True Peril

by Veronica Forand

  She strolled out of the foyer without a word to either of them, went up to her bedroom and packed her suitcase. This was her break, and she knew it. She had to take the chance or she’d regret it forever.

  She returned to find her family waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” her mother asked.

  “I have to leave.” She hugged her close. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to see more of each other.”

  Her mother clasped her hands. “We can catch up the next time.”

  Next time? If there was a next time. Tears filled her eyes, and she hugged her mother again, as though she was giving her up forever. “I love you, Mom. I love you more than anything.”

  “That’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?” Allegra stood next to Bradley. There’d be no regret for leaving her behind.

  “Congratulations on the engagement.” She waved at the clueless couple.

  She hugged Scott, too. He’d always tried to love her, despite his open preference for his own children.

  Dane waited for her in the front yard. He reached out to take her bag, but she avoided him and headed to Simon’s car, a chauffeured Rolls Royce.

  “Don’t do this,” he called out. “I need you in a safe location, and Simon has never been safe.”

  He wanted her safe and in a glass jar so he could visit once a month between sales meetings. He didn’t have a clue, because no one who truly knew anything about her would think she’d accept that plan for her future.

  “I appreciate you driving me to Bogotá, but I don’t owe you anything.”

  He stepped closer. “Eve, please. I care about you.”

  “You didn’t show it when you left me in London. See you around.”

  …

  Eve slipped into the backseat of the Rolls Royce.

  Simon slid in next to her and told the driver to move. He made a smug glance toward Dane’s car and then turned toward Eve. “You chose correctly. Your family seemed distant and quite pathetic, and your husband needs to figure out his priorities. At the moment, they aren’t with you, despite his awkward appearance here.”

  “Believe it or not, the risk of you strangling me to death is more appealing than spending another minute with Dane.” She leaned into the soft leather seats and tried not think about her deal with a notorious arms dealer.

  “Good. I’m glad I came to retrieve you.”

  “More like blackmailed me.” And yet, the idea didn’t bother her.

  “No. Cassie doesn’t approve of me blackmailing women. She’s much more of a stickler for rules and protocol than I am. I offered you a business opportunity and gave you the reasons why you should take the position.”

  The job did sound exciting in a nefarious kind of way. She’d always craved adventure. This was the craziest and, if she was being honest, the coolest opportunity she’d ever received. Wiping out an arms supplier. And she could drive away from Long Island with Simon in a Rolls Royce, leaving Allegra to wonder about the identity of the two mysterious rich men, who both happened to be a hell of a lot hotter than Bradley.

  “I’m assuming this is a paying gig?” She quirked a brow and waited.

  “A half million pounds per year to start. If you work out, I’ll add bonuses.”

  She couldn’t have heard him right. She’d never received a salary larger than thirty thousand dollars. “A half million pounds? There must be one hell of a catch. And if sex is part of the deal, the answer’s an automatic no. I’m not a prostitute.”

  “Of course not. And I’m not a pimp. If I lay an inappropriate hand on you at any time, you have my permission to tell my wife, who would proceed to harm me in ways I don’t even want to think about. You want sex, you’re on your own. You’ll be selling arms, not favors.”

  “Good.” And yet that scared her, too. Could she pretend that the job didn’t repulse her?

  “You’ll work for me and no one else. When I give you an assignment, you do it, no questions. You ever try to double-cross me, you’re done, and, no, I don’t care to elaborate. You’ll be on call twenty-four-seven from now until you die. If you need time off, you arrange it with me. If you disappear, I will find you as easily as I found you just now. That makes your compensation seem quite inadequate, doesn’t it?”

  She tried to answer, but her body froze at the words “until you die.” Part of her wanted to tell him to stop the car so she could run away from his insane request, but another part of her, the one that made her run into dangerous situations instead of away from them, was curious and so very tempted. She’d been in war zones before. She could do this.

  “Will I be Trista or Eve?”

  “Trista is dead. Although I protect my people, Juan Carlos might be a bigger fool than I think he is and try to cross me and retaliate against you. It’s better for you to maintain a cover for when you return to the area, although nothing is fool proof.”

  “Return to Columbia?”

  “I need you to help me set up deals in South America, including Argentina, Mexico, Bolivia, and Columbia. I have a few teams I use to transport and act as security, but anyone can be bought, and I don’t have full ownership of these guys. You would be my eyes and ears.”

  He wanted her to watch over a band of renegades? “I don’t have that kind of clout.”

  “I do. Someone even considers touching you, and they’ll regret it. You won’t fly solo until I’m satisfied you’ll be able to take control. Until then, you’re with me.”

  Could she place her future in the hands of a man with ultimate control over her? “I don’t know.”

  He reached in front of him and poured two drinks from the bar. She took the glass he handed to her and sipped it. Vodka.

  “You have until we touchdown in London to decide. You can choose to walk away from this opportunity at Heathrow, although you may never make it through customs. If you choose to join me after that time, you’re mine.”

  …

  Nuuk, the capital city in Greenland, would be a village in another part of the world. A damn cold village. A few years back, Dane had left a woman named Petrina in Nuuk with a kiss and a promise to be back real soon. He couldn’t remember her last name, only that she’d loved tequila and silk sheets. He didn’t look her up when he arrived this time.

  In the past, a different woman in each city eased his loneliness and never resulted in any guilt. Now his mind wouldn’t leave Eve. Guilt hung over him like an errant cloud of doom, preventing him from enjoying his previous favorite thing in life. He now preferred being alone to being with someone other than her. Perhaps she was a witch and had cursed him. In reality, however, she’d been pleasant and charming in London. A smile emerged at the thought of her waltzing up the escalator at Harrods. She had a fun streak that had emerged as she’d begun to trust him, and then he’d blown it. And didn’t that just suck.

  After six days of meetings that produced nothing, the U.S. government flew in a high-ranking general to help the negotiations. Dane peered out the frosted window, toward picturesque brown buildings covered in snow and ice, tapping his pen against the pad of paper he doodled on more than took notes. This was taking too long, time lost from his life forever. His concern for Eve pricked at his conscience, while the uselessness of this get together caused more than a slight irritation and inconvenience in his schedule.

  The Indian government would never agree to allow Jordan to buy three crates of .50 caliber sniper rifles, remnants from the U.S. war in Afghanistan. Since Jordan didn’t need most of them, it was common knowledge they’d pass the weapons on to the Pakistanis without hesitation and for a huge profit. The entire meeting consisted of the U.S. assuring India that this transaction would somehow benefit them, and the government of India telling the U.S. where they could shove their assurances.

  Then the Defense Minister of India launched his own offensive. If the Jordan-Pakistan sale of sniper rifles went through, India would purchase reconnaissance UAVs from China, providing a link betw
een the two countries the U.S. did not want to see solidified. The arguments zinging across the table involved the need to maintain ties between the two militaries and the use of Chinese technology to spy on the Indian military.

  “What do you think?” someone asked from farther down the table.

  Dane looked up and greeted ten pairs of eyes staring in his direction.

  He cleared his throat and dropped the pen. “Pelican can mark all of the drones purchased by India with tracing technology. If images are intercepted by hackers, your military will be able to pinpoint the source and alter the code. China doesn’t have this capability.” Yet.

  One of the Indian defense ministers shook his head. “We need a guarantee that this transaction will halt the deal between the U.S. and Jordan. Are you willing to stand behind your claims?”

  Some fat-ass American general leaned forward in his chair and lifted one hand in a random gesture of conciliation. “Gentlemen, let’s not create more issues than the ones on the table. The area’s stability is our utmost concern. And our relationship with you is vital. We’ll promise continued support and technological backing. But your promise that you’ll keep any technology we provide to you out of the hands of the Chinese is necessary for this deal to move forward. Our transactions with other nations are not up for discussion.” In other words, if India closes a deal with the Chinese, the U.S. will put up barriers larger than the Great Wall to curtail their ability to buy certain military weapons for a very long time.

  Dane’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket. Simon. Probably to rub in the fact that Eve chose him and left Dane with nothing but a worthless marriage certificate and a hole in his gut over her safety. He’d call him later after he’d freed himself from this useless negotiation, if one could even call it that. It was more like the pot-smoking parent telling a teenager to stay away from the drug dealing neighbor, and the teenager giving the parent the finger.

  An hour later the meeting concluded, and Dane returned to his hotel to grab his bag and head back to San Francisco.

  His phone rang. Simon again.

  “What?” Dane asked. “Are you calling to apologize for driving Eve away from me? Not accepted.”

  “You left her in London. I provided her an option that didn’t include an obnoxious family and a coward of a husband.”

  “How considerate.”

  “Stop whining like a ninny. Come to my house on your way back to the States.”

  “Not exactly on the way home.”

  “I’m splitting my operation, as I told you. You should know the details and meet my selection for the new director in South America. You owe me for involving me with your Columbian friend.”

  “I owe you nothing. And why the hell do I care about your newest flunky?”

  “Because it’s Eve. She’s training for the job you turned down.”

  Fury at Simon’s stupid decision scorched his thoughts. If he could reach through the phone, he’d strangle his friend. “She’s not the least bit qualified and would be in danger even setting foot in that part of the world. You damn well better not send her anywhere farther south than Cornwall.”

  “You made your choice, I made mine.”

  …

  In the far back of his property, Simon had a firing range where he could practice in relative peace. He brought Eve out a few times to measure her shooting ability. And it wasn’t bad. She could handle several of the weapons he’d be selling over the next months. Currently she was aiming a Glock 22 with a .40 Smith and Wesson cartridge toward a paper target twenty meters away. He might go so far as to say her accuracy was better than his, but he wouldn’t. Cocky operatives did stupid things in the field. And despite her misunderstanding of her real role in his world, she was not a mercenary hired to do arms deals, she was now an American working for MI6. And as a valuable asset, her aim needed to be better than some random soldier wannabe who could be replaced in a day by placing a classified ad on the right website.

  She reloaded the magazine and shot twenty near-perfect rounds out of twenty-two. Good, not perfect.

  “Nice. Now reload, do twenty star jumps, and then shoot six times at the target.”

  “Star jumps?”

  He demonstrated a few.

  “Jumping jacks?” Her answer came out in a know-it-all tone. Well, this wasn’t the United States, and his answers were always correct in her world.

  “Star jumps. And you have one minute to do it.”

  She stared at him as though he’d just asked her to scale Everest. “One minute?”

  “You can either do it or not. If you don’t succeed, you jog back to the house which is approximately five kilometers or, for you Americans who never learned the metric system, three and a half miles.”

  She shifted the gun into a maintenance position and nodded.

  “Go.”

  She released the magazine with ease and proceeded to load seven .40 caliber rounds. Not one moment wasted. She inserted the magazine back into the Glock and immediately started jumping. At number nineteen, she rotated to the target, finished the last jump, froze for a moment and shot six steady and consistent rounds. Forty-five seconds.

  Breathing heavy, she lowered the gun. “How did I do?”

  “Adequate.” He walked up to the target and pulled it down. “You missed your last shot.”

  Strolling at a gentleman’s pace, he handed her a bottle of water and her almost perfect target shots and waited as she studied one and guzzled the other.

  “I guess the most important question is whether I’m jogging back.”

  “You’ve earned the right to ride.”

  When they were both sitting in his Range Rover, she started asking more questions about his business. Who he sold to, how the transactions were made, where he kept his funds. Everything she would need to know to infiltrate the organization.

  “The deal we’re setting up this week involves a few German manufacturers and some Syrians.”

  “What are you selling?”

  “HK69 40mm single-shot grenade launchers.” Actually, he was selling some ammunition to a bunch of Ugandans, but with her need to change the political climate in that area, she was better off not knowing that fact.

  “A grenade launcher? In Syria?”

  “German intelligence wants to help out an ally without asking permission of the Bundestag.” In reality, a Turkish outfit was the supplier, and all they cared about was profit, not politics.

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “I’m not in business to question motives.” Although that was exactly his business. Why did the parties want the deal, and how would it benefit Great Britain? And in the case of Mrs. O’Brien, he questioned every bit of her motivation for joining him. Despite being pushed into her job, she’d learned her role quickly and easily. Too easily for a reluctant worker. He should inform her that her plan to stop his illegal arms shipments would go no farther than the outskirts of Oxford proper, but it was fascinating to watch her try to plan his demise. So far, she’d copied all of the fake bank account information he’d left on the kitchen table and made a list of his fake contacts, created specifically for her.

  “I understand. I just want to do the best job possible.” She looked out the window away from him and toward a future she had no clue about. Hopefully Dane would take over for her so she could return to her own brand of international aid.

  “So far, you’re doing exactly as I expected.”

  Chapter Ten

  By the time Dane arrived in London, his anger had twisted all of his muscles into an aching tangle of pissed off. His head hurt, too, and his heart, but his heart didn’t matter, because Eve had chosen Simon.

  When he arrived at the Dunn house, Cassie, in all her Earth goddess glory, greeted him in a long gray skirt and heavy sweater that covered her growing baby. The spawn of Simon.

  “It’s great to see you.” She gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “He’s not back yet. He went to the firing range for a few
hours and may have a meeting afterward.”

  With the grace of a catwalk model, she walked over to the bar in the corner of the kitchen and rifled through their stock of top quality malt liquors. The woman knew how to be a hostess. The twenty-five-year Scotch hit the spot. Dane settled at the kitchen table with his tumbler and prepared to wait for hours.

  “So how’s married life?” she asked.

  “Seriously? Eve must have told you what happened, I’m sure.”

  “She only mentioned that Simon acted like an idiot when he crashed your flat, and then you acted like an idiot by running away to the States.”

  “That about covers it, except for my humiliation in losing control and punching my best friend in the face.”

  “He told me he deserved it.”

  “He did, but I was so pissed at myself for losing control, I went to drown my sorrows in a pint and a trampy blonde.”

  Cassie’s eyes widened. She hadn’t heard that part of the story, obviously.

  “It’s worse,” he added.

  “How can it be worse? Did you sleep with her?”

  “No. I walked away from her…right after Eve found the woman attempting to wrap herself around me in the booth.”

  She shook her head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid man.”

  “It’s for the best. I’m not marriage material.”

  “Neither was Simon.”

  “You’re so wrong, Cassie. Simon always wanted to settle down. From the minute I met him, when we both were green and in way over our heads, he spoke of a farmhouse and a bunch of kids.”

  She laughed. “Seriously? He slept with every willing and available woman.”

  “He hadn’t met you yet. Simon is one of the most moral people I’ve ever met. I think that’s the secret to his survival. He fights the good fight, and the world is better because of it.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Her love for Simon sparkled from her eyes as she spoke.

  “If you ever tell him I said that, I’ll deny it to the end of days.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” She rested her elbow on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand. “You’re a lot like him. I bet you’d be a great husband and father.”