She stared at the article on screen for a long moment. “We’re still going to Port Harcourt. That hasn’t changed. It’s the largest population center in the area. If Jean-Luc and Marcus were at the field hospital with Dr. Oliver and they escaped, they’ll find their way to the city. It’s their best chance of making contact for an exfil. For now, it’s going to be a waiting game until we have more intel. If any of you have sources that can help, tap them. We’ll regroup and come up with another plan in”—she checked her watch—“an hour. I need to brief HQ about this development.”
The room cleared out, everyone muttering about this unwelcome turn of events.
Lanie slumped into a chair at the head of the table and let out a huge sigh. “Don’t know why I’m so surprised things went sideways on us. They always do.”
Harvard tried for a smile. If it looked as phony as it felt, it wasn’t going to fool anyone. “We’ll figure it out. Do you want me to get HQ on a video conference for you?”
“Yeah, might as well get it over with.” Lanie frowned as she studied him. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Of course,” he said, putting more concentration into setting up the video call than was strictly needed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seem…angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry before.”
“I’m fine. While you’re filling in Gabe and Quinn, I’ll call Sami, see what she can dig up about the hospital attack.” He gestured at the computer. “This is all set. You just have to hit the call button.”
He started to stand, but she set a gentle hand on his arm.
“You know I’m not Gabe and Quinn, right?” she said. “They’re excellent leaders, but they expected a certain level of stoic machismo from y’all and it caused issues. I don’t expect that. If you’re having a problem, talk to me. Let me help you work through it.”
He wanted to tell her how much it hurt that Jean-Luc hadn’t trusted him enough to help rescue Claire. How badly he wanted to contribute to the team. How much he hated being called “kid.” Sure, he was the youngest of the group, and the least experienced with combat, but goddammit, they wouldn’t even give him a shot to prove himself.
He was so tired of everyone underestimating him.
He couldn’t tell her, though. Wouldn’t let it show. From now on, he’d keep everyone at a professional distance. How many times had he been foolish enough to get attached enough to anyone, to open himself up and allow them to hurt him? Hadn’t he learned a long time ago the only thing in his life he could trust was his computer? It never lied to him, never abandoned him. It was his oldest, truest friend.
He didn’t need any others.
“I’m fine,” he repeated. “Excuse me, I have work to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Port Harcourt, Nigeria
Mercedes plugged in her phone. The battery had drained during their overnight boat ride to Port Harcourt, and she couldn’t help the sense of relief at having to put off the call she had to make.
She sighed and gazed up into the wall-mounted mirror over the dresser. Sebastian lay asleep on the hotel bed behind her. He wore nothing but his boxers, his arm and leg both bandaged. The leg turned out to be nothing but a grazing flesh wound, but she’d had to dig a bullet out of the muscle of his arm. He’d lost a lot of blood overnight and had finally passed out during the improvised surgery. It had been two hours since she cleaned and bandaged his wounds and he hadn’t woken up yet.
She paced the foot of the bed. She had no idea what to do now. If she made the call to Harrison Stead reporting her half success, she would be all but signing her death certificate. Of that, she had no doubt. She knew how ruthless Harrison could be. She’d always admired that about him, but she’d always been his star employee, his golden child. She’d had no reason to be afraid of him. Until now.
And she was so afraid, but not only for her own skin. Seb wanted out, and he wasn’t even going to finish his last mission before leaving. If he finished the contract and killed Marcus Deangelo, he might have had a chance that Harrison would let him go without a fight.
Seb was as good as dead. And it wouldn’t just be Defion coming after him. It’d also be the people who put the hit out on Deangelo in the first place. He was dooming himself to a life as a hunted man, and nothing she said would change his mind.
Her phone beeped, indicating the battery was now charged enough to work. She froze and stared at the thing like it was something fatally poisonous. She didn’t want to touch it. Didn’t want to pick it up and make that call.
But she had to. What other choice did she have? As much as her heart screamed she should, she couldn’t run away with Sebastian. They’d both be dead. At least if she made the call, admitted her failure, Harrison’s rage would be so focused on her, Seb might have enough time to disappear.
Decision made, she strode over to the phone and picked it up before she changed her mind. Except the beep hadn’t been from her phone telling her it was back online. It had been from…
A tracking device coming into range.
Holy shit.
Dr. Claire Oliver still had the tracker the pickpocket had planted on her in Lagos.
Mercedes opened the tracking app and let out a delighted laugh when she saw the blip. If this thing was accurate, Dr. Oliver was also in Port Harcourt.
Mercedes grabbed her weapons and stopped only long enough to kiss Seb’s forehead before she left the hotel. This mission wasn’t about impressing Harrison anymore. Or even saving her own skin. This was all about Sebastian. When she returned successful, she’d have leverage to talk Harrison into allowing Seb to live.
This mission wasn’t over yet.
…
Jean-Luc tapped his brand new burner phone against his palm and watched Claire through the window of the clothing store, where she’d gone to find something that wasn’t ripped and mud stained. They already drew enough attention by being three of the few light-skinned people in the city. Last thing any of them wanted was to stand out because they looked like they had been through a war zone, too. She’d changed into a traditional Nigerian dress full of bright colors and patterns, and carried her dirty clothes in a shopping bag as she spoke with the shopkeeper. With her hair in a stubby ponytail, the new outfit made her look younger, softer, more fragile.
So fragile.
She wasn’t made for a life of dodging bullets. And to think of all the times he nearly lost her in the last twenty-four hours…
Merde. It made him quake inside. He wanted to wrap her in Kevlar and keep her safe.
“Hey.” Marcus waved a hand in front of his face. “Cajun, you gonna make the call or what?”
He scowled down at the piece of plastic in his hand. It was a crappy flip phone, the likes of which he hadn’t seen since his early days in the CIA. He opened it, closed it, opened it again. He’d forgotten how satisfying that whole feature was.
“Dude,” Marcus said with exasperation and held out his hand. “If you’re not gonna—”
He pushed the hand away. “I’ll do it.” He just dreaded it. He didn’t know how the team would react to him reaching out for help now, but this situation had ballooned into something he and Marcus couldn’t handle on their own. They needed HORNET.
Time to swallow his pride.
He flipped open the phone again and dialed Harvard’s number from memory. He figured if he owed anyone an apology first, it was the kid who’d had his back since the CIA.
One ring. Two. The knots in his stomach tightened.
The line connected. “This is Eric Physick.”
“Hey, H—”
Harvard let out a stream of curses colorful enough to make even their ex-Navy SEAL bosses wince. Jean-Luc grinned through the tirade. The kid was fairly straightlaced but when he was annoyed, he could swear with the best of them.
“I deserved that,” he said when Harvard wound down.
“And then some. What’s your twenty? Who are you with?”
“Is this
a secure—”
“Don’t even insult me like that,” Harvard said in a cold voice.
Jean-Luc’s grin faded. Well, shit. The kid was genuinely pissed off. “Port Harcourt. Marcus is with me and we have Claire.”
“Good. We’re on our way to you. ETA, 0300.”
So HORNET had been looking for them all along. Harvard, genius that he was, had probably found them. He wished the thought didn’t knot him up inside with guilt. Before he could figure out how to best approach apologizing, Harvard said, “Stay put. I’ll find you lodgings for the night and text you the address.” Then hung up.
“Sounds like the kid’s mad,” Marcus said.
Jean-Luc shut the phone. Harvard had been itching to get out from behind a computer and into the field, and Jean-Luc had promised months ago to give him that shot at the first opportunity. But when he started this mission, he hadn’t been thinking rationally. He hadn’t wanted logic. He’d been following his reckless heart, and damn the consequences.
He’d been wrong to cut out the rest of the team.
He sighed and rubbed at the ache in his temple. “I’m sure Harvard isn’t the only one pissed. I’m probably gonna be hitting the unemployment line when we get home.” His phone vibrated as the promised text came through. He opened it, memorized the address, then grabbed a map from the side pocket of his rucksack. A hotel. He wasn’t at all surprised to see it owned by Quentin Enterprises. Tuc owned half the world, and probably had shares in the other half.
He showed the map to Marcus. “At least now we have a safe house.”
Marcus scowled at the address. “Not sure how safe I’d consider any of Tuc’s hotels after Martinique.”
He snorted and refolded the map. “My thoughts exactly, but we’re out of options, and it’s only for the night. The team’s already in the air and scheduled to land at 0300.”
He pocketed the map and turned on a smile as Claire joined them. “All set, cher?”
She eyed him suspiciously, then Marcus. She dropped the shopping bag. Her shoulders tightened and her guard visibly went up like she was expecting another blow. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
He realized then how they must have looked to her. Marcus grim faced, and him forcing a smile he didn’t feel. He dropped the act and ran a hand over her hair. “No, no. It’s nothing bad. It’s actually good news for once. We have a place to stay tonight where we’ll be safe.”
“Then why do you both look like someone died?”
“Not someone,” Marcus muttered as he turned away to find them a cab. “Something. Our careers.”
Jean-Luc watched Marcus go, concerned by his lack of reaction to the idea. In fact, he didn’t sound at all broken up about it. More like resigned, accepting even—but that had to be a worry for another time.
Jean-Luc cupped Claire’s cheeks in his hands and drew her attention back to him. “Our team is on the way. They’ll arrive tonight and we’ll leave Nigeria with them tomorrow.”
“What about my research? Akeso? We can’t leave it—”
“And we won’t.” He smoothed a kiss over her furrowed brow. “We’ll get it back. I promise we will, but my primary concern right now is your safety. If Defion gets another chance at you, they’ll take it because you’re more valuable than the research by itself.”
She turned away from him. “I hate this.”
He reached for her, but thought better of it and instead picked up her bag. “I know you do, cher. We’ll make things right.”
“I don’t think anything will ever be right again. I shouldn’t have created Akeso.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad you did.”
She shook her head and took the shopping bag from his hand. Without another word, she walked over to where Marcus held a cab for them.
Defeated. It was the only word that came to mind as he watched her walk away. Defion had finally crushed her spirit, leaving her a shell of her former shelf, and he hated them desperately for that. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides.
If he ever got his hands on a Defion agent, he’d make them pay for putting that look of pained hopelessness in her eyes.
Chapter Thirty
The hotel was expecting them. Shouldn’t have surprised Claire, given Jean-Luc’s connections, but it did. The staff handed over the keys to two suites without question or payment and ushered them to the top floor of the hotel. Jean-Luc hesitated at the two doors, then very slowly held out one of the keys to her. “If you need anything, we’ll be right—”
He was trying to be a gentleman. She understood that. But she didn’t want a gentleman right now. She was exhausted, numb, and needed to remember what it felt like to be alive. She closed her hand around his and tugged him toward her.
“Uh…yeah, okay.” Marcus motioned to the door over his shoulder with the key card. “I’ll just, uh, take this one then. Reconvene at 0300?”
“F’sure,” Jean-Luc said.
“Try to get at least a little bit of sleep, all right?” With that, Marcus unlocked his door and disappeared inside.
“I don’t plan to sleep,” Claire said as she turned to unlock their room. She was done being coy about this. She nearly died last night. Now, in the light of day, it seemed foolish not to take what she wanted, and she wanted Jean-Luc. Had since she first saw him at the hotel in Martinique, and their rendezvous in her tent last night hadn’t sated her. If anything, it only made her desire sharper, more urgent.
The door opened to a cozy living/dining combo, with deep, cushy furniture and a large TV on one wall. Through a set of double doors was a king-sized bed and a master bath with a huge soaking tub.
It was every bit as luxurious as she’d expect a penthouse suite to be back home, and she marveled at the amenities as she went from room to room. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been surrounded by such creature comforts. Before her life on the run began in Martinique, she’d been in the Amazon jungle for two months researching Zika. She hadn’t had a bath in… too long.
She returned to the living room and found Jean-Luc collapsed in one of the chairs. He looked exhausted. He needed the night she had planned as much as she did.
She took off her dress and let it drop to the floor. The rustle of fabric drew his attention, and he glanced up. His eyes flashed bright with lust. As she stripped off her panties and let them fall into the colorful pool of her dress, he devoured her with his gaze, ravished her without even touching her.
A sound of pure masculine need rumbled from his chest. “Dieu, you’re beautiful.”
She started toward him, but he held up both hands as if to ward off her advance. Surprised by his resistance, she stopped. Told herself not to be embarrassed by her boldness. She hadn’t misread him. She knew she hadn’t, and yet… “Don’t you want this?”
“More than you know. But…” He seemed to struggle with what he was about to say. “But first, listen. I can’t be with you without… Aw, merde, this is hard. Claire, I’ve been with a lot of women. A lot. A few men, too, if I’m honest. I’ve been in my fair share of threesomes.”
Oh. Was that all? Tension seeped out of her. If he thought he was talking her out of having sex with him, he was sorely mistaken. “I’ve never had a threesome. What’s it like?”
His eyebrows lifted. Surprised him, had she?
“A lot of stray body parts and multitasking,” he said, watching with rapt attention as she closed the rest of the distance between them.
“Hmm. I’m great at multitasking. Should we invite Marcus to join us?”
His fingers dug into her hips and pulled her possessively toward him. “Fuck, no. You’re mine and I’m not good at sharing what’s mine.”
She straddled his lap and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I thought you were cursed with celibacy?”
He watched her fingers work, his breaths coming faster with each button she released. “Who told you that?”
“Marcus.”
“Asshole doesn’t know how to kee
p his mouth shut.”
“So it’s true.” She traced a finger down his exposed chest and abs to the edge of his jeans. “You think you’re cursed.”
“Yes, I am. Was. Am. I don’t know anymore.” On a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut and caught her wrist. “I was a man-whore whose life’s mission was to fuck. I was always safe, but I was never…discerning, and I hate myself for it. Maybe a shrink would say I’ve always hated myself and that’s why I use sex like a drug and—”
He stopped talking, and when he opened his eyes, she saw a vulnerability in him she’d never glimpsed before. “Claire, I—I don’t want tonight to be—like that. To have that under-layer of desperation.”
She leaned in, pausing with her lips barely touching his. “This isn’t desperation. I told you I want to live. My close call last night only cemented that decision for me. I want to live, and you make me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever known.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”
“I promise, no regrets.” She kissed him, a light feather-brush of her lips back and forth over his until he opened his eyes again. “Let’s be a bit reckless. Just for tonight.”
“Oh, I can do reckless.” He lunged forward to return her kiss, but she backed away before their lips touched.
She stood up and grinned at his disappointed frown. “But first, I want a bath.”
Without waiting for his response, she dashed toward the bathroom. She heard him cursing as he struggled to get out of the deep chair and give chase. He caught her just as she leaned over the tub to start the water.
“Tease.” His hands clamped around her hips and drew her rear back against the firm ridge of his arousal. He still wore his jeans and rocked forward, rubbing the fabric against her butt cheeks. The denim rasped over her sensitive skin, made her nipples harden, and her arms and legs shake.
“Do you still want me to fuck you with my cock?” His voice rumbled next to her ear followed by a nip at her earlobe that sent her reeling. “Or would you rather have my fingers? My mouth?”
Reckless Honor (HORNET) Page 16
