“You know me,” Rem said.
“You must leave here,” Charles said in a heavy native accent.
“How do you know me?”
“I do not.”
Rem shoved the door, sending Charles stumbling backward as he advanced into the building.
Haley looked in one direction and then the other to make sure no one noticed. Watching a dark-skinned youth buzz by on his motorcycle without seeing them, she followed Rem inside and closed the door. The interior was surprisingly comfortable, given the weathered appearance of the exterior. A framed painting adorned one marginally dirty wall, and the furniture looked relatively new. There was even a portable stereo, which told her Charles must have a generator. A real commodity in this part of the world.
“Tell me how you know me,” Rem demanded, advancing forward.
Charles backed away a few more steps and then stopped. It was several seconds before he spoke. “Ammar showed me your picture. He also warned me that you might pay me a visit.”
“All I need is the name of the hawaladar Ammar used.”
Charles grunted a mocking laugh. “It would be suicide for me to tell you that.”
“It’ll be murder for me if you don’t.”
Haley shot a look at Rem. Did he mean it? He’d kill this man if he didn’t give him the information he sought?
Rem slid his gun from the front of his jeans. Charles watched the movement with uncertain, fearful eyes.
“You must understand,” he pleaded, “I can not betray Ammar.”
“He doesn’t have to know.”
“If you go to this hawaladar you seek, Ammar will know who told you how to find the man.”
“Then maybe it’s time for a career change. You can leave the country.”
“There will be nowhere to go to escape Ammar.”
Haley believed him, and she suspected Rem did, too. But he didn’t seem to care.
“You’ll tell me or I’ll kill you.”
“If you kill me you will never learn the identity of the hawaladar.”
Rem stepped closer, lifting his pistol. He angled the barrel against Charles’s temple and slid the metal down the man’s face. Reaching the soft skin under Charles’s chin, he pressed upward. Charles knocked Rem’s wrist with his hand, nearly dislodging the contact. Rem kneed the man, making him bend forward and groan. Rem grabbed some of his shirt and forced him upright again. Charles’s eyes were round with fear and his breaths came out in shallow pants. Rem swung the pistol and struck Charles. The man shouted in pain, and blood trickled from a gash on his cheek.
“Rem!” She didn’t want to witness a torture.
Her frantic tone didn’t seem to faze him.
“The name,” Rem demanded, pressing the gun against the man’s temple again. “Tell me. Now.”
Haley moved over to him and slid her hand over the muscle of his forearm. “Rem.”
At last, he acknowledged her, turning his head to meet her eyes.
“Stop this.”
She’d never seen such coldness in his eyes before. How many times had he slipped into this fighter? This rebel marauder? Did he really think violence was the only way he’d get Charles to talk?
“Go outside if you can’t handle this, Haley,” he said.
That just made her mad. “I will not stand aside while you beat someone up at gunpoint and threaten to kill him.”
He lowered the pistol. “Try to run and I will kill you.” Then he turned to face her, looming tall above her, anger making the coldness in his eyes that much more menacing.
“Wait outside.”
“Go to hell.”
One side of his mouth cocked upward. “Already there, sweetheart.”
Charles began to sidle away, but Rem lifted his gun and aimed it at his forehead. “Move again and you’re a dead man.”
The man froze, terrified.
Haley grunted her dismay. “If you kill this man it will be murder, and that’s exactly what I will report when I get back to the States.”
His gaze held hers for a long moment. “All right,” he said. “Give it your best shot.” He glanced purposefully at Charles. “See if you can get him to give you a name.”
Haley moved closer to Charles, who looked back at her with a mixture of gratitude and wariness.
“Just tell us where we can find him,” she said.
He glanced from Rem to her again and didn’t say a word.
“We’ll stop Ammar. He won’t have a chance to hurt you,” Haley continued.
But Charles kept his lips shut tight.
“Please,” she urged.
Rem sighed and shoved his gun into the waist of his jeans. “You make a real lousy operative, darling.”
She sent him a derisive smirk.
He dismissed her and looked around the room. When he spotted an open doorway, he grabbed a fistful of Charles’s shirt and forced the man to precede him into the adjoining room. Haley followed into the bedroom. There was a desk across from the foot of the bed.
Rem pushed Charles so that he sat on the end of the bed. “Don’t move.”
Charles sat on the bed and didn’t try to escape.
Rem faced the desk and began to rummage through papers scattered on the surface. He opened drawers and searched those, too.
Haley caught Charles glancing at the wastebasket beside the desk. He did it more than once. She went to the trash can and knelt there. Sifting through discarded papers, she retrieved a crumpled handwritten note. Only a name and an address were written.
She straightened to see that Rem had stopped his search and now watched her. She handed him the paper.
He took it and read. His eyes lifted.
Haley folded her arms and raised her brow in a silent I-told-you-so. He didn’t have to resort to violence to get what he wanted.
Chapter 8
After watching Haley sleep on the flight to South Africa and suffering an attack of affection, Rem was in no mood for her sass. Right now she walked beside him on the way to the front door of their Cape Town hotel, a confident bounce to her steps. The corners of her mouth curved in a subtle smile, as though she sensed the cause of his mood and thought he deserved it.
What was it about her that got to him? Yeah, she was gorgeous with that silky brunette hair and those almond-shaped, tropical sea-blue eyes, but there was more to it than that. Maybe it was the way she seemed to see right through him. Maybe it was her purity. More likely it was her knack for confusing the hell out him.
“Why do you always wear your hair up in a ponytail?” he asked, the words springing on him as a result of his thoughts.
The curve of her mouth flattened and she looked at him. “What do you care?”
“You don’t like wearing dresses and you never let your hair down. Why not just shave it off?”
Stopping before they reached the hotel doors, she reached up and yanked the band from her hair and shook her head. Long, dark, glorious strands spread over her shoulders and down her back. Some hung close to her face, hugging it like the palm of a man’s hand. He couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but he knew they were full of rebellion.
Damn, he wished he would have kept his mouth shut. Instead of pushing her buttons, he’d given her a reason to push his. He wanted to bury his hands in her hair, pull her head back and kiss her.
“Are you one of those types who can’t stand to be wrong?” she asked.
Where was she going with that question? “What was I wrong about?”
“What would you have done to that man if we hadn’t found the note?”
Of course, she already knew, but he indulged her. Did she think he wouldn’t? “Made him talk.”
“How?”
“You know how,” he said.
“He wouldn’t have talked,” she countered.
He stopped arguing. What was the point? Around them, people walked past. A man entered the hotel.
“I just don’t understand why you keep doing it.”
/> He looked at her. “Doing what? Threatening people for information? It’s the only language a lot of them understand.”
“No, I mean the whole thing. The profession. And that man was different. He wasn’t like Ammar. You threatened an innocent.”
“An innocent who delivers money to terrorists.” The other part of what she said grated on him. “I do what I have to do.”
“Yes, and you’re so accepting of it.”
Accepting of being a merc. “What else am I supposed to do? Wait tables? Tend bar?” He grunted his derision. “No thanks.”
“You’re not looking deep enough. You’re in a box. Step outside of it for two seconds and you’ll understand what I mean.”
“What do you think I would see when I step out of your box, Haley? A way to be heroic in the eyes of all the McQueens of the world?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “You say I should step outside the box. Well, for the record, I’m already out of it. I’ve been out of it since I was fourteen years old. So maybe you’re the one still stuck inside.”
She didn’t say anything, which told him he’d given her plenty to think about. Good.
Why were they having this conversation, anyway? He sighed, stepping around her to open the door to the Cape Grace Hotel. He waited for her to enter ahead of him. Leaving the hazy early-evening heat of the busy street, he led her to the reception counter and checked them into a room with two beds. In the elevator, they stood on opposite sides and then she preceded him down the hall.
Holding the room door open for her, he followed her inside. A short hall opened to a bright room with white trim accenting pale green carpet and splashes of red. A wall of windows with French doors opened to a terrace. Haley dumped her duffel on the white comforter of one of the beds.
Rem picked up the hotel phone and ordered room service. It gave him something to do as he covertly noticed her watching him. Try as he might to be unaffected, it was no use. Her attention was as annoying as it was tantalizing. Would she resume her probing, or would she just stand there and turn him on? He didn’t want to hurt her, but that was how she would end up if she continued to try and excavate his motives and ideology, which according to her were entirely too sycophantic for his credit.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, doing a poor job of pretending to be immersed in a brochure about the famous diamond pit, the Kimberly Mine. They were driving to Kimberly tomorrow. He moved to the French doors and looked outside. Yachts floated in the harbor. Setting sunlight painted the buildings along the curving shore.
“You’re more like Cullen than you think, you know.”
He turned. She hadn’t even looked up from the brochure, giving her a nonchalant appearance. But there was nothing nonchalant about her comment. When was she going to give this up? “Enough, Haley. Let it go.”
“It’s the truth.”
He moved toward her. “The truth is I made money dealing drugs and then turned my street smarts over to a private military company. I survived. I didn’t get where I am today by winning the respect of colonels and comrades.” He stopped before her where she sat on the bed. “Why is that so hard for you to accept?”
She put the brochure down beside her and looked up at him. “It doesn’t matter how you got where you are now. The point is, you are.”
“Don’t waste time analyzing me.” She wasn’t on the right track anyway. He didn’t have a problem with himself, despite her penchant for nailing him with one. He liked who he was. He was comfortable in his skin.
Gracefully pushing off the bed, she stood. “Funny how watching you is making me see things about myself.”
He was too curious to stop her from continuing. Never mind what her nearness was doing to him. He looked down at her mouth and then back into her eyes, waiting.
“I need to find a way to overcome what happened to me,” she said, “and I’m starting to think Cullen and Travis are right. I won’t be able to do that working ops.”
Her confession took him aback. He didn’t want to know why her assessment about him had led her to that conclusion.
“In a way, you’re doing the same. You’re so immersed in the stigma of your profession that you can’t separate it from the man you’ve become.”
“How is that related to your situation?”
“I’ve been so immersed in putting Iraq behind me that I didn’t see what I was doing…putting myself in dangerous situations…fighting back.”
“When you can do that from Roaring Creek.”
“Yes.”
He understood what she meant now, but there was still something she was missing. “I’ve made peace with the course of my life a long time ago, Haley.”
“Maybe that’s your problem.”
He cocked his head, wishing she’d stop. Just stop.
“Let it go, Rem.”
Let what go?
“Let your past go,” she said as though reading his thoughts.
What would it take to make her understand? She wasn’t going to change him. “I was going to kill that courier.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Oh, yes, I was.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t want to believe that I’m capable of it.”
“No, I know you are capable of it. Of killing. But I also know you need a good and just reason for it.”
He felt himself stiffen, resisting what she said. Was she trying to find a way to justify her feelings for him? Her desire for someone like him? Someone she didn’t want to feel that way for? Someone who shouldn’t give her the conduit she needed to get over her experience in Iraq. Maybe she was trying too hard to turn him into something heroic, something worthy of her love.
Or was she simply more accurate than he wanted to admit?
“And there was none back there,” he heard himself say, because that was what she meant.
“No.”
God, she’d threaded her way into his heart so expertly he hadn’t seen it coming. He’d never known anyone who believed in him the way she did. Understood him. He wondered if she understood him better than he understood himself. Was he so conditioned to hard living that he couldn’t recognize what was good anymore? He’d spent too many years crossing the line of morality. Maybe his judgment was blurred.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of room service, and he was never gladder for the distraction.
Waiting for Rem to get back from meeting the hawaladar made Haley restless. He’d gone while she slept and it had infuriated her. Until worry had worked its way past that emotion and taken over. What was he doing? Was he all right? What if he was hurt and needed help?
She paced one end of the room to the other, wearing a slinky number he’d packed with the other frilly things in the duffel. Her dark nipples showed through. She’d have to be careful when he returned. Make sure she was in bed and under the covers. But for now, she couldn’t unwind enough to sit still, much less lie down.
She stopped at the French doors, gazing out at the yacht marina and Cape Town’s enchanting shoreline. Running her hand over the soft material of the nightgown, she marveled that it didn’t suffocate her the way these kinds of clothes usually did since Iraq. In fact, she felt a little excited with the prospect of Rem coming back to her when she looked like this.
She didn’t understand it, but the more time she spent with him, the more she talked to him, the more she learned about him, the safer she felt with him. The safer she felt to be a woman with him. He didn’t know it yet, but he was a good man.
The click of the door made her body jerk. She turned in time to see the object of her thoughts enter.
He froze when he saw her, his hand still on the door handle and the door remaining wide open. He wore a black short-sleeved golf shirt with dark blue jeans and black boots, looking trim and big and sexy. His black hair was thick and messy. Light from the lamps on each side of the bed cast shadows in the short hallway leading to the door. She could see enough of his eyes to know his gaze
had dipped to take in her body.
She crossed her arms over her breasts. What was she thinking, fantasizing about him seeing her like this? Had she subconsciously arranged for it to come true?
Appearing to recover from walking into the room to see her wearing next to nothing, he took one step forward and shut the door. He hesitated there, standing just inside the door. She felt the energy of his gaze, felt his building desire. It triggered her own, and that frightened her. Her heart began to hammer. What if he wanted to have sex with her? Was she ready for that? Would she ever be ready to have sex with a man like Rem?
He began to move farther into the room, passing the threshold of the hall and emerging into the light. Her breath stopped as the glow of his eyes took on more detail. When he came to a halt in front of her, she had to catch her breath. Without taking his eyes from the connection with hers, he slid his hands down her folded arms until he reached her hands. Gently, he took them in his and lowered their arms, entwining his fingers with hers and moving closer.
Warm bursts of desire fluttered inside her as she looked up at the growing passion in his eyes.
“Rem?”
“Don’t be afraid of me, Haley.”
His raspy tone made her close her eyes and dip her head back, turning it slightly to one side, part of her wanting to put distance between them, another wanting him to do whatever he wanted with her. He stepped closer still, his body brushing hers. Her nipples hardened with the erotic contact against his chest.
He dipped his head. She felt his breath on her neck just before he kissed her there. Tingles radiated from the touch. She shivered. Parted her lips to breathe easier.
Yes. Her heart cried. It had been so long. Would he be the one to end the struggle? The turmoil? It seemed so unlikely. He seemed so unlikely to be the one. Why him? She didn’t understand why it was him who made her yearn for this.
His mouth caressed her skin as he made a path up to her jaw. It was a natural thing for her to turn her head to meet his mouth. He kissed her. A feather-light touch that sent a shimmer of pleasure trickling down to her limbs.
Unmasking the Mercenary Page 11
