by Dee Davis
"Will be all the sweeter." With a simplicity of motion, Khamis closed his hand, crushing the blossom, its delicate petals disintegrating against bis palm.
"RIGHT THEN." NIGEL STRODE into Cullen's study. "I've made some calls, and if the warheads are in Istanbul, they'll find them."
"MI6?" Gabe queried, from an armchair near the fireplace. Cullen certainly knew how to make a room comfortable.
"A mix actually. Sort of a ragtag group of operatives I've worked with over the years. I suspect you know most of them."
"As long as they get the job done." Cullen was standing by the fireplace nursing what looked like a brandy. "I'd prefer one of you do it."
"So would I, actually. But you know as well as I do that by the time we got there, it would be too late," Nigel said, helping himself to an eighteen-year-old bourbon from the drinks table.
"Something just doesn't feel right about this whole thing," Gabe said, staring down into the amber depths of his drink. "I mean why the hell would Paulo take the risk of meeting with clients just days after his father was killed and his trafficking network collapses?"
"Maybe there was already a deal in place." Nigel shrugged. "That'd be something he couldn't ignore, despite the situation. In fact, given his propensity to play the big man, maybe it's his way of thumbing his nose at authority."
"Well, it worked," Cullen said, his disgust evident. But then he had never suffered fools lightly, and Nigel had seen the Spanish operating firsthand.
"Depends on where you're sitting. If the meet really was about the R-VX, the Arabs in question wouldn't want to take a chance on anything leaking once arrangements were made."
"So you really do think Paulo's dead?" Cullen asked.
"Yes, actually, I do. It's completely out of character for him to disappear. So unless I miss my guess, the vanishing act wasn't consensual." Nigel took a sip, letting the fiery liquid slide down his throat. It seemed a week had passed since the morning, everything literally happening too fast.
Melissa was safe for the moment, but they still had no idea what had happened to her. Tracy had returned to her lab to try to find answers, but it would be hours still until she had anything to report. Payton and Harrison were checking sources, while Melissa and Madison went over everything that had happened, in the hopes that Madison would see something the rest of them had missed.
And in the meantime, he'd been attempting to stop a stolen cache of nerve agent capable of wiping out literally hundreds of thousands of people.
"Well, Paulo, dead or alive, is the least of our problems," Gabe said, bis words pulling Nigel away from his thoughts. "Whoever is behind the heist won't be sitting around waiting for our team to find them. They've come this far because they know what they're doing."
"All of which means we have to be on our best game." Cul-len shot a pointed look in Nigel's direction.
"I know you're not happy about Melissa, Cullen. But until I have a better idea of what's going on, this is the best possible place for her, and you know it." Nigel waved his glass to emphasize the point.
"If I didn't agree, believe me, she wouldn't be here. But that doesn't change the urgency of the situation we're facing, and I can't afford to have you distracted."
"I'm not." Nigel closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to contain his anger. Yelling at Cullen wasn't going to do anyone any good.
"Nigel, we've been down this road with you before." Cullen's expression was harsh and, despite himself, Nigel flinched.
"That's hitting below the belt, Cullen," Gabe said. "You know as well as I do that Nigel regrets what happened with Kingston. There were conflicting interests."
"And there aren't now?" Cullen's eyebrows rose with the question.
"I thought this was all behind us." Nigel blew out a breath, dropping into an armchair, his anger dissipating with the action. Maybe some mistakes were just destined to be revisited. Gabe had hit it on the head when he'd said there were conflicting interests. Nigel considered himself a patriot, had dedicated his life to the fact, actually. And when England's interests had gone against Last Chance's he'd sided with Queen and country. And almost gotten Madison killed.
It was a mistake he'd regret for the rest of his life, one that fortunately hadn't ended in catastrophe. At the end of the day he simply hadn't been able to abandon his friends. Some things went beyond even national allegiance.
"It's behind us," Gabe said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "We just don't want you to get caught off guard."
"I'm not Payton." The minute the words were out, Nigel regretted them. The past, it seemed, was tangled with more than just his mistakes. Payton's first wife's betrayal colored their perception of all women—especially journalists. But Melissa wasn't Mariam.
Silence held for a moment, all three men studying their drinks.
"I'm sorry." Nigel shook his head, wondering if they'd ever escape the shadows of Iraq. "I didn't mean that. At least not the way it sounded."
"You'd just better be grateful Payton wasn't here to hear it." Gabe's smile was weak.
"Look. All I meant was that the situations aren't the same. There are similarities certainly between Mariam and Melissa, but the differences are far more consequential. Melissa is on our side. Hell, she's CIA." Nigel turned to face his friends. "And more importantly, I'm not in love with her."
"I think the jury's still out on that one."
If it had been anyone else but Gabe, Nigel would have been tempted to knock him into next Sunday, but Gabe knew him all too well, and truth be told he wasn't completely off the mark.
"The point is," Nigel said as firmly as possible, unwilling to let his thoughts go any further, "Mariam used Payton to accomplish her own goals, and she hurt him—hell, she hurt all of us—in the process. But Melissa isn't going to do that. Whatever is happening here, my gut is telling me that it's all related. And in getting to the bottom of what happened to Melissa, we'll be that much closer to finding the nerve agent. Or at least its intended point of entry into the States."
"All I know," Cullen said, his expression hard, "is that we've got to keep our eye on the ball. Connected or not, Melissa's problems are not ours. So while I'm not forbidding you j from investigating, I am ordering you to keep perspective."
"That's not a problem," Nigel said. "And you can rest easy on the other point, as well."
"The other point?" The older man frowned.
"I'm not going to betray any of you. What happened before was a lapse in judgment. I was faced with a conflict of interest that led to a wrong decision. But I've more than proved my mettle since then, and I'm not going to do anything that would jeopardize either our mission or our personnel. Am I making myself clear?" Nigel's anger was back, his pulse beating syncopated rhythm against his temples.
"Perfectly." Cullen's expression was hard to read, part anger, and part something else Remorse, maybe—or maybe that was just what Nigel wanted to see.
"Come on, guys." Gabe's voice was deceptively soft. "We're arguing over ancient history. What's done is done, and what matters now is finding the nerve agent before it can be released."
Nigel opened his mouth, but Gabe waved him quiet.
"And," he continued, "we need to find out what, if anything, Melissa's troubles have to do with our operation. To that end, we all need to work together to find out what happened to her, and why. Agreed?"
There was really no arguing with Gabe when he had made up his mind, and Cullen for once recognized the wisdom of the fact.
"Fine." He nodded, underscoring his agreement.
"Nigel?" Gabe wasn't really asking, and so Nigel nodded, as well. "Wonderful. Now what do you say we get back to business?"
Again Nigel nodded, then swallowed the rest of his whiskey, the alcohol searing his throat. Unfortunately, the burning in his belly came from a completely different source. And unlike a good bourbon, she wouldn't wear off after a good night's sleep.
Once, a lifetime ago, he had loved Melissa Pope. And the honest truth was that
he wasn't at all sure that he'd ever really stopped loving her. Which meant that there was more truth in Gabe's words than he wanted to admit.
Or maybe he just had one hellacious case of indigestion.
Only time would tell.
"SO YOU AND NIGEL were an item?" Madison was perched on a stool at the center island in Cullen's kitchen. Melissa sat opposite her, idly pushing around the remains of a cranberry scone.
"I think that might be overstating it." She studied the other woman for a moment, trying to decide exactly how much she wanted to say. Madison's curiosity was understandable. It was clear that she cared about Nigel. Clear that they all cared about him a great deal, so it followed that they'd want to know more about what was going on between Nigel and her.
Of course there wasn't anything present tense, just the past. And a part of Melissa wanted that to stay dead and buried, but considering Nigel was sitting in the next room, that was probably wishful thinking. Better a preemptive strike.
She looked up to meet Madison's patient gaze, realizing that the woman would probably see right through anything she said that wasn't at least based in truth, and the thought was enough to propel Melissa past her usual reticence to share personal information. "It was just a summer fling, really. We were both young and the world was beckoning, that kind of thing."
Instead of responding, Madison simply nodded, sipping from her coffee cup, while she waited for Melissa to continue.
Melissa sighed, thinking that having Madison for a friend had the potential to be quite disconcerting. "We met when he was still with Special Forces. Before he was assigned to Gabe's unit. He was on leave in Naples. I was doing a piece on the Amalfi Coast."
Madison raised an eyebrow, her expression almost an exact mirror of one her husband used. "A piece?"
"I was working undercover. Something to do with the infiltration of Cyprus patriots. But as far as Nigel knew, I was simply working on a photo spread for a travel magazine. Anyway, I was at the end of my run, and ready for some R&Rmyself."
"How did you meet?"
"Usual story," Melissa said, trying to keep her tone neutral. "I was meeting some friends at a bar—fellow journalists. Nigel was there with some of the guys from his company. There was a mutual connection between the groups and we all started drinking together. One thing led to another, and the next thing I know Nigel and I wound up on the beach talking about life and hopes and dreams and whatnot until the sun came up."
"Very romantic."
"I don't know. I suppose it was a little like summer camp. You know, the friends you make there aren't real. The relationships are fostered by a ticking clock and the need for connection. So everything is more intense, but once the summer ends, there's no longer anything to tie you together, and it all sort of fades away until there's nothing but the memory."
"I don't know." Madison shrugged. "Certain psychologists would contend those kinds of connections are more real. No societal bullshit to get in the way."
"Maybe," Melissa admitted. "Anyway, at the time we were young and the connection was intense. We spent a month together. All of it set against the glorious backdrop of the Amalfi Coast. We basked in the sunshine, lazed on the beach.. .you know the drill."
Madison nodded, her expression speculative. "But everything has to end?"
"Yeah. But we knew that when we started. I mean it wasn't real. It was just a moment out of time really. A break from Hie stress we both encountered during assignments. I can't say I didn't enjoy it. But I never had any illusions about where it would end. Nigel had to report back to his unit, and I was booked on a plane to the Middle East."
"But you could have seen each other again, surely."
"I suppose so. But then reality would have set in and the magic would have been lost."
"That's true in all relationships to some extent. We're programmed to believe that after we ride off into the sunset it's all happily ever after, but that's not really the case, is it?"
"Not for most people. Although you seem to have found it." The words came out on an almost wistful note, and Melissa immediately regretted them.
"Yes." Madison's smile was beautiful. "I have. But that doesn't mean it's all wine and roses."
"I don't know." Melissa shrugged, pretending indifference. "Maybe I'm not cut out for that kind of relationship."
"The kind you have to work for?"
"I guess in a way, maybe that's what I mean. I'm not exactly a nine-to-fiver, and more times than not, I'm standing smack-dab in harm's way. That's not the kind of life one builds a relationship around. And if there were conflicts of interest when Nigel and I first met, they're even stronger now."
"But surely we're all working on the same side?"
"It isn't that. It's the work itself. You said earlier how hard it was to juggle your family and your work. Well, I work undercover most of the time. Not exactly conducive to the white picket fence. So you tell me how I'm supposed to find time for a relationship?"
Madison's eyes narrowed. "You just find a way. Unless of course there's something more to it. Something you're not admitting even to yourself."
The woman saw too damn much. "Look, it's really simple. I've been on my own for a long time. My dad ran out on us when I was in grade school, and then my mom died just after that."
"So who raised you?"
"Officially? My aunt Kiki. But trust me, she was way too busy looking for husband number three to be much of a mother figure. I guess the truth is that I raised myself."
"What about your sister? Nigel said that you're close."
"We are. But when she got married everything changed. I mean, I'm really happy for her. Especially now that she's expecting, but before it was just the two of us, you know? And now, well, her first priority has to be Aaron. And I totally understand that, but it just reinforces the fact that nothing is forever."
"And that's what you want—forever?"
"It's more about what I don't want. I don't want to set myself up for failure. And I don't want to relive the past. What happened between Nigel and me is over and done with. I care about him in the sense that he's an old friend. And I trust him, which is why I'm here with you all, but that's as far as it goes."
"I see," Madison said, her expression pensive.
Melissa wondered if she really did. If anyone could get it, she suspected Madison was the one, but then she'd found forever with Gabriel, so maybe she couldn't really understand. Perhaps it would have been better if Melissa had just kept her mouth shut, but in the face of all her cascading emotions, she had to admit it felt good to talk to someone about it.
"There you are." Payton stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he took in the two of them and their cozy tea party. Despite herself, Melissa shivered. There was an underlying stillness about the man that was downright unnerving.
"We were just getting to know each other." Madison smiled up at him, apparently immune to his intense scrutiny.
"Well, you'll have to put it on hold." His tone was clipped, his cold gaze settling on Melissa. "Cullen wants us all in the operations room. Harrison finally hit pay dirt regarding Melissa's situation. It seems there are a few things you've neglected to tell us—like the fact that you're wanted for murder."
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE TEMPERATURE IN the operations room seemed to have dropped about twenty degrees. Or maybe it was simply the doubt in everyone's eyes. Payton Reynolds hadn't made any bones about his suspicions, but now Gabe and Cullen seemed to have joined in his distrust. Harrison, to his credit, seemed exactly the same, although she suspected he hid a lot behind his youthful dishevelment. Even Madison seemed a bit more wary.
But it was Nigel who upset her the most. There was a shadow in his eyes that hadn't been there before. A glimmer of doubt. She wouldn't have thought his opinion would matter—not after all this time—but it did. A lot.
Still, there was no sense in letting them know she was upset. Better to keep her silence, and wait to see what exactly it was she was
being accused of—or more precisely, who she was supposed to have murdered. She shivered, despite her resolve, wishing suddenly for the warmth of Nigel's arms.
Damn it all to hell. She wasn't the kind to buckle under when the going got tough, and she certainly hadn't killed anyone, no matter what Harrison thought he'd found. Despite their connection with Nigel, the people in the room were strangers. For all she knew they were enemies. She'd allowed her feelings for Nigel to color her judgment, end-running around common sense in an attempt to let someone else deal with her problems.
Never a smart move.
And not a mistake she was going to repeat. It was too late for retreat, but she'd be damned if she'd let them lead her placidly to slaughter. Narrowing her eyes, she swallowed all tear and squared her shoulders, her gaze locking on Harrison. "So let's have it. Who exactly am I supposed to have killed?"
Harrison at least had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, and unless she was totally off her game there was a flash of admiration in Madison's eyes. Two out of five. Maybe she could change the odds.
"A Turkish consulate member named Hakan Celik." Harrison looked down at his notes. "He was found stabbed to death in his apartment."
"Did you know him?" Gabe's question was terse, but at least he hadn't asked her why she'd killed the man.
"No. Not really. I met him though—last night." For about ten lecherous minutes. "He was at the party, and seemed to think I was going home with him for the evening." She looked over at Nigel, despite her resolve for singularity.
"It's true." He shrugged, his eyes sparking with something that might have been hope. "The guy was hitting on her. I maneuvered her away."
"And you'd never seen him before last night?" Payton asked, his tone indicating that he didn't believe her.
"No. Never. I hadn't even heard of him." She let her gaze sweep across the room. "And I didn't kill him."
"Unfortunately the evidence says otherwise." Payton reached over to take the report from Harrison. "According to the forensics report, the weapon recovered from the scene has your fingerprints on it. Coupled with the fact that the strands of hair found on the body match your DNA, I'd say they've got a rock-solid case."
