Black List_Black Star Security

by Cynthia Rayne

  “They hooded you?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Yes, and I’m sick of you pretending like you don’t know.”

  “Lucy, they didn’t tell me a damn thing. When I woke up that last morning, I got a call ordering me to arrange a meeting with you. My supervisor said they were pulling the trigger on this operation, but I didn’t get any other details.”

  Lucy didn’t know what to say. He might be telling the truth. As a rule, spies didn’t offer up much information. The fewer people who know a secret, the less likely it is to get out.

  Or maybe you just want to believe him.

  She wrapped her arms around her torso. “The point is, I was treated like a terrorist. I was one of the good guys. I’d never be disloyal to my country.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry. The agency was desperate. They needed spies with your language skills and combat training, but you refused to cooperate.”

  Lucy started to speak and then shook her head. Tears were burning in her eyes, threatening to fall down her face.

  Please, God, don’t let me cry in front of him. Don’t let him see how bad it hurt.

  “What? Tell me, Lucy.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. The warmth of his palm was comforting, familiar, and she didn’t have the will to shove him away.

  “You sat there at the table with me like nothing was wrong, drawing it out.”

  Every time, she’d made her excuses, ready to head home, he’d stalled her, asking another question, offering dessert. Supposedly, they’d been meeting for a quick dinner, which lasted nearly three hours instead.

  Storm sagged against his seat. “I knew as soon as you left, it would be over. We would be over. Deep down, I knew it might be the last time I’d ever see you. And even if our paths crossed again, you’d never ever look at me the same way.”

  Lucy remembered every second of that fateful evening. It had been burned into her mind. She’d played the memories over and over again, like a movie in her head. Every time she sifted through them, Lucy examined the mental “footage” and tried to piece together what the hell had happened.

  Looking back, there’d been something sorrowful in his eyes, guilty. And yet, she hadn’t been able to sense it at the time. She’d been too caught up in the emotions, the will they/won’t they of their relationship. Lucy had been so in love with him, she’d never seen the trap coming.

  Lucy hated thinking about it. It made her feel weak, stupid. Instead of sitting there with him sharing a plate of baklava and Turkish coffee, she should’ve been running away.

  “There’s something I don’t understand either. Why didn’t you join us to begin with?”

  “Because I was happy working for my security firm. We handed over a half-dozen terrorists to you.”

  “Yes, corpses, which were useless. We wanted intelligence.”

  “No, you wanted to torture them into talking, which is why I didn’t want to be part of CIA operations.”

  “We were on the same side.”

  “No, we weren’t. My security firm killed terrorists and turned in their bodies for the bounty. You rounded them up, tortured them, and then warehoused the bastards forever. I’m not saying what my firm did was kind, but it was more humane than what you boys were up to.”

  “They’re killers and they don’t deserve your pity.”

  She smirked. “Aren’t we all?”

  Storm’s lips thinned.

  “The point is, if we stoop to their level, what does it make us?”

  He paused a moment. “Maybe you have a point. We’ve all done questionable things for national security.”

  “Yes, exactly.” Lucy pushed a hand through her hair. “And I’m not delusional, I know there aren’t any good solutions. There are only bad ones. So, you have to pick the least terrible option out of them. But what you did, what we did, was wrong. At least I’ve admitted to it and moved on.”

  “You think it doesn’t haunt me?”

  “Of course, it does.”

  He blinked.

  “What? You’ve done shitty things, especially to me, but I don’t think you’re a monster, Storm.”

  His eyes widened. “Thank you.”

  Lucy pushed forward. “But these guys don’t give up their secrets easily.”

  “Yes, so they had to take extreme measures to get intel from them.”

  “No, you and I both know only a quarter of the information they gave us was actionable, at best. They’re true believers and they’re willing to die, before they betray their cause. They blow themselves up for God’s sake. What makes you think they’d tell you jack shit?” Lucy practically shouted the last bit.

  She pulled back, getting ahold of her anger. It was a hot-button issue.

  “I know, our methods at the time…” Storm drifted off and then found his voice again. “Weren’t the best. Since then, we’ve learned to adapt.”

  “I know, and don’t get me wrong, I don’t sympathize with them or anything. We were killing them in the field—two clean shots to the back of the head. Game over.” These men were merciless, willing to kill innocent women and children in the name of their cause.

  Her team had rounded up some bad guys and no innocent civilians were harmed in the process. Sometimes drone strikes had disastrous collateral damage.

  “Yes, but there are terror networks, you have to track down and dismantle. These guys aren’t lone wolves.”

  “No, they aren’t.” Lucy knew, as soon as she took out one guy, another would step into his place.

  Storm took a deep breath. “You and I will never agree on this topic, so let’s move on. Who was your source?” Storm asked again.

  Lucy swallowed. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “I do. Please.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  Storm wasn’t going to give up, so she might as well get this over with as soon as possible.

  “Hussam al-Din Bitar.”

  Storm hissed a breath. “Hussam.”

  He was one of the money men, a legitimate business owner with access all over the Middle East. Terrorist groups used him to protect and move their cash.

  He laundered their money and paid off the families of so-called martyrs for their sacrifice. Suicide bombers were rewarded with more cash than they could ever earn legitimately. Some of the men agreed to kill themselves, in order to support their families. Others did it for the promise of a boatload of virgins and paradise everlasting.

  Whatever the reason, it was all kinds of fucked up.

  “How?”

  “You know how,” she said tightly.

  It all came back in flashes, nights spent on her back, legs spread, offering herself up to a man she didn’t love or even like. It was humiliating. Every day she’d felt violated, but she didn’t have any choice.

  “Tell me, goddammit.”

  “What do you want me to say? I was a honey trap. I spread my legs for the bastard.”

  The words seemed to echo in the car, filling the stunned silence.

  Slowly, Storm pulled his hand from her shoulder.

  The plan had been both stupidly simple and complicated. Hussam had a taste for Western women and the CIA exploited his predilections.

  “They dropped you into his path?” he asked, in a choked voice.

  “Yeah, complete with a plausible backstory and the records to prove it. I met his assistant, Basma Abadi, and he introduced me to Hussam.”

  “And…?”

  “Hussam took the bait. I became his mistress in less than a week.”

  Hussam loved to party and the agency had wrangled her an invitation to an exclusive bash he was attending. He had three wives and several mistresses. Personally, Lucy didn’t know how the man found time to work, eat or sleep.

  ‘Tell me what happened.”

  Lucy didn’t know what to think about Storm’s demeanor. Did he really care?

  “What do you think? I used him for information and did the best I could, under the circumstances. It was a lovely
day for a walk.”

  It was a code phrase the CIA used when an operation had a hiccup, but the plan was moving forward anyway.

  His lips thinned. Clearly, Storm wasn’t buying her charade.

  Everything about sleeping with Hussam was awful. Lucy liked clearly drawn lines in her life, but this situation had been one big confusing gray area. She’d pretended to be his girlfriend, listening to him ramble on about his days, playing along with the charade.

  And she’d let him do painful, humiliating things to her.

  “Please talk to me. I want to know—”

  “What? How scared I was? Every day I worried he’d figure out what I was up to.” She’d held her breath every time his guards came near her. “Especially when the agency started acting on the intelligence I supplied.”

  She’d lived in fear, surreptitiously gathering intelligence from his cell phone and computer, listening in on conversations. Hussam had spoken freely in Arabic because he didn’t know she’d studied the language.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she snapped. “He was an amazing lover.”

  It was a huge lie. But Lucy wanted to hurt Storm, shock him.

  His left eye twitched. Other than the small movement, Storm’s face was placid, unruffled. And she wanted to see his pain. Assuming this wasn’t some act, of course.

  No, she needed to see it. Lucy wanted to know he hurt, too. That he regretted his actions.

  “Lucy, I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, bewildered. “I didn’t know…”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I know.” His voice came out in a croak. “But it’s the truth. I thought they’d sent you to The Farm, train you to be an agent, or embed you in a military unit. I had no idea they’d...”

  “Turn me into a whore?”

  “Never call yourself that,” he said fiercely.

  “Let me see it.”

  “See what?”

  “You know what. Drop your guard. Don’t hide it from me.”

  Storm shook his head, clutching the steering wheel.

  “Please.”

  And then he dropped the mask and it was her turn to gasp.

  His face crumpled. Storm balled up a fist and smacked the dashboard. His shoulders slumped, and Storm clutched his head. It looked as though someone had knocked the wind out of him.

  It should’ve made her feel better, vindicated somehow, but witnessing his pain made Lucy hurt, too.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t keep the tears back and they dribbled down her cheeks. Being Hussam’s mistress had left scars on both her psyche and her body. Sometimes Lucy thought the wounds might never mend.

  “Can you ever forgive me?” Storm asked after a few minutes.

  Lucy shook her head. “Because of you, I lost myself—my morals, my identity, everything. And I can never forgive you for that. Never.” She angrily wiped the tears away. “Now, please take me back to HQ.”

  Without a word, he started the car, and they took off.

  ***

  Storm was sick to his stomach, queasy as he walked in the door.

  When they’d got back to HQ, Lucy had jumped out of the car to get away from him fast. She’d headed upstairs to her room without a backward glance.

  And he couldn’t blame her. His actions had led, albeit unwittingly, to her sexual servitude.

  Storm still couldn’t wrap his head around it. The agency had prostituted her in the name of national security. He wanted to march right in the front door at Langley and demand some fucking answers.

  No, he wanted to call the press and expose them for being heartless pricks. But he couldn’t do either of those things. In the best-case scenario, he’d expose Lucy to unwanted scrutiny. And the worst? The agency would snatch her again. God only knows what else the CIA had in store for her.

  Everyone else was in bed, except for Mack who sat at the kitchen table contemplating her phone. She didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

  “Hi,” Storm muttered.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Texting with the thief?”

  Mack bit her lip. “Yeah. How did your trip to the morgue go?”

  “We got the info we needed, but you wouldn’t believe what a shit day I’ve had.”

  Storm crossed to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He twisted the top off and poured it down his throat. As a rule, he drank wine for the health benefits, but he wasn’t going to bother with a corkscrew and a glass right now.

  “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

  Mack flipped the phone over and pushed it away. He wondered if she was having a hard time leaving it alone. Like talking with the robber was an addiction?

  Storm updated her on the case and gave Mack a snarky take on Lucy’s bestest friend, Finn. She quietly listened, taking it all in and he rambled on and on, describing Finn’s pervy suite and his stupid clothing.

  “You sound jealous.”

  Mack leaned back in her chair, all squinty and judgmental.

  “I’m not jealous.” Storm took another pull on the beer. Just what I need. Empty calories. Maybe I’ll cram some potato chips down my cakehole, too.

  “Yeah?” She raised her brows. “Because I think you’ve got a lovely pair of green eyes.”

  “Lucy and I had a…thing, but it’s in the past.”

  “What kind of thing?” She scooted closer.

  He sighed. Storm had never confessed this particular sin to anyone. He’d only given the team vague details on his association with Lucy. Would it feel better to get it off his chest? Or should he continue festering in silence?

  “Come on, spit it out, Storm. I know you want to.”

  Mack was right. He wanted someone else’s take on the situation. Storm couldn’t hope for absolution. What he’d done was wrong, even if he’d had a higher purpose but he wanted someone to understand his motivations.

  And more than that, he wanted some advice on how to proceed. Storm had inadvertently stolen her life and he wanted to make amends. Somehow.

  “Okay, a few years back, before I started working with the SEALs, I had an operation with Lucy.”

  “You were coworkers?”

  “She was my target and it was my job to convince her to work with the agency.”

  “You mean the CIA,” Mack corrected.

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  She huffed a breath. “Yeah, we all know you were a spook. So, you were trying to recruit her?”

  “Yes, I thought they’d turn her into an agent, or a high-value asset.”

  He wished Lucy had agreed to work for Langley when she’d been approached in college. As an official member of the team, she would’ve had more protections in place to keep her safe.

  Storm knew almost everything about Lucy. He’d studied her for weeks before beginning the operation. He knew where she’d gone to high school and college. Storm had even memorized the names of her friends, knew her hobbies, her habits. He’d read her entire file from cover to cover and memorized most of it.

  And Storm realized now, he’d fallen in love with her on the page. Even before he’d met Lucy, he’d been captivated by her.

  “I thought people applied to work at the agency, not the other way around.”

  “If you’re valuable enough, the CIA will pursue you.” In Lucy’s case, relentlessly.

  Some people applied but an elite few where approached. Storm was one of those. They’d noticed his online activities and sent an agent to his dorm room in college. He’d applied on the spot and had never looked back.

  “Okay. Got it. And what happened?”

  He forced himself to say the words. “At the time she was working for a private security firm, and I approached her under an assumed identity, as an IT guy working for another contractor, and flirted with her.”

  “Your goal was to soften her up?”

  “Yes, I’d casually mention the agency, and indicate I’d been approached by them, but she wanted nothing to do with Langley.” Storm
had trouble admitting the next bit. “I was supposed to remain objective, but I found myself looking forward to our meetings.” Lucy had become more than a job. He’d considered the time they spent together as dates. “One thing led to another and—”

  “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her while you were lying to her face.”

  Storm didn’t disagree with Mack’s assessment, but it hurt nonetheless. Evasion had been one of the courses, he’d completed at The Farm. He'd aced it. His instructors had invited the recruits to cocktail parties, where they could practice lying to one another, getting familiar with their cover stories.

  “No.” He swallowed. “I was very professional.”

  Storm wasn’t sure if he should be proud of the fact, but they’d never done more than kiss. If you didn’t count the bump and grind almost-sex session in the car. Part of him grieved for what could’ve been. He’d missed his opportunity to be with her.

  At the time, he’d blamed his reluctance to take things further on being in a Muslim nation. Public displays of affection were forbidden. He shouldn’t have even been dining alone with her. It was enough to raise eyebrows.

  If he’d gone back to her room and someone had noticed them, Lucy might’ve been put in jeopardy. The religious police snatched people off the street and punished them for sins against God.

  Besides, he’d been running an op, and other members of his team were listening in on all of their conversations. Sometimes, he felt dirty during their interactions. Others, he forgot anyone else was listening—it was just him and Lucy on a date.

  “No wonder she hates you.”

  “Gee, thanks. I feel a lot better.” And Storm hadn’t even told her the worst of it. Namely, what Lucy had been forced into doing.

  “Sorry, but the truth hurts.” Mack patted his arm. “Betrayal is hard to get over. She has serious trust issues. Did you apologize?”

  “Yes, a few times.”

  “Keep it up.”

  “Think it will get through?” He wasn’t holding out much hope.

  “Eventually, if you back it up with action.”

  “Then I’ll say it again and again, until Lucy’s able to hear it.”

  Mack leaned closer, studying him. “What are you doing with this girl, Storm?”