Seized (Hostage Rescue Team Series, #7) (10 page)

“You wouldn’t, I—”

“
Carm
.” He shook his head sharply. “I can’t, okay? I can’t go there with you. I’m sorry and I wish things were different for me, but I just...can’t.”

He knew his words hit home because he saw the light in her eyes dim. And he felt like someone had just punched him in the heart.

He was such a fucking coward.

She lowered her hand from his arm, leaving him cold on the inside. “Well those weren’t the answers I wanted or was expecting, but this time you were straight with me about everything. Thank you for that, at least.”

She shook her head, a sad little smile on her face as she looked down at her feet. “I’m leaving in two days’ time, and maybe that’s for the best for both of us right now.”

He could literally feel her closing herself off from him, pulling back emotionally to protect herself and a flare of panic hit him out of nowhere. “I don’t want to lose you, Carm.” He couldn’t bear that.

She pulled in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Like I said, I can’t just flip a switch and shut my feelings off like that, Sawyer. But I’ve heard you, loud and clear. At least give me some time to adjust, okay?”

She was resigned to accept his decision and forget about ever being together.

He should have been relieved, because isn’t that what he’d wanted all along? Instead the victory felt hollow and left him empty inside. The lump in his throat seemed to double in size all of a sudden.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Sure.”

This is the best for everyone involved. You know it is.

So why did he feel like shit and why was he suddenly so desperate to take it all back? Tell her he’d risk everything so they could be together? Man, she enticed him like no other woman ever could.

She tugged the folds of her sweater tighter around her body and hugged herself, the action as much about self-comfort as it was for warmth. Guilt stabbed at him.

“Let’s find a cab so I can get back to my hotel.” Her voice sounded tired and the slight smile she put on was totally forced. He hated that he’d hurt her. “And you need some sleep after what happened tonight.” She looked pointedly at his shoulder, then turned on her heel and started back toward the park entrance.

Sawyer didn’t respond. He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Alone, tormented with countless fantasies about her that would never happen now.

Careful what you wish for, asshole. You just might get it.

With a heavy heart he followed her, staying less than two feet away from her at all times and yet she’d never been farther out of his reach.

––––––––

W
ira checked the screen of his new burner phone before answering. “Hello?”

“Did you have a restful night?” a male voice asked in heavily accented English. Aziz, Wira thought the man’s name was. The one funding this entire operation.

He’d just spoken the key phrase to indicate the caller was from the organization. “Very peaceful,” he answered, giving the coded response. With all the recent chatter lately and the media coverage of a large-scale attack expected on the West Coast, they were taking every precaution to remain undetected by authorities.

Wira wasn’t sure if the American authorities had learned of his organization’s plans yet, or if they expected a different sort of attack, but it didn’t change anything for him. He was carrying out this plot regardless. He was finally going to strike back at the U.S. for what they’d done to his brother and shine a global spotlight on his situation.

A cause Wira believed in strongly enough to die for.

“Good. When do you go to work?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Is Ali with you?”

“Yes.” Ali, a new American citizen who’d immigrated to the U.S. from Egypt a few years ago and now worked for the same cruise line Wira did.

On paper, anyway.

Ali was reclined on the bed next to his, reading a section of the Quran on martyrdom they’d been reviewing together when the call came in. It helped to center them both, helped take the fear away that plagued the mortal heart.

“The others have arrived as well?”

“Yes.” He’d spoken with three of them an hour ago when they’d arrived at their respective hotels. “Everyone is in Seattle and will report as ordered.”

“Excellent. I just spoke to the
Mawla
. The shipment you were promised has arrived also. Everything is waiting at the pick up area.”

Wira felt a sharp pang in his chest at the mention of their leader. The shipment was to be placed in a container in the cargo area, at the dock where the cruise liner would be berthed tomorrow morning. “We’ll take care of it.” He’d already reviewed the procedure with his network. Their cell had far more people on its payroll than just the crew involved on the ship itself. Dozens of people from every walk of life here in the U.S., in transportation, customs, law enforcement, even the longshoreman.

“I’m glad to hear that. Do you need anything else before you leave?”

“No, we’ve got everything we need.” Including all the weapons and ammunition they could want for the upcoming operation. He and Ali had spent a couple hours cleaning and checking their firearms at a cache near the dock before coming back to the hotel for the night.

“You know how to reach us.”

Wira made a sound of agreement. “I won’t be in contact until afterward.” So, likely not at all. The superiors would learn of the attack from either the news or social media, just like the rest of the world. By then, Wira planned to be well on his way to finding his brother.

“Understood. May Allah be with you.”

“And with you.”

As he ended the call Ali sat up on his bed, his expression eager. “So we’re set?” he asked in English, with barely a trace of an accent.

“It’s a go.”

Ali flashed him a nervous smile, looking far younger than twenty-six in that moment. He was eight years younger than Wira, and his youth and inexperience could work to Wira’s advantage. They were here for different reasons. Ali to wage jihad on enemy soil. Wira and a few others who had known Leo, to avenge him and hopefully locate and free him. Others had joined for the chance to kill Westerners.

There were so many men like Ali in the network. Young men with impassioned hearts were usually easier to control than older men. But having Ali on this op was also a risk. He’d never worked or trained with Ali before. It remained to be seen whether he was brave enough to carry out his duties when the moment came.

If he panicked and tried to flee, Wira would end him before he could do any harm to the operation.

“I just want it to be morning so we can get going. This waiting around makes me nervous,” Ali said, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“It’ll be all right. Morning will come soon enough.”

He reclined on his comfortable bed—a bed more than twice the size of what he’d be sleeping on for the next week on board the ship—slipped his hands behind his head and watched the news broadcast droning on about the ongoing threat to the West Coast. Excitement tingled through his veins.

The true test still lay ahead of them. Wira would carry out his plans regardless of what happened, alone if necessary. But he didn’t think it would come to that.

His men would either follow his orders when he gave the order to attack, or die by his hand.

****

C
armela finished off the last of her martini in a single gulp and for a second contemplated whether it was enough alcohol.

Nope. Not gonna cut it.

She turned back to the bartender to order a shot. She was already feeling the buzz, and planned to consume enough alcohol to take the edge off the gnawing ache in the center of her chest. All day long she’d been down, struggling to come to grips with Sawyer’s decision about them. On an intellectual level she understood why he was afraid of having a relationship with her.

But the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.

She’d never taken him for a coward before, but that’s how he was acting. Before the kiss they’d been close, with a solid base of trust beneath them. They’d become good friends over the past couple years and they got along well. Enjoyed each other’s company. And the chemistry? He could hide from it all he wanted, but it was there regardless, and it was the most powerful she’d ever experienced.

The man made her entire body burn just by being near her and she knew damn well he wasn’t unaffected by her either. His refusal stung, of course, but for her it went deeper than that, stirring up those damn teenage insecurities that had plagued her high school years.

All courtesy of her overzealous endocrine system that had given her D-cup breasts in eighth grade. The unwanted attention from all the boys who’d catcalled her or tried to cop a feel had taken its toll on her self-esteem.

For the most part she’d conquered it. She was proud of her body, but every now and again her confidence slipped.

God, why was it taking so long to get that shot? After enduring the past few hours in Sawyer’s company at dinner along with her mother, brother and Marisol, she was desperate for some emotional numbness. Being rejected last night on top of nursing a bruised heart was punishment enough without having to get through the next few hours sober.

The bartender finally placed the shot glass on the polished surface of the bar in front of her. Carmela downed it with one swallow, trying not to wince at the burn as the alcohol slid down her throat then set the glass back down with a sharp clink and swiveled around on her stool to look at the dance floor.

Being expertly led around the floor by Sawyer, her mother appeared to be having the time of her life, if that wide grin on her face was any indication. There was no doubt those two adored each other and Sawyer and Ethan loved to play up their rivalry in trying to outdo each other in a bid to be Mama Cruz’s favorite.

They both knew how ridiculous that was though. Ethan and Carmela might be her babies, but their mom had a huge heart and Sawyer definitely owned a part of it.

Carmela watched as Sawyer lifted an arm to effortlessly spin her mother around in a tight turn, her mom’s head thrown back in a joyous laugh. They’d been out there for almost fifteen minutes already. It was good of him to be so sweet to her, but Carmela suspected it had just as much to do with avoiding her as it did with entertaining her mom.

“Didn’t know you were a whiskey drinker,” Schroder said over the music as he slid onto a stool next to her. He grinned and tipped his beer to his mouth.

“I’m not,” she answered. Most of Ethan’s team was here. She and the others had come to meet them for a “quick drink” after dinner. Over an hour later, here they were, and her mom showed no sign of slowing down out there.

She eyed her empty shot glass. Should she have another just to make sure it did the job?

No. Last thing she needed was to suffer from a broken heart and a wicked hangover. After a minute she noticed Schroder watching her with a half-amused, half-pitying expression that told her he knew exactly what was bothering her.

“Are we gonna have to carry you out of here later?”

She huffed out a reluctant laugh at his teasing tone, nowhere near tipsy. “No, don’t worry.” She watched Sawyer move on the dance floor. All sexy masculine grace, surprising in a man his size.

A pleasant warmth flowed through her as the alcohol began to do its thing.

So he didn’t want a relationship. What about just straight-up sex, then? She could go for that.

Seriously, what was wrong with friends with benefits? At least for one night. Yeah, that was probably either wishful thinking or the alcohol talking, because she doubted Sawyer would go for that arrangement. To be honest she wasn’t sure she could handle that emotionally anyway.

But the need he ignited in her wasn’t going away any time soon. She wanted him and only him, period. Couldn’t she have him just one time? One little taste? Wouldn’t he give her at least that much?

“How about we dance off some of whatever’s bothering you instead?” Schroder set down his beer and held out a hand.

Carmela studied him for a moment. With his deep auburn hair and hazel eyes he was good looking and she liked him a lot, plus she knew he wasn’t flirting with her because he’d spent the first ten minutes after she’d arrived at the bar telling her all about his live-in girlfriend, Taya, who sounded amazing.

She lowered her eyes to the strong hand he held out, and gave a mental shrug. Why not? Why shouldn’t she at least try to enjoy herself while she was here? “Sure.” She slipped her hand into his and slid off the barstool to follow him onto the floor.

Schroder was fun, even more fun than she’d expected. Within minutes he had her laughing and shimmying out there with the others on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed when Sawyer led her mom back to a table off to the side of the room where Bauer and Blackwell sat, but after that she tuned him out.

She danced three more songs with Schroder then one with Evers before calling it quits and returning to the bar with both of them.

Evers ordered himself a beer. “You guys coming over to the table after, or are you gonna stay here?” he asked over the music.

After giving her a questioning glance, Schroder answered for her. “We’ll stay here for a bit.”

“Thanks,” she told him when Evers left to join the others.

“No worries.” He leaned back with his elbows resting on the bar. “So is the plan just for you two to avoid each other all night?”

“Looks that way.” Thank God Ethan was still preoccupied with Marisol and hadn’t seemed to notice yet what was going on with her and Sawyer.

He nodded, his gaze on the people crowding the dance floor. “You know, if you’d rather leave I can either drive you to your hotel or put you in a cab.”

Carmela smiled at him. It was sweet of him to offer. “Thanks, but it’s okay. I’ll wait until my mom’s done and go back with her.” She was out there with Ethan and Marisol now, busting a move in a way that was truly impressive for a woman her age.

“Sure thing. Man, that woman is a live wire,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah.” Carmela shook her head fondly. Her mom loved to dance and rarely got the chance to do it anymore. “She’s something else.” It was messed up, to be jealous of your own mother just because she’d gotten to dance with Sawyer.