Medusa's Sheik

by Cindy Dees

  Cassandra looked back impatiently. “They’re with me.”

  With her? What the hell did that mean? He must be in shock because he had a hard time stringing coherent thoughts together. The four women—it turned out there was one behind him, too—all but shoved him through the kitchen, past screaming staff and waiters rushing around grabbing fire extinguishers and heading into the other room. He and his impromptu bodyguards burst out the back door.

  The alley was far from quiet with sirens now wailing toward the club in earnest, but it was better than inside. The tall blonde took the lead as they neared the end of the alley. “Wheels this way,” she bit out. The woman made some sort of hand signal to Cassandra, who did another hand signal back.

  Hake frowned. His security team did stuff like that now and then. And then he was shoved into the back of a minivan, lying on the floor with Cassandra on top of him, while the other women looked out the windows and chattered back and forth about tails and threats and evasive maneuvers.

  “Where to, Scorpion?” the blonde called back over her shoulder.

  Cassandra replied, “The Angelique. The crew will augment our phalanx and it can be moved on short notice. See if H.O.T. Watch can call the captain and tell him to ready the ship to sail immediately.”

  “Good idea,” one of the other women murmured.

  What the hell was a hot watch? Hake turned his head, burning his cheek against the nylon carpet, but bringing himself face-to-face with Cassandra. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Later. We’ve got to secure you first.”

  He glared. “Oh, we’re definitely going to talk later. And tell the captain of the Angelique that Hake wishes him blue skies and fair weather.”

  “Is that a distress code?” she asked astutely.

  He nodded tersely.

  “Got that, Mantis?” Cassandra called.

  “Affirmative,” the blonde replied.

  “Mantis? Scorpion? Are you women exterminators or something?” he asked. This whole evening was turning into a surreal nightmare.

  “Something like that,” Cassandra replied, flashing a wry smile. “Just relax and be patient with us a little while longer.”

  He commented blankly, “I planned to get horizontal with you tonight, but I didn’t imagine it would be like this.”

  Her gaze snapped to his, wide and startled, vulnerable for a moment. And then she smiled faintly. “That would’ve been nice.”

  “The night’s not over yet,” he murmured back under his breath.

  “No, but this is going to be a long one for me. We’ll be debriefing till dawn. You, too, I imagine.”

  “Who do you work for?” he asked in sudden alarm. The deal! The terrorists! He couldn’t blow this thing—the entire El Aran clan’s safety was at stake!

  “All in good time,” she murmured soothingly.

  “Stop the car. Let me out,” he ordered.

  She looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “You have to! You have no idea what’s at stake here!”

  “Tell me about it,” she asked evenly.

  “I can’t. Let me out!”

  “Hake. My employers need to talk with you.”

  “No!” he answered forcefully. “I’m not talking to anyone!” In fact, he’d probably already said too much in his panic and disorientation. He closed his mouth and subsided to wait out the ride. Once he was back on the Angelique, he’d regain control of this disaster somehow. Make it go away. He could only imagine the favors he was going to have to call in and the strings he was going to have to pull to fix this mess. But he had no choice. Everything depended on it.

  The van turned a corner and then came to a stop.

  “Scorpion, I need an I.D. on these guys,” the blonde said sharply from the driver’s seat. Cassandra lifted off him, and he registered missing her body pressed against his.

  “Those are Hake’s men. They’re okay.”

  Hake started at the weapons being brandished around him. “Don’t shoot my security team,” he snapped. “They cost me a lot of money.”

  Cassandra held a hand down to him. “We’re about to see if they’re worth their salaries.”

  The back door of the van opened and the blonde was there, talking low and urgently with his men, who looked to be in minor shock at whatever the woman was saying. She finished speaking and his men nodded tersely. Then he was dragged out of the van and hustled onto the Angelique amid a tangle of weapons and big, tense bodies.

  “Where’s Cassandra?” he demanded, as he ducked into the salon.

  “On the pier,” one of his men replied. The guy spoke into the radio clipped to his collar. “We have the principal aboard. Cast off.”

  “Wait!” Hake ordered. “I want her on board.”

  “Sir, your security—”

  “She knows what happened at the restaurant. And she owes me an explanation.”

  “But—”

  “Do it,” he snapped.

  The security man nodded and turned on his heel. It was only a few seconds until he heard Cassandra’s voice raised in protest. Didn’t want to come with him? Avoiding him, was she? Well, that was just too damned bad. Someone had just tried to kill him and he bloody well wanted to know who. Plus, he might need the leverage with her employer to keep him or her from interfering with the sale.

  He pushed past the security man blocking the doorway and stared down at her on the dock. He called out grimly, “If your employer wants a single shred of cooperation from me, you’re boarding this ship right now, Cassandra.”

  The group of women glanced at each other in silent communication. And then, reluctantly, Cassandra stepped forward. One of the women grabbed a big duffel bag out of the van and shoved it at her. She took it as she stepped onto the gangplank. Poor girl looked as if she were marching to her own execution. Tough. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

  There was a flurry of activity as his crew stowed the gangplank, cast off and pulled away from the dock. And then one of his men was quietly urging him back inside and safely undercover. Cassandra approached him and he took her firmly by the elbow, steering her inside with him. “You and I need to have a conversation.”

  She looked at him for just a moment, her expression closed. Stubborn. Didn’t want to talk, huh? Not his problem. “Have a seat, Cassandra. Or should I call you Scorpion?”

  “I answer to either,” she answered evenly.

  “What’s your real name?” he demanded.

  “That’s classified.”

  “Who are you? And those other women with you?”

  When she merely shook her head at him, he tried, “Who do you work for?”

  “I have to make a phone call. And then maybe I can answer your questions.”

  He weighed that. Had to ask for permission to tell him anything, did she? “You’ll make the call here, where I can hear you.”

  She nodded and rummaged in her bag for a cell phone. She dialed a lengthy number. Overseas call, then. “Scorpion here. I need to speak to Viper.”

  A short pause ensued, and then she began to speak. “I assume you’ve gotten an initial brief from the team? You know my location? Not surprisingly, he’s demanding answers. What am I authorized to tell him?”

  Hake waited impatiently as she listened, her expression grim.

  “Understood, Viper.” She stowed the phone and looked up at him.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  Casey took a deep breath. How on earth was she supposed to figure out whether or not Hake was in league with terrorists? She couldn’t believe Vanessa Blake had told her to use her own best judgment and tell Hake whatever she thought he needed to know based on where his loyalties lay. It was one thing to have her boss trust her in theory, but it was another to be out here on a real-world op where real lives rested on whatever she thought best. Apparently, she’d officially entered the big leagues now.

  She ventured a look at Hake. He was not a happy camper, and she couldn�
�t blame him. His mood probably wasn’t going to improve when she started interrogating him either. No help for it, though. “So, Hake. Who was that man who sat with you during the first show?”

  He looked startled for an instant, but then his face shut down and his gaze narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because it was his compatriot who walked in wearing that bomb vest and tried to blow you to smithereens.”

  “What?” Hake burst out. “How do you know that?”

  “Two of my companions followed the first man out of the restaurant to a van a block from the restaurant. Bomb Boy came out of the same van, walked up behind you and activated a shape charge at you.”

  “A shape charge?” he echoed.

  She explained, “It’s a bomb designed to blow its energy in a narrow, directed cone, rather than just a general area blast.”

  “I know what a shape charge is,” he snapped. “But how do you know?”

  She ignored the question. “Why did the first man send a second man to kill you? What did the two of you talk about?”

  He ground out, “Tell me who you are.”

  “Answer my question first,” she retorted.

  Hake shook his head. It appeared they were at an impasse. A crewman stepped forward to interrupt the Mexican standoff. “What are your orders, sir?”

  Hake blinked. “Take me into international waters. And when everything has calmed down, we could use a bite to eat. Whatever’s easy for the chef to throw together.”

  Casey cursed under her breath. If he made it out of English territory, neither she nor the British government would have legal jurisdiction to tell Hake what to do. And clearly, he knew that. Not good. “Look, Hake. You don’t trust me, and I’m having trouble trusting you at the moment. So, I’m going to tell you who I am and we’ll see if that makes a difference.”

  He nodded tightly.

  If he was in league with terrorists, he might attempt to harm her in the next few seconds. She made sure her cell phone was turned on inside the duffel and her hand resting on a pistol. She took a deep breath and spoke. “My name is Casey—you’ll forgive me if I skip the last name for now—and I work for the United States government. We have reason to believe you and your father are doing a business deal with a terrorist entity, and I’ve been sent here to stop you.”

  Hake stared at her. His gaze widened in shock and then narrowed in…what was that? Speculation? Irritation? Calculation? She wished she knew him better to read that look.

  “You’re a spy?” he finally asked.

  “Not exactly. Think of me as more of a…soldier.”

  That made him laugh once, shortly, in disbelief. Not that she cared one way or another if he believed her or not. It didn’t make any difference to her mission. The good news was that in response to the revelation, he hadn’t ordered his men to lock her up or blow her brains out.

  “Okay, your turn,” she said expectantly.

  He looked at her a long time. A shadow of the desire he’d roused in her back at the restaurant flitted through her mind. She’d never been around a man who could do this to her with a mere look. It bordered on scary.

  Eventually, he sighed and said, “My family is being blackmailed into selling a piece of sophisticated manufacturing equipment to an anonymous, but highly suspicious, buyer.”

  “Do you have any idea who this buyer is?”

  “No. That man who sat with me in the restaurant was my first direct contact with the buyers.”

  “How are the buyers blackmailing you?”

  “They’ve threatened to kill everyone in my family if we don’t do the deal. And after tonight’s episode, I’m inclined to believe them.”

  She leaned forward. “Did you refuse to do the deal this evening? Is that why they sent a bomber after you?”

  He snorted. “They tried to haggle on the price, but I refused to come down on it. If we did, it would make various governments, including yours, suspicious. Although that is a moot point now, isn’t it?”

  She frowned sharply. The terrorists must figure the son was expendable and that killing Hake would ensure Papa El Aran’s cooperation. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed H.O.T. Watch. Vanessa Blake answered the call.

  Casey didn’t mince words. “We need to get surveillance and security on Marat El Aran ASAP. The buyer tried to kill Hake to scare Daddy into playing nice. If they can’t kill the son, they may go after the father next.”

  “Got it,” Vanessa replied tersely. “How much did you have to tell Hake to get him to cooperate?”

  Casey laughed shortly. “I haven’t secured that yet. I may have to spill it all, though.”

  “Don’t compromise the Medusa Project,” Vanessa warned.

  “Understood.”

  “I leave it in your capable hands, then. Do what you have to. Get the son to help us and find out exactly how much he knows. We’ll contact the father as well. Tonight’s attack pretty much negated the idea of standing off and waiting for the deal to go down so we can snatch both the terrorists and the El Aran people.”

  “Hake says the family’s being blackmailed into the sale.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask Marat about that.”

  Casey started. Vanessa was going to lead the team herself? Wow. She only went out on the most crucial and difficult missions in person ever since she’d given birth to her daughter, Caroline, last year.

  Vanessa was speaking. “…know where you’re sailing?”

  “Hake ordered the captain to take us into international waters. I’ll let you know when we have a destination.”

  “Stay in touch.”

  “Wilco,” Casey murmured.

  She’d barely disconnected the phone before Hake demanded to know who she’d been talking to. He vibrated with masculine impatience, and something feminine within her thrilled to all that energy. Her reaction was damned annoying, in fact. “That was my boss,” she said rather more sourly than his question warranted.

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “And what? Now you tell me everything you know about these terrorists and my people try to catch them.”

  Hake shook his head. “Can’t risk it. You government types always foul things up and my family will be the ones to pay the price—with their lives. El Aran Industries goes through with this deal as planned and you’ll tell your people to stay the hell out of the way.”

  She considered for a moment, then said, “I hope that’s merely your opening gambit, because if it’s your final offer, you’re about to be very disappointed.”

  His eyes glittered with anger. Didn’t like being threatened, did he? She couldn’t blame him. “How’s that?” he ground out.

  “If you refuse to cooperate with me and my people, you’re going to find yourself under arrest, the deal halted and whatever consequences the terrorists threatened coming true against your family.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he growled.

  She looked him square in the eye and answered low and even, “Try me.”

  Chapter 7

  C asey watched warily as Hake leaped up off the sofa and paced the salon. He reminded her of a seriously riled panther. He snarled, “So that’s it, then? I cooperate with you or you throw my entire family to the wolves?”

  She took no pleasure in defeating him. Not like this. “Terrorists cannot be allowed to get their hands on that machine. At all costs—including my life, yours and even your family’s—the deal must be stopped.”

  Hake burst out, “My father and I don’t want this bunch to have the machine either. We were going to sabotage it so it can’t achieve the precision someone would need to fabricate, say, a nuclear trigger.”

  Casey’s eyebrows rose. “Can that be done in a way the buyers can’t spot easily?”

  Grim humor glinted in his dark gaze. “We expect they’ll manufacture faulty parts for six to twelve months before they figure it out. And by then, they’ll have burned most of their raw resources.”

  “Why didn’t you contact the B
ritish government or your own about all this?”

  “Same reason I didn’t contact yours. Governments mess things up. They have security leaks and are bogged down with bureaucracy and bungle delicate negotiations.”

  “We kept you alive tonight, didn’t we?”

  He stopped pacing abruptly to study her intently. “And you and your friends would be who again?”

  “Government agents who are neither prone to security leaks nor bungling delicate negotiations.”

  “What do you want from me?” he asked directly.

  She answered equally directly. “Your full cooperation.”

  “Not happening,” he bit out.

  She shrugged. “Nonetheless, my mission remains to stop this deal. I’ll succeed with or without your help.”

  “You can’t stop it!” he exclaimed. “My family’s lives ride on it going through!”

  She sighed. “What if my people were to set up heavy surveillance around the deal to apprehend the buyers?”

  “Do I have any say in what you and your people do?”

  He sounded bitter. Not that she blamed him. She’d be terribly tense if her family’s necks were on the line, too. “No,” she answered truthfully. “You don’t.”

  “I can always tell my captain to stay in international water for the next few weeks until the deal is done.”

  “And throw responsibility for the whole mess onto your father’s shoulders?” she said reproachfully. “I think not.”

  He scowled. She was right and he knew it. He wouldn’t leave his father in the lurch like that. She watched in silence as he paced the salon. It turned out he was gorgeous from every angle.

  Eventually, he dropped onto the sofa beside her. He asked, “If you hadn’t seen that guy and tackled me like that, I’d have been blown to bits, wouldn’t I?”

  “Probably.” They’d been lucky that the restaurant’s tables were old and heavy and made of solid wood. That fact alone had likely saved both of their lives.

  He reached over and took her hands in his. He looked her directly in the eye. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  “You’re welcome.” Their gazes met and touched in a moment of naked honesty. They were alive. Such a simple thing but so very precious. He reached up slowly with one hand to touch her cheek, a light touch, just the tips of his fingers trailing across her cheekbone and tracing the line of her jaw. A shiver passed through her, and a single errant thought filled her mind. Do that again.