Navas’s gaze whipped across the table to him. “How?”
“I…” Dumbfounded still, Owen struggled for a clean breath. How was this possible? “Met her at a party.” When that earned a glower from Navas, he clarified. “Not like that—it was the graduation party for Sophia Neeley. Leighton was there with a…sister? Friend?” He angled to the mercenary and frowned, trying to sort the facts hitting his stunned brain. “How is Leighton your daughter? How would she live in Virginia, go to Liberty Academy…?” The night the merc had talked to Dad assailed him. “You said your daughter’s name was Nouri.”
Jaw tight, lips pressed into a line, Navas furrowed his brow. “Did you talk to her? At this party?”
Owen scowled, feeling the jet barreling down the runway. “You didn’t answer?—”
“Did. You. Talk?”
Owen had never been one to fall in line just because someone said to, but he also had to pick his battles. Wouldn’t look good to be oppositional with men who’d be covering his six. “No.”
As the jet left the ground, Navas stared at him hard, unconvinced.
“She bailed almost as soon as I saw her.” That’s when he noticed everyone studying him with strange looks. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Pike intoned solemnly, “is if you know her and she recognizes you when you insert, she could blow your cover and this op fails before it can get traction.” He narrowed his eyes, pressed his fingertips to the table, and leaned in. “Tell us exactly what happened at that party. Every detail. Don’t leave out anything.”
Not liking that they made him feel as if he’d done something wrong, he exhaled slowly before launching into a play-by-play about RCG. Now known as Leighton Kingslake…Nouri Al-Shaheen…the daughter of Navas, the guy who’d saved his dad from prison. “And…that’s it.”
“You were attracted to this girl?” Pike asked, his tone flat.
Son of a… Owen had an inkling Pike was a human lie detector. “Yeah. She was pretty, but that’s not why I remember her.” Every word mattered here, and he had to be sure he didn’t make himself sound lovestruck. “I saw something in her face, her expression. Like she was…scared.”
The barrel-chested guy with a red beard barked a laugh. “Yeah, had nothing do with her pretty face or blue eyes.”
“They aren’t blue.”
The big guy busted out laughing and high-fived another operator, who was also laughing.
Realizing how easily he’d fallen into that trap, Owen scowled.
“I think we’re clear to proceed,” said Luther, Pike’s apparent right hand. “They didn’t talk. It was relatively dark.”
“He just admitted they were eyeballing each other,” Dante countered, slicing a hand toward Owen.
Traitor.
“But come on,” Crow said, “do you remember every chick you hit on?”
“It is too risky,” Navas decided gravely. “If she recognizes him, she will react and give him away. Faruq will kill them both.”
As they continued debating the efficacy of going ahead with the mission, of cutting him from the op, Owen stared at the face that had distracted him that night. Recalled the undeniable fear haunting her brown eyes. That made him wonder how long she had been captive—hadn’t Navas said something like months? What would happen to her if they didn’t go through with this?
Owen wasn’t going to let that happen. “You said your enemy is or was at the palace where she’s being held.” Amid his interruption, he realized he’d missed some conversation that died, the cabin falling quiet as eyes turned to him. “You said Bruzon knew who Leighton is. Right?”
The mercenary stared at him, and his dark eyes held little distinction between appreciation and hatred.
“Look, we’re already in the air,” Owen pushed forward. “There’s no time to find another monkey for this mission. And from the distress I heard in your voice last night while talking with my dad, she might not have time for further delays.”
Navas’s gaze darkened.
Owen looked at her picture again. Recalled her deftly avoiding him. “Look, I doubt she’d remember me.” Did that sound as desperate to them as it did to him? “There’s an active threat against her life if Bruzon is near that palace or able to gain access. I don’t know if this guy is holding back because he wants to draw you out or what, but we can’t risk assuming that. Because if we’re wrong—she pays.” He gave a cockeyed nod. “So, I’m still in. Let me do this.”
“Chief.” Luther sounded distracted as he eyed the laptop. “Incoming video call from London.”
“That will be Yasmina,” Navas said, nerves radiating off him like a solar flare.
Who was Yasmina?
