Chapter Seventy-Eight

Rory let go of the tension in his chest the moment Admiral Creighton stalked away down the corridor. He was exhausted. He hadn’t managed to get any sleep—not during the chopper ride that had brought them to Little Rock Air Force base, nor on the following flight to Key West.

The admiral hadn’t wanted to take any more risks and figured that the only way to keep them safe was where he could keep an eye on them himself.

Nina had been allowed to retire to the quarters assigned to them, but Rory hadn’t been so lucky. He’d spent hours with Admiral Creighton going over the shootout at the park in Little Rock, the mercenary attack on the covert base, and lastly the aftermath as reported by Colonel Johnson.

Though the colonel had assured him that the men they’d taken captive would be questioned properly, Rory didn’t have much hope about the result. Neither Creed nor Rising Sun would be stupid enough to give any important information to hired grunts.

What worried him more was the disappearance of Chris del Valle. She had been with them until Little Rock AFB, where she had agreed to remain until her credentials had been double-checked. Reassured that she would be safe under military protection, Rory and Nina had left for Key West. No one could explain what had happened to del Valle after that. She was gone without a trace.

Her own doing? Or had she been abducted?

Either way, it was not good.

The admiral had promised to investigate, then ordered Rory to get some rest.

He stopped in the doorway of his room. Nina slept peacefully on the only bed, not stirring when he entered and locked the door.

The room assigned to her was right next door, but apparently she had other ideas.

He couldn’t agree more. She belonged with him. Quietly, he gathered some essentials and headed for the shower.

Standing under the hot spray, his ability to think returned somewhat. There was something about Christina del Valle that felt familiar… Not her appearance but her behavior.

But what?

Sightlessly, he watched pearly drops make their way down the tiles as images played through his mind…

A look. A movement. Her cool under fire. The way she’d handled Lena…

Then out of nowhere, it suddenly hit him.

“Dammit!” He slapped a palm against the wall and turned off the tap. Skidding a little, he hurried out of the shower.

It had been right there in front of him, but he’d been too preoccupied to notice.

He should have known the moment Lena had told the woman to back off in that very specific way. Something about the desert and snakes. It hadn’t made sense at the time, but it sure did now.

Hurrying from the bathroom, he whipped a towel around his hips. He crossed to the desk, opened his laptop, and tapped through his files until he found the one he needed.

Hell, yeah.

Familiar green eyes stared mockingly back at him from the screen. The facial features had been subtly altered. Plastic surgery by a real pro. Had to be. Just enough to circumvent positive identification.

The eyes remained the same, though. He should have made the connection sooner. Her behavior and actions had been so obvious—or they should have been.

Chris del Valle the reporter was none other than Tamara Ormond, former child-soldier and ATDF operative. How could he have missed it?

Rather than waste time chastising himself, he forced his thoughts into focus.

Why had she come out of hiding? Why now?

Wait a minute.

Nina had recognized Ormond. The realization pulled him up short.

What had Lena kept calling her? He sifted through the chaotic memories of the previous night. Duvall. Yes, that was it.

He scrolled through the extensive files, and there it was—Christina Duvall, one of Tamara’s covert identities. She had been created as a contact for Lena Alvarez when they’d both worked undercover.

His suspicion confirmed, he tried to remember the exact wording Lena had used to ward Chris off. He had to decipher the message. With a little luck it would lead him to Tamara. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but he was absolutely certain she’d come there with a specific purpose.

Scooping up his phone from the cluttered desk, he speed-dialed the admiral’s number and waited. What had Lena said way back at the motel when he’d questioned her about her past, and about Tamara Ormond. California? Yes, that was it. She’d been trying to track down Ormond’s child and had found a lead, but had refused to tell him more.

The words she’d thrown at Christina del Valle yesterday echoed through his mind.

Take a hike, someplace far away… Like, say, the Mojave Desert.

On the fourth ring the phone was picked up. “Creighton here.”

“We need someone in California ASAP, sir,” Rory cut to the chase immediately. “The Mojave Desert. Tell them to be on the lookout for a woman in her mid-to-late twenties. Latina. Last seen with bleached, shoulder-length hair. Green eyes. Five-foot-six. Slender. Possible alias in use, Christina del Valle. It’s Tamara Ormond, sir, and she’s on her way there.”

“The reporter?” Creighton asked.

“Yeah.”

Creighton swore colorfully. “Are you sure about this, O’Donnell?”

“She’s had some serious plastic surgery, but I’m sure.”

“Dammit. We had her!” There was a short pause. “Okay. Anything more specific? The Mojave Desert’s a big place.”

What more? What else had she said?

Write a nice little story about lizards and snakes…

No, that didn’t help. Think! he ordered himself.

Beer… Something about—

Have a beer on me. Little dive called Harlem’s Bar. Tell Harm Lena sent you.

“She may be headed for a place called Harlem’s Bar,” he told the admiral. “The owner, or bartender’s name is Harm. Have someone stick close to him in case she shows up.”

After a few more questions from Creighton, they hung up. Rory sagged in his seat. He couldn’t believe he’d let her slip through his fingers. After getting Nina safely settled, Ormond was next on his list to find and bring to safety. If he’d recognized her earlier, he could possibly have saved himself a lot of trouble.

His eyes strayed to the file photo of Tamara Ormond, the way she’d been back then. Her nose was smaller now, her cheekbones more prominent—far more striking than the average-looking woman in the file.

But why the subterfuge? And how had she tracked Nina to the base in the first place?

Had she been following them all along without them knowing it? Or had Nina been in contact with her somehow? Or…

Creed.

Could she have been following Creed, instead? Keeping him under surveillance without the bastard noticing it, to find Nina? It made a strange sort of sense, and yet it was almost impossible to believe. How could she have accomplished that?

Goddamn child-soldiers!

Why had this happened now? Why wait all this time to make her move?

One way or another, Rory needed to find out.