Wednesday. Streets of Damascus, Syria.

Alec gunned the motorcycle’s engine and didn’t slow down heading into the turn. The wheels skidded and the ungodly motorcycle-cart contraption went in a wide arc onto the next street. This late at night there wasn’t as much foot traffic, which was a blessing and a curse. He glanced down the road behind them at the truck barreling after them.

“Hold on, Jules.” Alec gave the bike everything he had and prayed it would be enough. “Ryan? Zain? Anyone—do you copy?”

Still no fucking answer.

Everything was going to hell. If they made it past tonight without getting their brains splattered across the pavement, he’d call it a win. He had no idea where his team was or if they were alive.

His focus was Jules. It had to be. He couldn’t risk thinking about anyone else until he’d secured her. How he was going to do that was a mystery.

If Alec didn’t make it through the two security checkpoints in the next twenty minutes he’d be stuck in this area until morning. The curfew was about to drop and then they would be truly trapped. He’d have to find somewhere for them to hide in a city where he knew no one and had no connections.

“How you doing, Jules?”

No answer.

The woman was in no shape to keep running.

He had to call it.

They weren’t making it through the checkpoints before they closed.

He had to get them off the bike and hidden. From the moment they’d been hit by the flash grenade they’d lost the hope of getting out of the country tonight.

Think.

Alec had to think.

They were in a newer part of the city, away from tourism and closer to the districts still experiencing heavy patrols to keep the peace. There were a lot of people living here, braving the conflict to hold on to their homes and a sense of normalcy.

Vara operated out of this area.

No, she wasn’t an option.

Alec turned the motorcycle again, the rear wheels fishtailing as he navigated onto a narrower street. He had no idea where he was going and their eyes in the sky were useless with comms down. For all he knew, the drone was out of commission, too.

How had this happened? Where had it gone wrong? And what about the others?

Headlights slashed behind him. Men yelled, their words drowned out by the whine of the motorcycle. Alec spared a glance behind them. Sure enough, the truck couldn’t follow. But there were other streets and ways to cut him off.

Alec had to think fast.

He had money. Australian passports. Papers for both him and Jules. But there was nowhere they could go these men wouldn’t be able to follow unless he got them out of this area. If they were caught, they would both become tools in some greater plot.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not to her. Not after so many years in captivity.

“Jules? Jules, we’re going to have to make a run for it,” he called out over his shoulder.

He thought the older woman groaned a reply, but he couldn’t be sure. She was frail, withered away to almost nothing. He’d carried packs heavier than her. If he needed to, he could run with her, but that would tie up his arms. They hadn’t exchanged gunfire, yet, but that was coming unless he got them somewhere safe.

Vara was his only hope. He couldn’t break into a house or a shop where innocent people might be sleeping and bring this down on them. But what kind of trouble was he bringing to Vara’s doorstep? Could he trust her?

The smuggler’s compound Vara worked out of was a factory that had been modified to serve as a hub of activity. All smuggling transpired at the will of one man, and from the intel Zain had pulled Vara worked under that umbrella to an extent.

Alec and Jules would have to make it eight blocks and get inside the fortified compound, but not with the motorcycle. It was too noisy and easy to follow. They’d have to run for it, using the warren of alleys until they could find some place to hide.

“Get ready to run, Jules,” Alec said over his shoulder.

He jerked the motorcycle down another alley, barely wider than the one he’d been on then turned into the first space big enough for the bike contraption. It was a small gap between buildings, but it would do. He killed the engine and the lights, praying no one had seen them go this way.

“Come on.” He vaulted off the bike and reached through the cart attached to the motorcycle.

Jules’ grasped his wrist. Her grip was strong, but she wasn’t moving fast enough. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her over his shoulder. She made a grumble of a protest, but that was it.

Voices echoed down the street and a light flicked on overhead.

They were closing in.

The people who’d been holding Jules were organized, well-equipped. His gut said they weren’t terrorists. More like government, and that brought about a whole new set of complications he didn’t have the luxury to think about right now.

Alec ducked into the walkway between the two buildings and wove through them to yet another street. He glanced up at the stars, finding his bearings the natural way, then took off down his left. The narrow street had a little traffic, mostly trucks moving goods around the city when it was faster to do so. This late people were asleep or tucked away.

Damascus wasn’t the shell shocked and destroyed city the news made it out to be. There were still problem areas of the city, but most of it had moved out into the eastern suburbs, well away from where they were to the north of the city. Word was ISIS was moving back toward the city what with part of Syria declaring independence and naming themselves Akkadia last week. Alec wasn’t unfamiliar with the developments. They were a large part of what had put his team on this path.

More voices yelled, but they were further away now. The tension in Alec’s shoulders eased a bit.

Alec darted across the street and through to another alley.

He had to be close to the smuggler’s compound now. Zain had denoted the location on the map he’d given them to study. Alec hadn’t been able to help examine their different route options and how it all connected.

Part of him had wanted this, to be sent running to Vara, even if the rest of him knew she could be dangerous.

A wide boulevard opened up in front of him and to his left at the intersection of two well-maintained roads was a large, ugly building well-lit by security lights. A logo with a flying carpet stood out in white paint.

The compound.

Now to find a way inside.

He was willing to bet the security would be tight. There were many goods that were hard to get inside Syria what with the restrictions placed on the country. He’d heard that the only way to get some medications was via smuggler. It was simply a necessity of the time.

“Jules, can you walk?” He stepped into an alcove and eased the woman to her feet.

“I can.” Jules gripped him with both hands, swaying a bit. She wore loose linen pants, a long caftan style top, and a scarf woven around her neck and hair. Her clothes were disgustingly dirty and showed their age. “Just don’t ask me to run, dear boy.”

“We need to find a way into that building.” He nodded at the hulking structure with its walls bordering it like some sort of prison.

“You lead, I follow.” Jules nodded. God damn she was brave.

“Let’s go.”

Alec wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her and help move her along then they were off. Her pace was slower than he’d have liked, but he hoped they seemed normal. Just a man and his grandmother walking home later than was wise.

They cut across the street, Alec eyeing the walls with the occasionally positioned door. The entrances were bolted with reinforced doors if his guess was right. Nothing short of a bomb would get him inside that way.

This wasn’t looking good.

They crossed another street at the other end of the compound and a little ways down the wall opened up. Gates let out onto a parking lot. A tin roof had been erected over the space to protect the vehicles.

A truck rumbled past. One of the military styles with a canvas top, high sides and a low tailgate. A piece of cloth hung across the back, shielding the cargo from view.

The gates swung open.

This might be their only chance.

“Come on,” Alec whispered.

He hustled them forward.

The truck turned left and eased to a stop between the gates. A team of two men did a walk around the vehicle while a third approached the cab and spoke with the driver.

Painted on the door was the spiky shell symbol.

Vara’s logo.

This was one of her trucks.

Was it a sign?

Alec’s gut said it was.

“Get in.” He rushed Jules forward.

He boosted her up and over the tailgate into the bed before she could make the move herself, then climbed in after her. He squinted into the darkness. A few crates were strapped to the wall. There wasn’t much of anything there, which was bad for them. If anyone glanced inside, they’d spot Jules and Alec.

“Move all the way back,” he whispered.

Jules scooted to the front corner, partially hidden by a crate. But it wouldn’t serve as a hiding spot for long.

He’d told himself it was impossible for him and Vara to run into each other. Damascus was a big, bustling city. But here they were, on a collision course. Alec hoped the woman Vara was now wasn’t all that dissimilar from the woman he’d spent two glorious weeks with in Thailand doing nothing but sipping drinks and making love. But no one stayed the same. He was going to have to figure out how to connect with the woman Vara was now because both Jules and Alec’s lives were going to depend on her.

WEDNESDAY. NOUR DELIVERY Service, Damascus, Syria.

Vara Price stared over her cards at the three men studying their odds.

“I’m out,” the one on her left said and slouched back in his seat.

The man across from her took a long, slow drag on his cigarette, studying her. She smiled back, content to wait them out.

She liked playing cards with her new hires. How a man handled the cards told her a lot about who they were. How they assessed danger and risk. Too much time spent making decisions, and she knew they weren’t long for her team. React too fast and she knew they’d walk into a dangerous situation with no idea they were about to lose their head.

Her life and the success of her mission depended on these men, and they didn’t have any clue what they were really doing. The old pang of guilt stabbed at her, but she was beyond letting that emotion get the best of her. What they didn’t know might save their lives.

A commotion in the hall outside the communal room drew the attention of the other two men. The third pulled his cigarette from his lips and narrowed his gaze.

Good instincts, but he was hesitating.

“Inspection. Now,” a man barked from the doorway in Arabic. His uniform labeled him military, not Rafat Nour’s personal guard.

“What’s he saying?” The man at Vara’s right turned.

“Some kind of military inspection. Happens from time to time. Nothing to be worried about.” Vara sighed and folded the cards.

It was probably for the best. She had nothing of value in those cards.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

Vara peered at the man’s profile. Hadn’t his resume said he was fairly fluent in Arabic?

“I’ll handle it.” She got up and nodded at Wyatt Boregard, her current right-hand man, who’d been engrossed in conversation with some of Rafat Nour’s men.

Wyatt was reliable and motivated by cash. She liked to think she could trust him, but they were smugglers. His military background only meant that in a tough situation he was more likely to know how to come out of it alive. It didn’t mean shit about his allegiance.

He fell into step behind her, a hulking shadow protecting her back.

Vara tucked her scarf around her head a little tighter. She wasn’t the only woman in the compound, but she was the most conspicuous. The soldiers didn’t hassle her, probably because she offered up gifts from time to time at checkpoints. Not because she had to, but to keep the soldiers from looking at her trucks too closely. She paid her demanded bribes to the higher ups then sweetened the deal with the guys on the ground. Everyone won.

She nodded at the soldiers and followed along behind them toward the belly of the warehouse. Her current cargo had been mostly delivered, so this inspection couldn’t be about them or anything they were transporting. Tomorrow she’d send Wyatt and the others out for the last delivery. Maybe for the final time.

They didn’t know that and she hadn’t informed Wyatt that their second team was awaiting orders on what to pick up and where to go. She’d told them to cool their heels in Lebanon until she knew how this was going to go.

This job, both the one she admitted she had and her secret one, were so much more complicated now. She didn’t think she could keep this up much longer.

When she’d come to Syria, the country was in a much different place. Some areas of the city were so barricaded off that the only trade that happened was because of smugglers getting things in and out of areas. Necessities. Food. Water. Medicine. As the government secured its hold on the city, the services she provided were not as necessary. No one had cared about her nationality when she was delivering crucial supplies. Now that things were more comfortable she didn’t enjoy the same kind of freedom. Some customers had refused to buy from her because she was half American and that was the only part of her they saw.

The walls were going to close in on her soon and she didn’t plan on getting trapped.

“Nice night,” she muttered to no one in particular as they passed into the yard.

It was that pleasant time of year when it was never too hot and the evening chill wasn’t bad. Soon that would change with the seasons as would everything else in her life. She wished time would hurry up. She wanted to be done with tomorrow.

Vara gathered with the other smuggling captains and private enterprises who operated in Rafat’s good graces. This whole routine was predictable now.

A soldier stood in the bed of a truck gazing down on them.

“Security check,” he announced.

A collective groan went up.

Rafat was running a business. Terrorists and rebels were bad for conducting that business even if they had a hand in creating the circumstances for it to flourish. Some of Vara’s peers had been caught smuggling true contraband, but for the most part they were moving simple goods around the area.

She sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets, willing this to hurry up. She didn’t relish the idea of going back to the card game. She wasn’t sleepy enough to go to bed. She didn’t know what she’d do, but standing here wasn’t high on her list either.

The soldiers and Rafat had an understanding. He conducted good business and didn’t help rebels. The soldiers didn’t touch their cargo. This whole inspection was an honor system. The soldiers would stand back while each team inspected their vehicles and the cargo in the warehouse, call it clear and be done.

Rafat’s vehicles were cleared first. It took about twenty minutes to cover the fleet, leaving the dozen smaller operations like Vara to cool their heels. Even then the Syrian natives stepped forward to be seen to first.

Little changes like this were what marked the end of her days here. When she’d begun this smuggling gig two—hell, almost three—years ago, no one had cared about her nationality or gender. People were desperate for supplies and medicine they could no longer get. As the conflict stabilized, and the city flourished, people could be picky about who they did business with. Vara knew an American female was not the top of that list. She had her normal routes, the people who depended on her, and for now they provided a profitable business front for her true purpose. And even that was coming to a head soon.

“Price?” the soldier in charge called out.

She lifted her hand and strolled toward her two trucks. The other two were across the border in Lebanon receiving a new shipment of goods.

“Should be fast. I’ve got nothing,” she said. She still wouldn’t throw open the back to let them see in. That would set a poor precedent of expectation for the future, so even if she only had two crates left she wouldn’t show them.

“We still need you to check,” the soldier said.

“No problem. Whatever it takes to keep the peace.” She flashed the man a smile. “Wyatt check the other one?”

The soldier nodded and with an order sent another man following Wyatt to her second truck.

Vara grabbed the tailgate and stepped up on the bumper. She ducked her head under the curtain and clicked on her flashlight.

Her gaze met with a pair of hazel eyes just over the business end of a Glock.

The gun didn’t bother her. She’d been on this end of them plenty of times.

It was the man holding the weapon that was the real surprise.

She knew that face. The years were kind to him. Every damn time she saw him he looked better and better.

Alec Esposito.

His hair had never been that long. It was curly. How had she never known that? She kind of liked that messy, tousled look.

She took in a breath and swept the light across the rest of the truck, humming to herself.

What the hell was Alec and an elderly woman doing in one of her trucks? How had they gotten in there? Why hadn’t anyone found them already?

This couldn’t be good.

“Nope. Nothing out of place.” She clicked her light off and lowered herself to the floor. “Hope that’s what you wanted to hear.”

“Thank you.” The soldier gave her a curt nod then moved on.

Vara glanced at Wyatt. He was watching her, probably curious why she’d taken the extra couple of seconds to pronounce an empty truck clear. She shrugged and grinned.

“You hanging with the new guys tonight?” She ambled toward Wyatt. Sweat broke out under her arms and down her spine. Her stomach clenched and her knees wobbled a bit.

Hold it together girl.

Before she dealt with her surprise, she needed to know where all her ducklings were going to be. Wyatt and the others could not find out about Alec.

“Someone needs to keep them out of trouble,” Wyatt said.

“Better you than me. I’m not sure these guys are going to work out.” She sighed.

“Not many people want to work here. And it’s harder for us to get locals to work with us.”

“I know. We’ve had a good run though. I think we’ve got a few more months in us. We should probably talk about this and our next move later.” Vara tugged at the scarf around her neck. “Night.”

“Night.”

Wyatt turned and headed back the way they’d come while Vara struck off toward the wing that had been made into bunk rooms and private quarters. Sometimes it was more convenient to stay here rather than the home she’d purchased. She rated a handful of rooms to use at her discretion, which was what she needed right now.

It would be at least an hour before she could return to the yard without raising suspicion.

She walked as if in a daze to her quarters then shut herself in and leaned her back on the wall.

Alec.

She hadn’t thought about the SEAL in a very long time. For very good reason.

Vara crossed the room to her bed and sank down on the edge.

The last time they’d spoken was at the embassy when he told her they were over just before he shipped off on something highly classified. If she hadn’t gone down to her mother’s car to retrieve her pumps Vara would have never known Alec was leaving her. He’d meant to slip off in the night, taking her heart with him, without saying goodbye.

Vara had been young, stupid and in love for the first time. Looking back, she could see the signs leading to heartbreak at every turn. He was destined to destroy her.

And now here he was again.

Something must have gone terribly wrong for their paths to cross.

What trouble was he bringing to her doorstep?