Trust Me, page 18
“I didn’t make a mistake. It was Rafiq.”
“You said his face was more scarred than in the pictures we got of him five years ago. He looked different.”
“His eyes haven’t changed.”
“Yeah? Tell me about his eyes, then.”
“They’re brown.”
He snorted. “Good thing no one else in the Middle East has brown eyes.”
She pulled her hand from his. “I recognized your eyes. That was all I saw of you that first night. But I recognized you when you came to my rescue the second time.”
He sat back and stared at her, remembering that moment in Aqaba. She’d been in shock. Scared. Covered with blood. He’d just watched her kill a man.
Then, without any memory prompt from him, she’d said, “It was you, in the canyon. The one I asked to trust me.”
She’d recognized him after only seeing his brown eyes.
Diana closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. She felt wrung out. First by the Gardners, then by Ian and his puzzling remark. Now Chris, who she shouldn’t have kissed and shouldn’t want to kiss again.
But underneath it all was the question: should she examine her memory of her meetings with Rafiq?
If she did that…she had to question everything she’d done based on believing she’d spoken with Rafiq.
Harun had told her that Fahd was killed after her botched rescue. The rescue she’d botched on purpose because of the belief she’d spoken with Rafiq.
Silence stretched between her and Chris as she considered this new nightmare.
Was it her fault Fahd’s children lost their dad?
“I want to help you, Diana, and I’m not talking about being your chauffeur because you can’t drive. I’m talking about the questions the State Department is asking. And with the PTSD you must be going through. It was shitty of me to take advantage of you last night.”
The last statement irked her. “You didn’t take advantage of me.”
“It was too soon. And even though we barely know each other, we have a history that’s traumatic for you. Having sex with you, without considering the emotional ramifications, was taking advantage.”
“Then I was taking advantage of you too.”
He smiled at that, then nodded. “Fine. But of the two of us, I’m the one who’s spent years on a special forces team. I know how to process an op.”
“Have you ever interacted with the subject of an op after it was over?”
“No. Usually when we liberate a hostage, they’re whisked away on a separate helicopter and never know who was involved in their exfiltration.”
“So perhaps this was different for you too. And you had to rescue me twice.”
“Yes. You were in my head.”
“And I took advantage of that.”
He narrowed his gaze, but gave her a nod. “I’m part of this now, Diana. I know you’re angry with me, but don’t let that influence your decision to let me help you.”
“What, exactly, can you do? Can you find Rafiq? Can you convince the Pentagon I saw him? No. There’s nothing you can do to help me that won’t blow back on you.” She finished her drink, gathered her crutches and cane, then stood. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I have to decline.”
“At least let me drive you home.”
She stared for a long time into his eyes. Deep down, she knew she could forgive him. Hell, she probably already had. But she couldn’t bring him down with her sinking ship and didn’t want to start to rely on him.
She needed to take the scary Metro and do all the things that frightened her on her own. Because if she had to go on the run to avoid extradition, she needed to be able to do it alone.
“Thank you for the drink.” She left the bar and hotel and headed toward the Metro.
The wind had kicked up again as the day edged toward sunset. She entered the station almost in a daze as she pondered the events of the last twenty-four hours.
As she rode the long escalator down, she realized she’d never found out why Chris had been at FMV. Morgan would probably tell her. Freya almost certainly would not.
She needed to tell both women about the interview by Ian Boyd, and Gardner blindsiding her with questions about Rafiq.
The train pulled up within a minute of her arrival. The platform was thick with people at rush hour on Friday. She inched inside with the others, squeezing into a standing-room-only car. She braced herself against the vertical handrail closest to the door. She leaned her head against the metal pole and took a deep breath as she tried to process all the emotions she’d left back in the bar with Chris.
It was better this way. She didn’t have room for messy entanglements. Her life was a wreck.
Gaze unfocused, she breathed deeply one more time, as if that could expel Chris from her mind. The doors tried to close multiple times, thwarted by bodies blocking the opening. At last, it was sorted with Diana pressed tight between an Asian woman and the short panel by the door. She gazed through the window to the platform and there, just on the other side of the glass, was Jamal, staring directly at her.
He drew a line across his throat as the train pulled out of the station.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chris watched her leave the bar, making no move to follow even though he wanted to. It was his nature and training to protect her. But aside from the fact she didn’t want his protection, there was the small detail that he couldn’t protect her from herself.
Once he was certain she’d be halfway to the Metro station, he rose from his seat and went to the bar to ask for the check because the server was busy now that more patrons had arrived.
“Get dumped?” the lone man sitting at the bar asked as he stared down into his drink.
Chris glanced up into the mirror behind the bar and noticed the angle was such that the man had a view of the couch where he’d sat with Diana.
“Yep,” he said with a sigh.
“Too bad. She’s a pretty thing.”
Chris remembered last night, when he’d explored every inch of her. Beautiful. Sexy. Strong. Goddess of the moon, even. “You have no idea.”
The bartender produced a check, and Chris handed her a credit card. She left to run the card.
Chris turned to stare at the table where he’d sat with Diana, which was now being cleared. Removing all traces she’d been there.
“You should go after her,” the guy said. He had a slight accent. British, probably. “Aren’t women supposed to love that sort of thing?”
He had zero doubt that Diana would freak out if he tracked her down at home. He could easily get her address, but he wouldn’t do that. It was bad enough he’d shown up at the Mayflower. But at least it was a neutral place, and he’d stumbled into the information that she was here. He hadn’t asked for it.
He turned back to the bar and briefly met the man’s gaze in the mirror before the guy took a long drink from a pint of beer. “No way. She’d freak.”
The man shrugged. “If you really want her, do you have anything to lose?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Not the “nothing to lose” bit. The “if you really want her” part.
Did he?
It was a one-night stand. Hell, it hadn’t even lasted a whole night. It was better that way, this first foray into dating now that he was single again. It had been fun, but now it was over.
The bartender returned with his card. He added the tip and signed the slip. He wished the guy at the bar a good evening and left.
Cold air slapped him in the face as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Cars inched along the busy street. Rush hour on Friday lived up to expectations. The sun would be setting soon, and he’d learned twilight was short here. It would be full dark before he reached his hotel.
He claimed his vehicle from the parking garage across the street and set out, wishing Diana had at least taken him up on his offer for a ride home. He was glad to see her in the walking boot, but her ankle had to be aching after the unaccustomed use.
His mind circled back to another question. The one that had started the drama and ended what had to that point been a spectacular date. Had she seen Rafiq in Jordan?
He was certain she believed it—the suspicion that she’d made it up for some unknown agenda had never rung true for him anyway.
He couldn’t dispute her claim of recognizing him after only seeing his eyes. In the moment, he hadn’t realized how remarkable it was. But then, he’d been wearing the same gear both times she’d seen him, had the same build. Same voice.
Maybe it wasn’t so remarkable?
Had she really and truly seen Rafiq?
He couldn’t speak to anything with certainty except that she believed it. And she was continuing to risk everything for that belief.
Extradition and prosecution for looting…surely the State Department wouldn’t fold to that demand?
But then, the secretary of state had the difficult job of making amends to the Kingdom after the US military ran two unsanctioned ops in their sovereign land. The second op had taken place on the outskirts of a major city and involved damage to privately owned buildings.
Dr. Diana Edwards had not only caused an international incident, she’d chosen that path in working for FMV.
This wasn’t victim blaming. Even Diana was aware of the decisions she’d made that put her in that market.
Not that any of it mattered to him at this point. He’d done what he could for her in identifying Jamal and Bassam from the photos Lange had shown him. Diana had made it clear she didn’t want his help.
There was no reason for him to stay in the city any longer. He could pick up his bags from the hotel and head south to Little Creek tonight. It was only about a three-and-a-half-hour drive. Tomorrow, he could catch a flight to Seattle.
Two weeks of leave stretched out before him.
The first raindrops hit his windshield as he drove down 7th Street, where it split the National Mall. Tourists scurried to take refuge in the Air and Space Museum. He’d planned to take in museums this weekend, but he could do that another time. Little Creek and DC weren’t that far apart. But given the rain, he’d head south in the morning. Catch a flight to Seattle, Sunday or Monday.
Decided, he parked in the underground garage and then walked a block to a restaurant he’d enjoyed earlier in the week and got the surf and turf takeout.
Twenty minutes later, he was on the floor of his hotel, heading down the long hallway. He came to a stunned stop when he spotted a drenched Diana sitting on the floor, leaning against the door to his room.
Chris loomed over her. His expression wasn’t friendly nor was it cold. Not smiling, not scowling. She could only see what it wasn’t, which gave no clue to his thoughts. He looked handsome and imposing as he waited for her to speak.
She nodded toward the brown paper bag in his right hand. “Smells good.”
One side of his mouth lifted in the slightest of smiles. He offered her his left hand. “If I’d known you wanted dinner, I’d have gotten enough for two.”
She grasped his hand with her left while positioning the cane with her right and rose to her foot. Her ankle was sore, and she leaned against the door to keep all her weight on the left foot.
“Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to share. I just need to use your phone, then I’ll be on my way.”
His brow furrowed. “You took, what, two trains and walked a few blocks in the rain just to borrow my phone?”
“What, is that weird?”
That got a laugh. “Yeah. I think that qualifies.”
“What if I said I’m really here for a booty call?”
“I wouldn’t believe you.”
“But would you have sex with me?”
His gaze raked her from head to toe, and she knew he was remembering last night. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”
Now she smiled. “It’s a shame I’m not here for a booty call, then.”
“No argument from me.” He tilted his head to the side and waved his room key in a signal for her to move so he could unlock the door.
She complied, and he pushed the door open, then stepped back for her to precede him.
Last night, when she’d entered this room, she’d gone straight for the window to take in the view. Tonight, she went to the couch and propped her throbbing foot on the cushion. The battered joint didn’t fare well with the cold rain, which had naturally turned into a downpour as she walked the short blocks from the Metro.
Chris set the bag of food on the small dining table and proceeded to pull out the contents, placing the large cardboard clamshell on the coffee table before her, then handing her a plastic fork and knife. “We can take turns.”
“I’m not here to steal your dinner.”
“No, but you look hungry and I know I am, and I’m not going to eat in front of you. Besides, I got a lot of food.” He opened the clamshell, revealing a thick juicy steak, a mound of shrimp, creamy risotto, and sautéed vegetables. It was a massive pile of food. He then pulled out a bag of breadsticks with a garlic butter dipping sauce. He smiled. “I was hungry, so I got the large.”
“Can you eat all this by yourself?”
“When we’re training, sure.” He grabbed a breadstick and dipped it in the butter and took a bite. When she didn’t move to eat, he dipped the bread again and offered it to her.
It would be silly to balk at sharing food and utensils considering all they’d both done with their mouths yesterday, so she opened her mouth.
As her teeth closed on the soft bread, she realized how phallic the food was. Nothing about the moment was intentional, but still, she remembered how good it had felt last night to be wild and free and share her body with this man.
She closed her eyes. The warm bread mixed with garlic butter on her tongue, and she discovered exactly how hungry she was. “Oh my god. That is amazing.”
“Wait till you try the risotto.”
She opened her eyes and took in his assessing gaze with just the slightest hint of sexy smile. She wanted to eat the risotto from his chest.
But that wasn’t why she was here. She used the fork he’d given her to scoop a bite of the rice dish into her mouth, then handed the utensil back to him. Not surprisingly, he was right about it being delicious. If she ever got her life back, she’d have to remember this restaurant.
They were each a few bites in when he held on to the fork and said, “Spill, Diana. Why are you here?”
She dabbed at her mouth with the paper napkin he’d ripped in two for easier sharing. She looked longingly at the steak, which was a perfect medium rare, but he had both the fork and the knife. And he had a right to know why she’d crashed his takeout dinner.
She’d spent most of the Metro ride debating whether or not she should lie. The truth was so implausible, he’d never believe her. He’d already questioned her judgment when it came to seeing Rafiq. This would only seal the deal. But she hadn’t known where else to turn. And he’d said he wanted to help her.
She met his gaze. “I was scared to go home alone.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Why?” Chris calculated the odds that the next words out of Diana’s mouth would be true. Everything about her demeanor said she wanted to lie.
What would he do if she did?
He sincerely hoped neither of them would find out.
A series of emotions played across her face. Finally, she reached for his beer, took a long sip, and said, “I saw Jamal on the Metro platform. He drew a line across his throat as my train left the station.”
Chris reared back in shock. Not a lie. And he understood why she hadn’t been eager to share this truth.
She held his gaze. “Before you ask, yes, I’m certain. I even tried to convince myself I hadn’t seen him. But I know what—who—I saw.”
He got up and grabbed a second beer from the fridge and popped the top, then handed the full bottle to her. “Okay, then. Tell me everything.”
Dinner was less sexy, but still delicious after that.
“So you saw him more than a week ago and told no one?”
She grabbed the last shrimp from the surf side of the dinner box and dipped it in the garlic butter, then popped it into her mouth. He ignored the look of bliss on her face. “Mmmm. You’ll be shocked to know that the food they gave me when I was a prisoner left a lot to be desired.”
He gave her a fixed look.
She huffed out a sigh. “I couldn’t say anything. Do you know what happened when I was in Landstuhl?”
“You have to admit, it would be hard for a fifteen-year-old terrorist to get into a US military hospital. It’s difficult to get on base, let alone inside the medical building. I know. I’ve been there.”
Her eyes hardened. “He was there.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t, I’m just saying there was reason to question your sighting.”
“I lived with him for six weeks. I know his posture. His gait. All his mannerisms.”
“And that’s why I believe you.”
She reached for a breadstick and tore off half, then took a bite. “Yeah, right.” Her mouth was full, and the words came out slightly mumbled.
He took her hand and directed the remainder of the breadstick into his mouth. His teeth might have nipped her fingers, but that wasn’t the point. He swallowed and said, “I do, Diana. I can see how Jamal could use his age to get past security. He’d still need a pass, but it’s easier to pose as someone’s kid, and he sure as hell has reasons to fuck with you. Same goes for him getting into the US. The right amount of money, the right connections, and his age is an advantage. He’s a harmless kid. So, what do you think his goal is?”
