Kiss the Killer [From the CIA 2](BookStrand Publishing Romance) Read online

  Once inside another courtyard before the residence, the stranger said, “Wait here. I will inform Sultan Shehata you have arrived.” He said the word “Sultan” in a commanding and reverent tone.

  When the stranger turned to inform the Sultan they’d arrived, Vic pivoted to Alina and took her hand. She pulled back but then quickly acquiesced to his insistent grip. He ducked his head and peered around them. Assured no one had them under surveillance, he said, “Alina, there’s something you should know.”

  Chapter 29

  Alina jerked her hand free from Vic’s grip. “What do you mean? Do you have another surprise for me? I suppose you expect me to agree with whatever it is because it’s a little late to turn back now.” Her full lips flattened and her brows caved together.

  His eyes kept darting in all directions as he spoke. “The sultan thinks you’re here to help him.” She cocked her head. “I told him what your job is and that you work in Middle Eastern countries on a neutral basis.”

  “Keep going.” Her mouth returned to its flat state, and she ignored the wind tossing her hair into her face.

  “The sultan is giving us a bodyguard to get us into Iraq, specifically Baghdad.”

  “I already know that. What’s the surprise?”

  “He thinks you’re going to pretend to be working in an Iraqi chemical experimental compound, which is in the vicinity of the leader who killed the sultan’s daughter.” He held up his hand as she opened her mouth. “I’m there to kill his daughter’s killer because your work gets us into the compound.”

  Her lips parted in an oversize O before words spilled out. “So that’s why you wanted me along? Or should I say, pretended to join me in the hunt for my cousin.” She began to look to her sides, same as he did watching for listeners or to be led to the sultan. “What about her, my cousin? How do we find her? You didn’t forget about my reason for coming here, did you? And am I mistaken that you also are looking for a missing person from your so-called ‘list of agents’?” She steeled her body.

  “We will find your cousin and we will find my agent.” His voice came across with patience.

  She wanted to be mad at him, tell him to jump into the Nile River, or to release her from their agreement. She knew better. She had to rescue her cousin before it was too late, if it wasn’t already. “I wish you had trusted me earlier. I can keep a secret, follow orders, and definitely work better when I know what is expected of me.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am, but we kept getting interrupted by assaults and flying debris in the form of bullets, so I didn’t find a convenient time to tell you everything. Plus if you had gotten caught, the more you know, the less safe you are.” He stopped his roving eyes and looked right at her.

  “So, what kind of project am I working on?”

  The entry door opened ending their discussion without an answer. She pursed her lips with a last look at Vic, then smiled as another man greeted them.

  “Welcome. I am Abasi Shehata. I’ve been eager for your arrival.” He held the door wide and gestured for Alina and Vic to follow as he stepped back into the estate.

  Sultan Shehata wore a cream-colored robe that reached the floor. His black leather shoes peeked from the hem. His robe was adorned with trims of gold and gold chains hung in long loops around his neck. A matching turban wound around his dark hair, mostly streaked with silver around the visible edges. His smile was loose, a smile of a man with a business agenda he intended to accomplish successfully.

  Alina appreciated the sultan’s confidence for no other reason than she wondered if Vic had left a morsel of information to be learned through their host. Vic placed his hand at her lower back and guided her into the residence.

  If she hadn’t been so upset and occupied by her new role, the entry would have astounded her, yet she made no comment at the grandeur of the tiled floors, marble pillars, and extension of greenery filling the area with a lush array of tropical whimsy.

  “Please, we will sit on the terrace.” Shehata turned down a wide hall. Alina looked at the floor and followed. She didn’t care if Vic was at her heels or dragging behind.

  * * * *

  They sat on lounge chairs with flowered cushions, an ironic atmosphere for the plan about to be discussed. Vic nonchalantly glanced toward Alina. He pretended to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. She gave him no indication about her thoughts, but kept her stare trained on the sultan. He’d swear she had readied herself for a game of poker, possibly Russian roulette and with a quick spin of instructions. She’d win or she’d lose the game, her objective to rescue Christa.

  Vic has a trifecta of objectives. He promised Alina they’d find Christa. He promised the sultan they’d assassinate the sultan’s daughter’s murderer. He promised himself he’d find his agent, Bret Ferrier, and get him to safety.

  “You made it safely.” Abasi Shehata didn’t question their journey. He merely stated the obvious, that they arrived in one piece. “Chasers?”

  “We had a few run-ins, which delayed us.” Vic didn’t need to lie about Alina and his tardiness. He wanted to start with a clean slate with the sultan. He didn’t want the sultan to think Alina and he were unreliable and unable to deliver. “No one is behind us.”

  “Are they dead?” Shehata didn’t mince words.

  “Some. The rest are incapable of assaulting our mission.” Vic left it short, but sweet as he inferred was the sultan’s style. Alina remained quiet. Vic began to worry less about her acting out and ending the job before it began.

  A cacophony of birds sang in a nearby palm tree. The incongruous sound heightened Vic’s awareness. He must remember and perform whatever Shehata requested, or at least to the sultan’s knowledge.

  “My friends, I owe you much for agreeing to carry out my revenge. It is a must.” Abasi Shehata said these words with so much conviction, Vic had to take them serious. “Al-Maqda has broken any alliance he and his regime had clumsily tried to form with me. He is done. I will have it no other way.” He looked to each person at the table, his eyes determinedly black and dangerous. He continued, “I would do it myself, but I am an old man and I need a person with sharpened skills.” His eyes focused directly on Vic.

  “That I, we, can do for you.” He nodded at Alina for an excuse to see her reaction.

  “That is why we are here.” Alina exuded confidence of the unknown. Wherever it came from, a cool wave of relief streamed over Vic’s shoulders.

  “I would like to send my guard with you,” Shehata raised his palm and dropped it, “but Al-Maqda will recognize the situation immediately, and then you will all die.”

  Chapter 30

  “Let me do the talking.” Dean Borland walked in front of Eben Eikem as they followed a guard, not willing to say a word to them, down a long, dirty-white hall. The guard knocked on a closed door, then posted himself to the side of the entry with his eyes focused straight ahead.

  Eikem had accustomed himself to orders within hours of Marine boot camp. They were nothing new. The orders Borland expected attention to since their arrival in Sweden and now here in Baghdad bordered on psychotic expectations. Eikem had never questioned an order, but rather did as he was told, which included killing the enemy.

  Al-Maqda stood as they entered. “Sit. Tell me what news you have that will ‘save my life.’”

  Glad he wasn’t supposed to talk, Eikem sat and kept quiet.

  “We have come to inform you of a Swedish chemist and an American who will be arriving here within the next days,” Borland spoke rapidly.

  “That is not unusual.”

  “Yes, but from our investigation, the chemist and American will spend time in Cairo first, then come here.”

  “You are wasting my time. I already know this. My men have not given me any further details, so I can only know they are in search of the chemist.”

  “Your men are dead. We believe the chemist will be sent as a cover for the American to kill you.”

  “You have my attention.”
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  * * * *

  A long road trip, a flight, a business encounter with Sultan Abasi Shehata, and then an uncomfortable flight to north of Baghdad left Alina weary as they regrouped in another hotel room. Vic had been at her side the whole time, but she felt alone. They had exchanged few words. Easy not to speak her thoughts, the opposite happened when she was left to her internal voice.

  At their first encounter, she and Vic spent a physically delightful night together. He probably had a different interpretation as most men do. Afterward, he tracked her down. He said he found her because of his job, but the way he looked at her and made slight but unmistakable advances suggested interest in her as a woman.

  On the run and another night at a hotel triggered emotion and nearly an orgasm. He tries to be her protector. He doesn’t have to have anything to do with Alina, yet she swears he wants something more than a partner for his work. If only he’d speak to her and quit acting icy-hot. Tell her the truth. Be a real person, a man, and not hide behind a gun.

  “Hopefully we won’t have to spend more than a night or two here.” Vic’s voice quieted her inner drama.

  “Right.” She set her small bag on the floor. The sultan had provided clothes to compensate for their unusual journey to his estate in Cairo and then to the home of his daughter’s murderer.

  Looking at his watch, he said, “We only have an hour to get you to your laboratory to look at amoebas.” He chuckled. “I’ll be taking care of other business while you wipe off the lenses of your microscopes.”

  “I don’t look at amoebas. Those are biological. I inspect uranium samples.” Her warmth cooled with his disrespect.

  After a tense moment of silence while the air conditioner coughed and spit varying degrees of cool air into the room, he said, “Look, we have to get along through this. I’m sorry. Let’s start over because if we can’t count on or trust each other, neither one of us is going to leave here in one piece. We do have to be a team, and after we’re done here, you don’t ever have to look at me again.”

  “Fair enough. We should get going.” She wasn’t going to be the first one to cave and be nice. She slung her equipment bag across her shoulder and strode to the door.

  Vic hurried to catch up with her. He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. “Alina, I know this is a rough operation, you’ve been through a lot, but,” he put his head in his free hand, then took it away to look her in the eyes, “don’t think that I’m not going to worry about you and make sure nothing happens to you. Okay?”

  “I believe you.” She paused and then reached for the door handle. She believed him, but that’s the last thing she needed to hear before going into a firing zone. From what the sultan expects, one slip-up and that’s what will happen.

  She remembered the last firing zone she’d lived through. The first zing of a bullet within a foot, or so it seemed, had frozen her body. She’d waited to feel the fiery metal tear through her. Her heart leaped to a dangerous rate, and her skin became instantly cold and covered with goose bumps defying the heat of the late summer in Iraq.

  When she let her breath out, she realized the bullet had exploded on the wall above her head. Fear still bunching her heart in spasms, she fumbled on the crumbled cement beneath her knees where she crouched low.

  All during the time she took to acknowledge she was alive, a slew of bullets whizzed around her. For that brief minute of realization, the shots didn’t appear real, they didn’t affect her. The next sound she recognized was a primal scream from Jon. Jon Sauhran, her fiancé, spurted blood in all directions as he fell across her thighs and pinned her to the ground and blocked the shot. She lived.

  * * * *

  Vic knew time was critical and a heart-to-heart wasn’t going to happen now. If only she knew how he felt about her. He liked her a lot. I’m breaking my own rules. I love her. She’s everything. He’d take care of her before anything else on his itinerary.

  He let go of her arm, put on his war face, lips tight, eyes focused at everything in their path, and stepped in front of her to check the hall. Nothing got in the way of precaution, even his pathetic heart. “Time to play cat and mouse.”

  He didn’t look at her, but pulled her behind him as he led the way to the elevator. He took her into the waiting box. With his hand still on her wrist, he absently caressed the inside of her arm.

  “That tickles.” Her soft voice alerted him to her presence.

  He had blocked out everything other than her standing next to him, yet her whisper reminded him how real she was and how real it was that they might not come out of this unscathed. “Let’s make sure we’re on the same page for what we’ll do today.” She adjusted her stance and stared at the blinking elevator lights. “I drop you off at the supervisor’s office, I don’t know his name, and you go to work for the day.”

  “Right.”

  He ignored her bored response. “While you’re doing your work, I’ll find my agent, Bret. Once I get ahold of Bret, he can help me get to Al-Maqda, the man who killed the sultan’s daughter and most likely knows where Christa is. Bret and I take him out, pick you and your cousin up, and then we’re free to leave. Quickly.”

  The elevator dinged for the lobby. They stepped out, and then Alina said, “That sounds too easy. I hope it happens that way.”

  “Plans are always simple and direct. The outcome can be another story, but if Bret and I don’t have a shot at Al-Maqda,” he lowered his voice and leaned closer to her face, “we’ll need an extra day. We do have to get this done in two days or less because our welcome will be outlived after that.”

  “What happens if we find Bret and Christa, but don’t kill Al-Maqda?”

  He paused before answering. “We have another enemy to contend with.” She looked at him with her eyebrows scrunched. “The sultan. Abasi Shehata is a very powerful man. He won’t accept failure, and since we know and are part of the plan, he will execute us and find another hired gun to go after Al-Maqda.”

  He could now assume she understand the gravity of their mission.

  He hooked his arm under hers and walked to the lobby exit doors. “If you have any doubts, concerns, or questions, please, please let me know before we get in the cab.” At the glass doors, he rotated her to face him. With a smile full of love, for appearances but definitely real, he touched her chin. “I’m serious. Anything?”

  “No, I understand my part.”

  He sent her in her own cab and grabbed the next one for himself. He didn’t want them connected at any of their destinations.

  Vic noticed stops signs and pedestrians didn’t appear to hold much value. The cab driver sped through the crowded streets, nearly slid around a few corners, and dropped him in a neighborhood of men wearing light-colored cotton shirts and trousers, many in bunches sitting and standing with nothing more than their conversation and curious eyes watching him exit his ride. The driver turned and with straight-lined lips requested his fare.

  Vic tossed a few crumpled bills to the driver, never taking his eyes from the surroundings.

  Bret lived in this area, a place doused with regime control, politics, and a lot of weaponry in a multitude of capabilities. Glancing around, the residents had handguns lain on their laps and shotguns and machine guns resting on storefronts and on the dusty ground. As long as he didn’t make any enemies, he’d be safe.

  With a confident nod at the nearest huddle of men, he walked through the dusty air and started to look for the memorized number of Bret’s place. Most buildings didn’t have numbers adorned for viewing. When he found a partial apartment number, he counted from it until he found Bret’s.

  Vic knocked on the hollow door. Hoping, but not expecting an answer, he pushed the unlocked door in. The two-room establishment was empty of people. He saw most of the six hundred square foot residence from the door.

  He walked to the beaten kitchen table and shuffled through the slips of paper, looking for a clue as to where Bret might be.

  Vic’s agents d
idn’t work tidy assignments. They were sent to a destination under orders. How the agents accomplished their work depended on their style and opportunity. Many operations took years to complete. Bret could be anywhere.

  Vic’s high hope of finishing his mission in one day, a mere ten or twelve hours, began to fade faster than snot running down a kid’s lip. He wiped his hand across his nose and rubbed his jaw. On to plan B, this always exists.

  Pulling a pen from his shirt pocket, he scribbled a note on the backside of a piece of paper and set it on top of the pile. The note asked the reader to “contact your brother.” Bret would understand, yet Bret didn’t have any way to find Vic. He jotted a phone number without the area code and each number a digit lower.

  He left the building. Walking up to the nearest group of men, he casually leaned against a post and swung his foot over the other.

  “Are any of you friends with the guys in that apartment?” He swung his chin toward the door he’d come from.

  The men looked at him, not saying a word.

  “I’m here to see my brother. Unless I got the number wrong, he lives there.”

  A younger guy laid his hand across his small gun. “He know you came?”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t supposed to get here till tomorrow. I was hoping to catch him at home.”

  The younger man laughed but then became serious. “He moved. By the American building.” He laughed again, and the other men joined in.

  Vic could tell he wouldn’t get any information from these men. Faking gratitude, he said, “Thanks, I’ll check there.”

  He’d have to wait for a call. He didn’t put any trust in the idea of Bret moving. Bret had to make his “home” among the people, stay put, and then expand on his appointment. The next item on his list was to find Al-Maqda. Unbelievably, his location should be easier to find.

  He hailed a cab and directed the driver to take him to the business section.