Digitalis (19 page)

Lightning cracked.

Colton flinched, his attention brought back to the present. His spotter had died in a storm in Borneo eight years ago. Now, his dreams had died in a storm in Virginia.

I
f you are wrong, I will kill you,” Azzan hissed into her ear as he tightened the stranglehold he had on her throat.

Grunting, she held his arm. “If I am wrong, I
beg
you to kill me. But if you don’t release me, nobody will believe I brought you here.”

Trust. A virtue an assassin didn’t have. It was a risk like everything else. “Just remember, I have the weapon.” He let her slip from his grasp.

As they rounded yet another marble column and glided across slick floors, Azzan considered the royal beauty beside him. She had all the earmarks of a spoiled, pampered Arabian princess. Jewels, self-confidence … beauty. An inner strength that he wished he’d found in more women rather than sultry body language.

He chided himself, his memory jogged by the fact someone had poisoned her father. This mission had grown convoluted and complicated. He’d need to swing this back to his favor soon.

Swiftly, she made her way through the maze of halls and doors. “When we get down there, let me do the talking. You’re just a hired gun.” Her confidence reared its head again.

Uncertainly flickered through him. Who was in control here? “Just remember who has the gun.” He gave her a curt nod, but knew the only important thing was this coup d’état.

If he could get the old man, it’d turn his superiors on their ear. His pulse quickened while silently alarms rang through his head. What if he was walking into a trap?

After she accessed a secure, vaultlike door, he couldn’t help but glance at her. How did she come by the codes to this facility?

She shrugged and smiled, the sequins of her lightweight dress sparkling under the lone light. “My brothers were careless around me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I won’t make that mistake.” Did she understand he’d do whatever it took to get back across the border? Tamarisk wouldn’t be pleased with this diversion, especially since Azzan hadn’t called it in and this would mean a delay.

Raiyah paused at the top of eight cement steps. “Perhaps you already have?”

His heart jammed.

All amusement faded from her face. “Israel,” she whispered, eyes purposeful.

The meaning speared him: She’d betray him if he didn’t get her to Israel. Why was the daughter of a very powerful general, one who stood to command the Republican Guard in the area, so anxious to flee her homeland?

“The old man,” he countered.

With that, she lifted her hem and descended the steps. Azzan hovered at her elbow, mentally checking his weapon holstered at his back. Again, her diminutive fingers danced over a keypad. The door hissed open.

After another glance at him, she entered. “Assalaam Alaikum, Taufic,” she greeted a guard sitting behind a arc-shaped desk.

“Wa Alaikum assalaam, Raiyah.” Hesitation and concern flowed from the voice. “Why are you here?”

Azzan slipped into the room behind her, ensuring the door stayed ajar just enough that it looked closed.

“What is the meaning of this?” The man staggered to his feet, his uniform buttons struggling to hold his wide girth.

Tempted to go for his weapon when he saw the man’s hand slide toward a gun on the desk, Azzan paused as the girl stepped between them.

“Relax, Taufic. You are far too paranoid.” She glided across the stone, her hips swaying.

Azzan flicked his gaze to the man, noting the leer on his face. Something in Azzan twisted and nudged him to kill the man anyway.

“Believe it or not, my family has finally decided to trust me.” She sashayed toward the man, popped out a hip, and folded her arms. “I’m to bring a prisoner back to the palace. My father is having a closed meeting and wants to parade his trophy before the others.”

“That … Are you certain?”

“Well, Faisal wasn’t.” She chuckled. “You should have seen him. He ranted and yelled that they could not trust the product of a village harlot. It was Hamzah who finally cajoled Faisal into relenting.”

Taufic shook his head as he moved closer to her. “Hamzah always was soft on you.”

“So, you’ll help?” Raiyah glanced toward the far wall, and Azzan followed her gaze. A clock. She gasped. “I’m late.” She whipped back toward the fat man. “Please help me, Taufic. You’ve always been so kind.”

The rotund man glanced toward Azzan. “Who is he?”

With a long glance over her bare shoulder at him, Raiyah sighed again. “General Sadik’s personal guard. They did not believe I could handle the job.” She sighed, those full lips set in a resolute pout.

“My purpose,” Azzan interjected, “is to ensure your safety and that no one intervenes.” He pushed as much accent into his words as possible. “As you said, we are late.”

Raiyah leaned closer, her eyes on Azzan as she whispered to the guard, “I heard he’s a skilled assassin. No doubt he can ensure the safety of the prisoner, no?”

A smile pulled at Azzan, and he let it show, especially when the guard shifted uneasily under the news. The guard turned back to Raiyah and retrieved a ring of keys. “Who are you here for then?”

She glanced back at Azzan. “What was his name, assassin? I forget.”

He realized her ploy. Realized how truly incredible and intelligent the woman was. He’d never confirmed the name of the man he wanted. And this would show his hand. “Perhaps you are not equipped for this mission.”

Fire flashed in her eyes.

Taufic laughed. “Come. Rosenblum is our only prisoner left.” He lumbered toward a steel door. A grating noise echoed through the steel-reinforced room as the door swung open. With it, a gust of wind. Rancid and thick, a foul odor assaulted him.

The telltale stench of torture.

Fury coursed through Azzan as he stumbled back and shielded his face.

Raiyah cried out and spun back to face him, horror gouged into her features. Tears welled up and glossed her eyes. “I can’t do this. He’s dead.”

“No.” Azzan knelt beside the frail body. This is why he had chosen his profession. It was humane, at least more so than plucking out a man’s fingernails and gouging out eyes. Cutting off ears.

His stomach roiled as he nudged the shoulder. Bad as his torture had been, at least so far, this man had been spared the worst of such atrocities.

“No!” the old man shouted, waving his arms. “No more.”

They didn’t have time for belligerency. Azzan caught the old man’s shoulders and tugged him upright. “Listen to me. This is your chance to escape. But you must get up and walk.”

Wizened but wearied eyes fixed on Azzan. A crooked smile. “Escape?”

“Only if you can walk.”

Then a frown. “No, they will kill me, shoot me in the back.”

Azzan hauled the old man to his feet. “Not if I can help it.” Tucking an arm under the old man gave him support, but he could tell there wasn’t much strength left in the aged legs.

“How … how will we get him out of here?” Raiyah’s soft voice pulled at Azzan.

“Put him in a trash bin, for all I care.” Taufic narrowed his eyes at him. “Is there a problem?”

“You expect me to put this man in a garbage can,” he said with a growl. “And present him to my general like that?”

Taufic’s arrogance faltered.

“My father would be humiliated! He’d have you shot, Taufic.”

“Use the wheelchair. I don’t care. It wasn’t me who did this to him.”

No, but you didn’t stop it, did you?

How he wanted to snap the neck of the fat, overbearing man. Then string him up the flagpole and let his disgrace be displayed for women and children to see.

Raiyah shifted toward Azzan. “I’ll get the chair.”

When she returned, Azzan carefully lifted the old man from the floor, noting the bandaged hands, the innumerable cuts, pocks, and the horrendous way his—

The old man felt light … too light. Fear rushed into him. Would he make it? He had to. They needed the information he had. The information al-Jafari had tried to pluck from his body.

“You’ll need to bring the SUV,” Raiyah said as they headed toward a back entrance. “I’ll wait with him here.”

Hesitation trapped him. Could he trust her? If he retrieved the SUV, would he come back to find an ambush, or both of them gone?

She stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm. “My father killed my mother, sliced her unborn child—another daughter—from her womb. Right in front of me.” She looked directly into his eyes, but he felt her probing go deeper, much deeper. “I see my pain in your eyes. I’ll be here, waiting.”

Feeling as he had been sliced open, Azzan sprinted into the open. Anything to get away from her reading his soul. He darted to the Hummer, started it up, and raced back to the entrance. The door swung open.

And he stopped cold.

Taufic held Raiyah in a choke-hold, a gun pressed to her temple. The man sneered at Azzan. “Thought you could fool me, huh?”

He held his hands out in surrender. “I’m not sure—”

“Bashar al-Jafari is dead. Killed by an assassin.”

Raiyah released the hold on the man’s arm and jabbed her elbow into her captor’s manhood. Taufic grunted and jerked forward, his hand outstretched.

Azzan seized the weapon and simultaneously swung a hard right into the man’s face. “Get Rosenblum out of here.” He angled his body in and threw another punch, finding the courage to keep fighting as he heard Raiyah grunting and pushing the wheelchair out the door and into the sun.

Finally, with one last blow, he dropped the guy. Azzan whirled toward the door.

Ping! Tsing!

He dropped to a crouch and tucked himself to the side, away from the line of sight of whoever was shooting at him. When he tried to peer around the corner toward the desk, a searing trail of cordite whizzed past. He jerked back, eyed the SUV, then launched himself out the door.

Fire lit through his arm. He winced, knowing he’d been hit, and dove into the SUV.

Raiyah huddled in the backseat with Rosenblum. Azzan punched the gas and roared out of the compound. Bullets pinged the hull.

Crack!
Glass shattered.

Raiyah screamed.

O
minous thoughts scampered into Piper’s mind as a loud
boom
thundered through the stormy sky. With Mr. and Mrs. Neeley—or Margaret and Ben, as they’d insisted—staying in town because of the storm, Piper grew restless. She couldn’t leave McKenna alone. They’d done this on purpose, to keep her here. Colton had probably suggested it. Nerves had her checking the doors, the windows, and Colton’s precious daughter, over and over. She’d never forgive herself if, because of her, they got hurt.

She peered through the rain-splattered window in her bedroom. Large trees swayed under the control of strong winds. Pulling a light jacket around her shoulders, she plodded through the house in her bare feet to McKenna’s room.

Gently, she eased the pink and brown quilt up over the small shoulders. Piper lingered there, softly brushing aside the little one’s blond strands.

McKenna’s eyes snapped open. “Is Daddy here?”

“No, it’s just the storm—the thunder rumbling overhead.”

“I heard his truck.” With a yawn, McKenna let her eyes drift closed. Then was wide awake once again. “Will you wake me if he comes? Nana always does.”

“Sure.” Piper waited with the little girl until she rested in the warm comfort of a good sleep and ached for the reassurance McKenna had that her daddy was coming home.

Piper glanced toward the door. Would he? Would Colton return? Over the last four days since he’d left, she’d begged God to see him safely home. Yet she remembered her promise to tell him everything, and that made her dread him walking through the door. She’d kept everything secure in the vault of her heart.

Locks keep out only the honest
.

Remembering the way her father had repeatedly said that through the years brought an unwilling smile to her face. What would he say about her love for Colton? Although he wasn’t Orthodox anymore, he did adhere to strict moral rules. He wouldn’t like that Colton had fathered a child out of wedlock. Surely he’d see that Colton had changed. That she was in love with the rugged cowboy.