Chapter 14

NADIA CLOSED THE bathroom door behind her and leaned against it. In the bedroom, snoring, light, but steady. Matt was still asleep, although the gray light announced it was a little past dawn.

Matt. Last night was magical. Lovemaking with him was so spectacular, she still tingled. His enthusiasm knew no bounds, and he was playful, not just single-minded like some guys, aiming just for the climax. He relished her taking the initiative, humming his pleasure as she threaded her fingers in his soft chest hair and kneaded the beautiful muscles there. She’d cupped his taut butt, hell, fondled his whole impressive body. Just thinking about their night started the pulsing within her.

As horrific as the situation was, she couldn’t regret fate bringing them together. She accepted he’d been caught between duty and desire five years ago, but hadn’t spied on her or used her. She’d told him she couldn’t give him a pass on all that, but she would tell him she’d changed her mind. Especially now that she understood better what made him tick.

It was clear — to her if not to him — he didn’t feel he deserved to regain his vision. He blamed himself for the deaths of his teammates in that Brussels mission. The reason he hid behind the eye patch for so long. He’d still be hiding behind it if not for yesterday’s explosion. And worse, losing the vision in his left eye could take him away from his only remaining family, his colleagues in DARK.

Despite that, hiding her, running with her counter to orders was the biggest risk of all. His career, his freedom, his life — all were at stake. No matter how he’d brushed that off.

So she didn’t take lightly what she must do now. She hated deceiving him and hated the possibility of their being detected. Fear was a live thing in her belly, but she had to know.

The light on the hotel hair dryer casing allowed her to see well enough.

She slipped the battery into her phone, hers, not the burner, and turned it on. The prison’s automatic system answered at the second ring, but it took several minutes before she reached someone she knew, someone who’d tell her anything. Her dad wasn’t in the prison infirmary, but in the local hospital, thankfully no longer in intensive care. Armed with the hospital number, she eventually reached his room.

While the phone rang, she pressed her ear to the bathroom door. Only an occasional snort. As if cold fingers had brushed her neck, she shivered, praying that turning on her phone wouldn’t invite danger.

“Hello?”

“Dad?”

“Aw, Nadie, honey. Thank God, I was so worried when I heard. Then I saw on TV… the bomb—” His voice broke.

At his weak voice and the pet name, her eyes burned. How like him to worry about her, when he was the one who’d been so injured. She’d tell him as little as possible about what was happening on her end. “Dad, I was outside the room, not hurt at all. I’m fine, but I’m worried about you.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. I have more stitches than that rag doll you used to tote around, and I hurt like the very devil, but they tell me I’ll heal.”

She smiled. If he admitted he hurt, he was feeling better. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Silence, as if he was deciding how much to tell, or else gathering strength. She was about to speak, but he said, “It was three prisoners, convicted terrorists, not from Al Qaeda, like before, but some other group. Too many to keep track of these days, you know. It was the third time they’d approached me. I thought they’d given up.”

“Given up on what? What did they want?” But she feared she knew.

“Honey, they wanted me to get you to help them, something with the Modena Embassy, maybe that bombing. I didn’t want anything to do with it or them. Because I betrayed my country before, they thought I’d betray it again — and you. I regret what I did because in the end I lost the woman I loved anyway, and I will forever regret the pain my crime caused you, the setback to your promising career, the shame.”

“Oh, Dad, you don’t have to—”

“But I do. Let me get this out. The hurt and accusation in your eyes when you learned what I’d done and again when I was arrested cut me deeper than any knife these thugs could wield. I refused them three times. This time they didn’t ask. They just jumped me.”

She leaned against the wall and shook her head to rid herself of images of that attack. If he’d played along, or told the officials, or her, maybe the bombing wouldn’t have happened, no one would’ve died and Sarika would be safe and whole. But Nadia knew why he told no one. He doubted they would give credence to the complaint of a traitor. Sadly, he was probably correct.

“And now, now have you told the authorities why you were attacked, what they wanted?”

“I have, but I don’t know what good it will do.”

She saw no point in going through his transgressions. Her mom’s illness had been so expensive. Insurance had covered much of the chemo, the radiation and the surgeries, but the desperate searches for a miracle had not only painfully delayed the inevitable, but also depleted their finances. When Isaac Parker could obtain no more loans for experimental treatments in Mexico or China or for the next charlatan that offered hope, the terrorists had come calling on this illustrator of highly classified defense systems manuals.

Once she was no longer in danger, she’d see what she could do. Tears fell on her phone, and she swiped them away. “Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, me too. More than I can express. Sorry about all of it. Now and back then. But I loved—” A cough racked him.

When the wheezing stopped, she gathered herself and said, “Dad, I just wanted to check on you. I’ll let you rest now.”

“No, stay. There’s something I have to tell you. In case, well, just in case. I promised Irena.”

The familiar pang of loss hit her, and she pressed a palm against her stomach. “Promised Mom what?”

Sounds of nose blowing and deep breathing came through the phone. “Nadie, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I felt you kick against Irena’s belly. I burped you and hugged you when you first called me Dada and bandaged scraped knees and wiped tears. I did it all with the love of a father for his daughter. I’m your father in every way except by blood.”

She could barely take in his flood of words. “W-what?”

“I’m not your birth father. Irena was pregnant when I met her.”

The admission flash froze her insides. Her knees quivered, and she sank onto the cool tile floor. “No, no, no.”

Matt dropped his phone and the battery into his pack and slipped back into bed.

He ached to open that door and pull her into his arms. Not her real father, and she never knew. Never even suspected. And she had to deal with it now all by herself. Matt couldn’t tell her he’d overheard. Tiger claws clamped his chest at that blatant lie. Hell, not overheard, he’d spied on her, exactly what she’d accused him of before. It would make no difference to her that it was under orders. Shit. He wouldn’t sleep again, but he’d have to pretend once she’d pulled herself together enough to return to bed.

Somebody likely got a hit on her phone or his and would be searching the environs of the nearest cell tower. They’d have to leave this hotel and Georgetown. As soon as possible.

Awhile later, the bathroom door opened, and Nadia returned. On a muffled sniff, she snuggled against his back. For warmth? Or comfort? Aw, honey. Now they were both pretending to sleep.

When the traffic noises picked up below on M, he checked the bedside clock. Eight. He tossed off the sheet and padded to the window. Hey, barely any pain, and not much swelling. No sprain after all. No telling what they’d be up against today. He might need to move fast.

Covering his right eye with one hand, he allowed himself a grin at seeing clearer shapes, not just shadows. Hope, but not there yet. He uncovered the eye and checked the scene outside. Same as last night. A few pedestrians with umbrellas. Traffic moving along. No obvious surveillance.

“Nice view.” She spoke from the bed.

The sound of her voice, although deeper than usual and sexy-rough, jolted heat through him. Bad timing. Keeping his naked backside to her, he willed his body to subside. She probably figured he’d chalk up her voice quality to sleep, not the aftermath of tears. “Should be the sun and not a moon.”

She hooted a laugh. Good his bad joke could get that reaction. “Has the rain stopped?”

“You wish. A steady drizzle, mixed with fog and mist.” He turned toward her.

A small smile curved her lips, but her eyes held the bleakness of her conversation with her father. If only they could talk about it. If only he could comfort her. But any comfort had to be couched in solving their shared predicament. Fuck, he hated lying to her!

Sitting in a puddle of sheet, she reached up to smooth her hair. The action lifted her bare breasts, the nipples erect in the air-conditioning. And now he was erect.

He climbed back into bed and took her in his arms. “Hey, beautiful. Leave the hair alone. Sexy as hell.”

“Thanks. You look pretty sexy yourself this morning.” She ran the knuckles of one hand across his stubble.

They kissed until both were breathing hard. He wished like hell they could take the time, spend the whole day in bed. That would more than comfort them both.

He ended the kiss but kept his forehead against hers. “I’d love to pick up where we left off last night, but we should get moving. It’s not safe to stay in the same place another day. We’ll have breakfast and head out.”

After she’d finished in the bathroom, he showered but skipped shaving, leaving the early-morning look, since it seemed to appeal to Nadia. She put the finishing touches on the scar-hiding makeup around his left eye. “Your knee must be better. You’re not limping.”

“Yeah. As long as I don’t twist it much.”

Two firm knocks sounded on the door.