Cover of Darkness

by Kaylea Cross

  “Anyway, that’s why I signed up.”

  “How long are you planning to stay in?”

  “Not sure. Another few years, unless something changes.”

  Like the number of limbs or his vital status. “And then what? Private contracting?” Part of her hoped he would say something that would turn her off getting involved with him, to make it easier to get him out of her head.

  “Maybe some, but…” He gave a faraway smile. “My older brother and I built this log house in Montana. My kid sister decorated it. We have this pipedream of turning the place into an adventure ranch.”

  “Like hiking, horseback riding?”

  “Yeah. Rock climbing, kayaking, rappelling—”

  “God forbid you forget the rappelling.” After her rappelling experience on that Syrian cliff, she wouldn’t be trying that again any time soon.

  “Absolutely. So yeah, that kind of thing. What about you? What do you like to do?”

  “Camp, hike, kayak. Love to swim. Teach dance classes. Other than that, I’m kind of an outdoorsy type.”

  As his expression turned thoughtful, it occurred to her they’d just discovered they had more shared interests than they’d imagined. Would have been easier to find out they had nothing in common. She fought back the yawn that had been forming, hoped she concealed it well enough.

  He still noticed, of course. Nothing got past him. “Better get some sleep while you can. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  “Okay. Thanks for talking with me. It helped.” Venturing a glance at him, she found him looking back at her with warmth in his eyes, same as when he’d kissed her in the hospital. Her poor, stupid heart fluttered. God, she was in big trouble.

  “Yeah. About tomorrow,” he began. “I wanted to tell you…look, you don’t have to do this. It’s not too late. You can still walk away and no one will think less of you for it.”

  Wouldn’t they? She’d been given this opportunity to help collar the man responsible for the bombing, the kidnapping, Qamar’s murder and her father’s death, preventing him from hurting any more innocent people. If she had died and her father was in her place, wouldn’t he have done whatever he could to bring Tehrazzi to justice?

  Absolutely. So how could she not do the same for him? She owed him that much, to show courage and resolve and push past her fear and insecurities. No way would she let him down.

  “Don’t do this out of revenge, Bryn,” Dec said quietly. “Even if we get Tehrazzi, it won’t bring your father back.”

  The words hit her in the heart like an arrow. “I know that. But I still have to do it.”

  He stared at her. “For who? Him? Or you?”

  “For all of us.”

  He looked away, and she wished he hadn’t. It felt too much like he was shutting her out.

  “Just say you’ll help me. I’m scared enough about what’s going to happen without having you mad at me.”

  His head came back around to face her. “You know I will, if that’s your decision. And I’m not mad.”

  “But you think it’s a really bad idea, right?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “Yes, it does. To me it does.”

  He sighed. “Do me a favor then, okay? Sleep on it. Think it over again—”

  Think it over? That’s all she’d been doing.

  “—and remember what happened today. Because if you go ahead, that’s the kind of danger you’ll be putting yourself in until it’s over.”

  Yes, and the rest of them with her. She nodded, toying with the toile coverlet. “I understand.”

  “So you’ll think about it?”

  “Yes.”

  He seemed relieved, and reached into his back pocket to pull out a plastic pharmacy vial. “I picked these up for you just in case.” The sleeping pills she hadn’t wanted rattled in the bottle. “You want to take one now?”

  Rather than riling her, his thoughtfulness touched her deeply. She accepted the bottle from him, the brush of his hand against her palm sizzling up her arm. He looked so capable, the muscles of his chest and shoulders stretching his t-shirt. She remembered how that steely strength had pressed against her as he shielded her with his body in the back of the Range Rover.

  But no, she couldn’t think like that right now. Her hand tightened around the vial. “Will you promise me something too?”

  “What?”

  She struggled with putting her feelings into words. “If I do this, I want your word that you won’t take any stupid risks because of…me.”

  His eyes were steady as he looked at her, looked into her. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  She grabbed his hand, squeezed it. “No, please. Swear to me.”

  He returned the pressure, gazing down at their entwined fingers. “Risks come with the territory, and that’s why there’re people like me out fighting the bad guys. I’ve signed up for this whether you join us or not, and I can take care of myself. But if you come along, then I’m going to take care of you too.” He released her hand and stood, the mattress shifting as his weight lifted.

  Right then, it was all she could do to remain where she was and not wrap herself around him, partly to ease the guilt nagging at her, partly for reassurance that she was doing the right thing. But she knew he would never tell her that.

  “So,” he said, tucking his hands in his back pockets, his biceps exposed under his sleeves, “you want to take one of those things?” He indicated the pills in her hand with a jerk of his chin. “I can get you some water.”

  “No thanks. But I’ll keep them on the nightstand, just in case.”

  “Okay. Sleep tight, then.”

  “You too.”

  After he’d left, she pressed a hand against the center of her chest and let out a slow breath, her whole body aching for him. Not for sex, though that would have been so good, but merely to hold him. To be able to reach out and touch him in the darkness and know that he was beside her.

  God, she was nuts for letting herself think of him like that. Weren’t Luke and Emily reason enough to get the idea of a relationship with Dec out of her head for good? Yet try as she might, she couldn’t let it go. She craved him with a yearning so deep it scared the hell out of her.

  Setting her prescription on the table beside her, she wondered what her chances were of getting to sleep without a sleeping pill, and figured they were slim. Too bad she was too damned stubborn to take one.

  ****

  Syrian Desert

  Night

  The mare’s black mane streamed out behind her like a banner as she transitioned from a canter into a gallop. The coarse hair whipped at Tehrazzi’s face as he crouched over her neck, urging her onward with only the pressure of his knees. Her muscles coiled beneath her skin in a fluid rush, setting his heart pounding as they soared over the desert, hooves pounding the sun-baked earth. A triumphant laugh of joy escaped him.

  Nothing was so glorious as this, nothing so perfect as the communion of horse and rider as they merged into a single being. Heaven must feel like this. Perhaps Allah would grant him many horses like this one when the time came for him to make his final sacrifice.

  He let the mare run until she showed signs of fatigue, then slowed to a trot and finally a walk while her sides heaved in and out. He leaned low against her and murmured praise of her performance, one hand releasing the reins to pat the sweat-covered coat. Ghaliya was a beautiful animal, his favorite of all his horses, given to him by a Saudi prince who funded his activities.

  Of all the Arabs, the Saudis bred magnificent animals. Even Osama bin Laden, himself of the Kingdom, had been a fine horseman. Though a Sunni, Tehrazzi considered him a great leader in the global jihad they were engaged in. They had ridden together on several occasions, the last time when he had been invited to visit the revered leader in the border mountains of Pakistan.

  Ghaliya tossed her great head and blew out a snort, her wide-spaced, intelligent eyes scanning the ground as she picked her way
through a dry wash toward the makeshift stable his men had built at the entrance of a cave.

  Tehrazzi dismounted and led her to her stall himself, removing the bridle and bit with care before brushing her coat with a curry brush. Even untied, the mare stood still for him and seemed to sigh in enjoyment, bringing a smile to his lips as he stroked the sweat and grime from her glistening ebony body.

  He disliked anyone else touching her. Everyone knew not to go near her unless ordered to do so, and only by him. He and Ghaliya had a bond that went far beyond the comprehension of the company he kept, and he would let nothing taint that sacred connection.

  Easing his hands over her chest and legs, he noticed she was favoring her right foreleg. Closer inspection revealed a small slice in the frog of her hoof. He spoke gently to her as he prodded it, made soothing noises when she butted his shoulder with her velvet nose.

  “Be easy,” he told her, rubbing the stiff tendons in her ankle, and was rewarded with a warm puff of air from her nostrils against his hair, and then her lips as they nibbled at his bearded cheek. He laughed again and pushed her head away, rising to complete his grooming. When he was done, he stepped back and let her out.

  Standing in the doorway of her canvas-draped stall, he smiled as she lowered herself with a mighty groan and rolled against the still-warm earth. She reminded him of a child frolicking in the snow.

  “She is beautiful.”

  Over his shoulder, Youssef was standing in the shadow of the tent. The young aide’s turban was filthy, stained with sweat, the patches of bare skin on his upper cheeks above the bushy beard he’d grown glowing with a bad sunburn. “Yes. She gives me great joy.”

  Youssef’s eyes turned sly. “And I have brought you news that will give you even greater pleasure.”

  Tehrazzi glanced back at Ghaliya, who had risen to her feet and was shaking off the dust like a wet dog. “Tell me.”

  “Our sources have confirmed that Masood has been talking with the Americans responsible for the woman. He invites you to attend a meeting tomorrow night.”

  Tehrazzi sucked in a breath, the blood surging in his veins. “Where?”

  “At his private club in Damascus.”

  Rank hatred filled his heart. “Have our contact accept our host’s invitation.”

  Then, God willing, the Syrian and Daoud’s daughter would meet Allah’s final judgment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Day 9, Beirut

  Luke loaded the last of their gear into the rental car and shut the trunk, then rounded the side to ride shotgun next to McCabe, already behind the wheel with the engine running. Bryn was in the backseat between Ben and Rhys, making a valiant attempt at keeping her eyes open in the pearly, pre-dawn light. She was exhausted, but hadn’t complained once, which he was thankful for.

  God save him from whining. Worse than fingernails scraping over a chalkboard.

  For his part, McCabe maintained a quiet presence in the driver’s seat, glancing in the rearview every so often at Bryn. He was probably cataloguing the shadows under her eyes and all the scars and bruises tracking down her right arm. Luke knew they marked the whole right side of her body.

  Impatient to get going, he wondered what he and Davis would discover at the meeting with their Iraqi informant in Damascus later today. Davis was already on his way there in his own car. Luke would meet up with him after they all checked into the hotel.

  The use of informants was a necessary evil in this business. The trick was to never trust anyone, and after the years he’d put into intelligence work, it was second nature to be suspicious. People like his Iraqi informant were loyal while the cash was coming in, and the pressure from the other side wasn’t high enough to outweigh their involvement with Americans.

  They still weren’t moving. “What’re we waiting for?” Luke asked.

  Dec nodded pointedly at Luke’s right shoulder. “Seatbelt.”

  Eyeing him with amusement, Luke fastened it with a smirk, then lifted his brows at the 2IC, who grinned and shifted the car into gear. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected from the SEAL, but this calm, cool, collected routine was a welcome relief on his crowded mind. He liked the guy already. McCabe went about his business in a composed, methodical way.

  McCabe didn’t miss anything, filing away every detail in a mind Luke was willing to bet was every bit as sharp as his own. Dec’s body language and carriage made it plain he was not to be messed with.

  Beneath that deceptively relaxed exterior, Luke recognized the lethal soldier inside. As SEALs, both he and Dec had seen and done things most people could never imagine, let alone experience. To his way of thinking, that made them closer than most brothers. Only difference was, Dec wasn’t nearly as hard as Luke was.

  Yet. Give him enough years in the Teams, and he’d wind up the same. Luke almost felt sorry for him.

  He was damned glad to have Dec to back him up, and even more glad that the twins were here to help protect Bryn throughout this operation. Besides being concerned about her emotional strength to take this on, he was almost as worried about Ben. Ben’s feelings for Bryn ran deep, probably deeper than he let on. If anything happened to her on Ben’s watch, he would never get over it.

  Luke scratched his stubbled chin as he considered the implications of Ben’s attachment to Bryn. He understood the why of it. She was steady, strong, loyal and smart. Not to mention there wasn’t a straight male on the planet who wouldn’t find her attractive. She was easy to be around, didn’t do the drama thing or act like a diva, as some in her position of wealth would. No, she’d gone out of her way to make it on her own, a constant source of irritation for her father.

  Jamul had secretly admired the hell out of her, living alone on the Oregon coast and scrapping it out in the trenches as a social worker, but he’d gladly have provided her with every comfort she could ever want.

  No way that was going to happen, though. Bryn was way too independent and stubborn to take handouts from anyone. Luke couldn’t help but admire the hell out of her for that.

  No wonder Ben worshipped Bryn from afar. But if she knew how Ben felt about her, she didn’t show it. Man, that had to hurt a guy’s ego. Talk about a shriveler.

  That’s why Luke preferred to stay unattached. Life was a hell of a lot easier when you didn’t run around with your heart on your sleeve, begging someone to stomp on it. Not that he had a heart anymore. He’d given it away more than thirty years ago to his ex-wife. What remained in the middle of his chest was merely the pump that kept him alive, bothered less and less by twinges of emotion.

  Behind him, Bryn failed to smother a jaw-cracking yawn. Her fourth in as many minutes.

  “Go ahead and grab some shut-eye if you want,” Dec said to her. “We’re all impressed enough with you. You don’t have to keep trying so hard.”

  She flashed him a shy smile and if Luke wasn’t mistaken, her cheeks flushed. Interesting. McCabe was already attached to Bryn on a personal level. If she was into him, that would add another wrinkle for Luke to worry about, and it might cause friction between McCabe and Ben.

  Right on cue, Ben wrapped a brawny arm around her shoulders and urged her head down against him.

  Wonderful. His background check showed Ben could be a bit of a hothead, and feeling territorial over Bryn with the second-in-command was not going to be a party. Maintaining his hold on her, Ben stared out the window, appearing completely at ease. Which was total bullshit.

  Luke had seen the bottle of Tums on the bathroom vanity, and he was willing to bet they weren’t there because Ben liked the taste. He was quietly freaking over Bryn’s involvement, and maybe her interest in McCabe.

  Keeping his thoughts to himself, Luke sipped the travel mug full of coffee and analyzed this cozy love triangle, still in its infancy. He stole a glance at Rhys in the rearview mirror, his big frame folded in the back seat, watching the scenery pass out his window.

  He was quiet, methodical and controlled. His superiors in Delta said he never
got rattled, could always be counted on when things got tough. The rock of his team.

  Luke could almost hear the guy’s brain humming from the front seat. Sometimes quiet was a blessing. Keeping your mouth shut and your eyes open was the best way to stay alive in this business. It had saved his own ass more than a handful of times.

  Maybe Rhys’s calm would rub off on his brother and ease Ben’s anxieties about Bryn. They’d worked well together so far. Rhys throttled Ben back, and Ben in turn fired him up.

  Luke would have to see how it went. If Ben couldn’t keep it together, he and Rhys were going to have to knock his ass back in line.

  ****

  By the time they reached Damascus and checked into their hotel, Bryn looked ready to drop. Dec convinced her to grab some more sleep while the twins headed out for a recon op. Luke was out with Davis, who’d come from Baghdad to meet with their informant.

  Bryn’s skin seemed pale to the point of translucency, dark circles beneath her obsidian eyes. So beautiful, though. Strong and valiant, yet vulnerable at the same time. He wanted to gather her close and hold her, stroke her long, shiny hair until she drifted off. Her dark eyes tracked him, uncertainty in their depths.

  Dec hunkered down in front of her, and the catch in her breath when he took her hands made him look up into her face. The flare of heat in her gaze made his belly clench.

  “You’re exhausted. At least try to rest,” he said, trying to distract his body from the hunger he sensed in her. His hand twitched, wanting to touch more of her.

  “Okay.”

  Her lashes were so long they touched the base of her eyebrows, and formed thick crescents over her cheeks when she closed her eyes. A heavy sigh escaped her, as though she carried the weight of the world on her slender shoulders. He wanted to crawl in beside her so bad he forced himself to release her and take a step back. Then another. And another.

  He made himself comfortable on the other bed, glanced over at her and found her fast asleep already, her full lips parted. It had taken an act of will to not pull her close and kiss her lingering sadness away last night. He sure wished she had more to smile about.