There are special operators in Rota who would be happy to take my place, and they can be here on a military flight in an hour. Even if you don’t want the Spaniard, if you want me replaced, I’ll go. If we can’t work together, you’re in danger.”

  By the time he finished his speech, his heart pounded like he’d been doing double unders. A few choice words in this moment and she could take him out of the op and out of her life. And she’d have his balls as a souvenir.

  “I don’t want Armando.”

  Slowly, air entered his lungs, but he held himself in check. She still might want to replace him.

  “There’s only one man I want—as a lover or a bodyguard.”

  His restraint vanished. In a flash, he scooped her up and pinned her to the nearest wall. She wrapped her thighs around his hips. Before she could say another word, his mouth was on hers in a deep hot kiss. She sucked on his tongue and ground herself against his erection. He wanted to bury himself inside her, make her come so hard, she’d never think of another man.

  He wanted her to be his, not just for today, for the op, but for all time. His. Always.

  He raised his head and gazed down at her wet lips. She opened eyes that were smoky hot with arousal.

  “I didn’t give you a chance to say who you want.”

  She smiled. “You, Bastian. Always you. From the moment we first kissed, only you.”

  He dropped kisses onto her eyelids, lips, and neck. “Thank you.” He’d needed to hear her unequivocal declaration more than he wanted to admit.

  A knock sounded on t
he door.

  “Damn,” he said, setting her down.

  “One moment.” Brie projected her voice to the door. She then touched his lips. “You’ve got lipstick on you again.”

  “We’re going to finish this later.”

  She nodded.

  He left to clean up in the bathroom while she called to the maid to enter. It was time to get to work for the day. They could play tonight.

  Armando Cardona was as handsome and charming as Brie remembered, but she didn’t regret that their fling was over. Bastian was handsome and charming and so much more. He’d saved her from a slave market and danced with her under the stars. He knew every ugly part of her and still wanted her.

  Armando wasn’t the least bit fazed that she had a boyfriend in tow, and he kissed both her cheeks warmly in greeting before turning his charm on Bastian as if Brie had delivered a potential new best friend. They settled down to a large lunch spread—the largest meal of the day in Morocco—the food was traditional Moroccan served on a central platter and accompanied with mint tea. They ate with their right hands, using flatbread as the only utensil.

  Brie had missed meals like this in South Sudan. But then, she’d missed eating for pleasure in South Sudan.

  Even though the invitation had been issued only hours before, Armando had invited a few others from the neighborhood, and she and Bastian found themselves in a cozy gathering that included a couple—husband-and-wife real estate developers who built high-end resorts—and the billionaire owner of an airline. Just a few people from the area, enjoying an intimate lunch.

  “You will be at Nikolai’s party tonight, won’t you, dear?” Annette, the resort developer, asked.

  “Nikolai?” Bastian asked, perfect in his role as tourist in the world of the walled estates of Casablanca.

  “Nikolai Drugov. He’s in oil, just like Brie’s family,” Annette said.

  Because she’d met Armando a year ago, he knew her as Brie, not Gabby or Gabriella, making this luncheon feel more intimate than dinner with her brother last night had been.

  But then again, Brie also liked Armando, while the verdict was still out on her brother.

  “Nikolai is having a party?” Brie asked, showing just the right amount of interest.

  “Yes. Black tie. He’s celebrating securing oil rights in the Arctic. Huge reserves. I’m sure he’ll want you there.”

  Annette’s husband cleared his throat. “That might not be something to celebrate for Brie. I believe Prime Energy bid on the pipeline, but Nikolai chose a competitor.”

  Brie was more appalled at the idea of Russia drilling in the Arctic, but she didn’t voice that. “I’m not really part of the company anymore. If PE didn’t win the contract, it’s not my problem. But it does explain why JJ is in such a bad mood.”

  “Well then, you must come!” Annette said. “These things are always so boring—the same middle-aged men talking about golf and football—er, soccer to you,” she added with a nod to Bastian. “And business deals in China. I could carry on both sides of the conversation by myself at this point. Your Green Beret will liven things up.”

  As if Bastian was a pet or hired entertainment.

  Annette clapped her hands. “Oh! You could tell the story about how you rescued Brie! And some of your other adventures!”

  Right. Like the story of being purchased in a slave market was fodder to entertain party guests. And Bastian’s missions likely involved a lot of bullets and blood. Not exactly an adventure.

  Brie hid her grimace. At least she understood Annette. Once upon a time, she’d been just like her. Thoughtless, but not mean-spirited. Wealthy, white, and very, very privileged.

  If Bastian was annoyed, he didn’t show it. Instead, he said, showing a great deal of patience and grace, “My work isn’t appropriate for party entertainment, and much of it is classified. As far as the mission to save Brie, that’s her story to tell, and, I think, a painful one.”

  Annette’s face flushed, and she touched Brie’s hand. “Oh! I’m so sorry. That was thoughtless of me, dear.” She seemed genuinely contrite, but Brie would bet good money she was now wondering if Brie had been raped.

  Not that she blamed her. In reversed roles, Brie would wonder the same thing. Not in a salacious way, but in a way that tried to find the right words to express sympathy without being dumb, trite, or hurtful.

  Annette’s fingers squeezed Brie’s to the point of pain, and her eyes had misted with tears. “I’m not usually so…dunderheaded.”

  Her husband snorted, taking away the tension from the moment.

  The airline tycoon asked Armando a question about his plans for the coming weeks, and the moment passed. Annette leaned close to Brie and whispered, “I really hope you’ll come to Nikolai’s tonight. I promise to be more discreet.”

  “I’d love to, but I wouldn’t want to distress Nikolai by showing up uninvited. Our families go way back.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll send him a note and let him know I invited you and insisted you attend or it would break my heart. We’re breaking ground in Cuba next month on a new resort, and he wants the largest villa for himself. He won’t dare say no to me.”

  Brie smiled. No. She didn’t think he would. She suspected Nikolai Drugov was as eager to see her as she was to cross his path. That Annette made it possible only made it simpler for everyone.

  Bastian gazed at her with concern, and she gave him a bright smile. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, grabbing her hand beneath the table. This wasn’t affection for show, which somehow made it all the more special.

  “How long do you plan to stay in Casablanca?” Armando asked.

  “As long as the Army will allow,” she said, giving the answer they’d agreed on in advance. “Bastian’s on open-ended medical leave. Morocco seemed like the perfect place for us both to recuperate.”

  Armando cocked his head. “And what will you do, Brie, when Bastian returns to his unit? Dare I hope you’ll stay with us in Morocco? Keep Annette from being bored with my party conversation?”

  “I haven’t decided. I doubt USAID would take me if I wanted to go back to South Sudan.” She answered truthfully without thinking. Fantasies of saving the world through Prime Energy aside, from the moment she’d sat in the meeting at SOCOM, she hadn’t given serious thought to what she would do after this was over. But the hard truth was that with her identity released to the world, further work for USAID was impossible.

  Bastian’s fingers tightened around hers. “I’m hoping Brie will want to visit Washington. My family is there.”

  She had a feeling he wasn’t speaking as the character of her boyfriend, but as the real thing.

  In typical Moroccan fashion, lunch lasted nearly three hours. After the other guests left, Armando stopped Brie and Bastian at the door. “I wanted to discuss something with you that wasn’t appropriate for the table conversation.” A slight blush darkened his olive complexion. “About the…underwear.”

  Brie smiled, understanding his discomfort. So many men had a difficult time talking about menstruation. Half the human population menstruated, and it was an essential part of human existence, but still, it made men squirm. She’d liked the fact that Bastian had asked her outright in South Sudan what she would do if she started to bleed while they were stranded.

  She smiled up at Armando. “Did you talk to your engineers about designing a soft, flexible, reusable plastic liner?”

  “I did. The women were excited by the project and offered to donate their time to the development, which meant we were able to fast-track it. I was delighted to hear of your visit because I’d planned to reach out to you. We have several different prototypes ready. Would you be interested in visiting the lab in the next few days? If you can’t, I can bring them by your villa, but I’m sure the engineers would like to meet you.”

  Brie couldn’t help but squeal and hugged Armando. “Of course we can go to the lab. I want to meet them too.” She released him and enjoyed this rush of excitement. Good
could come from her work in South Sudan and victories like this had been hard to come by lately. “Oh my goodness, Armando, do you have any idea what this could mean for girls in the developing world? A pair of underwear can change a girl’s life. Her entire future.”

  He beamed, his blush gone. “That’s what my engineers said. They are all women with higher education, some from Morocco, some from other African countries. They know the struggle. This project means a lot to them too. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. It will be a good tax break for our fabric-manufacturing branch and do some good for the world.”

  “Thank you for pursuing it. When can I visit the lab?”

  “I’ll set up a time and call you with the details.”

  “Perfect.” She kissed him on the cheek again, then took Bastian’s arm and left. For the first time in weeks, she felt a tiny buzz of hope. The world wasn’t all evil. She couldn’t change the past, but she could have a positive impact moving forward.

  33

  An invitation to Drugov’s party arrived within an hour of them returning to Brie’s villa. Brie proceeded to try on the three gowns that hung in her closet, asking for Bastian’s opinion on which would be best for the evening. He didn’t give a damn what she wore—she looked hot in all of them.

  She was pumped and excited after the news from Armando, and he enjoyed seeing her light energy. They’d had precious little of that in the past few weeks.

  She twirled before him. “What do you think of this one?”

  He chucked her under the chin. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

  She groaned. “I suppose we were due for a Casablanca joke.”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out how to work in ‘we’ll always have Paris’ for the last twenty-four hours.”