“Yeah?”
“Could you show it to us? While you eat some shakshuka?”
A slow smile tugged into Renner’s face and he wagged his eyebrows. “I like the way your missus thinks, Metcalfe.”
Your missus …The words stalled Range’s brain and anger. He shifted his attention back to Kasra, felt the blaze of her touch against his delts. A fire that negated the one in his gut that wanted to throttle this guy.
Let go.
He had to admit, he liked the way Kasra thought, too. She was intelligent, shrewd. Stemmed the tide of his anger. Interdicted. “She’s pretty amazing.” Only when she parted her lips—still bright from their kiss—did he realize he’d said that out loud. Saw her surprise and appreciation.
Renner produced his phone, did some tapping and swiping, then handed it to Range. “It’s about four minutes.”
After turning off the heat on the stove, Kasra scooped shakshuka into three bowls, left some for another lucky intruder, then they went to one of the picnic-like tables.
Range sat beside her with the phone. Pressed Play. Knuckled his mouth as the video made them relive that moment. Only … He frowned. “That … that isn’t what—”
Kas gasped. “You never said that.” As the video continued, she covered her mouth. “No … no that’s not—” She caught his shoulder. “They made you look like a murderer, inciting violence.”
Swallowing, he nodded. Watched it again. And again. “Deep fake.”
All but licking his plate, Renner cocked his head in a nod. “Kinda figured. Most of us did. But I gotta be real. The type of people and money it took to create that”—he tapped his phone in Range’s hand—“that’s not remote village farmers and a small-town imam. That’s Big Tech, big brother, or our own band of brothers breathing down your neck, Metcalfe.”
Tell him what he didn’t know. He eyed Kasra, recalling the captain who’d showed up at the safehouse, then squinted at Renner. “What do you know about a Captain Hellqvist?”
Renner’s eyebrows lifted. “Hellion Hellqvist?” he balked. “He’s a vindictive son of a”—his gaze bounced to Kasra then back—“biscuit.”
“He showed up at the safehouse right after we’d taken her into custody.”
Renner hesitated. “Hellqvist … he, uh … went to Roud?”
Gaze down, Kasra sighed. “I have no proof, but he worked for Taweel to make sure the Americans did not interrupt business at Roud.” Her green-brown eyes rose to Range. “But you came—to Roud, to the mosque. I have been so worried about my own life, I never thought what they would do to you, for taking me. Saving me.” Her expression crumpled. “I have been so selfish.”
“You deserve to be, especially in this.” Range instinctively slid an arm around her, appreciating how she drew closer.
“Okay, you two get a room.” Renner took the phone and stood. “I would guess your missus has a point—not the selfish part, but you unwittingly dipped your M4 in their cauldron of fornication. And ticked some heavy hitters off.” He went from nodding to shaking his head. “Well, now you’ve got trouble chomping at your heels. Now that she’s out, free, with a voice and a hot-headed operator assisting her? It’s sick as snot what men will do to hide their sexual exploits.” He grunted a laugh, a dark one. “I’d keep your heads down until something drastically changes or this is forgotten.”
“They will not forget,” Kasra warned.
“Then stay frosty.”
Great.The one thing he wasn’t known for.
“And pray Jaeger doesn’t find out, or you might be taking a long walk off a short plank.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
Pakistani Reefer, Gulf of Oman
The deep-faked videoof himself slaughtering the imam and his caliph had put a huge bounty on their heads. With the anger he’d let fester, the reputation he’d developed … nobody would believe he hadn’t killed all those Muslims. Add to that the ticked-off, perverted sycophant who’d fathered a child and was now on a warpath because the only person who knew the girl’s location was with Range, and he had no hope of a quiet exfil from this nightmare.
Once he heard Kasra brushing her teeth, Range dragged his shirt over his head. Huffed out a dozen push-ups. Used the bulkhead of the bed’s berth for pull-ups. Worked off the frustration. Lowering himself to the deck, he had no idea what to do. They had documents but using them at any port or for flights would only put a laser bead on them. Little money. There were connections—that came with being black ops—but at this point in the game, with Hellqvist’s position and power and whatever resources he was tapped into, they wouldn’t be able to trust assets.
If he could get her to the States, maybe they could hide at Stone’s lodge. It was off-grid and safe.First, get the kid. Then find a way home.
How would they get past immigration?
This was so muffed up.
