“Tell me what frightens you so,Ami.”
She fought back the sobs and hugged herself more tightly at his gesture. This was the first time he’d called her Ami. She knew it was only to mollify her. That he, a man who killed as easily as he took a breath, would go that far to appease her simply didn’t make sense.
“I just need to get out of here.” Her breath hitched as his arms came around her and anchored her against his powerful body. She felt the steady beat of his heart and the fullness of his loins.
“I do not believe it is my company you wish to escape,” he whispered close to her ear.
Ami shivered and bit her lower lip to stave off a moan of need. How could he do this to her? Convert her anxiety and anger into something else altogether.
“Tell me what I can do,” he urged softly.
Another thought surfaced abruptly. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. Renewed guilt assaulted her with equal abruptness. She pushed it away, focused her mind on her son. She had to get back to him…whatever it took. “It’s the men,” she said carefully, testing the waters. She felt the tension in him increase. “They watch me constantly, make me feel like an outsider.”
He turned her slightly in his arms to look directly into her eyes and asked, “Has one of my men done something to make you feel this way?”
She had to really be cautious here. One wrong word could get someone killed. And though each and every one of his men were sadistic killers, she didn’t want to be responsible for a death. She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I feel like I’m in prison. Why can’t we go somewhere togetheralone?I’m sick to death of guards and guns.”
She held her breath and waited for his reaction.
He turned her around to fully face him and studied her more closely. For one endless second she was certain he’d seen through her ruse, then he said, “If it will make you happy we will take some time together.” He leveled that dark-as-midnight gaze on hers.“Alone.”
“THIS IS NOT THE WAYwe do things!” Carlos argued bitterly as he paced the room.
Michal relaxed fully in his chair and sipped the whiskey the Spaniard had poured in celebration of their next quest. The order had come this morning. The hit was to be quick; one man and his four bodyguards. Simple. But before he died, the target would be held hostage for twenty-four hours until all his assets were drained. Therein lay the less than desirable part of the assignment.
Michal suffered not the slightest twinge of guilt for the target since he had made his vast fortune with drugs and the marketing of children he stole from the streets of various cities. His reputation for depravity was known far and wide. He did not deserve to live. But that was not the reason for his selection by the powers that be for execution. This target used his endless funds to support even more notorious terrorist activities. For this, he would die.
The man was immensely fortunate he had lasted this long in the cutthroat world of kill or be killed in which he appeared to prefer of late. That he had lasted so long was testament to his not having crossed the wrong path or pissed off the wrong organization. At least until now.
Michal inclined his head and studied the man who could so easily become his most challenging enemy as he continued to pace like a caged animal. This new need to display his self-importance became more blatant with each passing day. He arrogantly tested the limits of Michal’s patience. It was time to bring to an end to what could only result in a bad outcome, perhaps for both of them.
“You are right, my friend,” Michal confessed with a dash of proper humility.
Carlos did an about-face and stared at him, surprise clear on every hard contour of his face.
“However,” Michal continued, “this is the way we shall proceed this time. You and the others will go ahead of me. I will meet you at the rendezvous point in twenty-four hours.” Michal infused all the lethal finality he possessed into his gaze then. “Do you still have questions?”
The fury flared anew in Carlos’s eyes. “None. I already know the only answer I need.” He pointed in the direction of the bedroom where Amira rested. “This is because of her. I warn you, Michal, she will cost you everything. She betrayed you once before. How long before she betrays you yet again? You might not be so lucky this time.”
Michal set his whiskey glass aside and stood, facing the challenge Carlos had tossed out. Luck had played no part in his survival the last time. His men, including Carlos, had saved his life. “And if she does,” Michal suggested, his tone as calm as the sea on a summer’s morn, “you will succeed me, will you not?”
Carlos looked stunned that Michal would say such a thing out loud. “That…that is not the issue. The issue—”
“Is,” Michal cut in, “whether or not you intend to follow my orders or face my wrath.”
AMI BREATHED DEEPLYof the hot, salty air and surveyed the quiet Mediterranean city Michal had brought her to late last evening. At first when he’d told her they were coming to Libya, she balked. She didn’t know a lot about the country but what she did was not good. She remembered flashes of news about how Libya’s ruler openly supported terrorism and, vaguely, something about U.S. sanctions levied. The headdress Michal had insisted she wear reminded her of how they treated their women, as well.
It seemed odd now to think of this place as a hotbed of evil terrorist activities as she walked the wide avenues. They had arrived too late yesterday to do any sight-seeing. Dinner at the best local restaurant and a night in the finest hotel, which was a far cry from five stars but had a charm of its own, had proved the agenda for the evening. Michal had even abstained from wooing her into sex. He had, however, held her close all night, burrowing deeper still into her heart. If she could not escape him soon he would surely own her heart completely. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the past memories of their time together flicker by like a video on fast forward. Maybe he already owned her, heart and soul.
But the fate of her son hung in the balance.
She snapped her eyes open and forced her mind to take note of the details of the city of Tripoli. She’d decided that today would be the day. She would make a run for it today. She wasn’t waiting for Tanner to rescue her. She’d likely be dead before that happened. She was going home one way or another. Whatever they expected her to help them do that somehow involved Michal Arad, they could simply forget it. She was not a spy or an undercover operative. She was just Ami Donovan. The sooner they all realized that, the better off everyone would be.
She wouldn’t be able to see Robert again. A pang of hurt speared her. He had been good to her and her child. But she and Nicholas would have to disappear completely. It was the only way they would ever be safe. Ami flinched, startled, when Michal slid his arm around her waist. He glanced at her and somehow she managed to produce a convincing smile as they continued to stroll down the avenue.
Pay attention, she ordered. Details. She had to remember the details. Tripoli wasn’t that large even if it was the capital city. There was a quaint, palm-tree-lined port with boats, that was one option. And the airport they’d arrived at wasn’t that far away. She’d noticed the black-and-white taxis. She had a couple of options. All she needed was the right moment and a clear memory of the city’s myriad lanes that formed a mazelike pattern. It wouldn’t do her any good to escape only to get lost.
Tiny cafés and open-air workshops lined the wide avenue they traveled, which she presumed to be the main street. Skilled craftsmen worked at their trade. Ami slowed as they passed one who busily fashioned elaborate jewelry. The beat of his hammer kept a steady rhythm amid the voices and sounds of negotiating and conversation she couldn’t understand that carried on the air. The smell of welding mingled with the other more natural scents of the city.
