Dead Reckoning (29 page)

Back at camp, he grabbed his gear and caught up with her on the trail. “Shi—”

“Get off !” Shiloh drew back like a cat ready to strike. Fire poured out of her moonlit eyes.

“Listen to me.”

“I heard you just fine the first time.” She stomped in the direction of her hut.

Reece started after her, stunned that their relationship had taken a nosedive from the nearly euphoric moment on the beach to the volatile argument on the dark waters. He’d thought better of her, believed Shiloh top-agent material, even secretly toyed with recruiting her despite the indications from Langley that she was off -limits.

Was he wrong? Had he pushed too hard? Involved her in scenarios beyond the scope of her abilities?

Images of a blonde woman swam through his mind. An argument. Angry, hateful words. An explosion. Her death.

He swallowed—hard. He’d crossed that line he swore to respect this time. How could life repeat itself in such a painful way? Maybe the transference theory was right. Would Shiloh ever speak to him again? Would they go their separate ways? His fingers curled into a fist at the thought. He scowled as he stared at the hut sitting beneath the canopy of banyan trees. He didn’t want to lose Shiloh, either to circumstance or to the grave.

“Don’t let it happen,” Miller said, his words barely audible as he sidled up beside him.

Reece glanced at his partner.

Cole Miller stood facing Shiloh's hut, the small fire in the nearby pit lighting his face. He squinted. “Don’t let this thing come between you two.”

“She doesn’t understand my reasons, this life I live, or what it takes.”

“Then make her understand.”

With a soft snort, Reece shook his head. “You of all people know it's impossible to make anyone do something they don’t want to.”

“True.” He still hadn’t moved. “But love can level mountains.”

A snappy comeback lit through Reece's mind, a retort that denied anything existed between himself and Shiloh. Was it better to release what happened on the beach, accept that Shiloh wasn’t meant for him, and just move on? It would be safer. For her. For him. If he did, could he head off another disaster? Maybe that would salvage what was left of his belief that true love could exist and remain a burning flame instead of snuffing out before it had a chance to burn brightly.

“Chloe wasn’t your fault.”

Reece ground his teeth, his gaze skirting the camp and then falling on Shiloh's hut. He flexed and unflexed his hands. “People keep saying that.” Even though this situation wasn’t
the same as Mumbai, the similarities taunted him. “I won’t be the cause of someone's death again.”

Miller chuckled. “Sure you will.”

“You know what I mean.”

With a hand on Reece's shoulder, Miller turned. “She's not Chloe, and she's not your prodigy.”

Alone with his thoughts, Reece replayed his friend's words. With so many years of executing covert ops, he’d wondered if he even had a heart anymore. After Chloe's death, he’d walled himself within the confines of espionage, enjoying the anonymity yet finding himself lost and alone. Following his heart was a lot easier said than done. It meant breaking not only Langley's rules but his own.

But what if his
heart
broke the rules? He didn’t ask to fall for the enigmatic woman. Yet she called to everything that was Reece Jaxon. Sultry softness lured him into wanting more, a lot more than a Christian man should. But his attraction was to more than her body—she amazed him, made him curious to find out what made her tick, what made her laugh. And since she was Jude Blake's daughter, Shiloh had been exposed to the Christian faith. With her tenacity it was only a matter of time before she examined her anger toward God.

At her hut, he peered through the screen. She bent over her cot and dug through her backpack. He rapped against the wood frame.

“Go away!”

Reece opened the door and stepped in.

Shiloh spun and beaned him with something.

The object had nailed his head. Touching the spot, he stared at her. Shocked. “Ow!”

She rolled her eyes. “You were supposed to catch it.”

“I did.” He rubbed his temple. “With my head.”

She stomped across the slat-board floor and retrieved whatever had hit him. “Here.” Holding it, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “The coin Baseer gave me. It's our next step.”

He gripped her hand, his gaze unmoving from her face. So this was how she wanted to play it—shove aside her feelings and get right back to the game? So much the better. At least this way they wouldn’t have to worry about romantic entanglements.

Tugging free, Shiloh took a step away. “When he gave it to me, he mentioned a name—Gerard Moore, remember?”

“Moreaux,” a voice called from behind. “Gerard Moreaux.”

Both Shiloh and Reece turned toward the door. Miller stood on the wooden steps, his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his tactical pants. “Sorry, I was coming to ask you to keep it down. Couldn’t help overhearing.” He stepped into the hut.

“Who's Moreaux?” Reece asked.

A wicked grin plowed into Miller's face. “French deputy minister of foreign relations. A powerful man in the way of peace negotiations. Heard about a snatch-and-grab based on information he provided to an asset in Paris.”

“So, he's friendly.” Reece smoothed his thumb over the copper piece.

“Quite.” Miller lifted the coin and studied it. Humor fled his face, his blue eyes nailing Shiloh. “But the people who gave this to Khan aren’t so friendly. As a matter of fact, if they learn Moreaux is connected to your man, he's dead.”

“Then we need to get there fast.” Shiloh shifted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’re not going,” Reece said.

Her nostrils flared against pinked cheeks.

Miller stared at them both for a minute, then met Reece's stare. “Partner, you won’t get in to see Moreaux.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an operative.” With a shrug, Miller leaned against the center support post. “He has tabs on just about everyone flying under the radar. Doesn’t trust a soul, except those in his inner circle.”

“Then I’ll find the inner circle.”

Miller shook his head, then glanced at Shiloh. “Did Baseer or Khalid ever mention anything to you about this group?”

“No.”

Eyeing the piece, Miller nodded. “This is not just a coin. It has an embedded receiver that registers its first contact once activated.” He flipped it toward Reece. “If Baseer activated it …”

Shiloh intercepted it from the air. “Then what? It has my biosignature?”

“Exactly.” Miller looked pleased about something. “They don’t talk to just anyone. The fact that Khan gave you this coin is what grants you access to Moreaux.”

“Hold up.” Reece waved his hand, then pinched the bridge of his nose. This conversation had taken a turn for the worse. “Let's back up.”

Although neither Miller nor Shiloh said anything, Reece heard their annoyance in the silence that chilled the air. Arms folded over his chest, he drew in a deep breath. “What we’re facing here is a lot bigger than a simple killing.”

“Simp—”

“Let me finish.” Reece rubbed the back of his neck. “Come with me.” He punched the screen door and launched off the steps. Shiloh and Miller muttered as they trailed him to his hut. Inside he retrieved his rucksack.

“Okay,” he said laying down a photo. “We have satellite images from Kashmir with obvious radioactive signatures that prove a warhead is being moved.” He set out stapled pages. “A transcript from Abdul and an unknown male, and photos of a
meeting between Baseer Khan and Abdul, and an indecipherable message.”

He turned to Shiloh. “Where's the device?”

She held out the coin.

He tossed it in with the other clues. “That's what we have. Too many connections and broken links.”

“All this about nuke codes?” Miller's brow furrowed.

“Exactly, there's something else lurking there, but not tangible.” Reece peeked at Shiloh. “I have pictures of Sajjadi with his men. One of them is your guy, Kodiyeri.”

Shiloh's eyes widened. “He works with Sajjadi?”

“
For
. He works for Sajjadi.”

“These connections are hair-thin, Jaxon,” Miller mumbled as he picked up the Abdul/Khan photo.

“But they’re there. And each second I’m in the middle of it, the threads firm up.” He faced the woman who’d captured his heart and the attention of a radical organization. “Don’t think I’m just trying to be chauvinistic and get the beautiful damsel out of distress. These guys, this organization we’re up against, have a deadline. That information tells me it's less than a week away. And let me emphasize the dead part. They don’t care who they bury. They will do anything and everything to see this through. Right now I have to make sure the codes to those nukes don’t get accessed or go live. If that happens, it's going to get all kinds of ugly.”

Shiloh stuck out her chin and aimed her electric eyes at Reece. “Khalid's father gave the coin to me. He had a purpose for that. I’m going.”

“Not happening.” Risking her life any more wasn’t an option.

Determination carved her lips into a hard line. “I’m going to meet Moreaux, and I’m going find out what this coin means.”

Reece bit back the burst of panic—panic? When had he ever felt panic? No, this was anger. Rage at the control slipping
through his fingers. No matter how hard he worked to steer Shiloh to safety, each development dug her in deeper. His innate desire to protect the woman he was falling in love with demanded he keep her safe.

The determination he’d seen in her face leapt into his own. He met Miller's gaze.

“You’ll hit every brick wall, physically and metaphorically, between here and Paris. Like I said, you won’t get in to see Moreaux.” Miller grinned again. Then glanced at Shiloh. “But she can.”

A
T THIRTY-THREE THOUSAND FEET MORE THAN THICK OXYGEN SMOTH
ered Shiloh. Silence from Reece Jaxon did. Since she’d forced her way into this mission a day ago, he had spoken only when absolutely necessary. He’d berated her for intervening when the Maharashtra authorities had almost discovered him. Then he’d insisted she head back to the States. Was he that anxious to get rid of her? Had their moment on the beach meant nothing? She’d wrestled for hours that night over how much she’d enjoyed his kiss, how much she’d relished the security and pleasure of his embrace.

Her heart hung heavy over the awkwardness. Was this her fault? Had she created this void between herself and the one man she’d developed strong feelings for? This rang similar to her relationship with her father. Close for a time, then miles apart after her mother's death. But she wasn’t the one to blame for that.

For the first time in years, that horrible night flashed into her mind like a virtual plasma screen. A broken arm shooting piercing pain into her shoulder. Crying. Her mother groaning as she struggled to pull herself from the upside-down car. They’d linked fingers when—
Bang!
Her mother went limp just
as sirens blasted through the frigid night. Her father's career had killed her mother and jeopardized Shiloh's life.

And never once had he apologized or wished for things to be different.

And you’re doing the same thing to Reece.

But she saved his life!

Shiloh sighed and stopped arguing with herself. What was the old saying? If you’re pointing a finger at someone, you have three pointing back at you? Why couldn’t he just be grateful she’d helped? All he had to say was thank you, or good job. Instead, he’d pierced her heart with his scathing assessment of what she’d done wrong.

Once the plane landed, Reece laced an arm around her waist as they strode down the concourse. “Just relax.”

They stepped up to the customs booth together. She handed over her fake passport. The idea that someone could forge false identities so wholly and without error churned her stomach.

“You do not seem happy, Madame,” the uniformed man noted as he studied her passport.

Tension bunched at the back of her neck. She hoped the technology that cost five grand would get them past this wiry little man with too many opinions.

Shiloh hitched an eyebrow. “Long flight.”

He chuckled. “Ah, but this is Paris. The city of love.” With a smirk at Reece, he stamped their passports. “Sir, it seems you have your work cut out during your stay.”

“Indeed.”

Flushed with indignation, Shiloh stormed through the concourse and out into the brisk Parisian air. “I can’t believe you agreed with him.”

His eyes came to hers, brilliantly blue under the morning sun, but he said nothing. After renting a car, she had to bite her lip to stop from laughing as he folded his six-foot-two
frame into the tiny compact. Crammed almost shoulder-to-shoulder between Reece and the fiberglass body of the car, she suddenly longed for the cramped style of the airplane.

With each thrust of the stick, he inadvertently jarred Shiloh's shoulder as well. Yet the skill with which he’d handled the car and maneuvered through town proved he not only had a working knowledge of the city, but he was used to whipping through Paris. The revelation piqued her curiosity.

“How many times have you been here?”