Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) (21 page)

Salma sagged against the wall, dropping the gun. Abigail approached her slowly.

“Are you hurt?” Abigail asked.

“It’s nothing,” Salma said. A sob shook her. “They took him.”

“Who? Do you know who?”

“Luke. Men with guns broke in. They put Mido and I in the pantry and locked us up.”

“Is Mido okay?” Abigail had only seen the man in passing.

“They thought he was Luke at first.”

“Show me?” Abigail offered Salma her arm to lean on.

She led Abigail inside to the kitchen. The young black man, Mido, sat at a small table in the corner. One eye was swollen shut, his lip busted.

“Hi, Mido, I’m Abigail. Can I look at your head?” She set her bag and gun down on the counter. Judging by how distraught Salma was, she doubted the young man’s pose was an act of teenage rebellion.

Mido sat forward. He was a silent young man. Though he and Salma looked nothing alike, she fussed at him like a mother. Abigail ignored the scars, evidence of a harsh past, and focused on what she could see.

“Think you can walk into the infirmary?” Abigail asked Mido.

He nodded and got to his feet. Salma guided them into the same room where Abigail had been checked out by Marco.

“They took most of it,” Salma said mournfully.

From what Abigail had seen, Aegis was made up of men like Luke. Good people. If she had to guess, Salma and Mido were people the men had saved.

“Sit here?” Abigail patted the padded table bolted to the floor. “I’m looking for bandages, ointment, a suture kit and some pain killers.”

It took them a good fifteen minutes, but they found everything Abigail needed in the wreckage of what was left. Mercenaries like Nador would have swept the building for what was useful or valuable, and left what they couldn’t carry.

“Tell me what happened, from the beginning.” Abigail nudged Mido back onto the table. “You lay there. Tell me if anything hurts?”

“He’s mute,” Salma said.

“Can you speak with your hands?” Abigail’s fingers curled, speaking a language of gestures.

Mido’s hand rose, signing a simple, “Yes,” back to her.

“Good. Then you can still tell me if anything hurts. Salma? Start at the beginning.”

The old woman sat down in the corner and began with Zain and the other’s leaving. Nador’s men had entered quietly, and with a considerable force. From Salma’s account, Abigail could safely assume that the mercenaries had expected some sort of opposition.

“They wanted us to tell them where Zain and Mason are,” Salma said at the end.

“Who is Mason?”

“He’s nice. Newer. I don’t know why they’d want him.” Salma sighed and leaned against the wall.

“Have you been able to reach anyone else with Aegis?”

“No, not yet.”

“Mido, you’re all bandaged up. You aren’t going to like this, but you need to stay awake. If you have a concussion—”

Mido’s hands flew and his one good eye rolled.

Teenagers.

They were the same, no matter what their nationality.

“All right. Take it easy, okay?” She turned toward Salma. “I need to make contact with someone at Aegis.”

“They stole all the equipment.”

“Do you have a phone number? Anything?”

“I have a number.”

Abigail dialed the number. Mido shuffled out, probably to go nurse his injuries in private.

“Salma—”

“Zain, its Abigail.”

Noise in the background drowned out whatever Zain might have said. She thought she heard “Hold on” but wasn’t sure.

Abigail paced back into the kitchen and pulled out water and some finger foods, stuff she could eat with one hand.

“Abigail—did Luke find you?” Zain asked.

“No. Do you know a mercenary named Nador?”

“…Yes.”

“He raided your building here. Mido and Salma are okay, but they took Luke.”

“What? No. No, no, no.” The anguish in Zain’s voice told her everything she needed to know.

This was no coincidence. She couldn’t be certain, but the timing was too…right. Zach had to be involved. Somehow. Pitting enemies against enemies was one of the oldest methods of covert work. If Zach had been close enough to see her with Luke in Amman, he’d have known what Luke was to her. Zach had been her handler for years. They knew one another in ways normal people would not. He was acquainted with her psych profile, her strengths and weaknesses—all of her evaluations had gone straight to him. He’d know how to manipulate her. How to control her. And Luke was it.

It was her fear come to life.

Whoever had Luke controlled her.

“We’re stuck on the tarmac in Cairo. We’ll be there in…we’ll be there soon, Abigail.”

“It won’t be soon enough.”

“Why would Nador want you and a man named Mason?”

“Shit.” Zain sighed. She could see him rubbing his forehead, a grimace on his face. She’d hardly met these people, but she already knew them. They were like her in a way. “My cousin’s girlfriend got kidnapped by traffickers who sold her to Nador. I imagine he’s got a beef with us, since we took her back.”

That made sense.

Nador was a mercenary from one of the war-torn countries to the south. He’d come north, set up a base of operations, and sold his services to the highest dollar. His story was not unique. But a man like that didn’t let things go. If he had a grudge with Aegis he wouldn’t drop it.

“I’ll leave coordinates with Salma. Someone should take Mido to a hospital. I patched him up, but he probably has a concussion.”

“Wait for us, Abigail.”

“Nador wants you, too. I can handle this. If you go after him, you’re giving him what he wants.”

“We have a team—”

“And Nador has an army. Take care of Salma and Mido, but leave Nador to me. I will get Luke back. Don’t come after me, Zain. Take care of your people.”

“You’re our people, too, Abigail.”

“No, I’m not.” She closed her eyes and steeled herself against the sting of her words.

She couldn’t belong to anyone. She was a risk, a hazard. She wasn’t Mossad’s and she wasn’t Aegis’.

Abigail hung up and checked the time.

Baron should have more information for her shortly. A location, an estimate on his man power, the munitions, who Nador’s enemies were. And maybe a lead on Zach.

Abigail didn’t bother Salma. Instead, she went searching the premises until she found what she was looking for. Nador’s men had grabbed what they could see, but had never paused to consider where trained soldiers stored things. Delicate things, like a cache of C4 and detonators.

Zach wanted to make her a bomber?

She could show him what horrors a real bomb could do.

17.

Luke slowly rotated his
wrist inside the cuffs.

His arm wasn’t broken.

That was good at least.

He didn’t expect the good to last.

Nador walked a semi-circle around Luke. His head was still foggy, as though he had cotton wound around his head. Whatever they’d drugged him with was bad stuff.

Morning light sliced through the windows, stabbing Luke in the eyeballs.

How long had he been out?

Where was he?

Were the others okay?

What about Abigail?

“Where’s Mason Clark?” Nador drew the ‘s’ out a few syllables too long. Luke still couldn’t place the man’s accent.

“Do I look like a nanny?” Last Luke knew, Mason was home, doing every small gig possible so their director of operations could keep him close at hand. The leash chafed, but that was the price Mason had to pay for the woman of his dreams. It was something Luke was beginning to understand.

Nador pulled his hand back and smacked Luke across the face.

His head whipped around, cracking his neck.

Shit.

That’s how this was going to go?

The metallic taste hit his tongue. He leaned over and spat blood on the floor.

“We can do this all day,” Luke drawled.

Aegis’ instructions were to give up information. The lives of their men weren’t worth it. But the way Luke saw it, Nador wanted a war. Blood. And Luke wasn’t about to let the merc know where and how to hit even one of their people. Especially when an innocent like Hannah might be hurt in the whole mess.

“Where is Zain Lloyd?”

“Taking a dump? I don’t know.” Luke peered around the room.

Most of Nador’s men had the same thousand-yard stare and penchant for silence. They were no doubt the product of their environment, raised on bloodshed, forced to do what they could to survive. He got it. But it didn’t make it right. And he wasn’t about to help them kill anyone else. Especially not his guys.

A man stood back from the rest. His hooked nose, dark eyes and olive skin were like a beacon.

His beard was perfectly oiled and trimmed, his head swaddled in a turban. Abigail would be able to tell at a glance what his nationality was based on that alone, but Luke wasn’t that good. But he knew those eyes, he’d stared into them long enough last night to commit their beady little glare to memory.

Of all the shit holes in the world, of course the man they were after would crawl in here. With Nador. The idiot didn’t know what kind of a mistake he’d just made. The enemies of my enemy were not always your friend. Sometimes—they were another enemy.

Nador didn’t have friends.

“Hey—you wouldn’t know a guy named Zach, would you?” Luke saw the man flinch.

Nador followed his gaze.

“Hassan?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Me?” The man Nador called Hassan laid a hand against his chest. “I don’t know anyone named
Zach
.”

“Funny, I’ve been looking for a guy just like you named Zacharias. He’s a Mossad spy.”

“What?” Nador’s gaze narrowed.

“Yeah, yeah. Fucked up son of a bitch, too.” Luke jerked his chin toward Zach.

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Zach drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest. A common tactic of prey animals trying to ward off a predator. Except, Nador wasn’t the kind of animal to back off.

“Let me guess, he came to you, wanted to know about me. Or a woman. It’s the woman he wants. He just needed you to get in on it.”

Nador barked an order Luke couldn’t understand and the armed guards swarmed Zach like hyenas.

Abigail hung back, watching
Zain, Baron and the other three men lean over maps, muttering to themselves. What they knew about Nador, his history and movements, would fill a novel. But it didn’t change their situation.

“You said your guy saw the convoy enter at this location?” Zain stabbed a point on the map and glanced up at Baron.

“Yes, two trucks and Nador’s Hummer. About a twenty-man team.” Baron stood with one arm crossed over his chest, the other stroking his chin. Never in her life had she thought to see him here. Especially alone. She didn’t know where he ranked in Mossad any longer, but he’d always had upward momentum.

“And we know he keeps about a hundred and fifty men on hand.” Zain straightened, hands at his hips.

“We could hit them tonight, early morning. They won’t be expecting us.” Marco gripped the edge of the table.

“What? The—four of us?” The ginger, Ian, gestured at the Aegis guys.

“Five.” Marco’s eyes stabbed her.

Abigail remained a silent observer.

Let them plan.

She checked the time.

It was creeping past one in the morning.

“We need to go in now.” Marco pounded his knuckles against the tabletop.

“There are five of us. We don’t stand a chance.” Zain shook his head.

“What about you?” Marco’s gaze slid to Baron.

“I am not here in any official capacity.” The response slipped off Baron’s tongue as smooth as it had the first five or ten times he’d said it.

“Then why the hell did you come?” Marco demanded.

Baron didn’t acknowledge the question, but she knew the answer. He’d come to repay his debt to her. To make up for failing her as an agent. In Baron’s mind, Mossad owed her, even if the agency would not go so far as to say such a thing.

“Why the fuck is he here?” Marco flung his hand out toward Baron and faced Zain.

“Because he wants to help. Cool down—or go for a walk.” Zain’s hard tone underscored why he was in charge. The man was smart and unflappable, while Marco was poised to explode, Ian was ready for a calculated battle strike and Felix…

“Again, we have rocket launchers. Can’t we just light them up and charge in?” Felix leaned back in his chair, pushing his fingers through his long, Viking blond hair.

Yeah, Felix was the blowing up problems kind of guy. Every team had one. And that was why Abigail was glad she worked alone. Too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak.

Salma pushed through the double door, a heavily laden tray of finger foods and coffee in hand.

“Shit—Salma.” Marco crossed the room in what seemed to be a single bound and took the tray from her, muttering at the older woman in Arabic. The grumpy bear had a soft spot, it would seem. And a knack for languages. He set it down on the table and Zain, Ian, and Felix swarmed, pouring hot cups of coffee and tossing around still yet more ideas.

Baron turned, putting his back toward the group, and studied her. Stared right through her was more like it. He took two steps and leaned against the wall at her back.

“You’ve been awfully quiet for the last half hour,” he said.

Abigail didn’t hear a question or feel the need to reply.

Marco bullied Salma into sitting down and taking a cup, which she didn’t touch. Her hands remained firmly on the saucer.

“What did you do to the coffee?” Baron sounded more amused than accusatory.

Abigail wasn’t about to answer that question.

For a moment they stood there, watching all four Aegis soldiers down one and then two small cups of the dark brew.

Salma peered over her shoulder at Abigail.

Damn it.

“You wouldn’t hurt them, so—sedative?” Baron kept his voice low, but she could hear the smile, his amusement.

Yes, she’d convinced Salma to doctor the coffee. Because these four, as much as they wanted to save their friend, would only get themselves killed. This wasn’t a job for a team or even a unit. That would only lead to a slaughter on both sides. No, this was a job for her. It was the kind of thing she’d been conditioned for.

“If I warned them, they could conceivably purge the drink… Should I tell them I think you just drugged them?” Baron was teasing her, at least she thought he might be. “Tell me, or I warn them.”

“Yes.”

“Smart.” Baron pushed off the wall. “Why don’t we all have a seat and go over what we know?”

He pulled out a chair near the coffee and had Salma scoot a cup across the table, which he didn’t come close to touching. It had the desired effect of getting the other four in chairs and gave Salma the opportunity to escape and claim deniability later.

Ian yawned first, then Zain. Marco and Felix fought it, but they’d both consumed enough to knock out a hippo. Within twenty minutes, all four were slumped in their chairs, snoring or drooling if not both.

“What did you use?” Baron turned toward her, sniffing at his cup. “No smell… The flavor must be subtle or else their taste buds are dead.”

Abigail knelt and picked up the backpack she’d asked Zain for earlier.

“You’re awfully tense. More silent than usual.”

“And what? I’m supposed to be a Chatty Cathy with you?” The man who’d tortured her for real this time. It’d been different from what she went through in training. Baron had meant it. He hadn’t cared if he hurt her. He’d meant to. She’d expected it of him, but it’d still stung. Still sliced her deep. If it hadn’t been for Luke…

“You’re emotional.”

“Am I?” She threw him a cold glare.

“You always shut down on the outside when you’re really upset. I know you, Yael. Whatever name you take on, you’re still you.”

“Fuck you.” Her blood boiled.

She’d spent years with Baron, first as his wife, then as his trainee, and later as his agent. Always near his bright star, but too far away to touch him. Maybe she’d never loved him, maybe she’d never really known what love was—until Luke.

“See there? That’s you.” He spread his hands toward the snoozing Aegis soldiers. “You think this is the answer? You’re emotionally compromised.”

“Because I love Luke? Yes, I am compromised. And I’ll fix this.”

Baron stared at her.

“You were the perfect agent,” he said softly.

“I used to be. I don’t belong to you—or Mossad—anymore.” She shoved a few odds and ends into the pack.

“You know, Luke dug his hole with Nador all on his own. It’s not your responsibility to fix this.”

“Fuck you, Baron. I’m not leaving Luke there. It’s too convenient that the mercs would raid here. Where I was. Now. Zach has to be involved. He’d make it his business to know who hated Luke and why. It’s too convenient. Why can’t you see that?”

“I never disagreed with you. It makes sense.”

“Then what’s your problem?” She slung the pack over her shoulders. The rest of the kit was downstairs.

“You were never this…passionate. Before, I mean.”

“Before—when? I used to believe in my mission.”

“And you don’t now?”

“No. The only thing that matters is stopping Zach and getting Luke back. The rest is your problem.”

“I see.” He drew shapes on the tabletop. “I meant… when we were married.”

She clamped her lips shut, refusing to speak the truth. At some point, she’d cared deeply about him. A part of her would always wish Baron well, but she didn’t love him anymore. What she felt for Luke was…an inferno in comparison to the tortured emotions of her younger self.

“I was never kind to you. It’s the one thing I regret.” Baron folded his hands over his lap. “Since you seem to be determined to get yourself killed, allow me to apologize. There are many things I regret. My callousness to you is one of them. I could have been…kinder. More compassionate.”

“You were already married to your work when we met. I just filled the void.”

“You’re right. I thought in the beginning we would grow to like one another. I’ve always respected you, you know that? You never shrank from what had to be done, then or now. But I don’t think you ever loved me. You were told to. I remember your mother telling you to the morning we were married. You were so scared. I wanted to hug you. You were perfect, though.”

Perfect?

She’d been terrified. A bit of kindness would have soothed her fears, the nightmares. A little consideration would have gone a long way. Instead, he’d gone back to work and left her alone. The same way he had any other time she’d needed him.

There was no point to digging deeper into the past—not when the present needed her. The Aegis soldiers wouldn’t sleep forever.

Abigail rocked forward on the balls of her feet, but she couldn’t take that first step out of the door.

“Your wife—are you nice to her?”

Baron’s smile was tight and tense. “She doesn’t expect me to be nice, or even there. I suppose I miss what I never knew I had.”

“But she has the children?”

“No. No, we never conceived.”

Abigail swallowed. She’d always assumed… She’d never wanted to know for certain because it would have been too painful…

He’d divorced her over her inability to give him children. And he still didn’t have any. He could have adopted, stopped working long enough to procreate with his wife—but it hadn’t been that important after all.