Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (16 page)

“Now, your appointments—how were they?”

Nostrils flaring, she took a minute to regain her composure. “I met with the hacker I told you about, in an effort to find Boris. His trailer is on the base, and I’ve communicated with our mole to get access to it.”

“Why do we need this trailer?”

“It is where he did all his work. I believe if we can get in there, we may be able to find—”

“I am beyond this effort. Forget about it. We did the damage. Their systems have been compromised. We are one step from having the names of every ODA team. With that, the names of the men responsible for interfering with my plan.”

“We must also be sure,” Kiew said softly, cautiously—she was afraid of his reaction to her insistence—“that he did not have information that would compromise our identities.”

Daniel glowered. “That would be very unfortunate… for you.”

“Agreed.”

But would she confess the truth? “What of your other meetings?”

Doubt flickered through her eyes. “What other meetings?”

“Our wedding is soon. Surely you have things to wrap up.”

Her chin tucked again with a coy smile. “Of course, but those are all in Shanghai.” She held up her wrist. “In fact, I have a video conference with the hotel. If you will excuse me.” With a faint smile, she gave a courteous bow before heading toward the hall.

“You no longer kiss me,” Daniel said, unmoving.

Kiew paused. Lowered her head. Then came around. “Forgive me. There is much on my mind.” She returned, sat on the edge of the sofa, and bent toward him. Her lips were soft and warm against his cheek. Those almond eyes were as calm and confident as the day he chose her.

He watched her leave. Without hesitation.

From a side door, Nianzu returned. The man was cold, calculated, and efficient. He tugged on the sleeve of his dress shirt beneath his silk jacket and shrugged, adjusting it. Not a trace of his deadly deed.

“Did they meet again?”

Nianzu gave a short, crisp nod.

There could only be one reason Kiew hid the American female soldier—“I believe she intends to betray me, Nianzu.” Losing Kiew would not affect the fulfillment of his father’s dream—a powerful business entity that provided wealth for the family and strength and power for their country. But it would anger Daniel. A lot.

“You want me to have the American soldier killed?”

Daniel swirled the amber liquid in his snifter, still staring in the direction Kiew had left. He would need to learn more about this American. “Soon.”

H
is head throbbed with each step. Eamon pushed himself down the hall, crazily relieved the closer he got. Not because of the safety of being in there. But because of who waited on the other side.

Yet she’d made it clear she found his attraction inappropriate.
She thinks me a brigand
.

Shoulders taut against the pain, he slid his key card into the slot and let himself in. A lone light glowed in the corner of the small sitting area. But the sofa and chairs were empty. She’d been right to go to bed. But he wished—

Metal clanged in the kitchen.

When her gaze hit him, Brie straightened and gasped. “What happened?” She came around the L-shaped counter.

“Someone didn’t like me looking around the basement.”

She was within reach now. Her blue eyes shadowed with concern. Right there, he could almost think she cared. “Well, then I guess that’s where we need to focus.” Obviously she didn’t. She had her mind in the right place—the mission.

He should get his there as well, so he nodded. “I’m going to shower then bed down.” Halfway down the hall, he hated himself for cutting things so short, but he didn’t want her close to him right now, and he didn’t want her thinking he would use his injuries to bait her.

“Titanis?”

He closed his eyes. Turned. It was no use asking her to call him Eamon. That would be inappropriate.

She had her hands tucked in her back pockets, a pose that made her seem more like a sheepish teenager than a striking lieutenant. “Are you okay?”

There again, almost as if she cared. And she probably did, to be fair. Just because she wasn’t attracted to him didn’t mean she was cold and heartless. “Fine.” He nodded and resumed his mission to escape her presence and shower.

Morning came too swiftly when sleep eluded a person. On the floor doing sit-ups, Eamon huffed through another rep, attuned to the running of the shower. He did more push-ups then sat staring at the door, an arm hooked around his knees. This wasn’t going to work. They’d had a natural chemistry back at the base, which had provided a great segue into working. But his pathetic attempt to win her over had tangled it all into a maddening knot. He’d watched every word and move to make sure she didn’t misinterpret it. Sitting there, breathing heavily, he realized he had no idea how to woo a woman. Truthfully, he’d never had to make an effort. With a billionaire father, a face and name recognized throughout Sydney and most of Oz, he never lacked for female attention.

And he’d never wanted it either. Shallow gold diggers were the ones throwing themselves at him. That’s what he’d loved about being a commando—everyone was the same. Everyone worked for a common cause. He ran a hand over his jaw. How had he been so wrong about how she felt? His fingers itched to grab his phone and call his mom.

All these years after her death and he still sought her counsel. She would tell him what he’d done wrong. How he could fix it.

A light rap on the door shoved him to his feet. He spun and grabbed for his shirt.

The door creaked open. “Ti—oh.”

Threading his arms through the sleeves, he turned. “Sorry.”

“My fault.” Brie couldn’t hide her red face. “Sorry. Anyway. I…” She touched a finger to her forehead. “I—um, I was running back videos from the basement.”

Eamon strapped on his holster. “Yeh?” When had she gone into the kitchen? “Did you even sleep?”

“The man who hit you…” Avoiding his question was as much an admission. “I think I found him.”

“Show me.”

In the eating area, he stood behind her as she pulled some images from the video feed. He wanted to bend closer to the screen but kept his distance.

“Here.” She pointed to the screen. “He leaves and then you see him up the stairs before you.”

“Eh, it’s no good. Can’t see his face very well.”

“Right, but this morning”—her long, piano fingers struck the keys deftly—“he’s upstairs on the main lobby, heading into the café.” Onscreen, the man walked up to another. “Look! It’s Lee Nianzu.”

“Zmaray—The Lion,” Eamon muttered as he lowered to a chair. Stroking the beard that was no longer there, he wrangled the information. The man who’d beaten Dean to a pulp and exerted horrible influence to have Miss Zarrick raped. The snake coiled between the attacks and their architect.

“It’s obvious he’s working with Meng-Li.”

“We see it that way, but we need proof they are connected.”

“We have it—he’s right there, meeting with him.”

Eamon shook his head. “I’ve met with terror leaders, knowing full well they are evil, in an effort to get actionable intel or convince them to work with us, but that doesn’t make me evil or a terrorist.”

She sighed and lifted her hair off her neck with a puffy exhale of frustrated breath. “Actionable intelligence. Curse the thing!”

“We have to follow him—”

“Hold up,” Brie said, brushing her bangs from her face. “Aren’t you afraid he’s going to come after you? No doubt this guy told Meng-Li about you.”

Eamon hesitated. “Possible, but we’ll have to trust the disguise worked. It’s imperative we tag and track him and listen in on every conversation he has. He shows up like a festering boil after every situation. I want him undeniably tied to this attack on the American military.”

She eyed him.

“What?”

“Why do you care so much about us?”

He frowned. “It’s not Aussies, Americans, Brits. It’s
us
—Coalition Forces against this terrorist.” He hated the lines she’d drawn, ones that separated not only their military effort, but them personally. “Besides, he’s attacking my mates. Killed a man I highly respected. I won’t let that rest.”

CHAPTER 13

Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
30 March—1820 Hours

O
ne-hundred-eighty days deployed to the desert, but the heat and sand never felt more prominent than when she had a video call with her sister. The normalcy, the domestic “bliss” of chasing little ones around the house, corralling the two dogs and cats, the kiss of the husband as he swept past her on his way to work…

“What I wouldn’t give to be there,” Amanda said as she collapsed, arms folded on the granite island, in a heap in front of the camera. Though her hair was in a quick updo and she had no makeup, her sister looked beautiful.

Being away from family and exposed to the brutalities of war did that to a soul. “No, you wouldn’t. Trust me on this one.”

Amanda’s head came up, her eyes bleeding through the feed with understanding. “What’s happened?”

Cassie swallowed, stretched over her cot, pillow tucked under her for support. “I can’t say much, but I… an officer died. He was shot right in front of me.”

“Oh, Cassinator.” Amanda’s face etched with sisterly concern—and a heap of motherly concern. She’d been six years older and always had been like a second mom to Cassie, especially when Mom started hitting the bottle.

“I tried to stop the bleeding.” Though she’d scrubbed down in the shower several times since then, Cassie could still feel the blood on her hands. She shuddered.

“Was it someone you knew?”

She fought through the tumultuous images and sensations—the blood between her fingers. The gurgling noise of the wound…

“Oh my word—it wasn’t
him
, was it?”

Cassie blinked. “What?” Her mind caught up. “Oh. No. No, it was an officer I worked with, but I didn’t know him well.”

“I’m glad for that, but still. That’s awful. I’m so sorry for you, Cass. I’ll pray for you.”

“Thanks.” A thick cloud of depression hung over the conversation, making Cassie wonder if she should’ve waited to make this call.

“Boos coos! Boos coos!” A bright, round face appeared over Amanda’s shoulder with hair in lopsided pigtails.

Her sister lifted the three-year-old into her arms, laughing. “Mila’s bingeing on
Blue’s Clues
while the kids are doing schoolwork.”

“I get all the credit,” Leila’s voice carried from the side.

Amanda glanced back at her ten-year-old daughter then back at the camera. “This is true. Leila dug the DVDs out of the bin in the basement and has been showing them to Mila.”

Heart full as she watched the girls, Cassie felt the edge of the last week falling away, heartbeat by heartbeat.

“Malcolm, don’t”—Amanda’s stern “mommy” voice carried strongly through the live feed—“I’ll be right back, Cass.”

“Hi.” Mila pressed her face almost completely to the iPad screen so that only her forehead was visible to Cassie. But her voice—so husky and sweet. “I miss you.”

Oh to be back there. To hold Mila. Hug Leila. And her sister. Aching, Cassie leaned closer. “Hi, beautiful baby girl. How are you?”