At Any Cost

by Allie K. Adams

  Wow. Not the right guy to test her cover on. Must be hitting a little too close to home.

  "You do realize Colombia is another country, on another continent? He'll need a passport. He'll need to schedule time off from work. A person can't simply pick up and go." He counted off the reasons for her bad decision with his pudgy fingers. "Although it didn't seem to stop you. Or did you think about any of that before you decided to run off?"

  JT was stunned. Apparently this man must have had something like this happen to him in the past and still held a grudge.

  "You either already had a passport handy, or you've had at least a month to plan for this while you waited for yours to arrive. Too bad you didn't take as much effort to work it out with him. If you wanted to get his attention, you should have tried talking to the man." He turned up his nose and faced forward. Obviously no longer interested in carrying on the conversation.

  She paused, thought about that. Dan was right. This plan really did suck. In fact, it was a terrible plan. Just trying it out on a complete stranger, attempting to iron out the facts made her recognize all the holes in their plan. She needed to find Dan, talk to him.

  "Miss? There's a man in the first class cabin asking for you." JT looked up at the pretty blonde flight attendant as she spoke. "He'd like you to join him."

  Finally. "Okay." JT grabbed her file and stood, smiled at the fat man she'd just insulted, and followed the flight attendant toward the front of the plane. The attendant unhinged the ropes closing off the first class from the rest of the seats and motioned for JT to enter.

  "He was rather insistent," the flight attendant continued after hinging the rope again. "This way." She walked up the narrow aisle and stopped, motioning toward an empty seat like Vanna White.

  "It's about time," JT commented and sat down next to Dan. He was talking quietly on the little phone attached to the back of the seat in front of him. As she sat, he turned his back to her and finished.

  She took the opportunity to look around. Jeez. The leather seats had to be twice as big as the stained cloth seats in economy. The passengers were eating off of real plates. And drinking out of real glasses. She snuggled into her big comfy seat and sighed contently. Now this was traveling in style.

  Dan's voice grew louder as it grew edgier, catching her attention. "No. I don't care. Make something up. Something better than that. Thanks." He pushed the end button. "What's your name?" Dan asked without so much as a glance in her direction. He leaned forward and replaced the receiver.

  JT frowned. "Excuse me?" Did flying scramble his brain?

  He finally pulled his gaze to her. Her insides slowed when he looked her up and down as if seeing her for the first time, treating her as if they'd never met. Never kissed. Never shared anything more than the same air. Not for the first time, she felt oddly bruised by his actions. "Your name?"

  "JT Turner."

  His eyes narrowed and he gave a slight shake of his head. Ah. Her cover. Right. "Jessica. Jessica Turner. I'm an American." She held out her hand.

  He took her hand, lingering just long enough to brush his thumb across the tender part of her wrist. "Nice to meet you, Jessica the American. My name is Dan Weber."

  "Ah! Now why do you get to keep your name and I have to go by Jessica?"

  Dan's featured hardened instantly and looked ready to rip her in two. She could hear the growl deep in the back of his throat. Dan pulled his glare away to glance up at the flight attendant as she hovered.

  "Do you two know each other?" She asked. "I thought you said you saw her fall as she boarded."

  "Aren't there other passengers in need of your attention?" Dan ground out, cutting off the nosey woman.

  "But you said—"

  "I'll take a Jack on the rocks," he cut in.

  She pierced her lips, taking the hint. "Anything else?"

  JT wanted something. "Yes, I'd like—"

  "No, thank you," Dan bit off. "Just a little privacy."

  "Of course," the flight attendant said with forced pleasantry. JT swore the woman called him an asshole under her breath as she walked away.

  Tell me about it. She made a mental note to pull the woman aside and make up some story about him being on medication. No need having her first experience in first class ruined by bad service, or Dan's surly attitude.

  "That wasn't nice," JT commented.

  "I told you I'm not a nice person."

  "And yet I still like you. Go figure." She thought of her earrings and smiled.

  That comment seemed to throw him off. He looked at her, his mouth open slightly. He snapped it closed as the flight attendant returned with his drink. As she handed it to him, he shook his head and pointed to JT. The flight attendant handed it to JT.

  JT looked at it. “No, thank you.”

  "Just take the drink," Dan snapped. The flight attendant threw Dan a heated glare.

  JT smiled up at her and accepted the drink. "Thank you."

  "You are welcome." She emphasized her statement directly toward JT. She mouthed, "Good luck" and walked away.

  I'm going to need it . "Why do I want a drink?"

  "I heard you talking to your neighbor back there. The way you sputtered through your story was embarrassing. If you plan to pull this off, you need to relax a bit. Drink."

  "But I don't like whiskey."

  "Drink." It wasn't a request. JT sipped at the whiskey and nearly gagged. She hated whiskey. Still, after a few more sips, it started to mix with her blood and did, indeed, relax her a bit.

  "How could you hear me talking? I was sitting thirty-five rows back. Do you have super-hearing to go along with your Superspy status or something?"

  Dan's eyes shifted to her diamond earrings. JT's heart sank as the realization slammed into her chest. They weren't a gift after all. He led her to believe...

  It didn't matter what she believed. She was such an idiot! Oh, he must have had a good laugh over that one. Damn it, Turner! Dan wasn't her date. He wasn't some guy trying to impress her. Quite the contrary. Despite how she felt about him—she didn't even know how she felt about him, especially now—he didn't share the love. Or whatever it was that made her insides turn to jelly whenever he looked at her.

  "What are they? Mics?" She grasped at her ears to give them a good tug. She couldn't get a firm hold. Damn it! Great. And now her hands were shaking.

  "Among other things. Receiver on the left, transmitter on the right. Together they work as a GPS ." He easily pulled her hands down from her ears, continued to hold them until she stopped shaking. "Don't leave my side without them. Ever. They're small enough to not draw attention, so no one should notice them."

  She jerked her hands back. "They're diamonds, Weber. We are traveling into a very poor part of the world. Diamonds hanging from my ears are going to make people notice me like I have a second head," she snapped acidly, the thought of actually believing he would give her something so precious made her sick to her stomach. Mission . They were on a mission. Partners. Nothing more. Not now.

  Not ever.

  "Then stick them somewhere no one will see them."

  "Why don't I stick them up your ass?" she hissed just as the pretty blonde flight attendant walked by. She paused and caught JT's eye.

  "Is everything all right?"

  "We're fine," Dan growled.

  "I was asking her," the flight attendant corrected.

  "Actually," JT spoke up. "I would like to move back to my original seat."

  "You're not going anywhere," Dan ordered.

  "She is more than welcome to return to her seat, sir," the flight attendant jumped in. JT smiled at him and stood. If there weren't so many people watching the scene unfold, she would have stuck out her tongue.

  "Jessica," Dan warned, reminding her they were both there for a higher purpose. Despite her want to never speak to him again for giving her hope, then stomping on her heart with a smile on his face, they were there on a mission. National security took precedence over her disaster of a
love life. Or lack thereof.

  JT sat and brought her eyes up to the flight attendant. "Can I get another drink? Like a double?"

  "Of course." The flight attendant hurried away.

  "We are going to have to do something about you going off half-cocked all the time," Dan started in as soon as the flight attendant turned the corner into the little airplane black hole all flight attendants disappeared into during flights.

  JT let out a deep breath. How did this man succeed in getting her so riled up? She used to be commended on how well she kept her cool during mock ops. What happened?

  Dan Weber happened.

  She knew she should bury his personal attacks and get on with the mission, but something about this man made her want the upper hand. She couldn't let it go. "Why did you let me believe they were a gift?"

  "They were a gift."

  "I thought they were from you. I should have known better."

  He shook his head, muttered something. "What difference does it make?"

  He was right, of course. What difference did it make? Absolutely none. It didn't matter she thought he cared about her. It made no difference to her whatsoever.

  The flight attendant appeared with another Jack on the rocks. She should have asked for Vodka. Oh well. JT accepted the drink and took a long sip. Yuck. But it worked.

  She leaned her head back on the leather seat and closed her eyes. They still had several hours left on the plane. It was a ten and a half hour flight, after all. Might as well get in some sleep now while she could.

  "First class is nice," she commented lazily and took another long pull on the straw in her drink.

  "I take it this is your first time in first class?"

  "Yep. And that reminds me, just how did you get a first class ticket and I get stuck in the back of the plane?" She opened her eyes and looked at him. To her chagrin, he was staring right back at her.

  "I bought a first class ticket."

  "Why didn't you buy me one?"

  "I did. You're sitting in it. It wasn't cheap. And you're welcome."

  She wasn't about to thank him. For anything. "Why didn't you just upgrade? Isn't that cheaper?"

  "I canceled my ticket this morning before we left HQ. Mercado has control over everything. If we were booked on the same flight, he'd find out. I rebooked under a different name."

  Made sense. "Why didn't you just rebook mine under a different name, too?"

  "Because Mercado needs to see you come in. He doesn't need to see me."

  Again, made sense. "You could have at least upgraded my seat."

  "Quit whining. You won't flee from a jealous boyfriend in an act of desperation and book a first class ticket. Mercado would know. As soon as you step foot in his compound, he'll be running a background on you. I've pulled in a few favors from some of the boys back home. Your background check will funnel through them. They have instructions as to what to return."

  "How did you do that?"

  "I still have a few connections."

  "Obviously." Rather than being impressed, JT didn't really care about his connections. The drinks went right to her head. All she wanted to do now was sleep, having only had a few hours at most in the last forty-eight hours.

  She closed her eyes and didn't open them again until Dan nudged her. Blinking, she looked around.

  "Put your seat up. We're about to land."

  "Land?" How long had she been asleep? The tires of the aircraft screeched as they landed, and a chill washed up JT's spine. The sound reminded her of the screeching tires on the car that almost ran them over back at the rendezvous last night. She shook the feeling as a pleasant voice came over the speaker, thanking them for flying their friendly airline and reminding them to pick up their baggage at baggage claim three. They then repeated the message in Spanish.

  "Do we have baggage?" JT stretched and produced a jaw-popping yawn.

  Dan looked at her.

  She threw him a glare.

  "The minute we step off this airplane, you will do exactly what I say when I say to do it."

  "Yes, mi Capitan."

  "I'm serious."

  "When aren't you?"

  "Jessica," Dan growled out his warning. "This isn't some joke. Do you even understand the danger we're about to get into ass deep?"

  JT groaned. She knew perfectly well of the dangers. But at this point, it didn't do either of them a bit of good to dwell on them. She knew what she needed to do. Get Mercado before he got her. Easy. Dan would be there to back her up.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter 11

  Dan hurried them through the airport, pushing JT in front of him with his hand on the small of her back. He spotted a rusted out taxi and sent them on a beeline for it. JT slowed as they approached the vehicle, her head whipping around.

  "Don't stop until you get in the car," Dan ordered in a low voice, his lips barely moving.

  Yet, JT slowed further. "What's going on? Where's the limo?"

  "I arranged for alternate transportation. Now move it."

  She stopped altogether, turned and faced him. "Tell me what's going on, Dan."

  "Stop whining, Jessica, and get the lead out."

  The damn stubborn woman held her ground. She wasn't going to move without an explanation. Instead of giving her one, he planted a kiss on her so swift, so unexpected, that she widened her eyes, stunned. He took the opportunity to open the door behind her and push her into the vehicle.

  He leaned in. "Get to the hotel. Don't leave the room until I get there." He turned to the driver. "Decameran Cartagena. Agregue cincuenta dólares si usted la puede obtener allí sin parar."

  "Sí." The driver revved his motor. Dan pulled out a group of US bills and handed them to the driver.

  "Wait, where—"

  He closed the door, cutting her off. Slapping the roof of the vehicle, it sped off with a very confused, and no doubt soon-to-be very pissed off JT Turner. But if they were seen together, that would be the end of their chance to take out Mercado. No doubt he would have men waiting at the hotel for them, and they would be toast.

  Offering the driver an extra fifty in US dollars sure gave him incentive to get there without stopping. He could hear her demanding the driver to turn around, courtesy of the diamonds on her ears. When the driver ignored her, she turned on Dan. "Weber! Damn you! Driver, turn this cab around! Now! Weber, just wait until I get my hands on you!"

  He turned off his earpiece. If he planned on focusing, he'd need JT's voice out of his head. Hell, he needed all of her out of his head. However, as much as he'd tried to clear her from all thought, it never worked. At least turning off her voice helped. A little.

  He needed a contingency plan. The bullshit plan HQ came up with would surely get them both killed. Instead of relying on intel to come up with something, Dan pulled in those favors from some of his more trustworthy NASSD buddies. Some were still in the agency, some weren't. All were more than willing to help Dan, like he had done so many times for them.

  He went back inside the terminal and followed the signs to the public lockers. Once he made sure no one else decided to take interest in the contents, Dan dropped the money in and opened the locker.

  "Thank you, Snyder." He pulled out the duffel and opened the zipper. The schematics of the Mercado compound lay covering the rest of the contents. He moved them aside. Satellite phones, earpieces, GPS Trackers, maps and compasses. And a few other devices not requested, but definitely could be put to good use. Dan frowned. No guns.

  He closed the duffel and started back toward the ground transportation. After walking outside and finding the beat up compact off in the corner, another gift courtesy of his contact down here, Dan looked around to make sure he didn't have a shadow. He sank into the small car and sped off.

  Following the map supplied in his care package, he made his first stop outside a small pawnshop with bars on the windows and doors. Pedro's Empeñe la Tienda was a hotspot for the satellite communication uplin
k? It was a pawnshop, and a cheap one at that.

  He'd set up the hotel for a satcom uplink as well, but there were a few things Dan wanted to have in place before he got there. And out of JT's earshot.

  The bells clanged against the glass of the door as Dan entered the dirty shop. He looked around. The shop was small, smelled liked BO. The items for sale wouldn't even go for a quarter on the streets. Definitely a front.

  The man behind the counter stood. About five feet, one hundred and fifty pounds at most. Bald as a cue ball. He had a patch over his right eye, a gold cap over his left front tooth. Filthy clothes. He eyed Dan carefully. "This way."

  Dan didn't question the man as he followed him behind the counter. The man opened a small closet, revealing a set of narrow stairs leading down into what looked like a black abyss. Dan nodded at him. "After you."

  The man smiled. He started down the stairs, pausing at the bottom for Dan to catch up. Once they were both inside, he flipped a switch. The lights came on, and Dan smiled.

  Now this was more like it. The room looked like an underground bunker. The walls were rock, the floor dirt. There were tables along the walls, all lined with some of the best electronic equipment Dan had ever seen. A table off to his left hosted what seemed to be millions of electronic pieces. This guy must make his own stuff. Nice.

  "I know who you are. Dan Weber." The guy's accent wasn't as thick as Dan assumed it would be had this man lived in Colombia all his life. Another agent transplant? "I have waited many years for this." He brought his hand up and Dan tensed.

  He then grabbed Dan's hand and shook it furiously. "I have followed your career, señor. My name is Pedro."

  "Pedro what? You got a last name?"

  "No. Just Pedro. Every good artist goes by only one name. The satellite communication link is over here. It is a secured link, scrambled as it sends and as it receives. I use a low-end frequency so trackers can't pick it up. You will think you are in the next room and not across the world." He walked over to the far table and motioned at the massive amounts of electronic equipment.

  "And over here," he said and hurried over to another table. Dan recognized the spray bottle, having used it on a few occasions. "This I call Obtuvole. Odorless. Weightless. Evaporates on contact, yet leaves a nice little trail for you to follow with this." He held up a tracker.