Unmasking the Mercenary

by Jennifer Morey

  “Sorry. We don’t have time. I’ll be in touch as soon as possible.”

  The man nodded again but looked curiously at Haley. Rem took hold of her hand and pulled her toward the helicopter.

  Climbing in, she dumped the duffel in the pod and lowered herself onto the copilot’s seat. Rem started the bird. It was stripped of everything but the essential instruments and controls for the guns. The rotor roared loud after a few minutes. And pretty soon they lifted into the air.

  Haley watched the jungle canopy pass below, numb to this incredible turn of events. She should have seen it coming. Should have known the diamonds were all that interested him. Was that how he’d have his revenge? By taking Ammar’s diamonds? It was a huge blow. It would set the terrorist back substantially. If Rem got away with it. And judging by the direction they were flying, he wasn’t going to. They were headed north toward Sierra Leone.

  Rem began speaking into a radio. An accented voice answered, “Come ahead.”

  The canopy opened and a rudimentary landing pad came into view. Several buildings were scattered across roughly a ten-acre compound, with signs of ongoing construction. One of the buildings was of a fairly good size for this part of the world.

  Seeing the massive wall that enclosed the compound and its gnarled barbed-wire topping, she tracked it to the gate, where armed guards stood outside a small building. More guards waited at the earthen landing pad. Unease churned into something living inside Haley. There were too many. She felt trapped. She’d felt the same when she’d seen the insurgents coming toward her.

  “Rem.” She no longer tried to hide her growing fear. She met his gaze across the space of the helicopter, hoping she wasn’t so wrong about him that she’d let him drag her into something terribly dangerous.

  He turned his head and met her gaze. “Just stay with me. You’ll be fine.”

  Something in her expression must have clued him to the chaos building in her.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you. You have to trust me on that.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “I’ll die before I’ll let anyone hurt you. Do you understand?”

  She hated how she had to pant for air. What if he did die?

  “Haley.”

  Armed dark-skinned men surrounded the helicopter. She felt herself falling back into Iraq. In the armored vehicle. Gunfire. The insurgents coming toward her. She rolled her head back and forth against the back of the seat, trying to control her snowballing panic.

  “Haley.” Rem moved closer to her, kneeling by her seat and sliding his hands beside her face, his fingers curving to the back of her head and neck. Gently, he held her face still. But kissed her hard.

  Then his eyes blazed energy that fired through her haze.

  “Be strong,” he said in a deep, gruff voice.

  “Rem.” Oh, God, she was wrong to think she could do this. To think she could be an operative like Travis. He’d been right all along. So had Cullen. She wasn’t cut out for this. Not after Iraq. Her mind reeled out of control. She couldn’t stop it. She panted more.

  “Listen to me,” Rem hissed, his hands giving her a firm but gentle shake. “You’re my girlfriend. You speak French and no English. Don’t say anything unless they ask you a question or address you in French. Leave all the English talking to me. Okay?”

  She could only stare at him.

  “How fluent are you?” he asked in French.

  “F-fluent,” she managed to say.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he told her still in French, and then, “I’ll protect you.”

  She wasn’t sure she could trust him like that.

  “You’ll be fine if you speak only French. Okay?”

  She nodded even though she was still so unsettled. “Okay. French.”

  He withdrew his hands from her head. “Just stay by me and do what I tell you. They all know me here. They also know if anybody touches you, I’ll kill them.”

  She stopped breathing altogether. Because now she believed him. She also believed he’d done it before.

  “How many diamonds do you have?”

  “Close to ten thousand carats. All rough.”

  She felt her head go cold and closed her eyes. “Oh.” It came out on a breath full of dread. They were in so much trouble.

  “This is no time to fall apart,” he hissed, harsher than before.

  She opened her eyes and found his. “You should have told me what you were planning!”

  “Yeah? If I had, would you have come with me?”

  “No way!” she all but screeched.

  “Yeah. And Ammar would have killed you because I have to do this!”

  “What do you have to do? What is so important to you that you’d go this far?”

  “There’s no time to explain it now.”

  She glanced out the window of the chopper and saw the armed men waiting for them. A fresh wave of fear renewed her trembles.

  She turned back to him. “You’re crazy.”

  He met her eyes with hard laser sharpness that, absurdly, worked to ground her. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “Can you promise that?”

  He didn’t answer. She knew he wouldn’t be able to. She was going to beat the crap out of him as soon as they were alone. And, oh, was he ever going to do some talking!

  “Come on.” He stood. “Let’s go.”

  He helped her to her feet and faced the door. She put her hand on his back for support, hoping her shakiness wouldn’t be visible once they were out of the chopper. The support left her when he bent to lift the duffel bags. He gave her the same one she’d been charged with before and hefted the other over his shoulder. She tried not to think about all those diamonds in there. Jumping down from the helicopter pod, he reached his arms to help her. Over his head and shoulders, she could see at least twelve armed and unsmiling guards waiting.

  Rem set her feet on the ground and turned with her, sliding his arm around her and pulling her close.

  One of the guards came into stride with Rem as they cleared the still-spinning blades. “I’ll take you to Locke.”

  Haley looked over her shoulder as she walked with Rem, seeing the guards follow and flank them. They walked a few minutes, away from the earthen helipad and toward the largest building she’d seen from the air. She spotted two cameras on the roofline. A man stood on a concrete patio, behind a decorative concrete railing. He was tall and lean and wore all white. White slacks, white short-sleeved silky shirt. His sunglasses and belt were black, though. So were his shoes. As she climbed the stairs with Rem, she noticed the deep creases beside his grim mouth and pocked skin everywhere else.

  “You didn’t mention bringing company,” the man said.

  Rem smiled crookedly, one man to another. “I wasn’t planning to, but…” He looked down at Haley from across his shoulder.

  Haley kept her expression void of her true reaction, which had her envisioning her fist smacking his stubbly jaw. Instead, she looked up at Rem and acted as though she hadn’t understood him but had read his sexy smile and leaned closer.

  Once they were alone, he would be a dead man if he didn’t tell her everything.

  “How did you come to meet a man such as this?” Locke asked Haley.

  She pretended to glance uncertainly from him to Rem.

  “She doesn’t speak much English,” Rem said. “Only French. Her name is Haley.”

  Locke turned to her and said in French, “I am Locke Merchant. Welcome, mademoiselle. I trust your trip here was…uneventful?”

  Haley gave him her best rendition of a bimbo smile. “Oui, merci.” Silently, she thanked her French mother for raising her to speak the language as well as her father’s American English. “Rem promised an adventure in an exotic place. I can see he was not exaggerating. You have a lovely home. And in the midst of such deprivation. It is a true oasis. I must admit, I was skeptical until now.”

  “Then, please, make yourself at home.” He bowed slightly.
r />   She angled her head politely.

  To Rem, he turned a warning look and said in English, “If any of my men see her wandering around alone, I’ll have her shot.”

  “She’ll be with me the entire time.”

  Locke gave her a once-over. Then he said to Rem in English, “She’s a little boyish for your taste.”

  “You know how the roads can get away from Monrovia.” Rem turned to Haley and said in French, “I’m sure she would like to freshen up. Wouldn’t you, love?”

  Haley made a show of delight lighting her face. “Oh, oui, oui.” She looked down at herself. “I am filthy!” She gave a little shudder with her shoulders and smiled for Locke.

  He didn’t smile back. Just motioned for two of the guards to come forward. “Show them to their room.” Then to Rem, “We’ll talk over lunch.”

  Haley didn’t miss the animosity pouring off Locke. Whatever reason Rem had arranged to come here, it wasn’t friendly. Hoping no one would search their duffel bags, she walked with Rem past the pool and into a lower-level rec room. Sprawling light tan and textured tile made up a rec room with a long corner bar and a sitting area. Through that and down a wide hall to the right, the guards stopped at a doorway, and one of them opened it.

  “You have one hour,” he said, as Rem passed and she followed him.

  Rem closed the door when the guards walked away and checked the room for cameras and bugs. There were none.

  Haley tossed the duffel bag she still held onto the bed and folded her arms, letting all her anger go into her eyes. “All right.” She pulled one arm from the fold to point her finger at him. “You better start talking.”

  Chapter 5

  Rem walked past her and put the duffel he carried onto the only bed in the room. Anger swirled hotter inside her.

  “You aren’t going to ignore me.”

  He calmly turned to face her.

  “What is this place?” she demanded. “Who is Locke?”

  “Locke Merchant of Merchant Diamond Company,” he answered.

  She stared at him as pieces fell together. “Wait. Don’t tell me…the diamonds came from him.” And Locke didn’t know he had them. Yet.

  Nothing changed in his eyes. They were as hard and unreadable as ever.

  “How do you know him?”

  “I was on assignment during the Sierra Leone war. Guarding the mine he now owns.”

  Her jaw dropped open on a tide of shock. Now owns? “Was he a rebel who took over a mine during that hideous war? You were paid to help the barbarians who slaughtered innocent natives?”

  “Locke used the war to his advantage. He saw an opportunity and took it. He wasn’t fighting for either side. Only his own.”

  “And that makes it okay in your mind?”

  “None of what happened here was okay.”

  “But…you just…stood aside and watched the atrocities?”

  “I did what I could.”

  “Which was what? Protect a rebel as he stole a diamond mine from its legitimate owner?”

  “He’d already taken over the mine when we arrived.”

  Could a man really be so cold in the heart? Rough childhood or not, was there no warmth left in him? Maybe there was, but he couldn’t find it inside himself anymore. Years of hard living had made him lose touch. He seemed so indifferent. And then…not. He’d said he’d done what he could. What did that mean?

  “Why are you here?” she asked. “Why is Locke Merchant important?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” He turned to the duffel bag she’d carried here and rummaged inside. Pulling out a wisp of bright blue material, he faced her and sent it sailing toward her.

  Catching it, she held it up and realized it was a slinky little sundress. Thin straps attached to a low-dipping bodice and the hem might—just might—reach her knees. A sinking weight hung in her stomach.

  She flashed her gaze to him. “I can’t wear this.”

  “I have one other, but it’s the same result.”

  He didn’t understand. “I can’t wear this or anything like it.” She walked to the bed and dropped the insulting scrap of cloth there.

  “You have to. You can’t wear what you have on.”

  She just stared at him while conflicting emotion roiled inside her. She didn’t dress like that anymore. She couldn’t.

  “We aren’t going to be here long. Wear the damn dress. Tomorrow morning we’ll be on our way.”

  He picked up the dress and handed it to her, then lifted the duffel she’d carried here and handed her that, too.

  “Everything you need is in there,” he said. “Go get ready.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. I can’t wear that disgusting thing.”

  “It isn’t disgusting. It’s a nice dress.”

  “When did you buy it?”

  “I didn’t. A girl I was seeing left it behind. Why do you have such an issue with wearing a dress?”

  “You make a habit of collecting your lovers’ clothes?”

  He angled his head and his eyes told her he didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. “No.”

  “What happened to her? Did you scare her so much that she ran off without packing?”

  Now his mouth curved into a scowl.

  She didn’t care. “How many girlfriends have left their clothes behind to get away from you?”

  “One. And she didn’t run off. She just forgot a few things.”

  “In her haste to get away from you.”

  The scowl smoothed as he began to assess her in a different way. “Is that what you’d like to do? Run away from me?”

  “I’m not wearing this.” She fisted the dress in front of her for emphasis.

  He studied her a few seconds, taking his time. She wondered what cleverness was working in his mind. Did he think she feared him? Did she? No.

  “What’s wrong with the dress?” he asked at last. “Why are you so against wearing it?”

  How could she explain? She didn’t even want to. It was too personal. It was too close to that deep pain left over from Iraq, a pain she fought so hard to conquer. Maybe too hard.

  Unable to move to go get ready, she stood still and met his too-clever eyes.

  “It’s just for today,” he said.

  He didn’t know how dressing sexy affected her, and she didn’t want to tell him now. So she mustered her courage and went into the bathroom. It was silly. Why did something so harmless bother her so much? But ever since her recovery it had. She couldn’t even wear a bikini. Not that she’d want to anyway, with her scars.

  Twenty minutes later, she slipped into the blue confection and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Then quickly redirected her focus. She didn’t want to see sexy in the mirror. It made her feel funny. Leaving her hair down, she put on some makeup. Not much, just enough to accent her eyes and lips. Her mouth was dry and her heart beat so fast it turned her stomach over itself. Her palms were sweaty and her face felt cold. How would she manage to pretend to be Rem’s bimbo of a girlfriend with so much chaos wringing her insides?

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the room. Rem looked up from adjusting a gun holster over his bare skin and went still. She watched his eyes take in her body. It magnified her discomfort. She felt exposed. Vulnerable. There was nothing she hated more since her ordeal in Iraq than this feeling.

  She slipped into some sandals and marched to the door. “Are you ready?”

  He finished buttoning a short-sleeve shirt that covered his weapon. It irritated her because there was no room to hide a weapon in that terrible dress.

  When he put his hand on her lower back, she flinched, jumping a step away from him and sending him a narrow look.

  He cocked his head. “We aren’t going to be very convincing with you cringing away from me like that.”

  “Then don’t touch me.”

  “You’re my girlfriend.”

  “Sounds like you have a problem that doesn’t happen to be mine.�
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  “Haley…”

  She opened the door. No one was in the hall. Rem tried again to put his hand on her lower back. She flinched again, but this time faced him fully, not jumping away. No, she wanted to attack him. Defend herself.

  She pointed her finger in front of his face. “Stop that!”

  His mouth tightened as he studied her. Then he took hold of her arm just above her elbow and hauled her back into the room, slamming the door shut with his hand over and behind her head. He moved forward to force her back against the door. She felt crowded and on the verge of losing any shred of courage she had left.

  He put one hand above her head and leaned close. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want you to touch me.”

  “It’s more than that. What’s bothering you?”

  She closed her mouth. Of course, he’d recognized her reaction. She berated herself for not trying harder to hide it from him. But how could she? Despair sailed like high winds inside her. How could she bring herself to say it? That would lead to more, more memories she didn’t want to surface. He’d already dredged up too many as it was.

  “I’ve touched you before. What’s this all about?” he insisted.

  She closed her eyes briefly.

  “Tell me.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m going to have to touch you.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s just convenient for you that we’re role-playing.”

  “No. It’s not that. I don’t want to get shot today. So I want to be convincing in front of Locke. Tell me what’s eating at you.” He looked down at the display of cleavage the dress exposed, firing her ire along with more pooling dread. “Is it the dress?”

  “I never wear clothes like this.”

  “Why not?”

  “After…”

  He waited. “After what?”

  “Iraq,” she said in a pathetically tiny voice, and watched understanding soften his life-hardened eyes.