Trina Sorensen leaned against her kitchen counter in her apartment in the heart of Washington, DC, and stared at the screen of her cell phone, willing it to ring. It had been over twenty-four hours since Cressida had sent the text about Todd’s sudden appearance in Antalya, and five hours since Curt called to say the body of a murdered Turkish man had been found in Cressida’s hotel room. Trina had left messages and texted Cressida several times but had received no response.
Authorities in Antalya had confirmed Cressida had caught her flight to Van, but by the time they’d located her hotel, it appeared she’d fled. The night clerk had informed the police that Cressida had returned to the hotel in torn clothing and sporting welts on her arms and neck. She claimed she’d been mugged. He also said she’d been accompanied by an American man who he thought was a guest of the hotel, but he wasn’t certain.
As far as anyone could tell, Cressida and the American had disappeared.
Was the American Todd Ganem?
After everything Todd put her through, Cressida wouldn’t be in his company unless she was under duress.
Warm arms surrounded Trina, and she released her phone as she leaned back against Keith’s chest. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “If Cressida’s okay, she’d have replied to one of my texts by now.”
“She was mugged. She lost her phone.”
“But what about before she was mugged? Why didn’t she text me then?”
He stroked her hair. “For all we know, her battery died.”
She turned in his arms and hugged him. “I appreciate that you want to make me feel better, but we both know this is serious, and I need you to be honest with me about the situation instead of trying to humor me.”
“I’m not—” He stopped. After a long moment, he cradled her face and brushed his lips across hers. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m being protective, which is not what you need right now.”
“Thank you.” She gently nudged him away so she could pace. She was anxious and needed to move. “We need to get everyone together. Curt, Mara, Lee, Erica, Alec, Isabel. Maybe we can do something. Curt can get us updates from the State Department. Maybe Lee can hack her phone and find out where she is. Alec can use his senate connections…I don’t know, for something.” She twirled to face Keith. “Don’t you have a Raptor team working with the Kurds in northern Iraq? How long would it take for them to get to Van?”
Keith looked sheepish. “They’re, um, gearing up now.”
She pursed her lips. “And you didn’t tell me this because…?”
“I didn’t want you to know how worried I am. I figured you were afraid enough already.”
She gave him a short nod. Okay. Those protective instincts again. Unnecessary, but awfully sweet. Once. “When will they reach Van?” she asked.
“The car line at the border is a nightmare, especially with heightened security due to ISIS. It will be faster for them to fly and land on the NATO airfield in Batman.”
“How far is Batman from Van?”
“Roughly two hundred miles.”
She tried to quash the disappointment. “They won’t reach Van until sometime tomorrow, then.”
“They’ll find her. My guys are the best. You know that.”
“Who’s on the team?”
“Mostly ex-Special Forces guys you don’t know. But Sean Logan was working a security detail in Greece and is en route to Istanbul now. He’ll meet up with the team either in Batman or Van.”
Those words, more than any others gave Trina hope. Sean knew Cressida. More important, Cressida knew Sean. Cressida didn’t trust easily, but she knew Sean was safe.
* * *
Ian would be sweating if his cover with Raptor wasn’t fully backstopped. He knew enough about the private security company to get through this conversation. But the fact that Cressida knew Keith Hatcher personally was a problem.
Ian had never met Hatcher and didn’t even know if the man had been briefed on the false credentials Raptor provided Ian and a few other Company men. It had been set up thanks to connections between the deputy director of the CIA and Alec Ravissant, not long after Ravissant bought Raptor. The “embassy employee” cover was weak with overuse in the Middle East, and so Ian—or rather John—had bona fides from a real security company with international contracts and operatives stationed in several countries in the region.
But Ian had fucked up yet again. He’d told Cressida he’d flown in from DC yesterday—which was where Raptor’s home office was located, where Hatcher lived and worked—he couldn’t admit he’d never met the man who’d taken over as CEO when Ravissant won a seat in the US Senate last November. The company was big overall, yes, but not the DC office. And if Cressida’s friend was Hatcher’s girlfriend, she probably knew that.
Plus there was the reminder she’d worked for the wife of the US Attorney General. Could that be why she’d been selected to carry the chip? Or were they back to the possibility she was a traitor who’d cozied up to the AG’s wife?
Thank God he wouldn’t be the guy who informed Curt Dominick his wife needed to be questioned. As it was, this little wrinkle meant the head of the CIA would question Dominick. Unwitting or not, Cressida Porter had carried data for a terrorist cell. Her connections in DC would suffer fallout.
“You know Rav,” he said casually, using Alec Ravissant’s nickname. “What are the odds?”
She studied him, suspicion in her gaze. “Given that I worked for NHHC and lived with Trina Sorensen last summer—and given what happened to her—pretty low, actually.”
Her pointed look caused his brain to race. Shit. What happened to Sorensen? He’d been in Istanbul, chasing down Chechen rebels who were trying to link up with al-Qaeda, but the way she looked at him made him think a Raptor employee should know the details. If it involved Trina Sorensen, then it must have to do with Hatcher, not Ravissant. All at once it came to him—the CIA had briefed him, since it related to his cover. “You were living with Dr. Sorensen when the explosion took out Hatcher’s home?” There were more details that came to him, but everything the CIA had learned after the explosion was classified, and Ian doubted even Cressida knew who was really behind the attempt on her roommate’s life.
Her features relaxed, telling him he’d said the right thing. “It was terrifying. She was assigned a Raptor bodyguard after that, and I even stayed at Alec’s estate in Maryland for a few days while things were sorted out.”
Hell and damn, this couldn’t get any worse. Sorensen had been assigned a bodyguard? Shit. Cressida would expect him to know the guy. There was no way he could bluff his way out of this. For a moment, he considered telling her the truth. Would she laugh in his face if he told her he was a CIA case officer?
Shit. He couldn’t break cover. Not until he knew exactly why Hejan had chosen her. “I don’t know the details—I was working on a security assignment here in Turkey most of last summer.” It was always good to stay as close to the truth as possible. “My language skills keep me in the Middle East about ninety percent of the time.” He dropped onto the sofa.
The tightness in her jaw had eased. She cleared her throat. “I’d like to call Trina. I need to tell someone where I am—and who I’m with.” She waved her arm to indicate the room. “I’m scared because no one knows where I am.”
At least she hadn’t said she was terrified of him. Progress. But unfortunately, Trina was the last person she could call, not until he was certain Hatcher would confirm his employment without hesitation. If he looked up Ian’s human resources file, he’d find the necessary documentation, but if he answered without bothering to check, he’d raise more questions for Cressida than Ian could safely deal with right now.
He frowned apologetically. “No cell phone coverage out here. We’re too far from the town. The earthquake took out the secondary cell tower. It has yet to be fixed.”
Her brow furrowed. “Can I see your phone?”
He plucked it from his pocket and handed it to her. He hadn’t lied about cell coverage, but he had no clue how he was going to put her off when they were in antenna range.
She raised an eyebrow as the screen woke with a request for his passcode.
He told her the number without hesitation. As promised, the phone had no reception. Her shoulders relaxed as she handed him back his phone.
She flopped down on a chair in the living room. “So what do we do about Hejan? I need to tell the police what I know. If Todd—” Her voice cut out, and he knew she’d unhappily connected those dots. She shook her head. “No. Todd was many crappy things, but I can’t believe he’s a murderer.”
Ian moved to the chair in front of her and leaned toward her with his forearms resting on his thighs. He took her hands in his. They were cold and trembled a bit. “We need to figure out our next step. You walk into a police station right now and they’ll take you into custody, and I might not be able to help you.” This was mostly a lie. Ian could vouch for the fact that Hejan had been alive when Cressida left her hotel room, and Stan had passed that information up the line. The police wanted her as a witness, not for murder.
Her shaking fingers closed around his. A gesture of trust. He was such a shit to scare her this way.
“Thank you. It seems like every decision I make—chase my mugger, stay at the hotel, go to the police—is wrong somehow.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his. A soft, fleeting warmth before she pulled back. Full stop retreat.
He smiled. “There’s another decision I’d rethink. If I were you, I’d do this.” He kissed her, slipping his tongue between her lips.
She responded with a low groan deep in her throat as she stroked his invading tongue with her own, garnering a physical reaction from him that had nothing to do with why he’d pursued the kiss but everything to do with why he didn’t want it to end.
He took her face between his hands and pulled her forward, urging her to his lap as his mouth caressed hers with an intensity that surprised even him.
Damn, but she turned him on.
She complied with his silent plea and settled onto his lap. At last, he had Cressida’s sweet, perfect body in his arms, her ass pressed against an erection that belied his mercenary kiss. His mouth left hers so he could nuzzle below her ear and slide down her smooth skin to nip at the hollow of her collarbone. He wanted to taste all of her, to feel her nude body against his, to make her come hard and fast against his mouth and then again when he was inside her.
He wanted to enjoy the slide of her inner thighs against his hips as he thrust into her, to make her cry out his name as he brought her to orgasm.
The rush of heat was fast and furious. Logic disappeared in the wake of overwhelming want. From the way she kissed, the way she attacked the buttons on his shirt, she’d been hit by the same raw need. His arms tightened around her, then he stood, lifting her. This would be better if they moved to the bedroom.
But he hadn’t even taken a step when she pushed at his chest and said, “John, is that smoke?”
He shook his head, uncertain if she’d made a joke about the heat between them and feeling strangely irked she’d called him John. A second later, he smelled it.
Shit. He set her on her feet and pulled his gun. Of all the dumbass things to do. He’d gotten fucking distracted, and now their “safe” house was on fire.