––––––––

“Wakie, wakie, sleepyheads,” Luke’s Australian-accented English came over the intercom. “You pair have a call from HDQ.”

Mike opened his eyes and buried his nose in Henri’s hair. Jasmine. Good God, this woman will be the death of me. Her body shifted against him brining on a new rush of anything but the desire to head for the cockpit. He chuckled. The only cockpit he wanted to visit was lying right beside him.

But Henri moved first, bless her. “Let’s go before Garth suspects something.”

While Mike pulled on his pants, he watched Henri don a pair of leopard panties. She was a total cat woman who made him want to roar. Her curvy arse could fill out a pair of bikinis like no one else. Then she caught his eye with an expression that said a million words. At the top of the list were, I want you, I don’t want to get hurt and WTF are we doing—all things going through Mike’s head as well.

Keep it simple? Hell, simple was thrown out the window in Arusha. And “complicated” just ratcheted up thirty-thousand notches in the back of this Gulfstream.

He tugged his shirt over his head. “I’m ready.”

Luke patched the call through to a flat-screen computer attached to the bulkhead.

“What the hell took you so long?” Garth never beat around the bush.

Mike rubbed the back of his neck. “Catching a few winks, boss. Seventy-two hours on the go even taxes me.”

“Likely story.” Garth snorted. “While you’ve been in lala land, our new techies have been studying the satellite images on Rhodes—mind you, it’s a Greek island where nothing ever happens, so we don’t have a ton of film, but we did find an abandoned World War II airfield.”

“Can we land there?” asked Henri.

“Nada. I’ve given Fox orders to land at the private airfield, Aerolimenas. You pair rent a car. Go to the Temple of Apollo. There’s a cache of guns under a slab in the southeast corner. You’ll need a crowbar. Fox will be your backup.”

“Luke?” Mike glanced toward the closed cockpit door. “You sure about that?”

“I’m giving him an unawares audition.” Garth arched his eyebrows. “After you’re armed, pick up Luke and then set your ICE GPS for Kalathos—it’s not going to show up on Google or any other non-military device. There’s nothing there but the airstrip and a decrepit concrete bunker. Word is there’s some underground space that survived the World War II bombings.”

“You said you’ve picked up some activity?” asked Mike.

“Might be a red herring, but satellites show vehicles coming and going, which is unusual. We’re trying to find more intel—though a quick search says the property hasn’t been sold. All we know at this point is it was used by the Italians in the war and fell into the hands of the South Africans who abandoned the post in 1947.”

Henri pulled a bottle of water out of the galley and cracked it open. “At least we have some sort of lead. That’s a hell of a lot more than we knew five minutes ago.”

“Where did the plane land that was headed to Rhodes from Tanzania?” asked Mike.

“Same private airfield where you’re landing. Anyone who tries to land at Kalathos Airfield without clearance is likely to have the Greek military breathing down their necks and that’s the last thing we need.”

“Right, and if ISIS is there making nukes, you can bet they’re equipped with some sort of antiaircraft weapons.”

***

To pass through security, Henri wore a makeshift hijab and Mike wore a turban with a black beard gummed in place. They proceeded to the private airfield’s customs using the aliases of Mr. and Mrs. Assad from Malaysia. Another boon, customs procedures for those who could afford to land at private airfields was minimal and they passed inspection without incident.

Luke also cleared customs, but separately and on the pretense of a pilot stopping over and spending a few days on R & R while his wealthy boss enjoyed a vacation.

Mike drove the rental car to the Temple of Apollo which gave Henri an opportunity to glimpse the island paradise. The city of Rhodes was lined with cobblestoned roads and the remnants of medieval architecture with the centerpiece being the renovated Grand Master’s Palace of the Knights Hospitallers.

The ancient architecture dominated the modern, giving the feel of a trip back in the time of gallant knights riding armor-laden horses.

Along the drive, the view was remarkable. It took about five minutes to go from the bustle of traffic in the city to the sparsely populated countryside. Cute, white-washed, flat-topped houses sprawled up the hills in tiers. The cobalt blue Mediterranean stretched forever. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze as if in complete unity with the fiber of the universe. The car ambled along until they reached the end of the road and found the Temple of Apollo ruins standing alone without a soul in sight.

Henri sat in awe for moment. To think this was a mecca where ancients came to worship—and it was abandoned, sitting alone on the hilltop, dominating the sea. “Wow.”

“You don’t see stuff like this in America.”

“Nope, only petroglyphs and pueblos. You know, Native American ruins.”

“That’s right. Sorry if I downplayed the importance of your people’s history. It’s just the Romans were such...”

“Expansive and conquering tyrants?” she finished.

Mike opened the car door. “Aye.”

As promised, they found their cache of guns exactly where Garth said they’d be. Henri was happy because she found an AR-15 Featherlight with a Leupold scope. They took what they needed and left the rest.

“You never know what will happen. It’s best to have a cache of weapons, food and money in every corner of the world,” said Mike.

“It’s a good thing ICE has had our backs through everything.”

“Sweetheart, lesson number one of espionage is to look out for yourself. What happens when you have no access to a phone and you’re running for your life? Sometimes you have to go silent.”

“I know.”

“Remind me next time we’re in Europe—you need to establish safe deposit boxes.”

“I opened one in Avignon.”

“That’s a start.”

Henri slung the rifle over her shoulder. “All right then. Are you ready to find this airfield?”

Mike drove back the way they had come and Luke met them at the rendezvous point outside the city of Rhodes or Rodos as the signs indicated.

“Where are we headed?” asked the Aussie from the backseat. He had a casual drawl and a cocky grin and it made Henri’s gut clench. The reason ICE was so effective was because no one knew of its existence. Luke might be a NATO pilot, but he wasn’t an insider and, in her mind, the less he knew the safer they were.

“Doing some reconnaissance on a lead,” said Mike, looking in the rearview mirror.

“Those guys back in Tanzania have anything to do with it?” Luke persisted.

“They do, and that’s about all we can tell you, mate.”

Luke gave a thin-lipped nod and looked out the window. “I can help.”

Henri decided it was her turn to speak up. “We’re counting on it.”

“So, what branch of NATO are you working for?”

Mike met Henri’s gaze. “That’s classified.” Though he was wearing black aviators, she could still see him squinting by the pinch to his brow.

But Luke didn’t get the hint. “Where’s your headquarters? Your boss sounded American.”

Henri had enough. She rose on her knee and faced the backseat. “Look, we’re not here to play nice and answer thirty questions. We brought you along to cover our backs and, since you were in Iraq, I have no doubt you know what that means. Following fucking orders and not asking questions. You got it?”

Luke met her gaze. “Yes, ma’am. Crikey.” Then he narrowed those sharp, blue eyes. “Just one more question.”

She leaned in without blinking. “It better be a good one.”

“What’s our objective?”

Henri shook her finger. “I think—”

“Pull in your daggers, Eagle Eyes.” Mike reached over and slapped her seat. “Look, Fox, I ken you’re NATO, mate, and so far you’ve done a good job getting us where we need to go. These guys we’re tracking are ISIS thugs. They’ve kidnapped a nuclear scientist. Need I say more?”

Luke raked his fingers through his hair. “Holy shit.”

“That’s right,” Henri agreed. “Holy shit.”

“Eagle Eyes here is our Delta Force sharpshooter. I’m ex-SAS. We need to play this cool and, right now, we dunna ken for certain if our scientist is even in Rhodes. Worse, if news gets out that ISIS has captured someone like this guy, the whole world will erupt in anarchy.” Mike glanced over his shoulder. “And it’s our job to see to it that doesna happen.”

Henri turned to the back seat. “You breathe a word about this to anyone and I’ll make sure you don’t ever speak again.”

Mike chuckled. “The lass is the deadliest woman on the planet.”

“Whoa.” Luke held up his palms. “Hey, I want in on what you guys got. You won’t hear a peep coming from me. Check with NATO. I’m their most trusted pilot—get all the tough assignments.”

“Good to hear,” said Mike.

“So, my job is to watch your backs? That’s all?” asked Luke

“You got it.”

“Understood.” The Aussie leaned forward and rested his elbows on the front seat backrests. “If I prove myself here will you put in a good word with your boss? I’m sick of bloody Africa. I want to be in the middle of the action like you pair.”

“One thing at a time, mate. If you prove yourself here, we’ll talk.” Mike pointed toward the window with his thumb. “In the meantime, have a gander at the view. You dunna see ocean as blue as the Mediterranean every day.”

They skirted around the mountains by traveling south on the eastern coastal road. It took about an hour for them to wind their way to the unmarked turn to Kalathos. Mike stopped the car at a lookout point and Henri brought up the satellite map on her laptop.

“I dunna like it.” Mike scratched his chin. “There aren’t any trees and the ground’s flat. It’s worse than Aleppo.”

“Not many shadows to hide in either.” Henri traced her finger west. “There’s an outcropping here—that would give us some cover.”

“Yeah, but we’ll have to crawl—there’s nothing but scrub for cover.”

Luke shook his head. “You guys are insane.”

“Have you got any better ideas, flyboy?” asked Henri.

“You could go in by sea—the tower looks to be about a hundred meters from the shore.”

“Nah.” Henri shook her head. “There’s even less coverage.”

“You’re both right. The sea would work for a night op, but not for surveillance. Let’s overshoot it and head up the beach.” Mike used a pen to trace along the southern road. “Cut in here and climb the backside of the outcropping.”

“I think that’ll work.” Henri closed her laptop.

“Am I going with you, or what?” asked Luke.

“Drop us off about a half-mile past the airstrip. Then go into Lindos and rent a room—say it’s for one. If they ask, give them the same cover as before; you’re a commercial pilot waiting for your boss and his wife to enjoy their holiday in the city and you decided to head for the tranquility of the south shore.” Mike gave a thumbs up. “I’d even buy it.”

Once they’d concealed their arms in a duffle and set out on foot, Henri fell into step alongside Mike. “I don’t have a warm feeling about Luke. He’s too nosy.”

“Know what I think?” He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, wearing the duffle like a backpack, but it contained the Win Mag and extra rounds.

“What?” she asked.

“He’s bored to death flying NATO execs around Africa and he senses we’re seeing a lot more action.”

“So that gives him the go-ahead to pry?”

“He has a right to know what he’s risking and why.” Mike stopped and grabbed Henri by the shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with giving him enough info to enable him to make smart decisions. He doesna have a clue about ICE.”

“But he suspects were not above board.” She wrenched from his grasp. “Are you always so friendly?”

“Aye. At least until someone crosses me.”

“I wish I could be so trusting.”

“I can understand why you’re not. You just need to ken how far you can depend on someone like Fox. In this game being too trusting will get you killed, but so can ostracizing someone who’s been sent in to help.”

She huffed. “It has never been easy for me to open up to anyone. A person has to earn my loyalty first.”

“I’ve noticed that about you.”

Tension clamped between her shoulders. “Do you think it’s a bad thing?” she asked a little too defensively.

He stopped again but, this time, he cupped her face between his palms. “As long as you dunna doubt my loyalty, I have no problems whatsoever.”

She moved a bit closer and regarded his lips, nearing by the millisecond. “We’re on assignment.”

“Yeeeeee-ah, but two lovers would be a fair bit less suspicious than a pair of undercover spies marching in a direct line toward an abandoned airfield suspected of being used by a mob of terrorists intent on blowing up the western world.”

“Well, if you put it that way...” Henri slid her hands around Mike’s waist and kissed those scrumptious lips slowly, savoring every swirl, every crackle of energy that flowed from the tips of her breasts right down to where she wanted him most. With another step, their bodies fused, Mike’s fingers treaded into the hair right above her braid. No matter how much she wanted to convince herself this kiss was for the job, the emotion coursing through her body made her heart squeeze with longing.

If only she could let down her guard and allow herself to fall in love. Mike wasn’t even an all-out bad boy. Yeah, he flew by the seat of his pants, but having someone like him in a meaningful relationship would certainly make things so much...so much...happier.

He glanced to the side and arched his eyebrows. “The sand looks soft.”

“And we could be standing about a quarter-mile from the free world’s greatest enemy.” She chewed her lip, wishing those words hadn’t slipped out.

“Och, that only adds to the rush, lass.”

Her libido went on overdrive as Henri stared at him. Tingles fired across her skin. Moisture soaked through her panties and it was all she could do to force herself to blink. She tugged Mike by the hand before he convinced her to drop her drawers and enjoy a quickie in hostile territory. “Come on, before we fall too deep into our cover and forget the mission.”

“Bloody terrorists always interfering with my fun.”

She marched ahead while breathing deeply. The man was dangerous for her heath. Not because he was joking around, but because she’d actually considered it.

And she couldn’t allow herself to get serious. Not now. Not ever.

They both grew quiet as they began the ascent up the crag. It wasn’t an overly large outcropping and when they crested the top, they were about 600 to 700 meters from the old control tower. Sure enough, it looked like someone had set up some sort of operation. A white truck with a covered van and a car were parked near the building with the tower. The roof had caved in on one side and the windows were gone. A shooter walked in a circle around the tower, shaded by the flat-topped roof, making it impossible to see anything but shadow.

Henri signaled with her fingers. “Give me my gun. I want to have a peek through the scope.”

Mike dug in the duffle. “You see the guard?”

“Sure do. Keep your head down.”

“I wonder what’s in the back of the lorry.” He handed her the rifle.

“That’s the golden question.” Placing the butt against her shoulder, she kept both eyes open and focused the scope on the man in the tower. “Middle Eastern. Wearing all black—just like an ISIS uniform.”

“Balaclava?”

“Nope. Guess he doesn’t think he’s going to be photographed out here.”

“Or he mightn’t be ISIS.”

“My gut tells me he is.”

“The only way to find out is to slip inside and check it out.” Mike crawled sideways.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can find enough cover, I’m going down there.”

“Are you insane?” Henri gestured to the stretch of barren, sandy land between them and the tower. “There’s nothing between us but tufts of sea grass.”

He pointed. “There’s a couple ridges—those could be ruins—and that looks like a trench over there.”

“All right. Let’s just say you make it to the trench without being seen. You still have at least two hundred yards to cross, and my eyesight is better than yours. There’s no way in hell you’ll make it across without being seen.”

“But...” Mike took in a sharp inhale. “Shite. We need to get in there.”

“The only way we’ll pull it off is at night.”

“Bloody hell.”

Movement from the building drew Henri’s focus to her scope. “Two perps heading for the car.”

“You recognize anyone?”

She adjusted the sights slightly and her heart rate sped. “Shit.”

“What?”

Calming her breath, Henri pulled back the charging handle. The sound of the bullet entering the chamber made a sense of calm flow through her veins.

“What is it?” Mike grew more insistent.

“Fadli.” She moved her finger to the trigger.

“Stop.”

“I have a shot!”

“No, goddammit.” Mike placed his palm on her shoulder.

She whipped her head around and whisper-shouted, “Fuck you! That man’s responsible for ruining my life.”

“Yeah, well, you take him out now and, one; you expose our cover and, two; you ruin any chance of finding Thomas Flynn.”

“Fuck it.” She ejected the bullet, but gave Mike an angry glare. “I want that asshole so bad I would risk everything for a shot at him.”

“Everything?”

“My life, anyway.” Inside, Henri’s gut churned while she watched the man responsible for unquantified death and destruction saunter to the car. Her every muscle stiffened when he stopped and turned, as if scanning the horizon for a threat. Then he shifted his gaze to the outcropping. He stopped panning, his eyes lingering there while she watched him, frozen—not even breathing. Rubbing the back of his neck, Fadli got in the car. The slamming of the door echoed above the sound of the surf.

Mike shifted ever so slightly, snapping pictures with his ICE phone. “So, ISIS brass is in town.”