Hot Rebel

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Mendez paused and looked up. Nick felt himself leaning forward, hanging on the colonel’s every word.

  “Emily converted to Islam and went to Qu’rim with this man. We think she may have married him, but we don’t know for certain. Once here, he became active in the Freedom Force. He was a minor player, but with the collapse of the organizational structure and the subsequent resurgence, he’s become someone to watch. In short, he was our target.”

  Nick felt as if someone had sucker punched him. This was the reason Victoria had left the Army? She’d said that she hadn’t failed. But her sister associating with known terrorists must have been too much for the Army to take.

  “Jesus,” Ryan “Flash” Gordon said, echoing what they all had to be thinking.

  It was a tangled web of relationships worthy of a soap opera. But far more dangerous.

  “Is that why Victoria left the Army?” Nick asked.

  Mendez glanced down at his papers. “Though there was never any evidence she sympathized with her sister or bin Yusuf, she was thought to be a security risk. She was offered a desk job with no access to classified information, but she refused. Subsequently, she was discharged.”

  Nick shoved a hand through his hair and frowned. Victoria’s sister ran away with a terrorist, and now Victoria was in Qu’rim, working for an outfit that seemed to be protecting the very organization her sister’s lover—or husband—was part of.

  Nick thought of how she’d threatened to shoot him, and fresh anger swelled. He’d let her get the jump on him because he’d believed her to be on his and Dex’s side, however temporarily. She’d needed them to escape the opposition fighters, but what if she’d run right into the arms of the Freedom Force once she’d disappeared? It made Nick’s blood run cold and his stomach tighten.

  Mendez slapped the folder closed and Nick jumped. All eyes went to the colonel.

  “I have an assignment for you, but I’m going to warn you this doesn’t come from the top. If anyone wants out, he or she can get up right now and walk out the door, no questions asked.”

  The colonel paused for a long moment, but no one made a move. He cleared his throat. “Good to know.” Mendez leaned forward, hands folded one on top of the other, and let his gaze rove across the room. “We’re going after Black and his team. I want to know who’s paying the bills over there, and I want to know what their end goal is. Most importantly, I want Victoria Royal. She’s the key to whatever’s going on—and I want to know what that is.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After two weeks of back-and-forth, Ian had news for her—and she was finally going to see Emily after more than three long years of not seeing her sister at all.

  Victoria smoothed her hair and pressed a hand to her belly. She was wearing a cotton dress and sandals, trying to look nice for her sister, and sitting at a cafe like a tourist. Now she was wondering if it had been a mistake not to wear her usual clothing and cover it with a burka. She’d have felt less conspicuous, that’s certain, but she’d hoped to put Emily at ease by not appearing to be the hardened soldier that two years in Qu’rim had made her into.

  It was almost laughable, but Victoria was trying to be ladylike, though she’d never had any training in how to be a lady. Not when she’d been raised by a crusty old man who’d died and left her and Emily to foster care—and to people who had no idea what to do with two teenage girls.

  The Andersons had been good people, but they hadn’t known the first thing about how to stop Emily from spiraling into drugs and alcohol. They’d finally given up and called Child Protective Services to come and take Victoria and her sister back to the group home.

  Her fingers drummed the tabletop nervously. She picked up the cup of sweet Arab coffee and took a sip, telling herself she had to act normal and be patient.

  The seaside resort town where she’d been instructed to meet Emily was largely untouched by the civil war, but there were signs it wasn’t the idyllic paradise it was purported to be. There were security barriers on the way into town as well as random checkpoints manned by tanks and Qu’rimi Army personnel in full battle gear.

  It was odd to be meeting Emily here, considering how this town was still firmly held by the Qu’rimi government. Emily wasn’t precisely associating with law-abiding citizens who wished the king’s government well, after all.

  Still, Victoria had been told to come to Akhira and to wait at this cafe on this day at this time. She checked the time on her phone and blew out a breath. Emily was fifteen minutes late.

  Victoria had no idea what she might say to her sister, or how she would get Emily away from the man who’d poisoned her mind. She’d only ever wanted Emily to be safe and well, but she hadn’t known for the past several years if her sister truly was either of those things.

  When she’d called in the past, Emily had said everything was fine. But she’d also said that Zaran wasn’t a terrorist, either. He was a patriot, a man who cared deeply about his nation, his people, and his religion. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  Blah, blah, blah.

  It made Victoria sick to think of everything she knew about Zaran bin Yusuf that was completely contrary to Emily’s picture of him. Still, there’d been hesitation in Emily’s voice the last time they’d spoken, and that had worried her.

  “Miss Royal?”

  Victoria’s head snapped up even as her heart pounded. A man in a white thobe and dark headdress stood beside the table, his dark eyes gleaming as he looked her over.

  “Yes?”

  He bowed slightly. “You are to come with me.”

  Alarm prickled Victoria’s skin. “I don’t know you.”

  “I am to take you to see Noor bin Zaran.”

  Victoria’s heart tumbled. “I… I don’t know who that is.”

  “She is the Light of Zaran, miss. She is your sister.”

  The Light of Zaran. Dear God, Emily, what have you gotten yourself into?

  Victoria was desperate to see her sister—but she wasn’t stupid. “How do I know you intend to take me to her?”

  His smile wasn’t precisely comforting. “You do not. But you must choose. Come with me now and see your sister—or stay here because you are fearful.”

  Victoria’s mind raced. “Describe her to me.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. But he painted a verbal picture of Emily that was accurate. It was the best she could do under the circumstances, so Victoria rose and took some money from her purse to leave on the table. Then she began to walk with the man, her stomach churning the farther they got from the cafe.

  The streets were so normal, but the white sands of the beach were mostly empty. A few women watched children playing, and a man walked out of the sea wearing scuba gear. Here and there, towels dotted the beach and foreign tourists lay in the sun. Europeans, mostly, since Americans wouldn’t come to Qu’rim these days.

  Victoria kept an eye on her surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary. When they rounded a corner, a car sat at the curb. A door opened and a man stepped out. She didn’t recognize him. Her stomach tightened with fear, and she ground to a halt.

  The man who’d been walking with her stopped and turned to look at her. “You must get in the car, miss.”

  She clutched her purse in front of her like a shield. She had a pistol in it because she was incapable of going anywhere unarmed these days.

  “Not until you let me speak with my sister.”

  He frowned. “This is not permitted. We will drive you to her. Then you may speak as much as you wish.”

  A bad feeling swirled in Victoria’s gut. “What’s the difference? Call her now and let me verify this is what she wants me to do. If so, I’ll go with you without complaint.”

  The man’s face grew dark with anger. “You do not give orders to me, woman. I say what you will do, and you will do it. That is the plan.”

  Victoria took a step backward. She wanted to see Emily very badly, but this didn’t feel right. And she’d spent too much time worki
ng for Ian Black not to follow her instincts.

  “Then I won’t see her today. I’ve changed my mind.”

  The man took a step toward her, but the sound of a pistol cocking drew her attention to the one who’d stepped out of the car. The black barrel of a Russian Makarov PM pointed at her heart.

  “Get in the car, Miss Royal,” the man said. “But first, throw your purse on the ground.”

  *

  Victoria was wedged between the two men in the back of the car. After she’d dropped her purse, they’d shoved her into the car and taken off. She was still trying to figure out how to disarm the one with the pistol pressed to her ribs when the car screeched to a stop.

  The man who’d collected her from the cafe let out a stream of angry Arabic. Victoria didn’t speak the language, but she’d picked up a few words here and there after being in the country for the past few months.

  Her captors seemed to want to know why they’d stopped. Definitely not a good sign. But then they took off again, and the tension in the car dropped. No one spoke, and then the man she thought of as Cafe Man got a phone call.

  He answered in clipped tones. A few seconds later, he tucked the phone into a pocket and said something to the driver. The car veered left and then sped along a highway with very little traffic. After a few more minutes, they whipped off the highway and down a road, toward the sea. Victoria’s heart pounded, but she told herself to remain alert. If there was a chance to get the gun—or get away—she would take it.

  The car drove beneath a bridge and halted. The men got out and dragged her with them. The big man with the gun shoved her and she stumbled forward. When she turned, he was pointing the gun at her.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Royal, but you will not see your sister this day,” Cafe Man told her.

  “Why?” she said, her stomach churning with acid. “Why kill me when all I want is to talk to Emily?”

  “You are a… distraction.”

  She curled her hands into fists and breathed deeply, though she was beginning to feel light-headed. After all she’d been through, all she’d done, this was how it ended? Here, under a bridge in the sand, when she’d been in combat situations repeatedly over the past two years?

  “I saved Zaran’s life two weeks ago.”

  “And he is grateful. If he were not, this would be far more painful.”

  “Emily will never forgive him if she finds out—”

  “She will not know.”

  The man was infuriatingly calm. He spoke to her like she was a child, and she wished she could strangle him.

  “Good-bye, Miss Royal.” He made a motion to the man with the gun and started to turn away—

  But the man holding the gun dropped to his knees and then fell into the sand with a thud. Cafe Man barely had time to exclaim before he collapsed too. The car’s tires spun as the driver realized what was happening and put the pedal to the floor.

  But then the car careened out of control as glass shattered, and Victoria knew he’d been hit as well. She threw herself onto the sand and grabbed the gun from the man who’d been about to shoot her. Then she started to belly crawl toward a pylon. She might be next, she might not be, but she wasn’t going to make herself into an easy target.

  An engine revved, and she looked up to see a van barreling down on her. Victoria scrambled upright and started to run. The sand sucked at her feet as her shoes slipped and slid, the tiny straps useless to keep them on. But she didn’t have time to stop and unbuckle them.

  Victoria ran, cursing her vanity and swearing she’d never give in to girlish tendencies again if God would just let her get out of this alive. It was a surprisingly unimportant thing to focus on at a time like this, but whatever.

  Yet the van caught up to her in spite of her prayers and vows. Clearly, God wasn’t amused.

  Victoria whirled and took aim, ready to shoot the tires, the driver, anything. But the vehicle slid to a stop, and the doors opened before she could fire. Men in black clothing boiled out of the door, assault rifles drawn and trained on her, surrounding her.

  Victoria kept her pistol aimed at one man, the one directly in front of her. They might kill her, but she was taking one of them with her. The air crackled with danger and electricity.

  And then the man lowered the rifle just enough that she could see his face. It wasn’t a face she’d expected, but relief flooded her at the sight.

  Nick Brandon looked as handsome as always, but he also looked angry, his dark brows drawn low in two slashes over his face. Still, she knew he wouldn’t kill her. She knew it in her bones. She dropped the pistol to her side, but the men still didn’t relax their stances, and she knew they wouldn’t until she was unarmed. She had to make her fingers uncurl from the grip, but she did it, and the gun slid to the sand where it hit with a soft plunk.

  The team of special ops warriors lowered their weapons, but Victoria only had eyes for Nick. The last time she’d seen him, she’d also had a pistol aimed at him. He wasn’t likely to forgive her for that, but right now she almost didn’t care. She was safe, even if she wasn’t entirely certain she would remain that way.

  “Well, hey there, Preacher Boy,” she made herself say, though her teeth wanted to chatter. “Didn’t know I was quite so dangerous you had to bring the entire Delta Force with you. But I’m flattered, I have to say.”

  *

  Nick couldn’t believe that he was looking at Victoria Royal in a dress. It was white with yellow flowers, and her long red hair hung in a hot, thick mess down her back. It had been sleek earlier when he’d watched her at the cafe. Her gray eyes were wide and fringed with long auburn lashes that she’d darkened with mascara. Her full lower lip quivered for half a second before she bit down on it.

  She looked like a somewhat frightened and helpless woman, and yet he knew she was a deadly assassin. The same as he was. She was like one of those startlingly beautiful creatures in the wild—colorful and attractive, but deadly when touched.

  “We aren’t Delta,” Nick said. “And the weaponry wasn’t for you.”

  He didn’t bother looking at the two men lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath their heads and turning the sand black. They’d arrived just in time, and his heart was still thumping over how close they’d cut it.

  Victoria pulled in a breath. “Well, thanks for rescuing me, whoever y’all are. Guess I’ll be on my way.”

  Nick snorted. “Guess you won’t.” He stepped back and thrust his chin at the van. “Get in, Victoria.”

  She let her gaze slide over the men surrounding her, and then she lifted her chin and walked over to Nick. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him, but she met his gaze evenly.

  “Another mystery ride? Sounds fun… especially if you’re there, Preacher Boy.”

  He wanted to slap a hand over her mouth—or better yet, his mouth over hers—to stop her from calling him that. He didn’t know why it rankled when she said it, but it did. Like a tiny splinter that ached whenever you accidentally pressed your finger against where it wedged beneath your skin.

  No one called him that but Victoria. He couldn’t even remember how she’d learned his father was a minister. It wasn’t the kind of thing he talked about often, but he must have said something when they were in school together. It wasn’t a secret… it just wasn’t something he was especially keen on people knowing, either.

  “Get in, Victoria.”

  She sighed and walked over to the van. Big Mac was closest and he offered his hand. She took it and climbed up. Nick’s heart nearly stopped as her skirt lifted higher, revealing long, shapely legs. Her skin was the color of fresh cream, pale and delicate, but she was lean and muscled in a way that proclaimed her an athlete.

  Iceman lifted an eyebrow as he walked by Nick. Then he winked and made a clicking sound with his tongue. Nick wanted to smack him. Flash also grinned and waggled both brows.

  Jesus.

  Nick was last in the van—and those bastards had left him a seat beside Victor
ia. He flopped down into it as the door slammed shut and the van lurched into gear. He knew what they were up to. Ever since Billy “the Kid” Blake had been the third to fall prey to Cupid’s arrow, the guys had started to take the whole “who’s next” thing far too seriously, making bets and throwing each other under the bus in an effort not to be the one.

  First, Matt “Richie Rich” Girard went home on leave and returned with a fiancée. Then Sam “Knight Rider” McKnight fell for his best friend’s little sister. Two was a coincidence, but three—which happened when Billy reunited with an old flame, helped her expose a dirty defense contractor, and fell in love—was a trend.

  Right after Billy, Kev fell hard for Lucky. Then Jack “Hawk” Hunter got himself hitched to a pop star. Someone was next, but damned if it was going to be Nick. Victoria Royal was hot, and he was definitely interested in a little horizontal action with her—but she didn’t like him and he didn’t like her. So in spite of a sizzling attraction—at least on his part—horizontal was out.

  Not to mention the fact she’d threatened to shoot him at least twice now. That kind of thing ought to dampen a man’s enthusiasm, though he had to admit his dick hadn’t quite gotten the message where she was concerned. Even now, the sight of her encased in a sweet little dress was wreaking havoc on his imagination.

  Victoria let her gaze wander over the guys, finally turning to him. “Where are we going, Preacher Boy?”

  Nick ground his teeth. “If you don’t stop calling me that, I’m opening this door and throwing you out.”

  She laughed. “Sounds good to me. I doubt I’m going to like where we’re going, anyway.”

  Nick let his gaze slam into hers. She was putting on a brave face, but she looked troubled. Those bastards had nearly killed her, after all, and she hadn’t been expecting rescue. He’d expect anyone to be shaken after that kind of close call.