Oxblood (18 page)

“How did we not hear this?” My breath was short and labored.

“You can put a silencer on an AK-47 these days,” Carter answered. “Let's go. The local police will handle this.”

Back on the sidewalk, we ran to the car and were back on the road in moments. Carter gave me an appraising glance and patted my knee. “You've caught on quick, newbie. You did good.”

“How can you be so calm after what we just saw?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

“I've seen way worse, sweetheart. All part of the job.”

I guessed so.

“Well, thanks. And I realize you may be a method actor, but if there's a next time, you probably don't need to actually grab my ass.”

“Where's the fun in that?”

Chapter 17

“Where the hell have you been?” Ian shouted as Carter and I walked through the door. He was standing in the middle of the living room with the rest of the team. The scowl on his face matched the harsh tone of his words.

“We went looking for you!” Carter answered. “You left us here for two days without any word. Badass here and I sought out some of my locals to see if anyone had a clue where you were. No one had seen hide nor hair of your ass, but we did meet some unsavory fellas on the way back.”

“What are you talking about?” Ian questioned.

“Two guys started following us as soon as we hit the bars. Newbie here held her own. Even put a gun to the back of a guy's head.” Carter beamed with pride as if holding someone at gunpoint were a rite of passage I had just conquered.

“What did they want?” Damon asked.

“I presume they were there to send us a message. They wouldn't answer my questions, and just as we were deciding what to do with them, they each got popped in the chest from at least a hundred yards away.”

I couldn't read Ian's expression at the news that I had fought to live another day. So before he could respond, I changed the direction of the inquisition.

“When did you get back? And why were you gone so long?” I asked.

“About an hour ago.” Ian stood stiffly in front of us, his eyes alternating between boring holes in Carter and then me. He turned away and took small, painful steps into the living room. “It was a little more
difficult
to get the information I was looking for,” he said, winded. He was unsteady, almost hobbling along.

“You're hurt,” I said as I went to him.

“I'm fine,” he lied.

“You're not fine.” I helped him into a small wingback chair. His face was pinched, sweating from the exertion. It couldn't have helped that he'd already taken a beating a few nights earlier. Bruises on bruises.

“It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before, right, boss?” Carter's tone showed no signs of sincerity, making me want to punch him in the face.

“What
did
happen, Ian?” Damon inquired. “Where did you go?”

Ian tried to take a deep breath, but it was too painful. I hoped that cracked ribs hadn't turned into broken ones. Claudia brought him a glass of water. He only took a few sips before he gave the glass back to her.

“I apologize for making you worry.” Ian looked directly at me and then back to the group. “I've been working on something without Command's knowledge.”

I watched Carter shake his head, an aggravated expression painting its way across his face.

“I'm confident that Victoria's brother has been working for the people responsible for the rash of kidnappings around the country. I've been tracking a man known only as Paolo.”

“What would Gil be doing for them?” Adam asked.

“Forging documents. He's made himself an immigration and customs expert so he knows how to forge adoption papers,” Ian answered. His voice was dark and raspy. “It's unlikely that the adoptions are going into the United States due to the checks and balances in place there. I followed a few leads and ended up in Venice. When I got there and started asking questions about the availability of a child for adoption, I was given a swift beating to make sure I was aware of the
confidentiality agreement
.” More wincing as he tried to breathe. “I said I had an American client living in southern Italy who was looking to adopt. A childless couple with means.” He looked at Carter and Eva.

“Hell, no.” Carter immediately responded to Ian's look. “I'm not going into a situation where Command isn't prepared to send an extraction team in if things get hairy. If you and your girlfriend want to walk into a minefield, be my guest, but I'm not going to risk my life for something you don't even have authenticated evidence for!” Carter stormed back into his room like a five-year-old. He was already pissed at Ian. This only exacerbated it.

“We can't do this without you two,” Ian said to Eva.

“I know. But he's right, Ian. Without Command being involved, we have no real protection. No one will know we're there. If things go south . . .” Eva trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blank of just how terrible it could get.

“I've been tracking this on my own for several months. I finally caught a break when Victoria and I realized Gil's connection. We may never get another opportunity if we don't act on this now,” he said.

“Can't you just order Carter to do it? I mean, you're sorta his boss, right?” I asked.

“It's not an assignment from Command, so I can't make him do anything. Not that anyone can make Carter do anything he doesn't want to do.” Ian rested his forehead in his hand, defeated.

“I'll talk to him,” I said.

“Victoria . . .”

“Let me talk to him. It certainly isn't going to make it any worse. He can't say ‘no' any more emphatically than he already has.”

Ian hesitated as he considered my suggestion. When he finally nodded, I didn't waste any time and headed straight for the bedroom.

“Wait.” Ian reached out and grabbed my wrist before I could walk any farther. His eyes caught mine and dug in deep. I knew he was telling me to be careful. Carter could be ruthless and would only be interested in coming out the other side of this as a hero.

“Carter?” I said as I knocked softly on the door. He didn't answer. “I'm coming in.” I turned the knob and opened the door slowly. He was lying on the bed with his shirt off and one arm behind his head. Even with the redness and bruising from the alleyway fight, his body was stunningly beautiful.

“Are you reading?” I asked, acknowledging the book in his hand.

“Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“A little. What is it?”

“Aldous Huxley.
Brave New World
. Ever read it?” he answered without looking up at me.

“Yeah. Laboratory babies. Daily antidepressants. No violence. Utopia, right?”

“If that's what you consider utopian.”

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“Anything to keep my mind off the bat-shit crazy world we live in.” He still hadn't looked up at me.

“That statement surprises me more than you being a reader.” I moved farther into the room and leaned against the wall.

“Oh really. Why? You think I'm some mercenary who just
loves
running into a deadly situation with guns blazing?” He rested the book, pages down, on his bare chest.

“That's pretty much how you come off,” I replied. “And you sure didn't shy away from that fight tonight.”

“I do what I do because this is my job. If I could go home, I would.” His voice was calm and commanding at the same time. “There's nothing left for me there, so I make the most of what I've got here.”

“Ian said the same thing about not being able to go home.”

“That's about the only thing he and I have in common,” he said harshly.

“What's your problem with him?” I asked. “He's been pretty great since I got here.”

“Well I'm sure he's
swell
with the ladies. I just don't think he should be leading a team.”

“Why? Because he doesn't have as much field experience as you?” I raised my eyebrows as I challenged him.

Carter eyed me suspiciously. “He
doesn't
have as much field experience as I do. But I also don't like the way Command coddles him.” Carter's jaw tightened, showing me he was more than just slightly bothered by this.

I wondered why Command coddled Ian. He was an incredible agent. Did it have to do with why he had been forbidden from cases involving children?

“That's not his fault. Ian would love to do more,” I argued.

“They treat him with kid gloves, and he should be put to the test like the rest of us.”

“Then help us,” I said after a moment.

“Why would I want to do that?” He stood up and put his shirt back on before sauntering over to where I stood.

“Because you know Ian's intel is good.”

Carter thought for a moment before he spoke. “I'm all for taking down the bad guy—through a sanctioned mission.”

“Deep down, you know it's the right thing to do, Carter.”

He shook his head and smirked. “It doesn't matter if I think it's the right thing to do. You have no idea how dangerous human traffickers are. If Command doesn't know we're there, the chances of us all dying are pretty high.”

“I
do
know how dangerous they are. That's the whole reason Gil is out there. His girlfriend was kidnapped and forced to work as a prostitute.” I watched Carter process the information as he looked at me. I didn't know if he believed me, or if he saw the gravity of the situation the same way Ian or I did. “There are kids out there being taken from their families. Teenage girls being forced to do things no one should ever have to do. So forget Ian”—I stepped forward and stood close enough to Carter that I could feel the heat from his body—“You
know
, in your
gut
, that the right thing to do is take these guys down.”

“You think they're the only ones running this business?” he challenged.

“Of course not. But we can at least take out the group we have in our sights and save as many victims as possible—and I can get my brother back.” Appealing to Carter's hidden sense of right and wrong wasn't working. It was clear the only way he was going to even consider helping was by stroking his ego. “You know we can't do this without you. No one has the skills that you have, and no one is going to be able to execute Ian's plan like you. You pull this off, sanctioned or not, Command will probably give you your own team.”

Carter stared at me, considering his options. He moved to the door but didn't open it. “I'm not making any promises, newbie,” he said over his shoulder to me.

“I wouldn't trust you if you did,” I retorted. I joined him at the door. He opened it for me like a gentleman, and we caught each other's eyes before passing through.

Carter sauntered to the living room and plopped himself on the couch, stretching his arms across the back. “All right, boss man. Not that I'm agreeing to this unsanctioned suicide mission, but what's your plan?”

Ian looked at me and gave the slightest nod I think I had ever seen anyone give.

“It's really pretty standard,” he began. He tried to scoot forward in the chair but he immediately realized that was a terrible idea. “I've set up a meeting for tomorrow. Carter, Eva, you're a wealthy American couple living and working in Italy wanting to adopt. You're looking for a little boy no older than eight years old, and you'd prefer that his parents were deceased so you don't have to deal with him looking for his birth parents when he gets older.

“They've promised they already have a child who meets your requirements. I'll go in with you as your attorney. Once they bring the boy out, we'll pay them, you'll sign the documents, and then pass the boy off to Victoria who will play your nanny. She'll take the boy to the rendezvous point with Claudia. Adam and Damon will be on the rooftops across the street covering us. They're not going to be happy that they just lost a piece of their inventory. They'll put up a fight to get him back—and to keep their trafficking business going.”

“
Inventory?
” Gross.

“To them, that's all he is,” Ian said, a sad look on his face.

“Why aren't we going to Command with this?” Carter questioned.

“We put in a request for communication from Command, but we have yet to hear anything,” Ian explained. He slowly shifted his body and pushed himself out of the chair. “Any word, Damon?”

“Nothing. I'll keep checking and I'll send another request,” he answered.

“What about Gil?” I asked hesitantly.

“I can't promise he's with them, but if he is, I'll do everything I can to get him out.”

Ian scanned the room and made eye contact with each team member.

“So?” he said, prompting the team to weigh in.

“I'm in,” Adam said without hesitancy.

“Me too,” said Claudia.

“Of course,” Damon replied.

Ian turned to Eva. “Eva?”

She looked to Carter then to me. When she finally looked to Ian she said, “Yeah.”

“Carter? We can't do this without you,” Ian said humbly.

“Of course you can't,” he said, standing. “I'm in, too, I guess. But I am not saving any of your asses if this goes in the crapper.”

“Thank you, Carter,” Ian said.

“Don't thank me. Thank your girlfriend.”

Chapter 18

I didn't know if it was the uncomfortable couch, the possibility of seeing Gil, or that my first real mission was approaching, but I couldn't sleep. And as long as I was awake, I figured I'd make good use of my time, so I ran through the next day's plan over and over again. Ian, Carter, and Eva would meet with the sellers first. Once they had everything signed, Carter would call for me, their nanny, using our burner phones, and I would come in and take the child. Once I had the little boy, I was to walk around the corner with him and get back into the van I had been waiting in with Claudia.

I lost count of how many times Ian made me promise not to react if Gil was in the room when I walked in. I had to pretend I didn't know him. I was Carter and Eva's nanny. We were not friends. I was their employee and I served a purpose. The angle they were taking was that they were rich, pretentious entrepreneurs who wanted an adopted child because they thought he would appeal to their shareholders.

After an hour of tossing and turning, I decided to get a drink. I tiptoed through the living room so I wouldn't wake Adam or Damon, who were asleep on the floor. Since we didn't know where Bianca was, I had been concerned about everyone being asleep at the same time. Bianca had ambushed us in broad daylight at the hotel—what was to stop her from launching an all-out assault on us in the middle of the night? It took some convincing from Claudia, but she promised me that the system on this place was much newer and even more sophisticated than what was at the factory. Having Adam asleep nearby with his favorite gun at the ready was helpful, too.

I opened the refrigerator slowly and tried to peek inside so the light didn't bother Claudia, who was asleep on the Murphy bed just outside the kitchen. I considered my beverage options: water, beer, or wine. Beer was out after my overly ambitious swig the other night. I wasn't a big wine drinker but had heard it could make you sleepy. I grabbed a bottle of white from the fridge and a bottle of red from the counter and stood there in the chilly light trying to decide.

“Can't sleep?” Ian whispered from behind me. I turned around and he was standing there, shirtless. A few days ago, it wouldn't have meant anything. But since Ian's kiss and our conversation about feelings, I knew I'd never look at him the same way. My heart caught in my throat, and my eyes hovered over Ian's bare chest and defined abs. I was happy for a revised shirtless memory of Ian to replace the one I had of him hanging in the old factory.

Ian cleared his throat and my eyes darted up to his.

“In my opinion, red is the better cure for insomnia,” he smiled.

He took the bottle from me. Turning on a small light under the cabinet, he opened the bottle and poured two glasses. Then he picked up both glasses and motioned for me to follow him. As we approached the back bedroom where Ian had been sleeping, or not sleeping, butterflies swarmed my stomach.

“Did Damon ever hear back from Command?” I asked as Ian set both glasses on the small table in his room. I sat in the chair with my back to the wall, crossing my legs as Ian pulled a T-shirt over his head.

“No,” he said, taking a seat in the chair across from me.

“Can't you email or call or something?”

“I left a message for Director Thatcher when I was out. I told her about Bianca and the ambush and that we were getting close to Paolo,” he said.

“Why didn't you just tell the team that instead of telling them it was an unsanctioned mission?”

“Whether I left a message for Thatcher or not, the mission is still unsanctioned. Thatcher isn't going to call me back and suddenly give me approval for a mission that she has no intel on.”

I nodded, still confused. I would have asked for a better explanation of how things worked in Rogue, but I would be leaving soon and it seemed like wasted breath.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Ian asked, redirecting the conversation.

“I feel okay, I guess. I wish I was doing more. I just want to be useful, Ian.”

“You are useful. And if you were going to be here much longer, I'd really train you,” he said. There was sadness in his voice. It was funny, really. All that time he'd spent trying to get me to leave, and now it seemed like he wanted me to stay. “I wanted to thank you for whatever you did to get Carter on board.”

“He just needed to feel like a hero,” I said.

“You did well. Carter is a hard nut to crack.”

“That's an understatement. I think we came to an understanding last night, though. We were actually a pretty good team.” I took another sip of my wine. “But kudos to you for working with someone who doesn't care for you all that much. I think he respects your position, but—”

“But what? He thinks Command babies me? They do,” he said.

He looked past me and through the open doors to the balcony to a clear, still night. The stars were scattered across the sky, and I could just make out a cathedral's spire in the distance.

“What happened, Ian? Why has Command restricted the types of cases they give you?” Working at the diner taught me that secrets had a way of coming out at night. They say hairdressers are like therapists, but I can't tell you how many stories about successes, failures, and regrets I heard at the diner, especially during late shifts. I poured coffee and customers poured out their hearts.

Ian covered his mouth with his hand as he leaned his elbow on the table, unsure of where to start. “My mother didn't always make the best choices in life. She got pregnant with me during a one-night stand, and by the time I was six, I remember at least four different men living with us. A few of them were nice to me, a few of them knocked me around, but they mostly just tolerated me.”

“Oh, Ian. I'm so sorry.” I reached across the table and took his hand in mine.

“But it also meant Mum ignored me because they required her full attention. If they didn't get what they wanted, she paid for it.

“When I was around ten, Craig appeared out of nowhere. Like a knight in shining armor. He treated Mum with love and respect. He showered us with gifts. Pretty soon he moved in and I was getting a baby sister. When Jacqueline was born, it was like seeing an angel. She was perfect in every way. It didn't matter that I was ten years older. I loved her so much. We immediately had this incredibly strong bond.”

I sat in silence while Ian spoke and took breaks to collect his thoughts. I watched his face twist in recollection and tears pool in his eyes.

“Craig was always nice to me, but we never really connected. As I got older, there were a few times I heard him accuse my mother of cheating on him, which was crazy because she worked two, sometimes three, jobs. As if she had time to cheat. It wasn't long before Craig's accusations escalated to shoving my mother against the wall or slapping her across the face. I tried to get in between them a few times, but Mum would send me to take care of Jacqueline. I was fourteen, but she was just so little . . . and so scared. I would take her upstairs and we'd hide in her closet with all her toys. We'd play with her dolls and I'd make up funny voices to go with them. Those were frightening times, but we bonded during them.”

Ian swiped his thumb across his eyes and breathed deeply.

“It's okay, Ian. You don't have to go on,” I told him.

“I want to.”

I nodded and sat back, waiting for him to continue.

“When I graduated, I wanted to join the Royal Marines. Things were worse at home between Mum and Craig, and I didn't like the idea of leaving her and Jacqueline with him, but Mum said she wasn't going to let me give up my dream. So I joined and then a year later I volunteered for training and became a Green Beret. When I accomplished the rank, I wrote home and told Mum, and she wrote back and told me how proud she was. She also told me that things had gotten so bad between her and Craig that she had to move out. She and Jacqueline were staying at a client's home while they were away on holiday. Mum cleaned homes for some wealthy people and, because she was Mum, they adored her and treated her like family. So it didn't surprise me that one of them had offered their home as a place of refuge.

“I wrote back and told her that was probably for the best and that I would see her in a few weeks for the Christmas holiday.” He stood and took a breath. “I never saw them again. I got word a week later that my mother and sister had been killed. That my stepfather had shot them both and then killed himself.”

“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth in shock.

“According to the report, forensics believed he held my sister and made her watch him shoot our mother. Then he shot her in the head before he did the same to himself. He killed his own daughter. And based on all the scarring and bruises covering her body, she had a history of being abused. She was just a little girl. . . . Coward.” Ian gulped down his wine and walked out to the balcony.

I sat there, frozen in place. For years, people had been saying trite, patronizing things to me about my parents' death. It was a game I had to play over and over. Sounding concerned always seemed to make them feel better about themselves. Who cared if some old acquaintance of my father's told me that they didn't suffer? Nothing changed. My parents couldn't come back, and I wasn't going to magically not feel sad anymore. I didn't want to do that to Ian. I didn't want to be someone else reciting the inside of a Hallmark card and expecting him to get over it.

I joined him on the balcony. The quiet reminded me of the first nights I was living with Gil. It had been a year since my parents' death, but starting over, just me and him, seemed to rehash all the horrific emotions I'd buried deep while in foster care. We hardly spoke; we were too afraid to say something that might make the other sad. Gil coped by diving into his studies. I coped by crying in the fetal position with my head on Tiffany's lap. Good friends simply let you cry and don't say anything at all.

It was probably a good five minutes with just the sound of the crickets playing the only song they know before I spoke. “I'm so sorry,” I said gently.

“No one here knows, so please don't say anything.”

“I would never say anything. It's not my story to tell.”

It was a few minutes before Ian spoke again.

“About a year after I joined Rogue, I was on an assignment in Thailand,” Ian began. “We were taking down a sweatshop that was committing all kinds of human rights violations, even for Thailand. I didn't have it in my initial intel, but among the men and women, there were five long tables of kids working until their fingers bled.

“The men in charge would beat the children with reeds when they didn't work fast enough. The workingmen would cower, too, as the reeds went up. And I watched the kids cry as the reeds made contact with their tiny bodies, their clumsy little fingers moving as quickly as possible. I will never forget that sound. But that wasn't the worst part. Some of the children didn't react at all. It didn't matter how hard they were hit, they didn't make a sound or even flinch. The constant pain and fear had forced them to numb themselves to their world. That's what broke me.”

Ian shook his head.

“So I pulled my gun and killed anyone with a reed in his hand.” Ian looked out into the empty street while he spoke.

“You saved lives that day. Who knows how many women and children the families of that city had buried already.” I put my hand on top of Ian's and wrapped my fingers under his palm. He closed his hand around mine and squeezed.

“Command doesn't necessarily see it that way. They think my past makes me too fragile to handle an assignment where children are involved.” Suddenly, Ian's body stiffened and he dropped my hand.

“Don't do that,” I said.

“Don't do what?”

“Don't do that thing where you shut down when you get scared. I can appreciate your need to be unemotional, but geez, Ian, you've faced some serious crap in your life. And you watch terrible things happen to people all over the world. You can't experience the things you have and not
feel
something. And it doesn't make you any less strong.”

A sweet breeze swirled around us, giving me goose bumps.

“You're cold,” Ian observed, apparently ignoring what I just said to him. He rubbed my arms.

“Ian,” I began.

“Can you just . . . come here?” Ian pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me, his mahogany and lavender scent arousing my senses. I melted into his body and wrapped my own arms around his waist. I could feel his body relax instantly, the tension dropping out of him like he just released the weight of a thousand mountains. “I wish you couldn't read me so well. Hiding is so much easier.”

“Aren't you tired of hiding?”

Ian didn't answer. We stood there in each other's arms, letting the insanity of the world happen around us.

“It's been a long time since I've held someone like this,” he said after a while, whispering in my hair.

“You can hold me all night,” I said softly. I leaned my cheek against his chest and closed my eyes. I was scared and overwhelmed and anxious for tomorrow, but right here, with Ian's strong arms protecting me, I felt like everything was going to be all right. Like I was in the safest place in the world. Tomorrow could wait.

“That is a very tempting offer, Miss Asher.” Ian's cheek was resting on the top of my head and I felt him smile. “I was already convinced that you were going to be my undoing. It seems I'm beginning to unravel. How is it that you see me so clearly?”

I lifted my face from his chest and gazed up at him.

“Maybe it's because I'm looking.”

Ian stared at me, caught off-guard by my answer. After a moment, he leaned down and kissed me. This time, it wasn't for show. There was no one watching. It was just the two of us, alone on a balcony in a beautiful Italian city.